CHAPTER 119: DIDN’T SMELL LIKE A LIVING PERSON

"Honestly, I would have loved to cut the tongues off those two if not for their diligent fathers," Raye ranted, her arm looped through mine as we made our way to the infirmary.

The men weren’t far behind us, their voices low as they discussed pack affairs.

Breakfast had ended on a sour note, but at least it was over. Relief trickled through me at the memory of Rion dismissing Jesmine and Mira without hesitation. Raye had told me that their fathers were respected councilors—men whose loyalty and wisdom Rion actually valued. The daughters, though? They were tolerated. Barely. And from the way Rion’s shadows had stirred at the table earlier, I could tell his patience for them was already running thin.

I squeezed Raye’s arm lightly, offering her a small smile. "I wasn’t that offended, really. Don’t worry. Their questions might have been rude, but I understand their side. They don’t know Alpha’s true intentions, after all."

That was the truth of it.

The matter of the keys, of the Celestial Wolf—only a handful of us knew. Raye, Ares, Diaval, Rion... and me. Even the most trusted councilors weren’t told the full truth. Jesmine and Mira had no idea that my presence here wasn’t just because Rion pitied me. I was a piece in a bigger plan, a key to awakening the Celestial Wolf.

If they knew that, I doubted they’d waste so much time being jealous. Or maybe they still would—envy was strange like that.

We pushed the infirmary door open, and the sharp smell of herbs and clean linen filled my nose.

Inside, Keigan was already at Jeron’s bedside. His mismatched eyes flicked toward us briefly before returning to his patient.

Raye gasped, the sound catching in her throat before she rushed forward. "Jeron!"

He was awake.

He still looked weak, his body battered, but his eyes were open now. Some color had returned to his face, faint but enough to chase away the dread that had been gnawing at us.

Seeing him like this, alive, breathing, and conscious, was a relief so strong it made my chest ache.

"Thank you," Jeron said weakly, his voice scratchy but clear enough to reach us. His gaze shifted past Raye and landed on the Alpha standing just behind us. "Thank you so much for helping me that night, Alpha."

I glanced at Rion. His expression didn’t shift, as if he’d expected the gratitude.

Per Rion’s orders, Keigan hadn’t told Jeron what had really saved his life. That the healing hadn’t come from herbs or skill, but from my blood. He had told Keigan to keep it a secret for now.

I was grateful for that secrecy. Because even though this was Rion’s city, his Undercity, and his control reached every corner... the future was never certain. Rumors spread, alliances shifted, and power could sour overnight.

It was better to be cautious otherwise we’d attract unnecessary attention.

"How are you feeling?" Raye asked softly, her hand brushing over Jeron’s arm.

Jeron managed a faint smile. "My body still hurts, but... I can feel the injuries closing. Healing faster than I expected." His gaze shifted past her toward Ares and Diaval. "Keigan told me you went aboveground to get the medicine that saved me. Thank you, truly."

Ares’s smirk spread across his face like he’d been waiting for the recognition. "It’s nothing. Just a small effort, considering you’re Raye’s friend."

I almost rolled my eyes. Ares always had to add that little flair, like saving someone was no big deal but also worth bragging about.

Diaval, as usual, kept his words to himself. He just inclined his head in a small nod, his dark gaze unreadable.

Before the silence stretched too long, Rion stepped forward, placing himself neatly between the two men.

"So," he said evenly, his eyes are on Jeron, "did you see who attacked you?"

Jeron frowned, his brows pulling tight as he searched his memory.

His silence stretched, and for a moment I thought he might not answer at all.

Finally, he exhaled. "Someone took my harp."

Jeron’s expression twisted, confusion clouding his features as if he couldn’t make sense of what happened at all.

"It was a man, that much I’m sure of. But his face... it’s blurred in my memory. Like something covered it." He paused, gathering the proper words to share the incident in a way that it made sense. "I followed him to that building because I wanted my harp back, wanted to know why he’d stolen it from House of Ambrosia. But instead, he attacked me. He never shifted. He... used magic."

Just like what we had assumed, the culprit used a magic that was laced with poison. A rare kind of magic, like what Keigan had deduced.

"Can you remember anything else we can use to trace him?" Rion pressed.

Jeron closed his eyes briefly, then shook his head, frustration tightening his mouth.

"No. His face is still blurred in my mind. It’s like... like he wanted me to forget."

"What about his scent?" Diaval questioned.

Jeron’s lips parted, hesitation flickering across his face. "His scent was... odd. Wrong. He didn’t smell like a wolf. Actually, he didn’t smell like a living person at all."

My stomach turned at those words. Not living? What did that even mean?

"Maybe he cloaked his scent," Rion said, his tone cool. "It’s difficult, but possible."

He knew because he had done it, just like how he cloaked his scent on the first night we met in Finn’s estate. Whoever this attacker was, it was evident that they had thought this through. The plan was meticulous. If he wanted Jeron’s harp, then he must have known its worth. He must have known it wasn’t just an instrument.

Jeron’s voice broke my thoughts. "There was one more thing. He didn’t have the scent of a living person, but I smelled something else on him. He smelled... a lot like Alysia."

"Alysia?" I echoed. The word was unfamiliar to me.

Rion clicked his tongue, a small sound, his eyes narrowing with a flicker of mischief. "It’s a kind of flower that only grows in the Sixth District."