Melvina’s nostrils flared in anger at Maya’s statement, the rise and fall of her chest sharp and uneven as she tried to rein in her agitation.

  How wicked could her mate’s brother truly be?

  Wicked enough, apparently, to stretch the threads of his cruelty even to his own daughter.

  “Mom…” Derek’s voice reached her, soft but weighted, and she exhaled shakily. There was no point pretending—her son had already picked up on the storm in her emotions.

  “Aunt… what is it? You’re not saying anything,” Maya added apprehensively. She stood stiff, shoulders slightly raised, eyes darting over Melvina’s face.

  She could already sense something was wrong. The potion was wrong—just as Sia, her wolf, had warned her.

  As she mulled over the situation, a memory flickered—her mother’s reaction the day she learned her father had given her the Panjyo potion. That memory carried heat.

  Her mother had erupted, the fury rolling off her like smoke from burning timber. Angrier even than Melvina looked now.

  Back then, Maya hadn’t thought much of it—she had been too hungry, too drained, her stomach gnawing at itself to worry about the cause.

  “Maya…” her aunt called suddenly, snapping her out of the drifting recollection.

  Maya blinked rapidly, pulling her scattered thoughts back into place. “Yes?”

  “How many times did you take the potion?” Melvina asked, her voice tight.

  She prayed—truly prayed—that Maya had only taken it once. Anything more… the consequences turned fatal. The last pack war, seven years ago, had proven that too well. Wolves were still dying from it.

  “Just that once,” Maya answered, watching her aunt’s expression deepen with thought.

  “Aunt, tell me… what is this potion all about?” she pressed when the silence grew too thick to bear.

  “It is a potion that can only be prepared by witches,” Melvina said, inhaling deeply, bracing herself.

  What she was about to reveal could ignite a feud between Maya and her father—but she didn’t care for peace, not now. Not when one of her favorite people had been made prey to Arnold’s evil.

  “I thought as much,” Derek muttered under his breath; nothing about the situation amused him.

  “I know that already. I heard when he was discussing it with my mother,” Maya said, folding her arms across her chest as her gaze drifted around the garden.

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  “Jan knew about this?!” Melvina shrieked, her voice cutting the air like a blade.

  Both Maya and Derek jolted.

  “Your mother knew that Arnold gave you that evil potion?!” she shouted again, her eyebrows drawn tight, fury tightening every muscle in her face.

  “No, not really,” Maya replied slowly, still startled by Melvina’s fierce outburst. That alone told her something—the Panjyo potion was really bad.

  “She didn’t know until after I had taken it,” Maya added quickly, feeling the need to defend the one person who had always stood by her.

  “That fool didn’t tell her first,” Melvina muttered darkly—but with wolf-hearing, both Derek and Maya caught every word.

  “What did she do after she found out?”

  “She was really angry. But then… nothing,” Maya said quietly. “But Aunt, is the potion that bad?”

  “It was what prevented your mate from feeling the mate pull. So yes, it is that bad,” Melvina answered, mirroring Maya’s stance by folding her arms.

  Maya’s breath hitched. Sia had been right. She had suspected it, dreaded it, and hoped her father wouldn’t stoop so far into selfishness. But hearing it now shattered something inside her.

  Her knees buckled and she let her body drop onto the garden floor. Arms still crossed, she let the tears spill—first as trembling droplets, then as a steady, unstoppable stream carving paths down her cheeks.

  She was devastated. Truly devastated.

  “But why would he give you the potion in the first place?” Melvina demanded. “Who did you spy on?”

  During the war, the potion had been used then to hide wolves completely, in human or animal form. Effective but deadly.

  Beyond the witches’ costly demands, it suppressed the mate bond—temporarily with one dose, forever with more. And it shortened life. Weakened the immune system. A cursed blessing.

  “On a neighboring pack,” Maya murmured, her fear rising again. She didn’t want to reveal the truth—not now, not with guilt already tearing at her ribs.

  What would they think if they learned she had spied on them? Their care for her only made that guilt twist deeper.

  “Was it ours?” Derek asked, slipping his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. Sympathy warred with irritation in his eyes. Yes, he pitied her—but the idea of his cousin spying on him churned his temper.

  “Of course not,” Maya blurted, her thumb flicking repeatedly against her index finger—a tiny swing, like a pendulum.

  “Maya…” Derek said quietly, watching her fingers. That small unconscious motion had always given her away.

  “It was your pack,” Maya whispered finally. She knew he’d caught her lie. Derek always did.

  “You spied on our pack?” Melvina asked, trying to hide the disappointment stretching through her chest. She didn’t want the girl in front of her to sink deeper into despair.

  “Yes,” Maya said softly, bracing for the worst. Though she doubted anything could be worse than having your own mate fail to recognize you. That pain… that was its own death.

  Derek inhaled sharply, then exhaled, long and controlled, fighting the urge to shout. Her broken state gnawed at him. He glanced at his mother—she was battling her emotions too.

  Then he saw her take a deep breath before she stepped around Maya, kneeling beside her and pulling the girl into her arms.

  His gamma used to say his mother must have been a saint—an angel—in a past life. Derek couldn’t argue. Not when he saw this.

  “What do you know then?” he asked finally, stepping closer, his voice lower but steady.

  “I know you have a human mate,” Maya whispered.