CHAPTER 19 : TOO CLOSE TO HATE YOU

“Bring him in.” Darius’s words shot down the hall, snapping everyone to attention. I waited at his side, still clutching the note from the healer’s room. The Alpha must not learn what the girl was before she returned. I hated that line. Every time I thought about it, my skin crawled, like someone was rooting around inside my memories, stirring up things I’d rather forget. And what bothered me more—Darius seemed to get how dangerous it was, better than I did.

A few minutes later, the guards shoved Lucian between them. He looked furious. “Is this how you treat your guests now? Your men almost broke my shoulder.”

“You were seen entering the archive right before someone attacked an innocent man," Darius said. "You can complain after you explain yourself.”

Lucian shot a look at me. “Seren, tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

“That I came to warn you.”

I just stared at him. Lucian hadn’t changed since my first life—messy dark hair, expensive clothes, always with that cocksure smile, like the world would forgive him anything. There was a time when that confidence made me feel safe. Now it just made me doubt everything I used to believe about love.

“You expect me to believe you broke into a restricted archive to warn me?” I asked.

“I didn’t know it was restricted.”

"But you were seen near the records room.”

“I was looking for you.”

Darius stepped in. “Why?”

Lucian ignored him. “Seren, I found something. Something about your mother and the night you died.”

That made the air colder. I tried not to show anything on my face. “What did you find?”

“A record linking her to the council’s execution orders.”

Darius’s expression tightened. “What record?”

Lucian glanced over. “You don’t get to interrogate me like I’m one of your men.”

“Stop acting like a suspect and I’ll stop treating you like one.”

“Enough,” I said. Both of them went silent. I turned back to Lucian. “If you found proof, where is it?”

His bravado slipped. “I don’t have it anymore.”

“Convenient.”

“I was attacked.”

“When?”

“Inside the archive.”

I didn’t let up. “The assistant was found knocked out in the lower passage. You’re the last person who went in. Yet you say you were attacked, too?”

“I said I was looking for you. I never claimed it was in the same room.”

“Then where?”

He hesitated—a tiny pause, but I caught it.

“In the restricted records section.”

Darius’s hand went to his weapon. I stepped in the way.

“Did you touch the execution records?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because your name was there.”

My heart stuttered. “What?”

Lucian reached into his coat; the guards raised their weapons.

“Slow,” Darius warned.

Lucian handed me a folded sheet. “I took this before someone came in. Thought you’d want to see it.”

I opened it. An old index entry. Most of it faded, but one line was clear:

Seren Vale — Execution authorization pending review.

Underneath, the date. The same day I died.

My hands clenched around the paper. “Where did you get this?”

“Restricted records section.”

“Who else was there?”

“No one. Not when I arrived.”

“Who attacked the assistant?”

“I don’t know.”

Darius swiped the paper out of my hands, reading it fast.

“Why didn’t you bring this to me?” he asked.

Lucian let out a bitter laugh. “Would you have believed me?”

“No.”

“There’s your answer.”

I took it back from Darius. “Why not bring it to me directly?”

Lucian’s face softened in a way I hadn’t seen in a long time. “Because I didn’t think you’d believe me either.”

For the first time, he sounded honest—and I hated it. It would have been easier if Lucian was just a villain. Someone to write off guilt-free. Instead, he handed me evidence that might finally explain my death, and I still couldn’t trust why.

“Did you hurt the assistant?” I demanded.

“No.”

“Did you see anyone leave after you?”

He shot another glance at Darius. “No.”

Darius folded his arms. “You expect us to just accept that?”

“I expect you to actually investigate before accusing me.”

“That’s enough,” I cut in. I faced Lucian. “You’re not leaving. You can help the investigation, or you can spend hours answering the same questions over and over.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You’re giving the orders now?”

“Or would you rather Darius do it?”

One look at Darius and Lucian surrendered. “Fine. I’ll cooperate.”

I made to leave, but Lucian called after me. “Seren.”

I stopped.

He kept his gaze steady. “Whatever Darius tells you, remember—he wasn’t the only one who knew about your execution.”

I stared. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you should ask him who gave him the order.”

Darius turned on him so fast Lucian barely dodged. “If you’ve got something to say about me, say it straight.”

Lucian didn’t budge. “I think you already know.”

The tension in the air was sharp as broken glass. I had no clue what had happened between these two before my first death, but obviously, it still wasn’t over.

“Take him to the west chamber,” Darius ordered the guards. “He stays there until we finish looking at this evidence.”

Lucian shot me a look as the guards hauled him away. I couldn’t read his face—regret? Or was it a warning?

He vanished around the corner.

I stared at the execution record. Execution authorization pending review. It didn’t prove Darius signed anything, but someone had set my death in motion. I was starting to think the truth was uglier than anything I’d imagined.

Darius broke my concentration. “Where are you going?”

“To the archive.”

“No.”

I stopped in my tracks. He saw his mistake right away. I folded my arms. “Wanna try that again?”

He sighed. “Seren, the archive’s already compromised. Whoever attacked the assistant might still be inside.”

“All the more reason to find them.”

“We have to secure the area first.”

“And how long’s that going to take?”

“As long as it takes.”

I gave him a hard look. “You know, for someone who promised we’d investigate together, you spend an awful lot of time trying to keep me out of things.”

His face tightened. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“And I’m trying to understand why someone keeps trying to kill me.”

“Those goals don’t have to cancel each other out.”

“Then stop acting like they do.”

He looked like he wanted to snap at me, but held back and rubbed his face. “Fine. We’ll go together. But if I tell you to move, you move.”

“If you tell me to move because the ceiling’s falling, I’ll consider it.”

“Seren—”

“Darius.”

He gave me the slow, pained look of someone who really needed more sleep. “Sometimes I wonder if the Moon Goddess made you this stubborn on purpose.”

“Maybe she knew I’d need it.”

His expression softened for just a second—then outside, a horn sounded. Once. Twice. Three times.

“That isn't the alarm for the eastern gate,” I said.

He shook his head. A fourth blast. Then metal hit metal—quick, sharp, and close.

“What’s happening?”

Before he could answer, a guard pounded down the corridor. “Alpha! Intruders!” He was out of breath. “In the western passage—they broke in through the lower entrance. Two vanished into the tunnels.”

The western passage. The same one we’d talked about when we worried over enemy plans. My stomach twisted.

“They’re inside the fortress.”

Darius fixed his eyes on me. “Stay behind me.” For once, I didn’t argue. Not because I wanted to listen, but because there was no time.

We ran for the lower passage, soldiers stampeding around us. Two staggered by, one clutching a bloody arm. The place had turned into a battle zone.

An arrow punched into the wall right by my head. I ducked. Darius grabbed my arm and got me behind a pillar just as another arrow hissed past us.

“You hurt?” he asked quickly.

“No.”

He eyed the arrow, jaw clenched. “Stay put.” Then he was gone.

A shadow cut through the far end of the hall—Darius met him halfway. Swords rang, sparks scattered. I flattened myself against the stone and looked around for a weapon.

The attacker moved fast. Too fast. He landed two blows—Darius blocked, barely, and nearly got his shoulder nicked as the man twisted away.

I spotted a fallen spear and snatched it up. Behind me, boots scuffed. I whirled and jabbed at the second attacker, but he swerved, cursing as I clipped his arm. He swung, I ducked and cracked his knee, then ran for the main passage.

I never trained like Darius, but I wasn’t dying here.

He recovered fast—grabbed my coat, yanked me back. I smashed into the wall, vision sparking, and felt his hand close on my throat.

“Come quietly,” he growled.

I kneed him in the gut. His grip loosened, and I reached for the dagger at my belt. Too slow—Darius barreled into him, knocking him down. A flash of a blade, and the man stilled.

“Seren!” Darius was at my side in a blink. Blood ran down my neck where the attacker’s nails caught me.

He scanned me, eyes dark. “Did he—?”

“I’m fine.” He didn’t look convinced. “We need to move,” I insisted.

A deep crack split the air. Overhead, a wooden support beam snapped. Dust rained down, then bits of stone.

“Move!” Darius shouted, grabbing my waist and throwing me toward the doorway.

I tripped through just as the beam crashed down. He managed to shove me clear, but it slammed his shoulder and knocked him flat. The whole corridor shook.

For a second, I was frozen. “Darius!”

I scrambled back. The beam pinned his legs and part of his chest. He tried to push it off, but his shoulder buckled.

“Don’t touch it,” he barked.

“You’re pinned!”

“Believe me, I noticed.”

I grabbed the edge and yelled for help. The guard joined me, and together we lifted just enough for Darius to crawl out. He sagged against the wall, blood spreading over his shirt.

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.”

“That’s blood, Darius.”

“I’ve seen blood before, Seren.”

“And I’ve seen men pretend until they pass out. Sit still.”

I pressed next to him and leaned in. The guard dashed off for the healer, leaving just the two of us. I heard distant shouting, but it faded.

Darius closed his eyes, breathing hard. I pressed his shoulder, trying to stop the bleeding. He jerked.

“Sorry—”

“No. Don’t stop.” His eyes locked on mine. “It helps.”

His voice faltered for once. Almost embarrassed. I folded my hand against the wound, focusing on the hands-on reality.

His breath caught. Not just from pain. He stared at me, and somewhere in that touch, the world shifted—a warmth that wasn’t from the blood or the battle. Soft, vivid, like a memory I didn’t know how to recall.

Darius grabbed my wrist—neither of us moved.

“Do you feel that?” I whispered.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“What is it?”

He looked down, eyes dark and uncertain.

“I don’t know.”

But something in his face said otherwise. He’d felt this before.

The sensation faded, leaving a hollow behind. I yanked cloth from my sleeve and started wrapping his shoulder.

“Tell me the truth.”

“About what?”

“About whatever that was.”

He watched me, and for a heartbeat I thought he’d finally talk. Then he said, quietly, “Your mother once told me some bonds survive more than they should.”

I went still. “You knew her?”

“Yes.”

“How well, Darius?”

He looked away. “Better than I should have.”

The hair rose on my arms. Before I could push, he winced and tried to stand. I reached out, steadying him.

“Stop pretending you’re fine.”

“I need to keep you safe.”

“You need to stay awake.”

“I’m conscious.”

“Then prove it and listen for once.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his mouth. “You really do like ordering me around.”

“Only when you earn it.”

I slung his good arm across my shoulders and got him to a battered bench in a nearby alcove. He looked like he might pass out at any second.

I pressed cloth to his wound again. “Look at me.”

He obeyed, just barely.

“Stay awake until help arrives.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Don’t joke. You’re not that charming.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

His eyes started to close. I lightly slapped his cheek. “Darius.”

He opened them, glassy but focused. I’d seen Darius angry. I’d seen him ruthless. What I hadn’t seen was this—dull, pale, lines cut deep by pain. I hated how scared that made me.

“Why did you push me out of the way?” I blurted.

He met my eyes. “It was falling.”

“You could’ve been killed.”

“So could you.”

“You didn’t even think.”

He tried to smile. “I thought about you.”

Those words settled in the air. I bent over the bandage, but the tremor in his voice hung between us.

“That’s idiotic.”

“Probably.”

“You don’t even know if you can trust me.”

His smile faded. “I know more than you think.”

“Then tell me.”

He looked ready to, but something held him back.

“I tried to reach you,” he said.

I froze. “What?”

“The night you died.”

I leaned closer. “Darius, what happened?”

His breath hitched. For several seconds, nothing—just pain in his face. Then his voice, soft and ragged: “They told me you were already dead.”

My chest clenched. “Who told you?”

He swallowed. “I should’ve known it was a lie.”

“Who, Darius?”

He turned to me, wide open with guilt and grief and something harder to face—love.

“I heard you calling for me," he whispered. "But I couldn't get to you."

My heart crashed. I didn’t remember calling for anyone. My last memory was the executioner.

“Why couldn’t you?”

His lips parted. For a second, I thought he’d finally say it.

“Because I—” He cut off with a gasp of pain.

“Because you what?”

He shook his head, too tired to argue. “Not yet.”

I bit my questions back. This wasn’t the time, not while he was bleeding. I finished tying the bandage and brushed damp hair from his forehead without thinking.

He froze under my touch, eyes searching mine like I’d woken up something he locked away.

“Seren,” he murmured.

“Yes?”

He found my hand and squeezed it, needing nothing more from me, just a touch. I let him. Warmth stirred between our joined hands, small but real. My heart twisted. I had no idea what it meant, except for one thing: I didn’t want him to die. Not now, not like this.

That realization scared me more than the attack ever could. I’d spent so long telling myself Darius was an enigma, a problem to solve, a risk. I never thought he’d turn into someone I couldn’t lose.

“Stay with me,” I whispered.

His eyelids fluttered. “Trying.”

“Try harder.”

A faint smile. “Still giving orders.”

“Someone has to.”

His grip tightened once, then faded. His hand slipped from mine.

“Darius?” I pressed closer.

He didn’t answer. Panic scraped my ribs as I leaned over.

Then he breathed out, so soft I almost missed it.

“Seren…”

“I’m here.”

His brow furrowed, like there was something terrible chasing him even in unconsciousness. Then he spoke, and the words sucked the air from the room.

“Please don’t die again.”

I stopped breathing.

Again.

Not just don't die. Not don't leave. Don’t die again.

The man lying in front of me, with blood seeping through his bandage and fear etched into his face, wasn’t talking to the woman standing there. He was speaking to the one he lost.

And suddenly, everything clicked—the guilt, the caution, the way he looked at me like he was afraid I’d disappear if he blinked.

Darius Thorncrest didn’t just fear my death. He knew, somehow, that I’d already died before—and whatever secret he was keeping terrified him so much, he still couldn’t say it aloud.