Eliza's pov
blood pounded in my veins, the reek of blood in the dungeon making me sick
I could taste it in my mouth, bitter and hot, dripping down my throat with every ragged breath. My fur was matted, my sides heaved, and every step sent pain scorching through my wounds. Yet I still stood between them—Lucas bleeding, Xavier growling, both of them watching me as though I had become something neither of them recognized.
For a heartbeat, I thought I would choose myself. My wolf screamed for it—to bare my teeth at them both, to tear away from the chains of bond and duty, to walk into the shadows alone. I wanted that freedom so badly it hurt.
But then… my eyes locked on Xavier.
His golden wolf eyes blazed through the blood and the fury. He was battered, bleeding from his muzzle, his chest heaving as his wolf prowled just beneath his skin. His claws dripped crimson, his body shuddered with rage, but still he stood. He hadn't backed down. He hadn't let his brother claim me.
He had fought for me.
No one had ever done that before.
I felt it before I understood it—the pull. The bond thrumming between us, ragged and frayed but still there, still alive. My wolf shuddered, drawn to him like a flame in the dark. Not because he deserved me. Not because he had been good. But because something deep in me wanted to believe he could change. That the man who bought me, who betrayed me, who let me break alone… could still be the one who would stand at my side now.
My body trembled with the realization.
Choose, my wolf whispered. Choose him. He fought. He bled.
I turned to Lucas first.
His dark wolf eyes burned with shock, confusion, something that looked too much like desire. Blood dripped from his shoulder where my teeth had torn him open, his chest heaving, his claws flexing against the stone. For a moment, I thought I saw something raw in him, something fragile. But it was tangled in cruelty, in the memory of his lies, in the sting of the whip across my back.
No.
I couldn't choose him.
Then I looked at Xavier again.
He was still there. His wolf pressed forward, golden eyes fixed on me, teeth bared at his brother as though he would fight until he had nothing left. My chest tightened painfully. He had hurt me, broken me, left me to bleed. And yet… he was the one fighting now. For me.
The choice rose from somewhere deep in my bones, instinctive and unstoppable. My paws moved before I could think.
I stepped toward Xavier.
The pack gasped, a ripple of disbelief echoing through the dungeon walls. Lucas stiffened, his snarl caught in his throat, his eyes widening as I crossed the blood-soaked floor, every step dragging a trail of crimson behind me. My legs trembled, my body screamed, but still I went.
Toward him. Toward my husband.
Xavier's wolf lowered his head as I came closer, golden eyes softening in a way I had never seen. My heart twisted violently at the sight, torn between memory and hope. He had been cruel. He had been faithless. But here, now, his body was battered, his blood was spilled, because of me.
Because he fought for me.
My wolf pressed harder, her voice fierce and undeniable: Mate.
I swayed on my paws, pain and exhaustion washing over me, but I pressed closer until my fur brushed his. A shudder ripped through me at the contact, sparks shooting across my skin, the bond flaring alive.
The dungeon erupted in murmurs.
"She chose him—"
"She went to her Alpha—"
"She chose Xavier."
I lowered my head, pressing against his chest, unable to hold myself upright any longer. His claws, still slick with blood, curved protectively around me, holding me steady. For a moment, I could almost believe this was safety.
Almost believe that he could change.
My vision blurred, darkness pressing at the edges. I heard Lucas snarl, his rage shaking the walls, but Xavier's growl answered, sharp and final. His wolf stood over me, a shield of fur and fury, daring anyone to come closer.
And my battered body, my broken heart, my foolish hope, surrendered to it.
The last thing I saw before the darkness took me was his golden eyes—burning not with rage, but with something else. Something that looked like possession. Something that looked like a promise.
I didn't know if it would save me.
I didn't know if it would destroy me.
But I chose him.