Chapter 22

Dominic’s POV

Mira’s hand felt small in mine, like I might snap it if I squeezed too hard. Her fingers were cold, even with that blanket draped on her lap. I sat next to her, feeding her this medicine the healer made, watching her sip it slowly. She leaned into me, hanging on as if I was the last solid thing left in her whole world, eyes closed, her breathing shallow. I kept repeating to myself, This is why she needs me. I am the only one she has at this moment.

“Dominic,” she whispered. “I don’t think I’d survive if you weren’t here.”

Guilt started to crawl in, all claws and teeth. I pushed a bit of messy hair from her face, faked a smile. “You’re not going anywhere. I’ll make sure you get better.”

She managed a little grin, faint and shaky, then melted into me. It should have felt comforting, that closeness, right? A reminder we used to be something sturdy, unbreakable. But, if I’m being honest, it felt… off. Artificial or brittle. She didn’t weigh as much against my shoulder as she used to. Even her laughter changed. It was softer, almost like she rehearsed it. I tried to stop thinking about it and just stuck to what I knew, she’s my mate. Whatever she has done, whatever the pack says, I would find a way to forgive.

Haven’t I failed her, too? Left her here, rattling around the house, while I wasted forever at council meetings, watching Elora climb in everyone’s estimation? Mira had no one else. Just me.

So, I stayed. I hung around until the sky went navy and somebody lugged in more blankets and a pot of tea. Mira started telling all these stories from her childhood, how lonely she felt being groomed into something she never wanted. Each word just poked at me. I started to see her again, not as the manipulator, but as this scared girl just hanging on so I wouldn’t leave.

I forgave her, I guess. Not by saying it out loud, but in the way I ran my fingers through her hair, in the promise I would stick around. I let her knock out with her head in my lap, kept lying to myself that this is what love actually is: patience, grit, and forgiveness.

But once she was asleep, the room fell quiet. So quiet my mind spun in a different direction.

Elora.

That surprised me. The thought of her was as clear as day. I hadn’t seen her even once that day. She didn’t come update me on pack business, didn’t show her face with that steady, determined vibe she has. Normally, she always finds me at least for reports or… I don't know, just to be there. Turns out, her presence is like background music you don’t notice till it shuts off and everything feels wrong.

That hollow feeling wouldn’t leave. Just gnawed at me.

Eventually, I broke away from Mira, made sure the healer was close, then headed down the halls. I half-expected to bump into Elora, to smell that elusive trace, almost like smoke clinging to clothes after a fire. Only the maids were around, shuffling about.

“Seen the Luna?” I asked one, a young omega who froze like I had caught her stealing. She glanced around before muttering, “She’s… in the east courtyard, Alpha. She spends much of her time there now.”

Much of her time.

Weird wording. Set my teeth on edge.

So I walked over. Every step made the knot in my chest tighter. When I finally reached the courtyard, I just stopped.

Elora was there, standing among all those roses. Her hair caught the moonlight, looked silver, and she was holding a scroll, giving orders to omegas. She looked sharp. Awake. Not even a little tired, despite the late hour. Her voice sliced through the night: calm, strong, in charge, but not harsh. The omegas listened like she was some war captain.

And I realized, like an idiot seeing daylight for the first time, she built all this herself. Not because of me. Not because of the title I gave her. All her.

She didn’t really need me.

That stung and weirdly, made me proud, too.

“Elora,” I called out.

She turned. Her face was polite, and the mask was perfectly in place. No anger or bitterness, just… detached. “Alpha,” she said, giving a little bow.

Alpha. Not Dominic.

That right there? Cut deep.

“You weren’t at supper,” I said, moving closer.

“I thought it best to give you and your mate privacy,” she replied. No edge to it. Like she was talking about the weather. “Besides, there was work to do.”

Work. There’s always work.

The ache deepened. I used to get annoyed at her constant hustle, like she was just trying to impress me or prove something. But now? I see it’s her armor. Everything she has, she has poured into this pack. Nothing left for me.

“Elora…” I managed, but the rest of it just… fizzled out. What was I even trying to say? That I noticed when she wasn’t around, and Mira just...well honestly, Mira’s company felt thin as paper compared to the kind of calm Elora always brought with her? That every now and then, catching her eye from across the council chamber, I actually felt like someone saw me, like really saw me, underneath all the Alpha titles.

She picked up the scroll, sort of like a shield, and finally broke that awful silence. “If you’ll excuse me, Alpha, I have to finish these orders before sunrise.”

And then she was already out the door. Back ramrod straight, pace steady, but somehow she just felt even further away than if she had run.

I just stood there, listening to the quiet chew at the edges of the room.

It hit me then, like gut-punched, primal-level loneliness, the kind that crawled in after my dad died, but even heavier this time.

Sure, my heart still belonged to Mira. Can’t lie about that. But Elora… she took something else with her, a piece I didn’t even realize I’d lost before tonight.

Now all of a sudden, I was terrified she might actually disappear, and I had been standing here, empty-handed, not even knowing what it was I had lost.