The Surgeons Rejected Girlfriend by Grazziella

Raven Callahan POV

I never believed I did see his face again. Not after what he did. Not after what it cost me.

But there he stood, dripping from the storm in the middle of my healer's den, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion, and the unmistakable pull of the bond humming low in the air between us, like a song I had tried too hard to forget. Alpha Kael Blackthorn.

My jaw got stiff. I held the small bottle in my hand too tightly. Behind me, the little cub let out a weak cry, hot with fever, even under the wet cloth I did put on him. I forced down the anger building inside me and slowly turned to face him.

"You have five seconds to explain what the hell you're doing here."

He stayed still. His presence filled the space like a second storm. Taller than I remembered. Broader. Weathered and harsh. The dark stubble shadowing his jaw matched the wariness in his eyes. But it was the scent that hit me first, something was wrong. Deeply wrong. Rot clung to him. Not physical. Magical.

"I wouldn't be here if I had another choice," he said, his voice low and rough, like thunder aching to break. "My wolves are dying. I need you."

I laughed, bitter and sharp. "You need me now?"

Silence settled between us.

"I rejected you for political reasons," Kael said, emotionless. "Not because I did not feel the bond."

"I know," I replied, my voice quieter, colder. "That's what made it worse."

The cub behind me stirred again, crying softly in pain . I turned my attention back to him, brushed the sweat off his burning forehead, and added a few drops of moonleaf oil to the cloth. His skin sizzled under the touch of the herbs. I could feel it, whatever was inside him was not a fever. It was something darker.

When I stood, Kael had not moved. The candlelight moved on his face, casting shadows below his eyes. He looked like a man unraveling, and yet he still stood with that same proud, cursed stillness.

"Say what you came to say, Blackthorn."

"There's a curse," he said. "Seven wolves dead in three weeks. The healers can't identify it. Selene believes it's an infection, but it moves like something... older."

I raised an eyebrow. "And you think I can fix it?"

"I know you can."

That certainty in his voice, it wasn't desperation. It was belief. Unshakable. It frightened me more than his rejection ever had.

"I'm not going back to Blackthorn," I said. "Not after what you did. Not after how they looked at me."

"I will protect you," he cut in. "One month. Just one. Come back. Heal my pack. Then you walk away."

I stared at him. At the man who let me burn for the sake of politics. At the alpha whose pack had stood silently while I was cast out. The ones who whispered I was cursed. The daughter of a blood witch.

But behind me, the cub cried out again. I felt the familiar sting in my palm, the ache of my blood magic waking up. Restless. Demanding.

"One month," I said. "I'm not going back for you. I'm going back for those who don't deserve to suffer."

He nodded. No gratitude. Just that look in his eyes that told me: this was only the beginning.

The Blackthorn estate had not changed. Cold stone walls. Towering spires swallowed in fog. Moonlight filtered through barred windows like it feared what it would reveal.

The second I stepped out of the SUV, I felt it, wards. Stronger than before. Too strong.

Selene met me at the front steps, pristine as ever. Lean, silver hair swept back in that effortless way of hers, eyes gleaming with fake civility.

"You must be brave," she said. "Coming back."

"I came for the sick," I answered flatly. "Not your blessing."

Her lips curled. "Of course."

Kael said nothing as we entered the estate. He walked beside me like a ghost. Always watching. Never touching. The bond thrummed under my skin, deep and sharp like a blade I could not unfeel.

In the infirmary, six wolves lay across cots. One already unconscious. Two were children. All of them fevered, muscles twitching under their skin like something inside was trying to claw out. I moved between them slowly, absorbing the wrongness.

"What herbs have you used?" I asked the head healer.

"Moonroot. Feverkiss. Firethorn," she said, bewildered. "Nothing helps."

I approached the oldest, just a girl. Maybe sixteen. Her eyes move slightly open, then her body seized. She tried to scream, but no sound escaped her lips.

I grabbed her hand.

Suddenly, I felt very hot.

Her veins pulsed with something old. Something warped. Blood magic, but not mine.

I released her hand and turned sharply. "This is not a curse. It's a binding."

Kael tensed. "What kind of binding?"

"One that should have died out centuries ago."

That night, I dreamed of blood.

Forests drenched in it. Voices whispering my name. I saw my mother's face in the trees, moving like fire. A scroll burned in my hands. Kael stood behind me, wounded and reaching. When I turned to him, I saw my own face. Eyes black. Lips blood-red. Magic leaking from my skin.

I woke choking on air.

Something called to me.

I slipped from bed and followed the pull. Down quiet corridors. Past locked doors. Until I stood before a sealed room tucked behind the library.

The shield glowed.