Chapter 101

Dante’s POV

The sky looked like a wet cement slab when the first horn split through the quiet.

Didn’t even have to glance up, I knew exactly what that sound meant. The whole world seemed to tighten, the air turning sharp, practically buzzing with that gross copper tang you get right before blood hits dirt.

Ambush. Fantastic.

“Positions!” I yelled, voice echoing through the camp. People scrambled, grabbing swords, yanking on armor, kicking each other awake.

They were on us already. Way, way too close.

I spun toward the barricade just as arrows started hammering the walls, fast, brutal, no warning. Some found wood. Some didn’t. A guard went down right next to me, blood spraying my boots.

“Elora!” I shouted, scanning the mess.

She came running out of the supply tent, hair half out of her braid, blade flashing in the torchlight. “How the hell did they get in this close?”

“They didn’t,” I snapped, shoving an archer out of the way as another round rained in. “They were already here.”

Her eyes went huge. “Infiltrators?”

“Traitors,” I spat.

I could almost taste it... Mira’s poison, her smugness, her way of raging at people till they snapped.

I grabbed my sword and ran for the front lines. Every swing meant something. Every kill was a promise.

It wasn’t about power anymore.

Not for Dominic. Not even for the pack.

I fought because if I didn’t, she’d die.

And hell if I was letting that happen. Not again.

Elora fought beside me, wild and reckless. She wasn’t the healer anymore... She was a storm.

We tore through them until my arms felt like lead. Rain and blood made the ground slick as oil.

And then I saw him, one of the assassins, weaving through the madness, heading straight for her.

“Elora!”

Didn’t think, just lunged.

The next thing I knew was pain. Blazing, blinding pain, a blade sliding right between my ribs. Hot. Deep. My wolf howled inside me, furious.

I spun, sword up, and put the bastard down. But when I turned, Elora was already there, eyes huge and glassy.

“Dante,” she choked, voice cracking. “No... no, no... stay with me.”

I tried to grin, but my mouth wouldn’t cooperate. “It’s… fine. Just a scratch.”

Her hands pressed the wound, blood everywhere, sticky and hot. “You’re losing too much...”

“I’ve had worse,” I muttered, lying even though I could barely breathe.

She shook her head, tears cutting clean lines through the dirt on her face. “Don’t do that. Don’t... don’t joke right now.”

Her fear was worse than the knife. I’d seen her furious, stubborn, brave. But this? Never scared for me.

Lifted a shaking hand, wiped blood off her cheek. “You look good terrified,” I managed.

She laughed... choked, messy. “Shut up.”

Everything else faded... the screaming, the clanging, all of it just gone. Only her face mattered. The way her jaw tightened. The way her heart raced under my hand.

“Don’t you dare die,” she whispered, pressing harder until it burned. “I can’t lose you too.”

That word. Too. Hit harder than the steel.

I wanted to tell her I wasn’t going anywhere, but my chest felt heavy.

“Elora…” I rasped.

She looked down, eyes blazing through tears. “Don’t leave me, Dante. Don’t you dare.”

Her voice shook as her hands trembled. Warmth spread through my chest, she probably didn’t even know she was doing it.

It wasn’t enough, though.

I gritted my teeth. “You should run.”

She glared at me. “Say that again and I’ll kill you myself.”

“Elora...”

“No!” she snapped. “If you die, I’ll drag you back just to slap you!”

Still on fire. Still terrifying. Still the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

I managed a crooked smile, black creeping in at the edges. “Bossy as hell.”

She pressed her forehead to mine, voice all shaky and raw. “Please. Don’t leave me.”

Her breath was right there, trembling against my lips. I could feel how fast her heart was going, like it was trying to break through her chest. The whole mess of fighting and yelling around us faded out for a second. Suddenly, it was just her and me... nothing else.

She smelled like wet earth after a storm, and it was kind of overwhelming. In a good way. Or maybe in a way that made my heart stutter and my head spin.

And then, boom. The thing I’d been dodging for weeks hit me right in the face.

It wasn’t just about caring for her.

I was hers. Like, completely.

“Elora,” I whispered, voice catching. “If I don’t...”

She cut me off, fierce even with her hands trembling. “No. Don’t. You’re going to make it, you hear me? You have to.”

Her palms lit up, all energy and heat, buzzing where she gripped me. My wolf... I could barely feel him... twitched, like he was trying to respond, trying to wake up for her.

And then... warmth.

Heat ripped through me, flooding every inch of me. I jerked, couldn’t help it. She gasped too, like she’d just been punched. For a split second, our wolves flared up... hers golden, mine all shadows... touching, tangled together.

It was like coming back from the grave.

She hovered over me, streaks of blood and tears on her face, but she still looked beautiful. “You’re okay,” she breathed, like she barely believed it.

I barked out a half-laugh, which sounded weak. “Did you just… mark me?”

Her eyes went wide. “I... wait, did I?”

And then, of course, the horns. Retreat. The rogues were scattering, the pack driving them back. Reality crashed in, but she never let go of my hand as she helped me sit up.

Everything around us was burning, broken, but in that moment, all I could see was her.

Elora stared at me, lips parted like she wanted to say something but couldn’t get the words out. Her fingertips traced my jaw.

“I meant it,” she whispered.

I blinked. “What?”

She swallowed, voice nearly lost in the wreckage around us.

“I can’t lose you.”

I knew the truth.

I’d fight a thousand wars for her.

Even if she never picked me.