Chapter 102

Elora’s POV

The tent was quiet, except for the sound of Dante breathing. The whole vibe was tense.

There he was, shirt on the cot. He kept breathing slowly and unsteadily, like it hurt. Blood had soaked through the bandages. I had cleaned that cut twice already, but here I was, checking it again. Maybe just to make sure he was still alive. I just needed to feel his pulse in my head and some reassurance.

I squeezed the rag from the water and placed it gently on his wound. He flinched, even though he was asleep.

"You shouldn't have taken the fall for me," I muttered, and my voice cracked.

He didn’t answer. His hair was plastered to his forehead, damp from sweat and I brushed it away with my fingers quickly so I wouldn't linger.

Every time I looked at him, I saw it... him jumping in front of me, the gasp, the blade flashing, blood everywhere. There was this split second where I really thought he was gone. I don’t even have words for that kind of terror.

I slumped onto the stool beside him, elbows on my knees and head in my hands. My whole body was tired from fighting. But I knew there was nothing we could do. We had to finish this and be free once and for all. I know the warriors will still be alert by this time, and it made me sad.

And all I could feel was him.

Eventually, I sat up again. The light flickered as I grabbed a fresh cloth, wiped blood off his jaw, and traced that little scar on his chin. He always looked tough and untouchable. Like nothing could harm him.

Now look at him... wrecked.

"You stubborn idiot," I breathed, voice shaking. "Why did you do that?"

Within my heart, I knew the answer to that question, but I wasn't about to say it out loud. I wasn't prepared for what would come after.

He moved a little and I froze, holding the clothes in mid-air. I thought he was waking up, but his lips just moved, like he was dreaming.

"Elora…"

My name. Just that. The way he said it hurt.

My throat ran dry as I brushed my fingers over his cheeks. "I’m here," I whispered.

He didn’t wake up. Relaxed again. So I just sat there, watching him breathe, watching his lashes move. It could have been hours. I didn’t care.

Outside, night kept dragging on, cold as hell. But I felt warm here.

I didn’t even notice I was shaking until I felt the sweat run down the back of my neck. I leaned in closer without thinking, hand still on his jaw.

"Don’t do that again," I said, real quiet. "Don’t you dare make me think I lost you."

I recalculated what I had said to him earlier about not wanting to lose him. I had meant it. I couldn't afford to lose him. And that was the stupid part. How can I not afford to lose a man whom I wasn't married to? I was married to his twin brother for crying out loud. How can I still have feelings for Dante?

Even though everything in me screamed that it was wrong, I didn't want to believe it. Part of me still ached for my mate.

I shouldn’t be feeling like this about him. This was supposed to be all business, survival, and teamwork. Not this ache that makes my heart want to explode. But when his hands went cold underneath mine, when I thought for real that was it, he was gone, I just snapped.

I felt it. That weird, invisible thread pulling between us. Old, sure... dangerous, probably. And it wasn’t destiny, nothing dramatic like that. It was just us, choosing each other in the middle of all this madness.

I reached out again to touch him, but I let my finger sky over his body. My hand finally settled on his chest and traveled to his fingers.

He was warm. Alive. Solid. That should’ve settled me.

Not even close.

I leaned in, whispering, as if scared someone else would hear me. “Please don’t make me choose between you and doing the right thing.”

Because I wasn’t sure I’d pick right.

That’s when his eyes cracked open. He looked confused at first, but then he saw me, and I saw a flash of relief pass through his eyes.

“Elora,” he called out, his voice sounding rough.

My heart went sideways. I half stood, nerves jangling. “You’re awake...”

He moved, slow as a snail, but he caught my hand before I could pull out. His grip was weak, but steady enough, thumb brushing my wrist, comforting me.

“Then don’t lose me,” he whispered.

Those words just slammed into me and I don’t think he even realized what he’d said.

My heart raced out of control.

“Dante…”

He squeezed my hand softly, but enough to keep me from drifting away. His face looked dark and serious, but the expression on his face was soft and gentle as he stared at me in the eyes.

I wanted to say something. Maybe scold him, thank him, confess that this scared the hell out of me, but nothing came out.

So I stayed. Linked my fingers with his, pressing his hand to his chest, listening to his slow but steady heartbeat.

The wind howled outside as the cool breeze found its way in through the window.

Inside, everything felt too close. Too real.

I didn’t move. Candles burning down slowly, our shadows on the wall, the warmth of his hand mixing with mine till I couldn't tell the difference anymore.

He drifted off to sleep again, breathing calmly.

And I just sat there, not letting go. Heart pounding stupidly loud, skin prickling, trying to figure out when I stopped being scared of losing him, and when I started being terrified of how much I wanted him.