My Alpha Tried to Kill Me for His Gamma

The antiseptic smell of the pack infirmary made my stomach turn. I sat on the edge of the examination table, my shoulder throbbing where Serenity's blade had sliced through skin and muscle. Blood seeped through the makeshift bandage I'd applied myself.

"Let me see that wound," Delta Healer Mia said gently, her eyes filled with concern. "It's deep."

I nodded, wincing as she carefully removed the bloody cloth. The cut was ugly—a jagged line across my shoulder that would have healed quickly if I weren't...

"If I use the healing magic now, we can prevent infection and scarring," Mia murmured, reaching for her supplies.

The door swung open with a bang. Asher stood in the doorway, his presence filling the small room.

"What's happening here?" His voice was deceptively calm.

"Healer Mia is just going to—"

"I can see what she's doing." Asher's tone cut through mine like ice. "Leave us."

Mia hesitated, her hand hovering over her healing crystals. "Alpha, the wound needs—"

"Did I stutter?" Asher's eyes flashed dangerously.

The healer bowed quickly and backed out of the room, leaving me alone with him.

Asher approached slowly, his fingers tracing the air just above my wound. "Such a pretty cut," he murmured. "Serenity has quite the eye for... artistry."

I flinched at his touch. "It hurts."

"Of course it does." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Pain is part of our bond, don't you remember?"

From his pocket, he produced a small jar of ointment that smelled sharply of wolfsbane. My wolf whimpered inside me.

"This will help," he lied, dipping his fingers into the paste.

The moment it touched my skin, fire erupted across my shoulder. I gasped, trying to pull away, but Asher held me firmly.

"Shh," he soothed, spreading the burning salve deep into the wound. "This is special. It will ensure your scar matches mine perfectly."

The pain was excruciating—worse than the original cut. Tears streamed down my face as he continued his "treatment."

"Beautiful," he whispered, admiring his work. "A scar is forever. Just like our bond."

---

"Clean every surface," Beta Marcus instructed, handing me a bucket of supplies. "Alpha wants his study thoroughly cleaned after last night's meeting."

I nodded, knowing better than to protest. My shoulder still throbbed from this morning's "treatment," the wolfsbane ointment ensuring the wound would heal slowly and painfully.

The study was Asher's sanctuary—a place few were allowed to enter. Dark wood shelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound books and ancient artifacts. I worked methodically, dusting each item with care.

As I reached for a high shelf, my elbow knocked against a heavy ledger. It fell with a thud, landing open on the floor.

"Stupid," I muttered to myself, kneeling to retrieve it.

The page it had fallen open to caught my attention. Neat columns of numbers, dates, and payments. My artist's eye for detail noticed the pattern immediately.

Monthly payments to something called "Genesis Den." The amounts were staggering—far more than medical supplies or pack business would require.

I frowned, tracing the dates with my finger. The first payment coincided perfectly with Serenity's arrival in our pack.

"What are you doing?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin, slamming the book shut as Marcus appeared in the doorway.

"Just cleaning," I said quickly, placing the ledger back on its shelf.

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Alpha's private records are not for curious eyes."

"I wasn't—"

"Finish quickly." He left, but the warning was clear.

---

The lock on Asher's desk drawer was old, the mechanism slightly loose. I'd noticed it earlier, when dusting the ornate wood surface.

Driven by a growing suspicion I couldn't explain, I tested it gently. The drawer slid open an inch.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I glanced toward the door. No one was coming—Marcus had left to patrol the grounds.

The drawer contained several vials of clear liquid, each labeled with clinical precision. I recognized them immediately—high-grade regeneration suppressants. Illegal drugs used to stop werewolf healing.

These weren't the weak wolfsbane tea Asher gave me daily. These were concentrated doses, powerful enough to permanently inhibit healing.

My fingers trembled as I picked up one of the vials. The label read "Blackwood Contract—Monthly Supply."

Blackwood. Serenity's surname.

Luna stirred inside me, her presence stronger than it had been in days.

*She's not healing because she's not allowed to heal,* Luna whispered.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. These weren't for me—I drank my wolfsbane in tea form, a constant low dose to keep me weak and dependent.

These were for Serenity.

Her wound wasn't natural or accidental. It was being deliberately maintained.

"Why?" I whispered to myself.

But deep down, I already knew the answer. Asher didn't want a healed mate. He wanted a broken one.

Just like me.

I carefully returned the vial and closed the drawer, my mind racing with possibilities I'd never dared consider before.