Chapter 3

DIAMIAN POINT OF VIEW

The empty hospital corridor echoed with my footsteps as I walked toward Sara's room. Morning light spilled through the windows, making long shadows on the shiny floor. Each step felt heavier than the last.

I checked my watch, 6:15 AM. Too early for other pack members to visit. Perfect. I needed these moments with Sara to be private, away from prying eyes, away from my mother's watchful gaze, away from the wife I never wanted.

I stopped at her door, my hand frozen on the handle. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes. These visits drained me more than any pack fight or territory run ever could. But I came anyway, day after day, pulled by equal parts love and guilt.

I pushed the door open.

The sharp smell of hospital cleaner mixed with the soft rose oil the nurses rubbed on Sara's skin. The machines beeped steadily, counting each heartbeat, each breath she took in her endless sleep. Three months like this hadn't dimmed her beauty. Her golden hair spread across the white pillow like sunlight. Her face looked peaceful, as if any moment she might open those blue eyes and smile at me again.

"Good morning, my love," I whispered, sinking into the chair beside her bed.

I took her hand, warm and soft, but lifeless. Her fingers lay still in mine.

"I brought you something."

From my jacket, I pulled out a small purple flower, wolfsbane, Sara's favorite. The nurses had warned me not to bring fresh flowers, worried about allergies, but I smuggled them in anyway. Sara had always loved these little purple blooms that grew at the edge of our territory.

I placed it on her pillow, next to her ear.

"The meadow is full of them now. Remember how we used to lie there?" My thumb stroked the back of her hand, wishing for even the smallest twitch in response. "You said the sky looked magical when seen through the flowers." My throat tightened. "I'll take you there again when you wake up."

When. Not if. I refused to think any other way.

The steady beep of the heart monitor filled the silence between my words. Outside, the pack was stirring to life. Soon nurses would arrive. My precious time alone with her was running out.

"I miss your voice," I said, leaning closer until I could feel her breath on my cheek. "I miss your laugh. That little wrinkle you get when you're thinking hard." My voice broke. "I miss the future we were supposed to have."

I pressed my forehead against our joined hands. The wedding ring on my finger caught the light, a constant reminder of vows spoken to the wrong sister. The marriage that felt like a betrayal.

"I'm sorry about everything. The wedding. Lexa." The name tasted bitter in my mouth. "Mother said we couldn't wait. Pack politics. The alliance with your father."

My jaw clenched tight. Even saying these things felt wrong. But Sara needed to understand, needed to know my heart was only hers.

"It means nothing. She means nothing. You're my true mate, Sara. The only one I'll ever love."

I brushed a strand of hair from her face, letting my fingers linger on her cheek.

"Remember the night before your accident? When we snuck out to the lookout point?" A sad smile crossed my lips. "You wore that blue dress that makes your eyes even bluer. We watched the stars and planned our whole life together."

The memory cut like a knife, our last perfect moment before everything fell apart.

"Twenty-four hours later, you were here." My voice hardened. "Because of her."

Rage burned hot under my skin. The doctors had no medical reason why Sara wouldn't wake up. No explanation except the obvious, magic or someone's evil intent. And everyone knew which sister practiced the old ways in secret, which sister always lurked in shadows.

Which sister had everything to gain from Sara's fall.

"I should have protected you." The words scraped my throat, rough with self-hate. "I should have seen what she was planning."

The door creaked. I dropped Sara's hand and sat up straight, my face instantly going blank.

Nurse Ellis walked in with her clipboard. Her eyes widened seeing me there.

"Alpha's son. I didn't expect anyone so early."

"Just leaving," I muttered, standing up.

Her eyes caught the purple flower on the pillow. Her lips thinned, but she said nothing. Even she knew better than to scold the future Alpha.

"Any change?" I asked, the same question I'd asked every day for three months.

"Brain activity remains stable. Vital signs normal." Her clinical voice offered no comfort. "Dr. Marshall plans to try a new treatment today."

Hope flared in my chest before I crushed it down. I'd heard too many promises of new treatments, new approaches, new reasons to hope. None had brought Sara back to me.

"Tell me immediately if anything changes."

"Of course."

I leaned down, pressing my lips to Sara's forehead in a gentle goodbye that I never showed my actual wife.

"I'll be back tonight," I whispered against her skin.

Cool morning air hit me as I left the hospital wing. Pack members moved about now, starting their day. Several nodded respectfully as I passed. I barely acknowledged them, my mind still trapped in that quiet room with its beeping machines and my sleeping love.

My mother waited on the main house steps, her sharp eyes missing nothing. I sighed inside. Nothing escaped Linda, especially when it came to her only son.

"Early visit?" she asked, though she clearly knew the answer.

"Yes."

She studied my face. "You look exhausted. You're not sleeping."

The accusation in her tone was clear, blame aimed at Lexa, at the sleeping arrangement I had chosen.

"I'm fine."

"You're torturing yourself," she said, falling into step beside me. "These daily visits... they're not healthy."

"I'm not discussing this."

She pressed her lips together, then changed approach. "Have you eaten? The kitchen made your favorites."

Food was the last thing I wanted, but arguing would only make this conversation longer. "Fine."

Inside the main house, servants rushed around setting the big table where pack leaders ate. My father, the Alpha, already sat at its head, reading papers. He looked up as we entered.

"Son. Your mother said you'd gone to the hospital again."

Dad's voice held worry rather than judgment. Of everyone, he seemed to understand my devotion to Sara, even if he didn't like how it affected my marriage.

"Any news?" he asked.

"Same as always." I took my seat, avoiding his eyes.

Mother signaled for coffee. "I told Gregory about the new treatment Dr. Marshall wants to try. Something about triggering brain activity through familiar smells."

"It won't work," I said flatly. "Nothing has."

"Perhaps it's time to consider..."

"Don't." My hand slammed down, making the silverware jump. "Don't say it."

The unspoken suggestion hung in the air, that maybe Sara would never wake up. That maybe I should accept reality and move on with my new life.

Dad cleared his throat. "Speaking of moving forward, where's Lexa this morning? She should join us for breakfast."

"Probably still sleeping," Mother answered before I could. "These Beta daughter isn't raised with proper discipline."

"She's not invited," I said simply.

Dad frowned. "Son, I understand your feelings, but she is your wife now. We need to keep up appearances."

"I did my duty. I married her. Don't ask for more."

"The pack notices how you treat her," Dad warned. "Division isn't good for anyone."

I laughed without humor. "Division? The pack united perfectly well in judging her after what she did to Sara."

Mother put her hand on my arm. "Which is exactly why appearances matter. If the future Alpha can show forgiveness or at least politeness, it sets an example."

"Forgiveness." The word tasted like poison.

"Your mother's right," Dad said. "Besides, the girl seems... fragile. Your rejection only makes things worse."

Fragile. I almost laughed. Lexa might play the victim now, but I remembered her calculating looks, the way she'd always watched from corners. The quiet one with secrets in her eyes.

"I'll think about it," I lied, knowing it would end this conversation faster than arguing.

Breakfast passed in tense silence. I ate without tasting anything. My thoughts stayed with Sara, with the memory of her still hand in mine.

Later, crossing the grounds toward the training area, movement near my cabin caught my eye. Lexa came out, head down, walking fast like she hoped no one would notice her. Too late, several younger pack members had already spotted her. Their faces changed, whispers starting as she passed.

I watched from a distance. I should feel satisfied seeing her isolated, suffering. She deserved it, didn't she? Payment for what she'd done to Sara.

Yet something pulled at me, something uncomfortable. The memory of our talk yesterday, her quiet question: *"Would you believe me if I said no?"*

For one brief moment, doubt crept in. What if...

No. I crushed the thought immediately. Everyone knew what happened. The evidence, the timing, the motive. Lexa's guilt was the one certainty in this mess.

I turned away, heading for the training grounds. Hard physical training would clear my head, drive away these unwanted thoughts.

But as I walked, Sara's sleeping face floated before me. Three months without change. Three months of whispered promises and one-sided conversations.

Three months of begging fate for a miracle that hadn't come.