012.

Zelest’s POV. 

Something was wrong.

I couldn’t name it at first—just a heaviness. A strange pressure in my chest, like the world was tilting on its side, slanted in the worst forms of italicized words. Then came the pain. Dull at first then it grew sharper. A breath caught in my throat before I got swallowed by the darkness.

The next time I came by, it wasn’t the same.

The ache in my ribs still pulsed, but the darkness had loosened its grip on me. The smell hit me before anything else—bitter roots, dried lavender, crushed mint, unlike our tent. 

Herbs.

This wasn’t our tent. This was the healer’s. I was still on campgrounds. 

My eyelids felt like lead, but I managed to blink, adjusting to the soft lamplight. My head throbbed, but the world came into focus slowly—there were shelves lined with bottles, and a faint crackling from a small fire nearby.

And then there was him. Liam.

Slumped beside the bedroll I was laid out on, his head bowed, his fingers wound tightly around my wrist like he thought I might disappear. His other hand rested against my ribs, as if anchoring me in place. His brows creased into a deep frown in a way that didn’t match his usual calm demeanor unless he was flustered. 

There was something I couldn’t place my fingers on, on his face—fear, maybe. Pain, definitely.

And goddess. he looked like hell.

Dirt smeared his jaw, his eyes swollen and rimmed with red. His clothes were torn and dyed with something dark I didn’t want to think about. The rogue’s blood.

Then the memories flooded me.

The shadow outside the tent. Thinking it was him, until the stench of rogue hit me. The claws. The flash of claws that slashed me faster than I could react.

And then…Liam.

Liam dropping into the clearing with a snarl that didn’t sound human. He didn’t shift—he didn’t need to. The way he fought… it wasn’t like I’d seen before. No forms, no techniques, just fury. Pure savage and chaotic fury. He tore into the rogue like something had possessed the stone cold man I knew. He fought the rogue ferociously, his blows accurately landing as he willed on the rogue like he’d gone berserk and the last thread tying him to sanity had snapped. 

And now here he was, looking like losing me would’ve been equivalent to losing himself.

My throat felt dry as I rasped, “Prince?”

His head snapped up instantly, eyes widened and hollow. “Hawthorne?”

“Yeah,” I croaked, forcing a smile that hurt like a bitch. “Still breathing. Unfortunately for you.”

A sharp exhale escaped him. His jaw clenched, and he bowed his head again, this time pressing it to my chest and resting it there.

“I thought I was too late,” he murmured. “You were barely breathing when I got to you.”

I swallowed at the weight of his words. My fingers moved weakly, brushing his hair back from his face. “You weren’t too late.”

Liam didn’t say anything, but his hand curled tighter around mine.

I should’ve been surprised to wake up with Liam by my side, but I wasn’t, not really. What surprised me more was how tightly he held me, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. Like his life depended on it. 

This was the same Liam who avoided my gaze, who built imaginary lines between us every night in that stupid tent, who flinched and tensed up whenever I got too close. But now… he was here, fingers tangled with mine and the worry in his thick eyebrows and honey eyes was palpable.

I wanted to say something. Tease him, maybe. Lighten the moment. But I couldn’t. I’d nearly died and he’d felt it. The silence between us conveyed everything we needed to. So, I let it rest.

My chest ached—not just from the injury, but from the truth of it all. He cared. Even when he said he didn’t want me. Even when he tried to deny the bond. He cared more than he could admit.

Just then, the tent flapped open and the healer stepped in. Her gaze landed on us, and her lips curled with warmth and understanding.

“Well,” she said gently, “I see you’re out of the woods. I’m glad.”

Liam jolted back like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t, carefully disentangling himself. I didn’t miss the faint pink at the tips of his ears as he stepped away. I offered her a weak smile, silently grateful for how gently she’d handled what could’ve been a much more awkward moment.

My mind drifted back to the day she’d called him my boyfriend. Was her little hunch confirmed now? I bet she thought we were actually a thing. 

She walked over to me elegantly, a small smile on her face. “You’re stable for now, but the poison’s still in your system. You’re strong, but it’s not going to flush itself out. It’s going to hurt, Zelest. Badly.”

I raised a brow, but Liam spoke before I could, “How bad are we talking?”

“Like dying again,” she said flatly, her gaze still fixed on me. My heart sank at her words. Dying again?

Before I could respond, she turned to Liam. “It’ll be easier for you to wait outside. You’ve done enough for him.”

“No.” His voice was calm but firm. “I’m not leaving him.”

The healer studied him a moment, something flickering her hazel eyes. “Very well. Then take this.”

 She pulled out a small glass vial with dark blue liquid inside. “Eclipse Tears. It’ll sever the mate bond temporarily, just for the process. You won’t feel what he feels.”

Liam glanced at the elixir, then at me. He shook his head vehemently. “No. If he feels it, I feel it.”

My heart twisted at his words. I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. “Moonfang…”

“If you’re thinking of taking the pain like you did before, even with your immense strength and endurance, it’ll kill you. And neither of you will die on my watch!” She protested. 

“What?” The healer’s words hit me like a brick to the chest. Liam… took the pain for me through the mate bond?

He didn’t look at me. He just moved closer to the healer. “Do it, Zella.”

She hesitated, then moved her palms over my body, muttering something low under her breath in a tongue that seemed to belong to the Old Ways. Warmth blossomed across my skin. Then…agony. Raw and hot. 

My entire body seized, fire licking down my veins. The pain was unlike anything I’d ever felt. Every nerve in me lit up in torment, like my skin was being peeled back layer by layer. I could hear myself grunting—but even that felt distant as darkness claimed me while pain clawed at my throat.

The last thing I heard was Liam’s strained voice calling my name in a wheezy tone as I let the darkness win me over.

When I opened my eyes again, the world felt… different. Rather lighter and steadier.

The ache in my ribs was gone, and so was the fever in my skin. I was still sore, sure—but the poison was gone. I could feel it.

And beside me was Liam, his head resting on his folded arm. He was fast asleep.

His skin was pale, slick with sweat, and his brows were furrowed even in sleep like he was still bearing my pain. His hand still touched mine, loosely, like he hadn’t dared let go even after I passed out.

For someone who claimed not to want me… he sure had a funny way of showing it.

“This bond of ours, you’ll want this eventually. No matter how much you run from it.”