Chapter 6
Lyanna
Iplace my hands on Dane’s fever-hot chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath my fingers. This is impossible. Terrifying. And our only hope.
Closing my eyes, I sink into the familiar current of healing magic, but this time I pull it in a different direction—not to strengthen, but to dampen. To starve the corruption that’s killing him.
“Bond strength at thirty-five percent,” Harper calls from the monitoring station. “Contamination still active.”
I push deeper, carefully thinning the golden threads of energy that connect Dane to every pack member. The threads grow translucent, fragile under my touch.
Don’t break. I can’t let you break.
The silver vial of emergency stabilizer sits on the table beside me—Elysia’s experimental compound, our last resort if bonds drop below nineteen percent. I pray I won’t need it.
“Callum, the stabilizer,” I whisper, wanting it to hand. Just in case.
His fingers brush mine as he passes the silver vial, the brief contact grounding me despite the tension saturating the room.
“Bond strength at twenty-eight percent,” Harper announces. “Contamination levels dropping to seventy percent of baseline.”
“It’s working,” Callum murmurs close to my ear as he wipes sweat from my forehead with a cool cloth. “You’re doing it, Lyanna.”
I don’t respond, can’t respond. Every molecule of my focus narrows to the impossible balance—enough suppression to starve the corruption, not enough to sever permanently.
“Twenty-two percent bond strength,” Harper says, excitement creeping into her clinical tone. “Contamination down to fifty-five percent.”
I shift my focus to Nova, whose bond with Dane pulses brightest—and most dangerous. Their mate bond is a river of golden light, thick with corruption. I begin dampening it, thread by careful thread.
“Bond strength at twenty-two percent,” Harper calls. “Twenty-one ... twenty ...”
Too fast. I ease back, heart hammering.
“Nineteen point three,” Harper’s voice sharpens. “Lyanna—“
“I see it.” I pour stabilizing energy into the bond, fighting to hold it at the threshold. For three agonizing seconds, the numbers hover at nineteen point one.
Then: “Nineteen point eight. Twenty. Holding steady.”
I exhale. That was too close.
Nova’s eyelids flutter. A soft gasp escapes her lips—the first sound she’s made since the collapse.
“Her color’s returning,” Callum says quietly, something like awe in his voice.
The sickly gray pallor is indeed fading from Nova’s skin, replaced by a healthier tone. Dane’s breathing steadies beneath my hands, the harsh rattling easing into a smoother rhythm.
“Contamination levels dropping rapidly,” Harper reports. “Forty percent ... thirty-five... thirty ... Dane’s fever is breaking!”
I feel it too—the burning heat beneath my palms cooling, his heartbeat steadying. The metallic copper scent that has saturated the medical center for days begins to fade.
“Bond strength holding at twenty-one percent,” Harper continues. “That’s right at our safety threshold.”
“Keep it there,” Callum says, his fingers brushing my shoulder in quiet support. “You’re saving them, Lyanna.”
Nova’s eyes open fully now, vacant stare replaced by confusion, then recognition. Her gaze finds mine, understanding dawning as she feels the deliberate dampening of her bonds.
Under my hands, Dane’s chest rises in a deep, clear breath—the first time without struggle.
“Contamination at twenty percent and falling,” Harper announces, undisguised hope in her voice. “The procedure is working.”
I move from Dane to Ben, every step precise and calculated. Sweat beads on my forehead as I maintain concentration across multiple bond networks.
“Harper, give me readings on Ben,” I call out.
“Ben’s bond levels are stabilizing at twenty-three percent.” Harper’s voice wavers for the first time—just slightly, but I catch it. Her eyes are fixed on his face. “Contamination dropping to forty percent.”
Harper moves between stations like a conductor, tracking each patient on her tablet. “Nova’s fully conscious. Contamination at eighteen percent and falling. Dane’s at twenty-two. We’re succeeding.”
Across the room, Nyxiana’s white flame magic creates a protective barrier around Cassie and Kieran, her wings partially visible as she channels angelic energy to stabilize their life signs.
“Using the same calibration as the Alphas,” she calls out. “The mate bond technique is holding steady.”
Elysia and Isla work in perfect synchronization on Connor and Mariel, another bonded pair. Their combined healing techniques create a gentle resonance that helps maintain the delicate balance between starving the contamination and preserving essential connections.
“Applying Lyanna’s protocol,” Isla confirms, her hands moving in intricate patterns. “The precision she developed for mate bonds is working beautifully.”
“Bonds holding at twenty percent for this pair,” Elysia adds. “Safely above threshold. Contamination falling steadily.”
Callum moves between us all, bringing supplies, checking readouts, and supporting those awakening. His presence radiates calm authority as he speaks quietly to Nova, who’s sitting up weakly.
“How’s the connection feeling?” he asks her.
“Strange,” Nova replies, her voice hoarse. “Like underwater echoes. But the burning is gone.”
I feel the magical drain threatening my focus as I move to the next patient.
The precision required to maintain this many bonds at exactly the right level is exhausting.
Through our connected monitoring system, I can feel the pack bond energy throughout the Lodge dropping to carefully controlled levels.
“The central contamination reading is at thirty-five percent overall,” Harper announces. “It’s working Lodge-wide.”
The effort is draining me faster than I anticipated. My hands tremble. Sweat drips down my temples, stinging my eyes. I’ve been holding nine bond networks at precise suppression levels for—how long? Minutes? Hours?
“Lyanna.” Callum’s voice, low and urgent near my ear. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine,” I manage, though my vision blurs at the edges.
A cool cloth touches my forehead—Callum, wiping away sweat without breaking my concentration. His other hand settles on my shoulder, warm and steady. Grounding.
More pack members begin stirring. Connor’s eyes flutter open, confusion giving way to recognition.
Ben takes a clear breath—the first without rattling—and Harper makes a sound that’s half laugh, half sob.
Kieran’s hand finds Cassie’s, their fingers intertwining even before full consciousness returns.
The copper scent of corruption fades, replaced by something cleaner. Pine and snow and the green-bright smell of healing energy.
“Contamination at twenty percent throughout the Lodge,” Harper announces, her voice cracking with emotion. “They’re going to make it. They’re all going to make it.”
I look up to see Callum watching me, his amber eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and something deeper. For a moment, our gazes lock across the healing space, a silent acknowledgment passing between us as the pack begins to heal around us.
I carefully monitor the readings as I slowly restore the bonds to normal strength. The numbers don’t lie; we’ve done it. The contaminant is dying off, starved by our temporary dampening.
Now comes the delicate work of restoration.
I begin carefully strengthening the bonds I suppressed, feeding energy back into connections that have been starved for hours. It’s like coaxing frozen fingers back to life—too fast risks damage, too slow leaves them vulnerable.
“Bond strength steady at thirty-five percent,” I announce. “Contamination at twelve percent and falling.”
Dane’s eyes flutter open. For a moment, he stares at the ceiling, disoriented. Then his gaze finds mine, sharpens with recognition.
“What—“ His voice cracks. He swallows, tries again. “The bonds. I felt them ... thinning.”
“We had to suppress them temporarily. The corruption was feeding on your connections.” I keep working as I talk, monitoring the delicate restoration. “I’ll explain everything once you’re stable.”
His hand finds Nova’s on the bed beside him. Their mate bond pulses stronger as I feed energy back into it—still fragile but holding. Healing.
“Contamination at eight percent Lodge-wide,” Harper confirms. “All vital signs returning to normal parameters.”
Across the room, Ben stretches and asks hoarsely, “Water?”
Harper’s clipboard slips in her grip. She catches it, but not before I see the way her whole body sags with relief—shoulders dropping, breath rushing out.
She doesn’t go to him. Doesn’t say his name.
But her eyes track his every movement as Mateo practically falls over himself rushing to bring a cup, his young face streaked with tears of relief. “You’re back! You’re really back!”
I move methodically between patients, carefully restoring each bond to proper strength. The golden threads thicken beneath my touch, regaining their healthy glow as readings fall toward zero.
“The Lodge feels ... clean again,” Nyxiana observes, her white flame magic flickering around her hands as she stabilizes Cassie and Kieran. “That metallic copper scent is completely gone.”
Elysia nods in agreement as she helps Connor sit up. “No magical residue detected. The contamination is truly dying.”
Around us, the temporary medical center transforms from crisis zone to celebration space. Kieran helps Cassie to her feet, both of them testing their restored mate bond with wondering expressions.
“You’ve done it again,” Cassie says, catching my eye. Her voice is hoarse but warm. “First Kieran’s pack, now this. How many times are you going to save everyone I love?”
I manage a tired smile. “Hopefully this is the last time I’ll need to.”
Elysia and Isla clear away equipment, already deep in discussion about the healing implications of the discoveries we’ve made.