Wesley’s POV: Raelyn looked at my face and suddenly burst into laughter; she laughed so hard she nearly couldn’t breathe, tears welling in her eyes, before finally pulling out her phone to call Trent. “I want a hand-brewed coffee from the new Capital City café. Go get me one,” I said to Raelyn. “Alright, alright, I’ll go,” she replied with a mischievous grin before skipping out the door. Not long after, Trent came striding in. The moment he saw me, he landed a punch on my arm. “What now, treating me like the Imperial Pack’s babysitter, Mr. Wesley?” I shot him an annoyed look. “Cut the crap and just put it on.” I lay facedown on the bed while Trent pulled up my shirt, dipped his fingers into the ointment, and carefully spread it across my back. “Raelyn’s not here?” he asked as he worked. “Who cares about her? That woman’s got the sharpest tongue alive,” I snapped. The words had barely left my mouth when a jolt of pain shot through my back. “Damn it, easy! That hurt! You doing this on purpose?” I turned to glare at him. Trent gave me an apologetic shake of his head. “Sorry, my hand slipped. Didn’t mean to.” I gritted my teeth, sucking in a breath between clenched jaws. “That woman is so conniving. Tell me, who’d ever want someone like her?” At that, Trent’s fingers pressed harder, digging straight into one of my wounds. I let out a sharp cry. “Trent, what the hell are you doing?” “Oh?” Trent’s face was blank as he eased up a little. “Slipped again.” That’s when it hit me, every time I mentioned Raelyn, his hand just happened to slip. This guy looked like he had a thing for her. I could only fall silent; better to bite my tongue than get tortured to death before the medicine had a chance to work. A while later, Raelyn came back with coffee. Spotting the finished treatment, she stepped closer and asked how I was feeling.My back couldn’t decide whether to burn or itch, so it did both. “Hurts a little, but it’s bearable,” I said. “Good. I added an herb that stings more but helps clear the inflammation,” Raelyn explained with a casual smile as she checked the wounds. “Give it a few days and your back will be much better. Just make sure you don’t get it wet.” I nodded, and she told me to rest before giving Trent a quick nod and turning to leave. I closed my eyes, ready to sleep, when I heard Trent chasing after her. Raelyn’s POV: “Raelyn, wait. About my friend I mentioned before… the one who’s sick—do you have time now?” I stopped outside the ward and turned as Trent caught up. Then I remembered. “You mean the girl with photophobia?” “I told her I’d find someone to help, and she was so happy,” Trent said seriously, almost nervously, as if afraid I’d refuse. I nodded. “Of course. Let’s go.” His face lit up. “Great, I’ll take you.” A promise was a promise; I couldn’t back out. So I got in his car, and we drove to a Chinese-style courtyard house on the outskirts of the city. The place had a heavy, old-world feel; the rooms were filled with carved rosewood furniture. The moment we stepped into the main hall, a werewolf couple hurried out to greet us. “You must be Ms. Beck, the one young Trent mentioned. As young and beautiful as he said,” the man said, his eyes lingering on my face with too much interest. “Thank you. Where’s the patient?” I replied coolly. The middle-aged man’s gaze grew a little improper, but his wife was quick to step in, bowing respectfully. “I’ll take Ms. Beck.” She led me and Trent through to the back courtyard. The air grew heavy as we entered a tightly sealed room; the moment I walked in, the dimness pressed down on me, and I frowned. “Sorry, Harley’s afraid of light,” the woman explained with a small smile, noticing my reaction. Trent looked perfectly calm, clearly used to it—he must’ve been here many times.We entered the innermost room, where a young werewolf girl lay curled on the bed. I walked toward her slowly. Hearing the door open, she instinctively lifted her head; the instant she saw me, she shrank back timidly. “Don’t be afraid, Harley. This is Raelyn—the one I told you about,” Trent soothed, giving me a subtle nod. On the way, he had already told me her story, her name was Harley, bedridden for years, but stubbornly insisting she wasn’t sick. I forced a small, gentle smile. “Hello, Ms. Harley. I’m here to examine you, if you’ll allow it.” As expected, Harley shook her head. “I’m not sick. You don’t need to check me.” I wasn’t bothered by her resistance; instead I said softly, “An illness of the heart is still an illness. Why not let me take a look first, then decide?” Glancing back at Carmen and Trent, I added, “Would you mind waiting outside? If I need help, I’ll call.” Trent nodded and gently led a worried Carmen out. Once the door closed behind them, I turned back to Harley and spoke in a steady, serious voice. “Tell me the truth, Ms. Harley. What exactly have you been through?”