They arrived in the middle of the night.

Screeching tires on the driveway woke me up with a start, and when I looked outside through my bedroom window, I knew something was terribly wrong. I slipped into my shirt and jeans and ran down the stairway barefoot. I was just in time to catch my mother rushing inside. She grabbed me by the upper arms in the passing, her blue eyes wide in shock.

"River! Good, you're awake," she greeted me, sounding as bewildered as she looked. "Prepare the East wing for a patient. Hurry!"

"Okay, Mom. On my way."

I turned and made a beeline for Dad's office to retrieve the keys.

There were about a million questions buzzing inside my head. Who was in that car? Why had they arrived in the middle of the night, and what on earth had happened to the new patient that we placed him in the isolated East wing?

This was not the time for questions, however.

Keys in hand, I rushed up the stairs leading to the East wing. I unlocked the thick double doors, and with a groan in effort pushed them both open.

Despite this part of the castle being in disuse most of the time, Mom and Dad insisted we kept it clean and ready. The living room area was fully furnished and decorated. Silver statues of wolves on the fireplace sparkled in the light of the chandelier lamp on the ceiling, and fresh flowers and plants adorned the living area. One could immediately move in. No further actions were needed, aside from making the bed.

I walked straight through to the adjacent bedroom, fetched fresh linen from the closet, and made the twin bed.

I finished just in time.

While I patted the head pillows to fluff them as a final touch, there were hurried footsteps in the living area. Two male strangers carried an unconscious third man into the room. With their tall, muscular physiques, all three of them looked like high ranked pack warriors. Their scars showed their ample battle experience.

I bowed my head to pay my respect to them, but neither man took kindly to it.

"Move," one of the warriors ordered me gruffly with a disdainful glare, and I all but leapt out of the way, letting the two men carefully place the unconscious one on the bed.

He was heavily injured.

I smelled the metallic scent of blood thick in the air, overpowering all other scents in the room. He'd been bitten several times on his arms and legs. His face was scratched open. There was dried blood, sand, and mud hiding his features, even caking his dark hair.

The wounds were deep, but given that he looked like a strong, healthy werewolf, they would heal rapidly. The wounds weren't what concerned me. What concerned me was the reason this man had earned himself a place in the East wing. He would not be placed here for injuries sustained in battle alone. What else was wrong with him?

A few moments later, Dad stormed into the room. He wore his white doctor's coat. It was not a necessary dress code for medical staff in our castle, but Dad told me it often helped give him some kind of authority. Pack warriors could be aggressive sometimes, especially if they disagreed with a treatment.

I could not wait to earn the right to wear my own doctor's coat. Especially if it helped not to be treated like dirt under a boot.

Contrary to how the warriors had treated me, they immediately bowed their heads for my dad, and stepped aside to give the chief doctor of the sanctuary space.

While Dad bent over the injured man in the bed and checked his vitals, one of the warriors, the taller and broader one of the two, gave me the stink eye.

"What are you staring at? You're done here. Get out, houseboy," he dismissed me.

Dad looked up at the warrior.

"River is my assistant and my child," he said calmly, emphasising both my name and that I was his kin. "He's training to become a doctor. You can trust him, and he stays."

Both the pack warriors' eyebrows shot up in brief surprise. They saw a simple servant in me, weak and frail, while my father stemmed from a prominent Alpha bloodline, all leaders in their respective community. They couldn't smell the kinship between us, because the doctor had adopted me. But my dad's word, an alpha's word, seemed to be enough for them to settle down.

"The wounds are trivial," the smaller of the two warriors told my dad. The same conclusion I'd reached a few moments ago. "But there's the matter of his... his wolf."

"Mm," Dad hummed, listening intently. "Go on."

While my dad talked with the warriors, I made myself useful by disinfecting my hands at the faucet in the adjacent bathroom and filling a bucket of water so I could clean the wounds. But I still listened to every single word that was being spoken in the other room.

"A witch got him," one of the warriors said. "She put a curse on him. Suddenly, he stopped moving and shifted back to his human form right in the middle of the fucking battlefield! We barely managed to drag him out before Moonshadow pack warriors clawed his face clean off. Okay, he got nicked a few times on the way out, but that shouldn't keep him down like this."

"Mm," my dad hummed again.

He stared at the unconscious man in the bed when I walked back into the room. His brows furrowed in deep thought while I placed the bucket of water next to the bed.

Despite Dad vouching for me, the warriors eyed me warily as I soaked a piece of cloth in the water, and gently dabbed the wounds on the man's face. I did my best to ignore their glares, and I wondered why this man was so important to them. A close friend, perhaps.

"It's alright," my dad asserted again. "He is in excellent hands with my son. You have done well to bring him here."

One of the warriors tore his eyes off of me to turn his attention to my dad. "Have you ever heard of a curse like this before? Can you cure it?"

My dad dipped his head. "I'm afraid I haven't seen this firsthand. But even if I had seen a similar case before, a curse cast by a witch is different in nature each time," he replied. "But, we will do our utmost best to lift the curse. We will run tests and bring in all the experts we can find to sort this out."

The warriors didn't look reassured by Dad's words. They wanted the doctor's word that things would be alright, but I knew Dad couldn't promise them a cure. He always chose his words carefully, because a patient could always end up dying.

Perhaps it was impossible to lift a curse, and Dad didn't want to be confronted with two furious men if he dropped the news on them here. I didn't know; I hadn't arrived to that part of my studies yet, and not much was known about witches, regardless.

"You've done well to bring him here," Dad attempted to reassure the warriors further. "He is in good hands. Get some rest, you look tired."

Once again, the two warriors' eyes shot to me. And once again, my dad repeated like a broken record, "He is safe here. Go get some sleep. Find two free beds in the West wing and make yourselves at home. If you're hungry, there's food in the kitchen. You are welcome to stay as long as you like."

For a moment it seemed like the warriors were going to decline to stay here and watch me. They'd all but openly snapped at me, they didn't want me around their injured friend. But finally their fatigue made them give in.

"Thank you for your hospitality, doctor Carter," the taller warrior said with a stiff nod.

Shooting one last glare my way, the two left. The room suddenly became a lot easier to breathe in despite the stench of blood coming from the man on the bed and I released a small sigh.

"I'm sorry, River," Dad apologised to me.

He dragged a weary hand down his forehead. "Pack warriors like them cling to their traditions of strong ruling over the weak and will never change. It's unfortunate their existence is necessary in this world we live in. But I suppose I don't need to tell you that."

I indeed didn't need a reminder of what a warrior pack was like. Not when I tried so hard not to remember. Memories I tried hard to suppress came flooding back when faced with the warriors' harsh glares and lashing words. The thought of having these men in the castle at night made shivers run down my back.

Even this unconscious warrior in front of me put me on edge. Even more than the other two. I couldn't put my finger on it, but even in this state his energy was raw and intimidating.

"It's alright," I muttered, putting on a brave face for my dad. "I will not let these warriors get to me."

"That's the spirit."

Dad cracked a smile and patted my back. Then he nodded at the warrior on the twin bed.

"And now that our oaf-headed distractions are finally gone, let's tend to this warrior."