Chapter 105

Elora’s POV

The morning after the raid, I couldn’t even look at Dante without feeling like my skin was about to catch fire.

Every time I tried, flashes of last night just ambushed me... his mouth on mine, his hands shaking like I was oxygen to him. God, and the worst part was I didn’t even try to fight it. I let everything happen, like some idiot in a fever dream.

With the sun glaring down and everything too sharp, it felt... I don’t know. Wrong? Or way, way too right. My head was a mess. I couldn’t sort it out.

So, yeah, I threw myself at training like it owed me money.

Steel, claws, sweat... anything to drown out the static in my head. Every swing at the wooden dummy echoed across the courtyard. I went at it again and again, arms trembling, muscles burning. It was good pain. The kind that kept you from thinking.

“Again,” I growled, barely a whisper. “Again.”

Because if I stopped, the thoughts would start. And if the thoughts started, I’d probably just fall apart.

“Beating yourself up isn’t gonna fix your heart, you know,” came a voice behind me.

I froze. Didn’t even need to turn around. Only one person sounded like that... like he could command a room with a sigh.

Dominic.

He could move like a ghost, but there was always something about him... heavy, kingly, but lately he seemed breakable, too. When I finally turned, he was standing in the archway, the sun shining across his face, making him look older and younger all at once.

He looked better. Less like death warmed over. But his eyes still had that haunted, sleepless thing going on.

“Alpha,” I said, trying to sound like I had it together. “Didn’t hear you.”

He gave this little smile, the kind that’s more habit than happiness. “You were busy murdering that post.”

I glanced at the wrecked wooden dummy, its neck half hanging off. “Yeah, well, it started it.”

He laughed, real quiet. Then came closer. “You’ve changed, Elora.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Into what, exactly?”

“Somebody the pack actually listens to,” he said, just like that. “Somebody I listen to.”

That caught me off guard, no lie. “You don’t have to flatter me.”

“I’m not.” His eyes softened, just a fraction. “I mean it.”

For a second, everything just... paused. Even my aching arms felt quiet.

Dominic took a step closer. Not rushed, not hesitant. Just... sure. There was something different in his eyes, too. Not just the usual haunted look, but something softer. Gentler. A little hope, maybe.

“I heard about last night,” he said. “How did you lead the raid. How you pulled everyone out.”

“Didn’t save anyone. We just got lucky, that’s all.” I said, shaking my head

He tilted his head, studying me like he could see right through my skin. “You always say that whenever you do anything worth a damn.”

I looked away, tightening my jaw and trying not to stare at him. “Luck’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Maybe it’s you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe you’re why any of us are still breathing.”

That one landed right in the gut. My throat went tight. “You give me too much credit.”

“And you give yourself none.”

Silence.

I could feel him staring at me. I didn't want to look at him but he looked like he wanted me to. When I finally looked at him, I immediately wished I hadn't.

Because he was looking at me the way he used to look at Mira. Like I was something rare, something he wanted to care for. Something fragile and needs nurturing. Why would he stare at me that way? I thought that look was reserved for Mira alone? What does this mean?

He reached out, slow and careful, and brushed a stray hair from my face. His hand stayed there for a while, like he was afraid of me breaking. I almost wished he would treat me the same way he had treated me when he married me. That would make me much comfortable than how I am at this point.

“Elora.” The way he said my name... like it was a secret he was hiding in his heart. “You were the light that brought me back.”

Everything just... paused. Heart did a weird little tripwire thing. No, he didn’t step closer. Didn’t have to. The space between us felt like it might shatter, loaded up with stuff we’d never said. Grief, regret, that sharp ache of wanting something you maybe shouldn’t.

I took a step back, my breath coming out in hushed sounds. “Dominic… you can’t just... don’t say things like that.”

His hand fell, like he’d dropped something heavy. “Maybe not. I’m not taking it back, though.”

We just stood there, letting the silence take over. The wind passed by, chilly and smelling like burnt wood and pine needles, reminding me where we were, but not really helping.

I turned away first, squeezing the sword hilt so tight my fingers hurt. “I can’t be your light,” I muttered. “Not when I’m still fumbling around in my own darkness.”

Glanced back. His face? Total mystery. But his eyes... man, I could see it. He got it.

Right before he left, he tossed one more word over his shoulder.

“You don’t have to look alone.”

And then he was gone, footsteps fading out. I just stood there, smack dab between two disasters... Dante’s warmth burning on one side, Dominic’s gentle loyalty on the other. Honestly, no clue which storm was gonna hit me harder.