Chapter 0168

"Do we have any updates on the coven? Did the prince manage to evade the hunters?" I demand.

"Not yet," Nathaniel replies. "I just wanted to inform you of my findings. Are you still planning to go into the city tonight?"

My gaze shifts to my mate. The thought of seeking another's warmth is laughable now. I've found her, and I'll do whatever it takes to ensure she never slips away again.

"No. I'm staying here. If you uncover anything else, link me immediately."

Hours later, Dr. Whitmore returns. His expression is grim.

"Alpha, we can administer a blood transfusion, but we've never performed one on a werewolf before. There's no guarantee her body will accept it."

I shake my head. "Let's give her more time to heal naturally before resorting to extreme measures."

A week passes.

My mate still hasn't opened her eyes.

Dr. Whitmore assures me she's recovering, albeit slowly. My presence, even if she doesn't consciously sense the bond, is aiding her recovery.

I've barely left her side. Nathaniel handles all pack matters, delivering only the most urgent reports. Only he and Dr. Whitmore are permitted on this floor. The pack remains unaware of her existence—until she wakes, I won't risk unnecessary disturbances.

When Dr. Whitmore arrives for his morning checkup, I slip away to shower and change.

Through the mind link, I ask Nathaniel, "Anything requiring my attention?"

"What should we do with Victor Blackwood?"

I haven't set foot in the dungeons since my mate arrived. Leaving her now is unthinkable—her condition remains fragile. If anything happened in my absence, I'd never forgive myself.

"Let him rot. Ensure he has enough food and water to survive, but nothing more. My focus is on her."

"Yes, Alpha." He hesitates, the link still open.

"Out with it, Nathaniel."

"I've gathered more intel on the northern vampire coven. Prince Damien and his inner circle escaped the hunters. Rumor has it they've seized control of a weaker coven, and his influence is growing."

Another pause. I growl in warning.

"Get to the point."

"They're searching for two women. One matches your mate's description—pale skin, white hair. The bounty for her safe return is five million dollars."

I freeze mid-step.

Five million? For a werewolf?

Vampires despise our blood—they claim it tastes like rancid mud. So why would a vampire prince want my mate badly enough to offer such a fortune?

"Double the patrols. I want immediate alerts if anyone detects an unfamiliar scent." I consider for a moment. "Have you ever encountered a vampire's scent before?"

"Once. It's unforgettable—cloying, sickly sweet."

"Did you notice it on my mate when we found her?"

"No offense, Alpha, but you didn't exactly let any of us get close enough to check. I'll ask Donovan if he detected anything unusual before we arrived."

"Order the patrols to hunt for that scent. If it's detected anywhere near our territory or the human city, I'm to be notified immediately."

"Understood."

The link closes.

As I finish dressing, my mind races. What makes my mate so valuable to them? Dorian confirmed she has a wolf—her blood should repel vampires, not attract them.

Lost in thought, I return to her room—my nameless, mysterious mate.

It takes me a full three seconds to realize her eyes are open.

She stares at me, wide-eyed.

Then, the fear in her gaze hardens into something far more unsettling—dread, and cold, unwavering resolve.