The manor was alive with chaos.
Healers rushed through the stone halls, carrying herbs, bandages, and bowls of steaming water. The air smelled of blood and smoke, of sweat and fear. Aria followed close behind the wolves carrying Ethan, her heart hammering so hard it hurt.
They laid him on a cot in a dim chamber where torches burned low against the cold stone. His face was pale, his breaths shallow, but his chest rose and fell steadily now. The wound that had once poured blood was sealed with angry red scars, Damian's strange power holding him together until the healers could finish their work.
Aria dropped to her knees beside him, clutching his hand. Relief washed over her so sharply it felt like pain.
"You're safe," she whispered, though her own voice trembled. "You're safe now."
Ethan stirred faintly, his lashes fluttering. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. His hand twitched weakly in hers before he sank back into restless sleep.
The healer, an older woman with silver hair tied back in a braid, glanced at her sharply. "He'll live," she said, brisk but not unkind. "Thanks to the Alpha. Without his intervention, this one would have bled out before we ever reached him."
Aria's throat tightened. Her gaze flicked instinctively toward the doorway—and there he was.
Damian leaned against the frame, his arms crossed, his bare chest streaked with dirt and dried blood. His golden eyes were unreadable, cold as a blade.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other.
Then one of the pack wolves broke the silence.
"Why?" The voice was sharp, laced with suspicion. A young man with dark hair and a scar across his cheek stepped forward, his gaze flicking between Aria and Damian. "Why waste the Alpha's strength on him? And why risk everything for her?"
Murmurs rippled through the room. Dozens of eyes turned toward Aria—accusing, hostile, hungry.
Aria's chest constricted. She could feel the weight of their hatred pressing down on her, suffocating.
"She's human," another voice spat from the crowd. "She doesn't belong here. She's a weakness."
"She's a curse," someone else hissed. "The rogues would never have attacked under the blood moon if not for her."
Aria's nails dug into her palms, her heart pounding. She wanted to speak, to defend herself, but the words stuck in her throat.
Then Damian moved.
His presence cut through the chaos like a blade through silk. He pushed off the doorway, his gaze sweeping over his pack with icy authority.
"Enough." His voice rumbled through the chamber, low and commanding. Instantly, silence fell.
But silence didn't erase the hostility in their eyes, or the tension that still thickened the air like smoke.
Damian stepped closer, his expression carved from stone. "You question me?" His golden eyes narrowed, sharp as firelight. "You question your Alpha?"
The scarred man bowed his head quickly, his defiance flickering into fear. "No, Alpha. Never."
Yet the resentment lingered, unspoken but palpable.
Damian's gaze flicked to Aria then, just for a moment. His jaw tightened. She saw the truth in his eyes—the same war he had confessed to her in the cage, the same torment tearing him apart.
She was his mate. But to his pack, she was poison.
And she knew, with brutal clarity, that he couldn't protect her from them forever.
---
Later, when the healers had settled Ethan and the pack dispersed with grudging obedience, Aria slipped from the chamber. Her footsteps echoed down the dim corridors, her mind a storm.
She didn't know where she was going, only that she needed air.
The manor's courtyard stretched wide and empty under the moonlight. The blood moon had faded, but its memory clung to her skin, to the air itself. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering despite the warmth of the night.
"You shouldn't be out here."
The voice came from behind her, deep and edged with something she couldn't name.
She turned—and found Damian standing at the base of the stairs, shadows clinging to him like a cloak. He had cleaned the blood from his skin, but his presence was still as fierce, as untamed, as when she had first seen him tear through rogues with his wolf.
Aria's breath caught. The bond throbbed between them instantly, wild and relentless, pulling her toward him even as her mind screamed to resist.
Her voice shook, but she forced the words out. "Your pack hates me."
"They fear what they don't understand," he said, his gaze steady.
"No." She shook her head, her throat tightening. "They fear me because of what I am. Human. Wrong. They think I'll destroy you."
He was silent for a moment, his jaw working as though the words caught there. Then he said, low and rough, "They're not entirely wrong."
Her heart clenched. The honesty in his voice cut deeper than cruelty ever could.
"I didn't ask for this bond," she whispered, her eyes stinging. "But I feel it, Damian. I feel you in every breath, every heartbeat. And no matter how much you try to push me away, it doesn't fade. It only grows stronger."
His chest rose sharply, his fists clenching at his sides. He looked like a man fighting not an enemy, but himself.
"Do you think I don't feel it too?" he said, his voice raw. "Every second you're near me, it's all I can do not to—" He cut himself off, his eyes blazing.
Aria stepped closer, her tears glistening in the moonlight. "Then stop fighting it."
The bond surged, fierce and undeniable, closing the space between them. She could feel his warmth, smell the wild earth and smoke on his skin.
For a heartbeat, she thought he would break. That he would finally surrender.
But then he turned away, his shoulders rigid.
"I am Alpha," he said, his voice like iron. "And the cost of this bond is too high."
Her heart shattered.
She stared at his back, the distance between them greater than miles, greater than worlds. And she knew: whatever choice he thought he was making, whatever walls he tried to build, she could not walk away.
"Maybe the cost is mine to pay," she whispered.
He froze, but didn't turn.
And then he walked into the shadows, leaving her standing alone beneath the moon.
---