Chapter 3 — Suspicion and Uneasy Alliances

Bella

The faint murmur of voices filtered through the thick wooden walls of the healer’s den, a low hum that grated against Bella’s heightened senses. She sat stiffly on the edge of the cot, her bare feet brushing against the cool floorboards. Every small movement sent sharp ripples of discomfort through her ribs, a constant reminder of her vulnerability—a feeling she hated more than anything. Her sharp green-gold eyes darted to the window, where streaks of pale light slipped through the cracks, stirring motes of dust in the air.

The scents of pine, damp earth, and faint medicinal herbs lingered in the room, grounding her in the sterile practicality of the healer’s den. But beneath it all, she caught something else: the distinct musk of wolves. It pressed against her awareness, suffocating and oppressive. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as the restless urge to flee churned under her skin. Her body resisted, heavy and battered, chained to the cot by exhaustion and the ache of her wounds.

The door creaked softly, cutting through the tension like a blade. Bella tensed instinctively, her muscles coiling despite the flare of pain it caused. Every nerve bristled as the door swung open, revealing a petite woman with wavy, shoulder-length black hair. She moved with quiet confidence, her honey-brown eyes warm but assessing as they settled on Bella. In her hands, she carried a tray with a steaming cup of tea and neatly folded bandages.

“I thought you might want something warm,” the woman said, her voice soft yet steady, like a river smoothing jagged stones.

Bella’s gaze flicked to the tray, suspicion sharpening her expression. “And you are?” she asked, her tone clipped, defensive.

“I’m Violet,” the woman replied easily, setting the tray on a small table beside the cot. Her lips curved into a faint, reassuring smile. “I’m the pack’s healer. Aidan probably didn’t mention me. He tends to skip introductions when he’s preoccupied.”

Bella snorted despite herself, though the sound was dry and humorless. “Aidan,” she muttered, rolling the name on her tongue as if testing its weight.

Violet nodded as she poured the tea, the gentle clink of ceramic breaking the silence. “Alpha Aidan Blackwood,” she clarified. “My brother.”

Of course. Bella’s jaw tightened, her sharp gaze narrowing as she studied the healer more closely. Another piece of the puzzle, though it didn’t bring her any closer to understanding the game. Violet’s movements were calm, methodical, but Bella didn’t trust the overt kindness. She searched for some ulterior motive hidden beneath that serene demeanor, but Violet offered no cracks to exploit.

When Violet extended the cup toward her, Bella hesitated. Her parched throat ached for relief, but years of survival had taught her that nothing was ever given freely. Sniffing the tea cautiously, she caught only the faint, soothing aroma of chamomile. Her fingers brushed the ceramic as she took it, her movements deliberate, wary. Violet let go without hesitation and stepped back, giving her space.

“You don’t have to trust us,” Violet said, her tone gentle but matter-of-fact, as if she could read the struggle in Bella’s mind. “But your body needs rest if you want those injuries to heal.”

Bella swallowed a scalding sip of the tea despite herself, the warmth spreading through her chest like a balm. She hated how comforting it felt. “Rest doesn’t solve everything,” she muttered, her voice low, hard.

“Maybe not,” Violet replied, tilting her head slightly, her expression thoughtful. “But it’s a start.”

The words hung in the air, sinking into Bella like stones. She shifted uncomfortably, her grip on the cup tightening as she wrestled with the unfamiliar sensation of generosity untainted by expectation. It made her feel exposed in a way she didn’t like. “What’s the catch?” she asked abruptly, the sharp edge in her voice cutting through the moment.

“The catch?” Violet echoed, her lips twitching faintly in what might have been amusement.

“Don’t play coy,” Bella snapped. “People don’t offer kindness for free.”

There was a pause, shorter than Bella expected. Violet’s gaze softened, a flicker of sadness or understanding crossing her features. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” she said quietly.

The words hit like a blow, and Bella’s spine stiffened. “Don’t analyze me,” she said sharply, though her voice wavered slightly, betraying the tension coiling in her chest.

“I’m not analyzing you,” Violet replied patiently. “Just making an observation.”

Bella’s retort died in her throat as the door creaked again, and a new presence filled the room. The air shifted, thickening with tension. Bella’s senses sharpened, catching the heavier scent of earth and steel before her eyes landed on the intruder. He was taller than Violet, stocky and broad-shouldered, with cropped dark hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to strip her down to her bones. He carried himself like someone used to command, and the tension in his stance was palpable.

“Great,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “The rogue’s awake.”

Bella’s hackles rose, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten under the sharp sting of his tone. “You must be the welcoming committee,” she shot back, her voice low and biting.

“Ryder,” Violet interjected sharply, stepping into his path. “That’s enough.”

Ryder ignored her, his sharp gaze fixed on Bella like a predator sizing up its prey. “I don’t know what game you’re playing,” he said coldly, “but don’t think for a second that we trust you.”

The words dug under Bella’s skin like barbs. She straightened on the cot, her ribs protesting the movement, but she refused to show weakness. “Trust me? That’s rich,” she said, her tone laced with mockery. “Coming from a pack that drags in injured rogues just to interrogate them.”

“You crossed into our territory,” Ryder growled, his fists clenching at his sides. “You’re lucky we didn’t leave you for the rogues.”

“Ryder,” Violet snapped, her honey-brown eyes flashing with quiet authority. “That’s enough. She’s here to recover, not to defend herself against your hostility.”

Ryder’s jaw worked, his teeth grinding visibly, but he stepped back reluctantly. “If she’s staying here,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “she’d better remember she’s on borrowed time.”

Bella’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “Noted,” she said, her tone dripping with derision.

Ryder’s glare lingered for a beat longer before he turned sharply on his heel and left, the door slamming shut behind him with enough force to rattle the walls. The echo left the room in a tense silence, broken only by the faint rustle of Violet’s movements.

“I’m sorry about him,” Violet said softly, turning back to Bella. “Ryder can be... difficult, but he’s loyal to the pack. He’ll come around once he sees you’re not a threat.”

Bella snorted, her sharp gaze fixed on the closed door. “Doubt it. Guys like him don’t change their minds.”

Violet hesitated, her warm eyes searching Bella’s face as though considering her next words. “Not everyone here is like Ryder,” she said finally, her voice quieter now, almost cautious. “Give us a chance.”

Bella didn’t respond. She couldn’t. The sincerity in Violet’s voice was unnerving, cutting through the walls Bella had spent years building. As Violet moved to pick up the tray and bandages, Bella’s fingers tightened around the blanket draped over her lap, her thoughts twisting in a storm of suspicion and unease.

When the door clicked softly shut behind Violet, Bella sagged back against the cot, her exhaustion crashing down on her like a wave. But sleep didn’t come easily. Her mind churned with too many thoughts, too many questions. The faint hum of the mate bond lingered at the edge of her awareness, a constant reminder of her tether to the pack—and to him.

The pack didn’t trust her. That much was clear. But as Bella stared at the empty space where Violet had just stood, a single, unwelcome thought wormed its way into her mind.

Maybe trust wasn’t entirely out of reach.