Third person POV

The silence in Atlas’s hall stretched after she left that night. The air felt heavy… like his gaze still clung to her even after the door closed.

By morning, whispers had spread through the pack like wildfire.

The wolfless girl had magic.

The Alpha had seen it.

Something was off about her.

Remi kept her head low, saying nothing as she worked. Every movement felt watched. Every breath felt like it echoed too loud.

When she entered the infirmary, two warriors stopped talking immediately. She could feel their stares on her back.

“Careful,” one muttered under his breath. “She might curse you next.”

Remi ignored them, her hands steady as she sorted herbs. But inside, panic gnawed. She hadn’t meant to use her mother’s healing light… it had just happened. Instinct. Reflex.

Now, it might get her killed.

The door creaked open. She didn’t need to turn to know it was him.

Atlas’s presence filled the room like shadow and heat. The warriors straightened instantly, their postures rigid.

“Out,” Atlas said. One word. Command. They obeyed without a glance back.

The door closed. Silence.

Remi didn’t look up. Her fingers kept moving, crushing dried leaves that no longer needed crushing.

“You’re nervous,” Atlas said finally, voice calm but sharp enough to cut through stone.

“No, Alpha,” she murmured.

“Lying doesn’t suit you.”

Her hands stilled. She turned slowly, meeting his golden eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Atlas crossed the distance between them, his boots silent against the dirt floor. “Didn’t mean for what?”

Her breath hitched. “The healing.”

“Magic like that doesn’t just happen.”

“It wasn’t magic.”

He tilted his head, watching her like a predator studying prey. “Then what was it?”

She hesitated… too long. He caught it.

Atlas’s eyes narrowed. “You’re hiding something.”

Remi swallowed hard. “I’m no threat to your pack, Alpha. That’s all you need to know.”

“That’s not all I need to know,” he said, voice low. “A strange woman shows up half-dead at my border, no scent, no wolf, no past — and now light pours out of her hands like moonfire? Tell me, Remi, what am I supposed to think?”

Her heart pounded against her ribs. “That maybe I’m just trying to survive.”

For a moment, the air between them cracked with tension. His eyes searched hers, sharp but not cruel, like he was trying to read the truth beneath her fear.

Atlas finally exhaled, slow and deep. “You’ll keep working in the infirmary. But if I see that light again, or if anyone in my pack gets hurt because of you…”

“They won’t,” she cut in, quiet but firm.

His jaw flexed. He wasn’t used to being interrupted. “I’ll decide that.”

She dipped her head, forcing control into her voice. “Yes, Alpha.”

Atlas studied her for a long moment before turning away. At the door, he paused. “One more thing. Whatever that power is… Don’t use it again.”

Then he was gone.

Remi let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Her hands were shaking.

The next few days passed under invisible chains. The pack whispered. Atlas watched.

He didn’t summon her again, but she could feel it, his presence everywhere. On the training ground, in the halls, near the fire pit at dusk. His eyes followed her like a storm waiting to break.

Once, she caught him watching from the edge of the field while she carried water to the wounded. Their eyes met briefly — his unreadable, hers wary. He turned away first, but not before something flickered there. Curiosity.

That night, she dreamt of fire.

The Silvermoon Hall burning. Her parents screaming. And then Asher’s face… his betrayal… his crimson eyes.

She woke up gasping, her hands clutching her chest. The mark that used to glow under her collarbone… the crest of her pack… was nothing but scarred skin now.

Gone. Like it had never existed.

A knock at her door startled her.

She tensed. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” came a familiar deep voice.

Her pulse stumbled. Atlas.

She hesitated, then opened the door slightly. He stood there, his hair damp from rain, his expression unreadable.

“You didn’t report for your shift,” he said.

“I… overslept.”

“You look like you haven’t slept at all.”

Remi lowered her gaze. “I didn’t think my absence would matter.”

“Everything in my pack matters,” he said.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Even the wolfless servant?”

Something sharp flickered in his eyes. “That’s what they call you. Not what I do.”

That silenced her.

Atlas stepped closer… too close. “You saved that child. You could’ve run. You didn’t. That tells me something.”

“What does it tell you?” she asked quietly.

“That you’re not what you pretend to be.”

Her throat tightened. “Maybe pretending keeps me alive.”

He studied her, his gaze softening just a fraction. “You’re not afraid of me.”

“Should I be?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Most people are.”

“I’ve met worse,” she whispered.

That earned the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes… dangerous and brief. Then he stepped back, control sliding back over him like armor.

“You’ll report to the healer tomorrow. No more skipping shifts.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

He hesitated at the doorway. “And Remi…”

She looked up.

“Whatever it is you’re running from… it doesn’t change what I see.”

Her breath caught. “And what do you see?”

He didn’t answer. He just looked at her … long enough for her heart to forget its rhythm and left.

The door closed softly behind him.

Remi stood frozen, pulse roaring in her ears.

What he saw, she didn’t know. But for the first time since that night of blood and fire, she felt seen and it terrified her more than any blade ever could.