“Alright.” Mara’s expression hardens as she turns to Knox. “So, what happened to her neck? Did things get a little out of hand?”
Knox’s answer comes out a little tight, like he’s holding back the urge to growl. “She’s newly claimed by us.” His jaw ticks. “That,” his dark eyes cut to Skyla, “is from heroldpack.”
“Old pack?” Mara’s brows lift as she looks at Skyla. “Were you rejected or?—”
“Yes,” Skyla says as she squeezes her hands together.
“Okay.” There’s a pause. Like Mara is chewing that over. Tension threads the room as we all wait. “What agency did you use?”
Agency?
Shit.
Knox hesitates, and the silence hits like a dropped weight. My chest locks tight, terror spiking, as if this woman in her pale scrubs might somehowsee through us, might somehowknowwe claimed Skyla from an illegal black market.
“Why do you need to know the name of the agency?” Knox crosses his arms, glaring down at the doctor. “That kind of information isn’t going to heal Sky’s neck.”
The doctor doesn’t flinch. Instead, she squares her shoulders and turns the full weight of her glare on him, likeshe’s ready to go to battle. My gut twists at the sight. It’s not very smart for a beta to challenge an alpha like Knox. He never loses a fight. Ever.
The air feels brittle, ready to snap—until Skyla blurts, “Devinion.” She forces a thin smile. “They got me from Devinion.”
The doctor nods once, like she’s heard that name before, then shoots Knox one last tight glare before turning back to her patient. “You were lucky your old pack surrendered you to a place like that.” She pulls a pair of blue latex gloves from the wall box in one swift motion, then slips them on. “Packs willing to reject their omegas tend to abandon them in the middle of nowhere or worse. Alphas are so easily embarrassed for the dumbest reasons.” She glances at Knox, shaking her head like it’s a damn shame. “They do terrible things just to save a little face, even when doing the right thing is easier.”
“They do.” Skyla forces a sad smile that breaks my heart into a dozen sharp pieces.
What the fuck happened to this sweet girl? How did she end up at the Morder?
Was she sold? Abandoned? Abused?
I have to clamp my jaw shut to stop a growl from tearing out of me.
“This doesn’t look great.” Mara presses the tender skin around the wound. “It’s far too deep, jagged. And there’s surrounding inflammation.” She keeps her gaze zeroed in on the wound. “It could be a localized infection. I’m going to clean it properly, swab it, and start you on a broad antibiotic while we wait for culture results.” She looks at Knox matter-of-factly. “We should consider a tetanus booster depending on her history, and I’ll have the nurse set up wound care instructions.”
“Sounds good.” Knox nods in agreement. “I do have a question.”
Mara drops her hands and looks up at Knox, waiting.
“Will we eventually be able to place our own marks on Skyla, or is her skin too damaged?” His brows pinch together as he studies our omega’s neck.
Skyla immediately ducks her head, forcing her curly blond hair to fall into her face. Her fingers twist in the hem of her borrowed shirt, clearly nervous under the weight of all our attention.
“The uninjured side looks like it might be over-marked,” Knox goes on, voice gentler now. “And I don’t want to hurt her. None of us do.”
Alex and I both straighten our backs, silently showing our agreement with our pack alpha, while Dakota leans forward, brushing his fingertips over the side of Skyla’s leg. The omega glances at him, and he smiles, whispering softly, “It’s okay. There’s no need to be scared.”
Mara exhales through her nose, her expression firm, but not unkind. “The truth is, I can’t answer that without looking closer. Let’s take a deeper look.” She pushes her stool toward the cabinets, the wheels squeaking across the cold tile.
Opening a lower door, she pulls out a small, compact device—a handheld screen about the size of a large smartphone, with a tiny wand connected by a curly cord. She presses the power button, and the screen flickers to life, casting a soft glow across the room. A quiet chirp sounds, signaling it’s ready.
Skyla’s body shifts under the doctor’s careful hands, then she flinches when the wand presses against the raw side of her neck. My jaw tightens, heart thumping in a mixof anger and helplessness. Every wince, every subtle curl of her shoulders, wrenches in my gut.
Knox inches even closer to our omega, a silent wall of control beside her, hand barely brushing hers as if to remind her she isn’t facing this alone.
“What does that thing do?” Dakota leans forward, staring at the device in the doctor’s hand.
“It's similar to a sonogram,” she says, moving the wand in small, measured circles. “It lets me see the scent glands and the underlying blood vessels.”
Skyla flinches again, letting out the smallest whimper. Alex exhales through his nose, the sound rough, like it physically hurts him to hear her cry. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from growling.
