When He Saw Me

Chapter Five: When He Saw Me

Nora’s POV

I thought I could leave.

I thought if I just ran fast enough, far enough, maybe no one would notice I was gone.

But I was wrong.

Because before I could reach the edge of the woods, a voice cut through the silence like a blade.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

My heart stopped.

My whole body froze in place as I slowly turned around.

Axel stood there, tall and angry, his eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight. The way he looked at me made my chest tighten.

He wasn’t just angry.

He was furious.

“Did you think you could lie to me and just walk out like nothing happened?” he growled, stepping closer. “You think you can leave when your secrets have been exposed?”

I took a step back, my voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t lie to me again, Nora.” His voice was sharp. “The guards told me. You had dealings with the elders. You’re not just some fragile stray.”

“That’s not true,” I whispered, tears already stinging my eyes. “You don’t understand…”

“Then make me understand.” His tone was harsh, but beneath it I caught something else — something confused. Wounded. “Did you really think you could make a fool out of me?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What could I say? That I was once the shame of my old pack? That the elders hurt me, used me, then blamed me?

Would he even believe me?

Axel reached for me and grabbed my arm — not with cruelty, but with firm control. “If you didn’t suffer for your crimes there,” he said coldly, “you will here.”

And just like that, I knew I had no choice.

He dragged me back into the house, his grip strong, his jaw locked tight. I didn’t struggle. There was no point.

But my heart was racing.

And I was terrified.

Not of him.

But of what he might think once he saw everything.

He pushed open the door to a quiet room and shut it behind us.

I stood near the wall, hugging myself.

He turned to face me, eyes sharp. “Take it off.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Your clothes.” His voice was flat. “You said you weren’t lying. Prove it. Show me what you’re hiding.”

My mouth went dry.

“Now.”

My fingers trembled as I slowly pulled off the loose top I was wearing. The fabric dropped to the floor, and I stood still, too afraid to even breathe.

I turned around.

And I heard it.

The sharp, painful silence.

His breath caught.

Because now he saw them.

The scars.

So many.

Across my back, my shoulders, my sides. Some were faint and healed. Others were fresh and red.

I waited for him to say something.

But he didn’t.

He left the room.

My heart dropped.

I bent down and quickly picked up my shirt, clutching it to my chest. Shame burned through me.

I knew this would happen.

He’d seen what I truly was — damaged, broken, disgusting — and walked out.

But then…

The door opened again.

He returned.

With a small white box in his hand.

He didn’t speak.

Just walked toward me, opened the box, and knelt down in front of me.

“Sit,” he said quietly.

I sat.

Still shaking.

Still afraid.

He pulled out antiseptic, cotton, and bandages. His hands reached toward me, then stopped. “I’m going to clean it,” he said. “It might sting.”

I nodded.

And he began.

He didn’t rush.

He didn’t ask questions.

He didn’t look away.

His fingers were warm, surprisingly gentle as they dabbed at a deep scar near my waist.

I flinched a little.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, his voice low but trembling with anger.

My lips quivered, and my eyes stung with fresh tears.

I hesitated… then whispered, “Alpha Kade.”

He froze.

His hands, which had been carefully tending to the bandages on my arms, stopped moving. His jaw clenched tight, and his eyes searched mine.

“What did you say?”

I couldn’t hold back the pain anymore. My voice cracked. “It wasn’t the elders. It was him. Kade.”

A long silence settled between us. His expression was unreadable — but his shoulders were stiff, his body rigid like he was holding himself back.

I looked down at my hands, ashamed, my voice barely above a whisper. “We were in a secret relationship. Since I was fifteen.”

His breath hitched, but he didn’t speak.

I forced the next words out, though they burned like acid on my tongue. “He said… he said I owed him. For not banishing me when I was younger. For letting me stay in the pack. He made me think he loves me”

I could feel him staring at me, but I couldn’t meet his eyes.

“He said he loved me. That one day, he’d announce me as his mate,” I whispered, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “I believed him. Like a fool, I believed every word.”

My voice cracked again. “But he never meant it. When Clara turned of age… he chose her instead. My best friend. He claimed her publicly, like I was nothing. Just a mistake he needed to bury.”

His fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Tears slid down my cheeks, silent and hot. “After that… after I asked why… he changed. He said I was lucky he hadn’t thrown me to the rogues. Said if I ever told anyone, he’d make sure no one believed me.”

I paused, then added brokenly, “And he was right. No one would’ve. I was just an orphan. A nobody. He was Alpha.”

He took a deep breath, but it sounded shaky. Uncertain.

Then he leaned in close again. He dipped the cloth in warm water, wringing it out thoroughly before placing it over a bruise on my shoulder. His touch was different now. It wasn't clinical anymore, wasn't cold. It was gentle. Careful. Like I would break beneath his hands.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he growled.

I swallowed. "Would you have heard me?" I finally met his gaze, eyes burning with unshed tears. "Would anyone?"

He did not speak.

His silence spoke volumes.

My chest ached. "He said I threw myself at him. That I seduced him. That I was jealous and desperate for Clara."

His hands stilled again.

"I was sixteen," I whispered. "I didn't even know what I was getting myself into. I thought… I thought I was in love. But it was all a lie."

He looked at me then. Really looked at me. And something shifted in his eyes.

Anger was still there, yes — but it wasn't directed at me.

What replaced it was worse.

Pain.

Guilt.

Regret.

He lifted his hand slowly, brushing a tear from my cheek with the back of his fingers. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear, and I shuddered.

Not in fear.

But in something new.

Warmth.

He took a shaky breath. "They said you were feral. That you tried to seduce the elders in order to usurp his power. That you were dangerous.”

A sob caught in my throat. "I was just a girl. I didn't want power. I just wanted to be loved."

His hand hesitated at the side of my face. His thumb brushed against my cheek again.

Then, slowly — as if he wasn't sure I would let him — he pulled me into his chest.

I tensed.

My body froze in shock. But his arms were strong. Steady. And safe.

I hadn't felt safe in years.

And then I fell apart.

The sobs ripped from my chest like water through a burst dam. I buried my face in his shirt, my hands clawing at the fabric as I cried. Ugly, broken crying that had been locked inside me since I was a kid.

He didn't say a word.

He didn't judge.

He just held me.

One arm wrapped firmly around my waist, the other drawing slow, comforting circles across my back. His chin rested gently against my hair, and for the first time in so long, I let myself fall apart in someone's arms.

I did not know whether he believed me entirely.

I did not know whether this moment meant anything beyond comfort.

But in that small, quiet space, something shifted.

For the first time in years, I wasn't alone.

And for the first time since Alpha Kade broke me…

Someone held me like I was worth saving.