Chapter 5

Christian's POV 

I hit the polished floor hard, my elbows catching my weight as I panted heavily, my vision swimming in dark blotches.

This wasn't my pain.

The cosmic bond was burning through my veins, pulsating with a frantic, terrifying rhythm that made my skin flush hot. Amelia was waking up, and her soul was screaming in pure, unadulterated agony from inside her paralyzed cage.

I forced myself up, ignoring the agonizing throbbing in my chest as I sprinted back down the hallway toward the clinic.

I threw the medical room door open with such force it slammed against the stone wall, vibrating violently off its hinges. The head physician was standing by the heart monitor, his hands shaking so badly he dropped a glass tray of surgical tools onto the floor.

The metal tools clattered loudly, but the noise was instantly swallowed by the heavy, ragged gasps echoing from the bed.

Amelia's head was rolling frantically from side to side against the damp pillow, her dark hair tangled and soaked with cold sweat. Her jaw was clamped tight, her cracked lips parted just enough to let out weak, breathless whimpers of pure horror.

Her dark eyes were wide open, darting wildly around the unfamiliar room, completely unfocused and swimming with unshed tears.

"Amelia!" I called out, crossing the room in two long strides and dropping to my knees right beside her bed.

I reached out, my hands hesitating in mid-air, terrified that touching her fragile frame might break her into a thousand pieces. "Amelia, look at me. You're safe. You're in the Bloodmoon Pack."

Her eyes snapped toward the sound of my voice, her pupils dilated with absolute, raw terror.

She tried to move, her jaw straining, her neck muscles taut like thick ropes, but the rest of her body lay entirely still. A fresh tear spilled over the corner of her right eye, tracking down her pale cheek and soaking into the collar of her gown.

Her chest heaved in shallow, frantic bursts, her lungs struggling to pull in enough oxygen to keep her alive.

"My... my body..." she choked out, her voice barely a rough, dusty whisper that rasped painfully against her throat.

"Shh, do not try to move," I begged, gently taking her cold, lifeless right hand and pressing it against my warm cheek. "Your body is recovering from severe trauma. You need to rest."

"I can't... feel... anything," she gasped, her eyes darting down toward her blanketed legs in sheer panic.

The realization hit her like a physical blow, her chest expanding as a horrific, heartbroken sob tore from her throat. Her fingers didn't twitch; her toes didn't move; her entire physical existence below her chin had been rendered completely useless.

"What did they do to me?" she wept softly, her dark eyes locking onto mine with a devastating, unbearable agony.

"They took your wolf essence," I answered honestly, knowing she deserved nothing less than the raw, bitter truth.

"They paralyzed you, Amelia," I whispered, my voice thick with an emotion I couldn't suppress. "They used an ancient ritual blade to rip your wolf out to give it to Lilia."

Her eyes widened in total shock, her breathing stopping completely for three agonizing seconds.

The horrific memory of the betrayal washed over her face, her jaw trembling violently as her heart monitor began to beep at a dangerous, erratic speed. The machine screamed in high-pitched, rhythmic alarms, filling the small room with a deafening, terrifying noise.

"Calm down, please," the doctor yelled, rushing forward with a syringe filled with clear sedative fluid. "Her heart cannot take this level of stress! Her arteries will rupture!"

I stood up, grabbing the doctor by his collar and shoving him backward away from her bed with absolute authority. "Touch her with that needle and I will tear your arm off!" I growled, my voice shaking the room.

I turned back to Amelia, leaning over her body so my face was only inches away from hers, shielding her from the room.

"Amelia, listen to my voice," I commanded softly, my hand cupping her cold, pale face gently. "Look into my eyes and breathe with me."

She stared at me through her tears, her frantic, ragged gasps slowly beginning to sync with my own deep, deliberate chest movements. The loud, screaming beeps of the heart monitor gradually slowed down, returning to a steady, manageable rhythm.

She swallowed hard, her dry throat making a painful clicking sound as she stared into my eyes with a sudden, eerie calm.

"Why... why am I still alive?" she asked, her whisper devoid of any warmth, any hope, or any desire to go on living.

"Because I brought you back," I answered softly, my thumb gently wiping away the hot tears running down her cheeks. "Because I will not let them win."

"I am a useless, paralyzed ghost, Christian," she rasped out, a bitter, hollow smile touching her cracked lips for a brief second.

"My son hates me. My mate used me. My best friend stole my soul," she choked, her dark eyes dimming into absolute despair. "I have nothing left to give to this world. Just let me die."

My chest caved in at her words, a raw, unbearable pain slicing through my heart like a physical blade.

"No," I declared firmly, my voice filled with an absolute, unbreakable conviction that echoed off the stone walls.

I leaned down closer, my dark eyes flashing with a dangerous, golden promise as I stared straight into her shattered soul. "You are not dying here, Amelia. You are going to live, and you are going to watch me tear them apart."

Before she could speak another word, the heavy double doors of the clinic room burst open once again.

Aiden ran into the room, his clothes covered in dirt, his face pale as chalk, and his chest heaving as if he had run miles without stopping. He stopped at the foot of the bed, his hands shaking so violently he could barely hold onto his weapon.

"Alpha!" Aiden yelled, his voice cracking with sheer, unadulterated terror. "It's the border! Adrian didn't wait for sunset!"

I stood up straight, my entire body stiffening as my wolf pushed to the absolute surface of my skin. "What happened?"

Aiden looked at Amelia, his eyes filled with a horrific, devastating dread before he locked eyes with me.

"Adrian just brought seven-year-old Henderson to the riverbank in front of our whole army," Aiden gasped out, his voice trembling uncontrollably. "He gave the boy a silver dagger, pointed at our captive children, and said, 'Go ahead, son. Cut their throats to show your real mother how a true Alpha rules.'”