KAINE'S POV
"Get everyone inside the fortress walls. Now."
I bark orders to my warriors as we carry Aria and Lila through Ashenfort's gates. Dawn is six hours away. Six hours before two thousand wolves attack my home.
But right now, I can only think about the small, broken woman in my arms.
Through our new bond, I feel everything Aria feels. The pain from her wounds. The exhaustion from the power transfer. The fear that pulses through her with every heartbeat.
And underneath it all—shame. Deep, crushing shame that makes me want to destroy everyone who put it there.
"Medical wing," Sera says, running beside us. "Both of them need treatment immediately."
"No." Aria's voice is so quiet I barely hear it. "Not the medical wing. Too many people."
I understand instantly. After years of abuse, she doesn't want strangers seeing her vulnerable.
"My private chambers," I tell Sera. "Bring supplies there."
We climb the stairs to my rooms—the place I haven't let anyone enter in three hundred years. The door opens to reveal my sanctuary: simple furniture, weapons on the walls, and a massive bed I've barely used because I don't sleep much anymore.
I lay Aria gently on the bed. She immediately tries to sit up.
"You need to rest," I say.
"I need to help prepare for the attack." She swings her legs over the side, but her body betrays her. She sways, nearly falling.
I catch her. Through our bond, I feel the spike of panic when my hands touch her shoulders.
She's afraid of me.
No—not afraid of me specifically. Afraid of being touched. Afraid of being trapped. Afraid that caring about someone means getting hurt again.
I release her immediately and step back. "You're safe here, Aria. I won't touch you without permission."
Her violet eyes meet mine, searching for lies. "You say that now. But the bond—you can feel everything I feel. What if you get tired of feeling my fear? What if you decide it's easier to just take what you want?"
The question hits like a physical blow. She's comparing me to Damien.
"I would rather cut off my own hand than force you to do anything," I say quietly. "The bond goes both ways, remember? You can feel my emotions too. Feel if I'm lying."
She closes her eyes, concentrating. Through our connection, I let her sense everything I'm feeling: concern, protectiveness, rage at the wolves who hurt her, and something deeper I'm not ready to name yet.
Her eyes open, surprised. "You're not lying."
"I never will. Not to you." I pull a chair to the bedside and sit, deliberately keeping distance between us. "Now let me see your wounds. Please."
She hesitates, then slowly extends her arms. The brands from Celeste are healing but still angry and red. Bruises cover her wrists where chains held her. And when she shifts, I see older scars underneath—years of abuse carved into her skin.
My hands shake with rage as I gently clean the burns with medicine Sera left. Aria flinches every time I touch her, even though I'm being as gentle as possible.
"Tell me about them," I say, needing to focus on something other than my fury. "The scars."
"Why?"
"Because they're part of your story. And I want to know all of you, not just the parts that are easy to look at."
She's quiet for so long I think she won't answer. Then, so softly I barely hear: "This one—" She points to a scar on her shoulder. "—Beta Marcus gave me when I was twelve. I spilled his drink. This one—" Her finger moves to her ribs. "—Celeste. She pushed me down the stairs when I was fifteen because Damien smiled at me. This one—"
"Stop." I can't hear anymore. Can't know about more pain without losing control completely. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
"You wanted to know all of me." Her voice holds a bitter edge. "This is me. Broken and scarred and—"
"Surviving." I meet her eyes. "These scars don't make you broken. They prove you survived things that would have killed weaker wolves. They prove you're stronger than anyone who hurt you."
Tears well up in her eyes. "I don't feel strong."
"You will." I finish bandaging her arms. "The curse suppressed your power for twenty-two years. Now it's broken. Your strength will return. Your confidence will return. And I'll be here every step of the way, helping you remember who you really are."
"Who am I really?" she whispers.
"Moon's Chosen. Queen. Survivor. Someone worth fighting for."
A tear escapes down her cheek. Before I can think, I reach up to wipe it away.
She flinches hard, jerking back so violently she nearly falls off the bed.
I freeze, my hand still extended. Through the bond, I feel her terror—pure, instinctive fear of being hit.
"I'm sorry," she gasps. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
"Don't apologize." I lower my hand slowly. "This is my fault. I moved too fast."
"I'm broken," she says, and the words sound like a conclusion she's made about herself. "I can't even let someone wipe away a tear without panicking. How am I supposed to be your queen? How am I supposed to help fight a war when I'm afraid of everything?"
"You're not broken. You're healing." I keep my voice steady even though rage boils inside me. Not at her—never at her. At everyone who made her this way. "And healing takes time. We have time."
"We have six hours before an army attacks."
"Then after we survive the attack, we'll have time." I stand, giving her space. "Right now, you need rest. Real rest, without nightmares or fear. I'll stay here and guard the door. Nothing will hurt you. I promise."
She looks at me like she wants to believe but doesn't know how. "Where will you sleep?"
"I don't sleep much. Three hundred years of nightmares will do that." I move toward the chair in the corner. "But I'll be right here if you need anything. Just call through the bond and I'll hear you."
"Kaine?" Her voice stops me. "Thank you. For everything. For saving me, for choosing to complete the bond, for being patient when you don't have to be."
"I'm not being patient because I have to be." I look back at her. "I'm being patient because you deserve someone who will wait for you to heal, no matter how long it takes."
She curls up on the bed, looking so small and vulnerable it breaks something in my chest. Through the bond, I feel her exhaustion pulling her toward sleep.
I settle into the chair and close my eyes, using the bond to monitor her emotions. When nightmares come—and they will come—I'll be ready to comfort her without touching, without scaring her more.
Hours pass. Aria finally falls into restless sleep. Outside, my warriors prepare for battle. Sera reinforces magical barriers. Thane organizes defense positions.
But in this room, there's only silence and the sound of Aria's breathing.
Then, at exactly midnight, the bond flares with sudden, sharp pain.
My eyes snap open. Aria sits bolt upright in bed, her hand clutching her chest, her face twisted in agony.
"What's wrong?" I'm at her side instantly.
"The bond," she gasps. "Something's wrong with Damien. He's dying. I can feel—"
She screams.
Through our connection, I feel what she feels: Damien's life force draining away. But that's impossible. The mate bond between them is broken. She shouldn't feel anything from him anymore.
Unless...
Horror floods through me as I realize the truth.
"The ritual," I breathe. "It didn't just break your bond with Damien. It connected all three of us—you, me, and him. We're all linked now."
Aria's eyes go wide with terror. "What does that mean?"
Before I can answer, Sera bursts through the door, her face pale.
"My king! Damien escaped from his cell. He's heading toward the eastern border with something—" She swallows hard. "—with a detonation crystal. The kind that destroys everything in a five-mile radius."
My blood turns to ice. "He's going to destroy himself and take Ashenfort with him."
"There's more." Sera's voice shakes. "Because of the ritual connection, if he dies—"
"We all die," I finish. "Aria, me, and him. We're permanently bound now. His death means our death."
Aria stares at me in horror. "So we have to save him? We have to save the man who tortured me for four years?"
"We have to save him," I confirm grimly. "Or we all die at dawn."
Through the bond, I feel Damien's mad laughter and his final, vengeful thought: "If I can't have you, no one can. Not even death will separate us now."