Chapter four:THE LYCAN’S REFUGE

Serena’s POV

 

I wake up warm.

 

Not fever-warm or fire-warm. Just… comfortable. Safe. It’s such an unfamiliar feeling that for a few seconds I lie still, trying to remember the last time I felt anything like it. I can’t.

 

Then everything hits me at once, and my eyes snap open.

 

I’m not in a cave anymore.

 

I’m in a real room, stone walls, wooden beams, a fireplace burning softly. The bed I’m in is huge, covered in soft furs and clean linens. Morning light slips through a tall window. The whole place smells faintly of lavender and smoke.

 

And sitting near the fireplace, watching me like he’s been waiting, is the Lycan.

 

He’s too big for the chair he’s in, one ankle resting over his knee, calm and unreadable. But the way he sits, placed directly between me and the door, tells me he’s not here casually. He’s on guard. Watching. Waiting.

 

His silver eyes lock onto mine the second I sit up too fast.

 

The world tilts. My body swings sideways, but strong hands catch me and push me gently back onto the pillows.

 

“Easy,” he says, voice low and steady. “You burned too much energy with that healing magic. You need to rest.”

 

I pull away from his touch as soon as I’m stable enough. My heart’s racing. “Where am I?”

 

“Obsidian Empire,” he answers. “One of our healing sanctuaries. You’ve been unconscious for two days.”

 

Two days. My stomach drops. I was out cold in Lycan territory for two whole days. Completely vulnerable.

 

Something in my expression must give me away, because he adds, “No one harmed you. And no one will. You’re under my protection.”

 

“I don’t want protection,” I snapped. “I want to leave.”

 

“Where?” he asks simply. “Back to the pack that threw you to rogues? Into the forest where they’re still hunting? You wouldn’t last a day.”

 

“That’s not your concern.”

 

“It became my concern when I saved your life. Twice.”

 

He isn’t angry about it, just stating facts. That almost makes it worse.

 

He leans back in his chair. “So tell me, Serena. Where do you plan to go?”

 

Hearing my name in his voice sends a strange little twist through my chest. I push it down.

 

“Anywhere but here,” I mutter. I shove the blankets aside to stand, and freeze.

 

I’m in different clothes. A soft linen shift. Clean. Fresh.

 

Someone undressed me. Cleaned me. Touched me while I was unconscious.

 

I yank the blankets back up, pulse spiking.

 

His expression changes, hardens slightly. “The healers tended to you. They’re all female. They followed my orders to treat you respectfully. Nothing inappropriate happened.”

 

“You watched me sleep,” I shot back.

 

“For twenty minutes,” he corrects. “I only arrived now because I sensed you waking. I’ve checked on you a few times. Infection and fever can kill faster than rogues.”

 

His tone is steady. No shame. No hidden intentions. Just the truth. My wolf, annoyingly, relaxes at the sound of it.

 

I force my attention away from her. “I never got your name.”

 

“Kale,” he says. Then, after a beat: “Kale Vyron.”

 

The blood drains from my face. Vyron. Lycan royalty.

 

“You’re—”

 

“Yes,” he says simply. “Does it matter?”

 

“It matters that I had no idea where I was or who was near me,” I say quietly. “And you… you’re royalty.”

 

“What I am doesn’t change the fact that you needed help.” He studies me. “I want answers. Starting with who hurt you.”

 

“I told you. Ronan—”

 

“Not the rejection.” His gaze sharpens. “The healers found scars. Old ones. Some from years ago. Whip marks. Burns. Bones that healed wrong.”

 

My throat closes. I haven’t thought about those scars in years. I forget they’re even there most days.

 

“It’s none of your business,” I whisper.

 

“Someone tortured you,” he says calmly. Too calmly. “For years. Tell me who.”

 

“I’m not your problem.”

 

“Wrong.” His voice is still quiet, but something dangerous curls under it. “You crossed into my territory bleeding and half-dead. That makes you my responsibility.”

 

“I’m not yours.”

 

He looks at me for a long moment. “The former Alpha,” he says softly. “Before Ronan. He did this.”

 

I don’t answer. I don’t have to.

 

Kale’s hands curl into fists. His entire body goes still in a way that feels more violent than shouting ever could.

 

“He’s dead,” I say quickly. “Five years ago.”

 

“Unfortunate,” Kale murmurs. “I would have enjoyed killing him.”

 

A shiver runs through me. Not fear. Something else, something darker and strangely comforting. Someone is angry at me. Someone cares that I was hurt.

 

I don’t know what to do with that.

 

“I survived,” I say. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

 

“It matters,” he says. “Because surviving isn’t living.”

 

My eyes sting. I look away.

 

“Why do you care?” I ask, voice rough. “You don’t know me.”

 

“You saved my life,” he says simply. “You spoke magic that hasn’t been used in centuries. You’re carrying trauma that would’ve broken most wolves. And my wolf recognizes something in you, even if I can’t explain it.”

 

That hits something I’ve been trying to ignore, the strange pull I feel around him. Not a mate bond. But something.

 

I push it away and swing my legs off the bed. “I need to go.”

 

I stand. My legs buckle instantly.

 

He catches me before I crash.

 

“Stop,” he says firmly. “You’re not ready.”

 

“Let go!”

 

“No.”

 

“I said—”

 

“Serena.” His voice drops just enough to anchor me. “Breathe. You’re safe.”

 

And the awful thing is… part of me believes him.

 

“I can’t trust this,” I whisper. “I can’t trust anyone.”

 

“You don’t have to trust me.” He helps me back onto the bed. “Take time. Heal. Stay for one week. After that, if you want to leave, I’ll let you.”

 

“No payment? No conditions?”

 

“None.”

 

My wolf nudges me softly. Stay. Please.

 

I’m so tired. Bone-deep tired.

 

“One week,” I finally say. “That’s all.”

 

“One week,” he agrees.

 

He starts toward the door, then pauses.

 

“Eat when the healers bring food. Rest. You don’t have to fight the world right now.” He meets my eyes. “Your wolf needs to breathe.”

 

The door closes behind him.

 

I sit still, trying to calm my thoughts. Trying to accept even a moment of peace.

 

Then something tightens low in my stomach. Not pain. Pressure.

 

I press a hand against my abdomen, confused.

 

Another twinge. My breath catches.

 

A scent rises, faint, fragile, new.

 

A heartbeat.

 

Not mine.

 

No. This can’t be real. I would’ve known. I would’ve felt something. Ronan and I, a child? After everything? After years of trying?

 

My throat closes as the truth hits me like a blow.

 

I’m pregnant.

 

My hand shakes against my stomach.

 

The door opens. Kale steps inside, instantly alert. “Serena? What’s wrong?”

 

I didn’t put any thoughts into it before I let the words slip through my lips.

 

“I’m pregnant.”

 

Silence took hold of everything.

 

I swallow hard.

 

“It’s Ronan’s.”

 

And the world I’ve been barely holding together shatters all over again.