Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I'd hear Gabriel refer to me as beautiful—not after he'd looked at me before with such disdain, or when he'd put up such a fight against my presence at the Alpha gathering. But he had, again and again that night as we lay beside each other on the couch, coming down from our shared high.

I'd seen glimpses of his tenderness before when he'd come to me with headaches and at times, as much as I hated to admit it, with Odette. But it seemed that since our first kiss, he'd become someone entirely different.

After two days of stolen glances and breathless kisses, I needed to take some space to clear my head. My thoughts had been fuzzy for days and the constant diversion of all of my thoughts back to Gabriel—his eyes, his hands, his body flush against my own—was beginning to get on my nerves.

I borrowed Ephraim's car to drive to the grocery store. My refrigerator was bordering on empty, and I thought I might find good enough reception in town to do some more research into Angus' symptoms.

In the produce section, two women stood by the herbs, leaning on their carts and chatting. When I heard one of them mention Gabriel's name, I tried to subtly wander a bit closer. Attempting to appear invested in finding the perfect apple, I hovered nearby and listened in the best I could. It seemed that I wasn't the only one to have noticed a change in Gabriel. According to one of the women, the daily Council meetings had been running exceptionally smoothly that week. They speculated about whether it had anything to do with Odette's departure; apparently, neither woman had been particularly fond of her.

"Kiera?" My head snapped up when Victor called my name, emerging from an aisle nearby to rejoin what I now understood was his mate and her friend.

I smiled, hopeful that I appeared natural and calm and not like I had just been eavesdropping. "How are you?"

"Good, thanks. Did you enjoy the wine?"

His question brought my heart to a sudden stop. In my surprise, I fumbled the apple I'd been holding and knocked two others loose off of the display. I dipped quickly to snatch them up before they rolled too far. When I stood again, Victor still wore a lopsided grin. The two women were eyeing me curiously.

"I did, thank you."

So he knew. But how much? Surely, Victor wouldn't have believed that Gabriel wanted the bottle for himself. Beyond that, he was Gabriel's second—the two would be as close as brothers. Of course they would have talked; I just hoped Gabriel hadn't gotten too far into the details.

When the woman with Victor's mate interrupted to ask about his wine collection, I used the distraction to slip away. I didn't like being in the dark as to how much he knew or didn't know, and I had to assume that whatever Victor knew, he'd shared with his mate as well.

Back in Ephraim's car, I was frustrated to find that service was still too poor to get online. Instead, I called Rosalind and raised the phone to my ear. She should be in the clinic today, and it was early enough that it likely wouldn't be too busy yet.

"Kiera," she answered after just one ring. I winced at the hint of pity in her voice. "How are you?"

"I was hoping you could do me a quick favor." I didn't respond to her question, instead getting straight to the point. "Can you look a few things up for me? I don't have internet here."

"It's that primitive?"

I snorted. "Something like that. Are you at the computer?"

There was rustling on her end as she moved. "I am now. What am I looking for?"

I pulled out my notepad and began listing Angus' symptoms one by one. Rosalind's fingers moved quickly over the keyboard, the clacking of the keys fast and loud over the line. She hummed as she browsed through the results.

"This is a member of the Council? And he's full-blooded?"

"That's right. Everyone here is. Why, did you find something?" I chewed on the pen cap while I waited for her to scroll through several more pages of articles.

"If we're diagnosing based on those symptoms, it looks like it could be diabetes. Type two."

I sat back in my seat and let out a long breath. I knew of it in humans, but hadn't encountered it in a wolf before. "Is there anything I'm missing? Anything similar that our kind gets?"

"Nothing with the jaundice or numbness you mentioned. It's not unheard of, but as far as I know we've never seen it in our pack." Her tone was soft and thoughtful, though that was Rosalind: our researcher, our diagnostician. Ever the most patient among us, even when we were dealing with the most troublesome issues.

"I appreciate you checking for me. Can you send me screenshots of some of the articles?" A lump was growing in my throat that was difficult to talk around. I shut my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose in an effort to ward off tears.

"Of course. You know you can call anytime. We miss you."

With a shuddering breath, I hung up. I couldn't bring myself to respond; I'd have broken down if I tried. For a few minutes, I rested my forehead on the steering wheel and worked to collect myself. I was overwhelmed, feeling the crushing weight of nearly every emotion I could name. The past couple of weeks had been a rollercoaster, and it was catching up to me.

The screenshots had loaded on my phone by the time I made it back and unpacked my groceries, so I jogged up the house to catch Ephraim before he left for the day.

"The liver failure is a symptom!" I announced, a bit too excitedly, as I entered the medical room. I nearly ran headlong into Ephraim as he was putting on his coat.

He stopped, sighed, and pulled it off again. He knew he wasn't leaving anytime soon. "Not the underlying cause?"

I shook my head. "Everything he's been experiencing—it's all just been symptoms." I thrust my phone towards him and he took it, frowning at the tiny text as he walked back to his desk and sat down in his chair.

Every few seconds, his frown deepened. I chewed the inside of my cheek while I waited, eager to discuss what I'd found out. Finally, he put the phone down and dropped his head into his hands.

"You're sure?" His voice was muffled.

"Unless you've found something that fits better, yeah. I'm sure."

He swore under his breath, out of character.

"Ephraim," I sat in the chair across from him and leaned forward. "This is good news. We know what it is now. It's treatable, people live with this."

Ephraim looked up, eyes dark and filled with worry. "If—if—we are going to follow through with treatment, it needs to be cleared by Gabriel and the rest of the Council."

I balked at that, not bothering to hide my disgust. "What do you mean, if?"

"I'll discuss this with Gabriel." Ephraim stood and ran his hands over his shirt as though trying to smooth the wrinkles. He was nervous.

I stood, too. "I'm coming with you."

"No."

I followed him anyway.

Though he offered me a small, conspiratorial smile as we entered his office, Gabriel's face fell when he saw our expressions. He set down his pen and stood, already grinding his teeth in preparation for bad news.

"What is it?" He asked.

"We think we have an initial diagnosis for Angus." Ephraim was choosing his words carefully.

"And?"

"It's not bad news—" I started before Ephraim shot me a look. Fine. If he wanted to handle it, I'd let him handle it.

Gabriel looked between us, quickly growing impatient. "Well?"

"We think he might have diabetes." Before Gabriel could ask, he answered the question: "It's a human disease. It's treatable with medication, but the treatment would be ongoing. It doesn't have a cure."

"That's impossible. Wolves don't get human diseases."

"Improbable, not impossible," Ephraim corrected morosely.

"Lycan's End is really just a more aggressive form of cancer. Our systems aren't that different, it's not impossible at all," I added. It fell on deaf ears.

"We have rules." Gabriel cracked his knuckles one by one, a bad habit I hadn't noticed before.

I stepped forward, now forcing my way into the conversation. "You're the Alpha, you made the rules."

"Angus won't accept human treatment, either." Now, it seemed, Ephraim was taking Gabriel's side. They both stared me down.

"He won't accept it because he knows you won't allow it," I said, still speaking to Gabriel. "He's not going to cross you."

"Gabriel's right." Ephraim tried to reason with me. "Once we start making exceptions, the structure falls apart. Everyone will start expecting exceptions for everything."

My blood was beginning to heat up; if I'd known this would turn into a two-against-one argument, I would have brought it straight to Gabriel myself. "So you'd have him die then? From something that is so easily treatable?"

"It's his time," Gabriel said. With Ephraim now on his side, he sounded calm. He'd made up his mind.

"Fuck this." I'd had enough; I needed to get away from both of them before I blew up and spoke out of turn. I turned on my heel and stalked out, slamming the door behind me. It was childish, but it felt good all the same.

I didn't stop until I got outside onto the front porch, where I drew in deep gulps of freezing night air. It felt as if I'd stumbled back in time, regressing to an earlier century when wolves and humans were at war. To be so stubborn in their convictions to retain the old ways as to let a pack member die wasn't something I could wrap my head around, nor did I want to. I thought that maybe if I could get Gabriel alone, I could talk some sense into him