Breaking Free from the Alpha's Grip

The morning after my mother's close call, I stood outside the pack's medical archives, my heart hammering against my ribs. The stone building loomed before me, its windows reflecting the early sunlight like watchful eyes.

"I need access to the healing records from three years ago," I told the clerk at the front desk, trying to keep my voice steady.

The woman—one of Massimo's cousins—raised an eyebrow. "Those records are confidential, Adelaide. You know that."

"I'm not asking to see everyone's files," I replied, leaning forward. "Just my mother's treatment records from when she nearly died."

The clerk's expression hardened. "Those particular records were lost."

"Lost?" I echoed, disbelief coloring my tone.

"Storage accident," she said with a shrug. "Water damage. Many files from that period were destroyed."

I didn't believe her for a second. "When exactly did this accident happen?"

"Shortly after the incident," she replied without missing a beat. "You should know that questioning closed cases shows disrespect for pack authority."

I felt my wolf bristle beneath my skin. "My mother nearly died. Twice now. I think that gives me the right to ask questions."

The clerk's lips thinned to a hard line. "Take it up with Healer Stone if you have concerns."

*Healer Stone*. Not Massimo. Not my mate. The formal title stung like salt in an open wound.

An hour later, I sat across from Beta Ryan Cross in his office, the pack's second-in-command regarding me with cautious eyes.

"Adelaide," he said carefully, "these are serious allegations."

"I'm not making allegations," I countered. "I'm asking questions that need answers."

Ryan sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. "I've reviewed what remains of the files. Massimo personally signed off on the investigation that blamed Iris."

My breath caught. "He did what?"

"He conducted the interviews, examined the evidence—or lack thereof—and determined her guilt." Ryan slid a folder across the desk. "His signature appears on multiple documents."

I stared at Massimo's elegant script, the loops and curves of his handwriting as familiar to me as my own. The dates showed he'd accepted Iris's guilt without conducting proper interviews or examining physical evidence.

"This isn't right," I whispered.

"Be careful, Adelaide," Ryan warned, his voice low. "The Stone family has considerable influence."

---

Justice arrived at our home as the afternoon sun began its descent toward the horizon. He carried a leather satchel of herbs and tinctures, his expression serious as he checked my mother's pulse.

"The silver sage is completely out of her system," he announced after a thorough examination. "But there's something else I've noticed."

My mother looked up at him with trust in her eyes—a stark contrast to how she'd regarded Massimo during his infrequent visits.

"What is it?" I asked.

Justice pulled out a small vial of amber liquid. "These symptoms—the chronic fatigue, the recurring respiratory issues—they're consistent with prolonged exposure to certain herb combinations."

"Combinations that could have been used in her treatment three years ago," I finished.

He nodded, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my wolf stir. "Exactly. Some herbs can cause both immediate life-threatening reactions and long-term organ damage."

As he explained his findings, I found myself drawn to his patient manner, the way he carefully adjusted his treatments based on my mother's responses. There was no arrogance in his approach, no assumption of superiority—just genuine concern and remarkable skill.

"Why are you helping us?" I asked him later, as we stood on the porch watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of orange and pink.

Justice's expression softened. "Because it's the right thing to do."

Three simple words that carried more weight than any elaborate explanation could have.

---

The neutral territories between packs were bleak and unforgiving—a no-man's land where rogues and outcasts eked out precarious existences. I followed the faint scent trail I'd picked up from old pack records, my wolf guiding me through the underbrush toward a ramshackle shelter barely visible among the trees.

"Iris?" I called softly, approaching the crude dwelling.

No response.

I tried again, louder this time. "Iris? My name is Adelaide Pierce. I'm not here to harm you."

The makeshift door creaked open just enough for a pair of frightened eyes to peer through the gap.

"Please," a voice quavered. "I've paid for my mistakes. Don't send me back."

"Nobody's sending you anywhere," I assured her, keeping my distance. "I just want to talk."

The door opened wider, revealing a thin woman with hollow cheeks and haunted eyes. Iris—once a promising young healer, now reduced to this.

"I didn't do it," she whispered, her body trembling. "Whatever they said I did—I didn't."

I took a careful step forward, my wolf sensing no threat from the terrified woman before me.

"Tell me what happened," I said gently.

Iris cowered against the doorframe, her eyes darting nervously to the trees surrounding us.

"They'll punish me again," she whimpered. "They'll say I'm lying."

"No one's going to punish you," I promised. "I just need the truth."

Something in my voice must have convinced her, because after a long moment, she stepped back from the door.

"Come in," she whispered. "But please—don't tell them you found me."