Chapter 14: Aftermath

Kael's POV

The battle is over but I can't stop shaking.

My hands won't steady. My wolf won't settle. The adrenaline from watching Nyra turn rogues to ash still burns through my veins like poison.

I find her in the east courtyard.

She's alone, standing among broken stone and scattered torches. Blood streaks her arms, glowing faintly silver in the firelight. Her shoulders are rigid, her breathing too controlled.

She knows I'm here. I can tell by the way her spine straightens.

"You should be with your pack," she says without turning.

"They're fine."

"Good for them."

I step closer. The bond flares between us, sharp and violent. "We need to talk about what happened."

"What's there to talk about? Rogues attacked. I stopped them. End of story."

"You could have been killed."

Now she turns. Her eyes flash silver in the dim light. "But I wasn't."

"You fought alone against fifteen trained killers."

"And I won."

"That's not the point."

"Then what is the point, Kael?" Her voice rises. "That I should have waited for permission? That I should have let them slaughter those wolves while I ran to find an alpha who might deign to help?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Then say what you mean." She takes a step toward me. "Because I'm tired of dancing around it."

The air between us crackles. I can feel my control slipping, but I force the words out anyway.

"You scared me."

She blinks. "What?"

"Watching you fight. Seeing you surrounded by silver flames and knowing I couldn't reach you. Couldn't help you. Couldn't. . ." I stop. My throat feels tight. "You scared me."

Nyra stares at me like I've grown a second head. "You don't get to be scared for me."

"Why not?"

"Because you gave up that right five years ago."

The words hit like a physical blow. I deserve them. I know I deserve them.

But that doesn't make them hurt less.

"I know," I say quietly.

"Do you?" She moves closer. Close enough that I can smell the smoke and ash clinging to her skin. "Do you know what it felt like? Standing in that courtyard, fighting alone, knowing you'd arrive too late because you always do?"

"Nyra. . ."

"You're always too late, Kael. Five years too late. A lifetime too late."

"I'm trying."

"Trying what? To make yourself feel better about what you did? To ease your guilt?"

"No." The word comes out harsher than I intend. "I'm trying to understand what you've become. Who you are now."

"Why? So you can decide if I'm worth saving?"

"So I can stop failing you."

The confession hangs between us. Raw. Honest. Stripped of every defense I've spent five years building.

Nyra's eyes widen slightly. Her lips part like she's going to say something, but no words come out.

I take another step forward. We're close now. Too close.

"You still fight like I remember," I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I intended.

Something in her expression shifts. Her walls crack. . .just a fraction.

"I remember everything," she says. "That's the problem."

The bond screams between us. Louder than it's been in years. My wolf surges forward, desperate and wild, and I can see hers answering in the silver glow of her eyes.

I shouldn't move closer. I know I shouldn't.

I do anyway.

Close enough that she can feel the heat of me. Close enough that I can count the flecks of silver in her irises. Close enough that the corrupted bond between us feels less like poison and more like wildfire.

My eyes drop to her mouth.

Her gaze drifts to the pulse hammering in my throat.

Neither of us moves. Neither of us retreats.

The air ignites.

"We can't," she whispers.

"I know."

"This is a mistake."

"I know."

But I don't step back. And neither does she.

Her hand rises. Slowly. Almost involuntarily. Like she's moving through water or a dream or something equally inescapable.

Her palm presses flat against my chest.

The contact sears through me like lightning. I can barely breathe. Can barely think. All I know is the warmth of her hand and the way her fingers curl slightly against my shirt.

She can feel my heart. I know she can. It's slamming against my ribs so hard I'm surprised it doesn't break through.

My breath hitches.

My hand comes up to cover hers. Slowly. Carefully. Like I'm approaching something wild that might bolt at any sudden movement.

Our fingers tangle together over my heart.

For three seconds, we stand like that.

Trembling.

On the edge of something that would devour us both.

The bond pulses between us, and for the first time in five years, it doesn't feel corrupted. It feels right. Inevitable.

Her eyes meet mine, and I see everything I've tried not to see. The girl she was. The woman she became. The pain I caused. The strength she built from broken pieces.

I see her.

My other hand lifts toward her face. My fingers brush her jaw.

She inhales sharply.

Then she pulls her hand away.

The loss of contact feels like being ripped apart. I actually stumble backward from the force of it.

Nyra doesn't look at me. Won't look at me.

She turns and walks into the dark.

Her footsteps echo across the broken courtyard. Steady. Deliberate. Each one taking her further away.

I stand frozen. My hand still raised where hers had been. My chest still burning where her palm pressed against my heart.

The ghost of her warmth lingers on my skin.

And I know. . .with a certainty that terrifies me. . .that I am utterly, irreversibly lost.