# Chapter 5
Kira's POV
I woke to the sharp sting of antiseptic burning my nostrils. My eyelids felt like they'd been weighted with stones, and prying them open took every ounce of strength I had left. Sunlight sliced through unfamiliar curtains, making my head throb with each pulse of my heart.
"You're awake. Good."
Lucas Bennett stood beside the bed, his fingers pressed against my wrist as he checked my pulse. His dark hair was disheveled, sticking up in tufts as if he'd been running his hands through it all night. The circles under his eyes told me he probably had.
"Where—" The word scraped out of my throat like broken glass.
"My place," he said, gently releasing my wrist. His clinical detachment couldn't quite mask the concern in his eyes. "I found you collapsed near the forest edge last night. You were half-drowned and burning with fever."
I tried to sit up, but the room spun violently around me. God, I'm so weak. When did I become this pathetic?
"My beta assistant helped change you into dry clothes," Lucas explained, correctly interpreting my panicked glance at the unfamiliar t-shirt I wore. "Your wet ones would have made your condition worse."
"Thank you," I managed, embarrassment flooding my cheeks. "But I should go—"
When I tried to stand again, my legs folded beneath me like wet paper. Lucas caught me before I hit the floor, his arms surprisingly strong for a medical wolf. As he steadied me, his scent enveloped me—moongrass and clean linen, with an undertone that made my heart twist painfully. He smells like Rocco. God, why does he have to smell like him? They must share some distant ancestry.
"The syndrome is progressing faster than I expected," Lucas said, his professional tone not quite hiding the worry etched across his face. "You need to start the poison-countering treatment regimen immediately. Modern werewolf medicine has advanced—while the Bondbreak Syndrome rarely has full recovery cases, you must have faith in yourself."
I let him help me back to the bed, too exhausted to fight. "I was a werewolf medical researcher before I married Rocco," I reminded him, frustration building in my chest. "I know the benefits and drawbacks of the treatments."
Lucas nodded solemnly. "Then you know what you're facing."
The weight of his words crushed something inside me. Tears burned behind my eyes as the reality of my situation hit me anew. "I can't do this anymore," I whispered, voice breaking. "I can feel my wolf fading... she's slipping away, and I can't hold onto her."
"Is there anyone you still care about?" Lucas asked gently. "Anyone worth fighting for?"
My mind flickered to my father, lying unconscious in his hospital bed, tubes and wires keeping him tethered to life. The medical bills piling up, each one another nail in our family's coffin. "Just my dad," I whispered, each word like a shard of glass in my throat.
Lucas nodded. "Then fight for him."
Fight for him. Such a simple directive, yet it felt impossible. My chest tightened until I could barely breathe, the familiar pressure building behind my sternum like a storm about to break.
"How?" I asked, tears spilling over. "How do I fight when everything's falling apart? When I can barely breathe some days? When the man I loved—" My voice broke, unable to finish the thought.
"One step at a time," Lucas said softly. "Starting with getting through tonight."
Tonight. The word echoed through my mind like a death knell. Midnight at the Moonbreak Center. My marriage to Rocco would officially end beneath the full moon, as was our custom. And he promised me money for our divorce—money that could save my father.
"I'll drive you," Lucas offered, concern deepening the lines around his eyes.
I shook my head, the movement sending daggers of pain through my temples. "No, I need... I need to do this alone." I pulled out my phone with trembling fingers. "I'll call a taxi."
The full moon hung heavy in the sky, swollen and accusing as the taxi pulled up to the Moonbreak Center. According to tradition, wolf divorces could only be processed between midnight and 1 AM, when the moon goddess could witness the severing of bonds. Though the bond between me and Rocco was already fractured beyond repair, we were still legally married if we didn't go through the process.
And importantly, I needed to find out why he did all this to me. Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this?
I paid the driver and stepped out, my knees threatening to buckle with each step. The night air felt too heavy, pressing down on my shoulders like a physical weight as I approached the ancient stone building.
And there he was, waiting outside—Rocco Blackwood, perfectly tailored in black, his face a mask of cold indifference.
"Rocco," I tasted the name like bile. "Did you orchestrate the downfall of the Silverstone family?"
Rocco's face remained impassive in the moonlight, beautiful and terrible as a statue carved from ice. "Yes. Every step was carefully planned."
Before I could think, my hand lashed out, slapping him hard across the face. The crack echoed in the night air, loud enough to make me flinch.
"You bastard, Rocco Blackwood!"
He caught my wrist before I could strike again, his grip painfully tight. "Does it hurt?" he asked softly. "It's nothing compared to the pain of a broken heart, is it?"
I wrenched my arm free, my skin burning where he'd touched me. "Why? Why my family? Why me?"
His eyes glittered dangerously in the darkness, like a predator watching its wounded prey. "Why don't you ask your father what he did to my sister?"
"Your sister?" I repeated, confusion cutting through my anger. "Lyra? What does she have to do with my father?"
"Everything," he snarled, a flash of genuine emotion breaking through his controlled façade. For just a moment, I glimpsed raw anguish beneath the ice.
"Was any of it real?" I asked, hating how broken my voice sounded. "Did you ever truly mark me as yours?"
"Never," he said flatly. "From the beginning, you were just a pawn in my revenge. Nothing more."
Each word drove into me like a silver dagger. The pain in my chest intensified until I could barely stand. "You hate me that much?"
"This is the blood debt the Silverstone family owes the Blackwoods," he said coldly. "Blame yourself for being Derek Silverstone's daughter."
"What did my father do?" I demanded, desperation clawing at my throat. "Tell me!"
"He made Lyra suffer," Rocco said, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. "And I wanted you to suffer the same way."
"Tell me what happened to Lyra," I pleaded. "What did my father do?"
Rocco's expression hardened again, the brief glimpse of humanity vanishing behind his mask. "No. I want you to live in pain, never knowing the full truth." His eyes glittered in the moonlight, predatory and unforgiving. "I want you to know that every minute you remain tied to me is another minute I'm destroying what's left of you."
"You...can't do this," I gasped, trying and failing to push myself up.
"I can. And I am." He stood, straightening his immaculate suit. "And you know what? Divorce would be mercy, Kira. And I'm not feeling merciful."
He pulled out his phone, tapping the screen once. Within seconds, headlights swept across the parking lot as a sleek black car pulled up.
"Alpha." The driver—Dominic—nodded respectfully as he opened the rear door. His eyes flickered to me on the ground, then quickly away, his face carefully blank. The loyal Beta wouldn't question his Alpha, even as the Luna lay half-dying.
"Believe me. I'll make your life a living hell, " Rocco said, not bothering to look back as he slid into the car.
