Chapter 30

Elora’s POV

The doors swing open, their sound so loud like they were angry about being woken up. Light spills in. I shifted from the bed, my face already scrunching up in a frown. Two shadows hit the floor, long and looming, one after the other.

I blinked, trying to get my brain to boot up. There’s Dominic, impossible to miss. He sucks up space, gives off the vibe of a thunderstorm pacing the edges of its own clouds. Behind him was Dante. Quieter, but it didn't fool me. Behind that calmness was a storm brewing, and every ounce of his attention was locked on me.

I swallowed.

My stomach twists. Honestly, for half a second, I figure I’m still stuck somewhere in last night’s nightmare. Duty, destiny, all that weighty stuff people use to suffocate you. Crown. Bond.

Dominic said my name, but not with that Alpha thunder. Not with the formal titles or roles or any of the stuff people usually slap on me. Just… me. Elora.

He walked toward me. For once, he looks unguarded, like someone pulled the plug on his confidence. No Alpha stance, no chin up, no stiff-shouldered pride. I might have been imagining it, but I saw fear flash through his eyes for a brief moment.

He stumbles through his words, voice all raw. “I thought we were going to lose you.” Voice cracks. Hands keep squeezing into fists, then prying loose. He’s hanging on by a fingernail. “Do you get it? What would that’ve meant?”

I didn't answer because, truthfully, I hadn’t thought about the fallout. I bailed into those woods to escape, not exactly plotting out who would get wrecked if I didn’t walk out. I guess survival instincts don’t leave room for that kind of math.

He did not wait for me to reply. He kept going.

“It...It’d be like losing a sister,” he says. He glances aside quickly, embarrassed like he just farted in front of royalty. “And I literally can’t handle more loss.”

That word...sister...hits weirder than a slap. I tried on a smile, but it’s the brittle, about to shatter kind. My throat stung. I couldn't say anything. Not that I knew what to say anyway.

There’s this flicker in his eyes. Regret? Confusion? No idea. He hovers for a sec, touches the bedframe like he can’t decide if he wants to reach for me or bolt. Then he chooses the exit.

“Council’s waiting,” he mutters, finding the Alpha tone even though it sounds hollow now. “Rest. Don’t, uh… go doing anything dumb again.”

Sure, like that’s ever worked. I almost laughed, but just nodded. He paused, like he might say more, but then slipped out, the door closing with a sigh.

Silence lands, squat and heavy.

Dante’s still there though, just chilling in the doorway. His face is blank for a second, but then something...hurt, maybe? Fire?...cracks through.

“You shouldn’t have gone into those woods.” His tone could sandpaper paint off a wall.

I shift, immediately reminded that my ribs hate me. “Needed air.” Weak, yeah, but what else is there?

He snaps, “Air?” like I just announced I was going for a midnight swim in an ocean filled with dangerous human-eating sharks. “Elora, rogues roam those woods. You nearly got yourself ripped to shreds.” Then he crouched, voice dropping, angry but soft. “You get what that would’ve done to me?”

I finally meet his eyes, and those eyes, man, they don’t let up. Not for a second. They burn with all the stuff I keep shoving away, pretending it’s not there. Chest tight, can’t breathe, mouth opens before my brain decides what the hell to say.

“I didn’t think…”

“That’s exactly it,” he snapped, shaking his head like he could just rattle the annoyance right out. His hands zeroed in on my arm, checking my bandages, weirdly gentle about it even though everything in him just screamed frustration. Like, he wanted to lecture me but couldn’t resist taking care of me anyway.

His fingers were so careful. Like I was made of glass or something. My skin practically buzzed where he touched me. I tried to avoid looking him in the eye at all costs.

“Dante…” My voice, barely there. Embarrassing.

That’s when he looked up, right into my eyes...too intense, honestly, made the whole room feel claustrophobic. There was so much we weren’t saying, you could practically choke on it.

“You scare the hell out of me,” he said, suddenly quiet. “Not because of the rogues. Not really. It’s you. You never see it, do you? How much do you mean? To? Him. To me.”

My heart raced and I was pretty sure he could hear it pounding like some bad drum solo in a tiny garage. I wanted to tell him, Yeah, I feel it too. That this thing between us burned every second. But I could still hear Dominic in my head, the way he’d said sister, wife, duty. Like a curse.

So I turned away, eyes finding those dumb shadows on the wall. “I’m still here, aren’t I?” Weak deflection, but it was all I had.

He let out this sigh, pure exasperation. Didn’t even argue, which almost stung more. He finished wrapping my arm, then sat back, looking like he wanted to slam his head against the wall or something.

“You've got to stop this,” he muttered. “Rushing into trouble just to get away from that stupid palace. You’ll tear yourself apart way before you ever find what you think you’re looking for.”

Yeah. He was right...I knew it. Didn’t mean I was ready to admit it out loud.

His hand found mine, super hesitant, like he was half-expecting me to bolt. I let it stay. Let the warmth inch in, just for now, even though everything inside me still felt like a hurricane.