Chapter 5: The Healer

Chapter 5: The Healer

The healer, a composed middle-aged woman, showed up in a flash. Examining Hana's wounds with experienced efficiency, she tried to stop the bleeding and fix the slashes, her hands gleaming with healing power.

"She'll live," the healer said after a long stressful few minutes.

"But she needs rest and care. She's been through a lot."

Jarrel nodded, his jaw clenched. "Thank you," he said curtly. The healer bowed and left the room, leaving Jarrel alone with Hana.

He sat at her side, observing her feeble breaths rise and fall in her chest. She still looked very much like a woman who had been in torment, even in her unconscious state her face wore the look of grief. He gently touched her forehead and tried to fix her hair which fell down on her head, only to tie it back in a bun. His hands were, inexplicably, gentle; it was the complete opposite of his assertive and aggressive personality.

He whispered, "What am I going to do with you, Hana?" in a quiet voice.

He had taken her as his mate and bonded with her, marked her his own but he never expected it to be this challenging. The mate bond was meant to be a boon, a source of solidarity and power. But it was a never-ending struggle with Hana.

While sitting in his chair he felt his mind racing with thoughts and this made him doubt himself for a moment, something that he had never experienced before. Had he made a mistake? Had he underestimated the depth of her pain and hatred? He had always prided himself on his strength, his ability to control and dominate. But Hana was different. She was a challenge he hadn't been prepared for.

With her body hurting and her mind foggy, Hana woke up in a daze. She awoke on a big, elaborate bed in a dimly lighted room with stone walls. Her senses were assaulted by a subtle, yet recognizable scent of earth and pine.

"I can't believe I am put on the edge like this," a deep voice whispered from the shadows.

"Of course, only Hana has such an effect on me. She always had that effect on me."

‘Where am I? Is this the afterlife? And that voice earlier… it was Alpha Jarrel.' Confusion washed over her. Why was she still alive? How had she ended up back here?

Hana's heart pounded as she recognized the voice—Alpha Jarrel. His presence felt close, unseen but undeniably there. She struggled to sit up, her body protesting every movement.

"You still wear the wooden wolf I made for you," Jarrel continued, his voice softer now. "But you hate me so much. You've always been mine, Hana."

A gentle touch brushed against the pendant on her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Hana's mind raced, piecing together fragments of memories and emotions. The pendant—a relic from her childhood, something she had always cherished but never fully understood. Had Jarrel truly made it for her? Had they known each other before?

'What does he mean I still wear the wooden wolf? Have we met when I was younger?’ Hana wondered as her mind slowly regained clarity.

"Wake up, or I will begin to execute the remaining people one after the other," Jarrel's voice cut through her thoughts, cold and commanding. "There's no way you can leave me alone in this world. I have lived all these years to be with you."

Hana's eyes flew open, the weight of his words crashing down on her. Her suicide had failed—she was back in the realm of the living, back in Jarrel's grasp. Fear and anger surged within her. How did he know about the pendant? What connection did they share?

Jarrel stepped into the light, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—those piercing, stormy eyes—held a mix of emotions that made Hana's heart twist. He approached her slowly, every step deliberate.

"You are finally awake," Jarrel said, brushing the tip of his finger on her cheek.

Hana’s eyes widened. What was he hinting at earlier? What past did they share that she couldn’t remember? She tried to recall, but her mind was blank, and it frustrated her to no end.

“Why did you save me?” she demanded, her voice trembling but firm.

Jarrel’s expression softened for a moment, then hardened again. “I can’t let you die. You’re mine, Hana. You’ve always been mine.”

Before she could say any word, he leaned in, and placed his lips gently against her skin, directly on the mark. Hana caught her breath in her throat as her body reacted to his touch, a surge of feelings flowed through her, rage, anxiety, fear, and stirred something unwanted that she could not quite bring into words most. She pushed him away, but he caught her wrists, holding them firmly.

“You can fight all you want,” Jarrel said, his voice low. “But you can’t deny the bond between us.”

Hana glared at him, her chest heaving. “I reject you. I reject this bond. You’re a monster, and I want nothing to do with you.”

Jarrel’s grip tightened for a moment before he released her. “Reject me all you want. It doesn’t change anything. You’re mine, and I will protect you, whether you like it or not.”

"Protect me? You killed my family and ruined my pack, yet you say you're protecting me?" Hana choked out with tears in her eyes.

"Well, I left you alive, isn't that enough? I saved you," Jarrel said, sarcasm etched in his words.

With that, he got up and walked out of the door, pulling it shut with a resounding thud that reverberated in the coldness of the stone walls. Hana was left alone, her mind racing. What had he meant about the pendant? What connection did they share from the past?

As she sat there trying to piece together the scattered fragments of her thoughts, unease gripped her. She didn't realize there was more to Jarrel and her story, and her ignorance of the circumstances was consuming her like a dog with a bone.