My Alpha Imprisoned Me For Her Lies

The guard shoved me into a guest room on the third floor of the pack house. Not the dungeon—a small mercy that meant nothing.

"Stay here," he ordered, locking the door from the outside. "Alpha's orders."

I heard his footsteps fade down the hallway. Alone for the first time since returning to the pack house, I took in my surroundings: a simple bed with a thin mattress, a small window overlooking the forest, a chair, a desk. Nothing like the Luna suite I once shared with Maverick.

The silence was almost unbearable after three years of dungeon noise. I limped to the bed, my leg throbbing with each step. The silver poisoning had spread deeper than I'd realized.

"Just a little longer," I whispered to myself, though I wasn't sure what I was waiting for.

I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to gather my strength. But as soon as I relaxed, a wave of dizziness hit me. My vision blurred, darkness creeping in from the edges.

"No," I gasped, trying to stand. "Not now."

My legs buckled beneath me. I collapsed onto the cold floor, my body convulsing uncontrollably. Fire seemed to race through my veins, burning me from the inside out.

The silver. It had been in my system too long.

I tried to call for help, but my voice failed me. My teeth chattered as my temperature spiked, my skin burning to the touch. The room spun around me as I curled into myself, trying to stop the shaking.

Through the haze of pain, I heard the door burst open.

"What the hell?" The guard's voice seemed distant, underwater.

"Get the Alpha!" Someone shouted. "Now!"

Footsteps pounded down the hall. Then Maverick was there, his scent cutting through the fog in my mind. He knelt beside me, his hand touching my forehead.

"Her skin is burning," he said, his voice tight with something that might have been concern. "And there's a metallic smell..."

"Silver poisoning," a voice said—the Beta, I thought. "From the shackles."

Maverick's growl filled the room. "Get Marcus Thompson here. Now."

Strong arms lifted me onto the bed. I tried to open my eyes, but they felt weighted down. Through my lashes, I saw Maverick pacing the room, his movements agitated.

"Where is he?" he demanded when the door opened again.

The healer approached cautiously, medical bag in hand. "Alpha, I—"

"Fix her," Maverick ordered.

Marcus hesitated, then reached for a syringe in his bag. "This will help with the pain..."

Something in his scent must have triggered Maverick's suspicion. He suddenly grabbed Marcus's wrist, sniffing the air.

"That doesn't smell right," he said, his voice dangerously low. "What exactly are you giving her?"

"Sedative," Marcus replied, but his heartbeat quickened. "Standard procedure for pain management."

"Your heart just raced," Maverick observed coldly. "And that smells nothing like a standard sedative."

I watched through half-closed eyes as Maverick pulled out his phone. "Get me Healer Collins from the Silver Creek Pack. Now."

Marcus paled. "Alpha, that's not necessary—"

"Wasn't necessary to treat her silver poisoning three years ago either, was it?" Maverick's eyes flashed with his wolf. "What did Viviana pay you to ignore it?"

The healer's shoulders slumped. "You don't understand—"

"I understand perfectly," Maverick cut him off. "You betrayed your oath as a healer."

Under the pressure of Maverick's glare, Marcus crumbled. "She said it would only be for a few months," he whispered. "Just until you... until you chose her instead."

"And the reports about her terminal illness?" Maverick's voice was deadly quiet.

Marcus couldn't meet his eyes. "Fabricated. All of it."

The door burst open again, and Viviana swept in, her rose perfume choking the room.

"Oh my poor dear," she cooed, moving toward me with practiced concern. "What happened?"

She reached for my hand, but Maverick stepped between us.

"Don't touch her," he said, his voice cold.

Viviana's mask slipped for just a moment before she recovered. "I'm just trying to help. Perhaps... perhaps it's her time to go."

"Go where?" Maverick asked sharply.

"To peace," Viviana said softly. "End her suffering."

I saw Maverick's nostrils flare as he scented the air. His eyes narrowed, studying Viviana's face.

"Her heartbeat is steady," he said slowly. "No distress. No genuine concern."

Viviana's smile faltered. "Of course I'm concerned—"

"You're not," Maverick interrupted. "And that smell... it's not just perfume."

He stepped closer to her, inhaling deeply. "It's lies."

Viviana's eyes widened as Maverick physically blocked her from my bedside, his massive frame a wall between us.

"Leave," he ordered. "Now."

As she retreated, her mask of concern slipping away completely, I felt darkness claim me once more. But not before I saw something in Maverick's eyes I hadn't seen in three years.

Doubt.