Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Killian's POV

The amusement, shock, and fear on her face when she realized who I was… it stirred something in me I hadn’t felt in years. Maybe ever.

Amusement curled at the edge of my lips.

The moment her desperate whisper floated up from the river, begging anyone, even the devil himself, for vengeance and life, it called to me. Pulled me like a predator to a wounded doe.

But Isla isn't any prey, she was mine.

Even now, cradling her against me, the need to protect her warred with the urge to claim her fully.

I studied her now, fragile and trembling against me, yet defiant even in her pain. Her long black hair, tangled and matted, shimmered faintly with streaks of grey, evidence of suffering far beyond her years. I hadn't pieced her whole story together yet, but I'd tasked Liam, my Beta and second in command to find out why the fates almost let my mate die alone in the woods.

Her eyes, goddess, those eyes. The most captivating shade of silver I'd ever seen. Even clouded by fear and exhaustion, they glowed like moonlit ice, pulling me under.

And her lips, blood red, cracked from cold and abuse, tempted me. My wolf, Kael snarled possessively beneath my skin, pacing, demanding I claim her, mark her properly. Fuck heavens.

She is beautiful. Even in pain. Even bruised. Even fucking broken!

"Control yourself," I warned him silently.

“You're the one obviously losing control.” He snapped back at me.

“Then stop trying to be a fucker sniffing on her. Let me take control fully.” I let out, giving him a stern warning.

Kael growled but quieted, though the phantom sensation of fangs brushing skin still tingled at the back of my mind.

I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to lean in, to press my lips against hers, to imprint my scent deep into her soul. The first time had been out of desperation, pure survival. The only thing standing between her and death.

I almost lost her.

The memory clawed at me. Her limp body sinking into the water, that faint, almost invisible pulse fading with every second. Her voice, the desperate, broken whisper I’d heard before I even found her, still echoed in my skull.

“Please… I’ll give anything… I’ll do anything… I just want to live… I want revenge…”

A bargain made with the night, with the goddess, with whoever the hell would listen. She didn’t know, but I heard it. Every word.

It called to me, twisted, wounded, feral.

My fist clenched involuntarily as I recalled pulling her limp, freezing body from the river, seconds from death. I'd been tracking through the northern woods, running patrol in my Lycan form, when the sharp, intoxicating scent of her blood nearly floored me.

Kael had howled, snapping my instincts wide open, and without thinking, I’d launched into the river after her. The sweet, metallic scent of her blood still lingered in my nose. The scent that nearly knocked me unconscious with its purity.

I knew instantly. My mate.

I'd never had one. Never thought I would. I waited damn long for her, but gave up in fact. And then to think I would have lost her if I were a second late.

By the time I reached the clearing, those bastards had already tossed her broken body into the water like trash. Kael lost control, I lost control, and ripped them apart without hesitation.

Jumping into the current, hauling her to shore, the faintest pulse, her lips blue. Marking her had been the only option left.

And even now, seeing her alive, fighting, holy fuck, it shook me.

"You're Alpha Killian?" Her voice rasped, dry and broken. It ignited something primal, something dangerous in me.

My lips hovered against her temple, her skin cool beneath the faint press of my mouth.

“Yes.”

She shivered in my hold, but exhaustion was already dragging her under. The sedative Sheila administered when her screams first tore through the infirmary had begun to work.

Her lashes fluttered. Her eyes still held questions, a tangled mess of confusion and survival instinct. I couldn’t blame her.

The crescent of my claim sat elegantly around her neck now, a temporary brand forged by desperation. She didn’t even realize what it meant yet. I already told her I marked her. If Sheila hadn't interrupted, I knew she would have freaked out. But now my identity was one thing freaking her out more.

“How… how… I mean, how are you, my Mate?” She asked, her eyes begging for answers.

My lips stretched in what I called an attempt to smile. “Rest. I'll tell you when you're strong enough and you're home.”

"What home are you taking me to?" she pressed, fighting sleep.

My eyes hovered towards her legs.

Her legs, fuck. They are brutalized beyond reason. It made my teeth ache with the need to destroy every soul involved.

"Your new home, Isla," I murmured, fingers threading through her smooth hair.

Her eyelids fluttered. "How did you know my name… Alpha Killian?"

I adjusted her gently, lowering her onto the pillows, fighting the urge to trace every line of her battered face.

"You told me, little flower," I whispered, smirking faintly. "You told me your name."

"Oh…" she breathed, and sleep claimed her.

I stood beside the bed, watching the subtle rise and fall of her chest. The mark I'd placed on her had saved her life. Seeing my mark on her filled me with some unreal satisfaction.

After dragging her ashore, I'd ordered my men to scour the area, and they found her phone, bloodied, waterlogged, and the bodies of those bastards.

A message pinged on one of their devices—"Have you killed Isla?"

Her name tasted sharp, electric on my tongue—Isla.

Sheila, who had excused herself a few moments before, re-entered quietly, bowing her head. "The bath is ready Alpha—"

"Is she going to walk?" I interrupted coldly.

Sheila stiffened. She knew better than to sugarcoat this. Her eyes travelled towards Isla before settling on me.

"Follow me Alpha," she urged, but I shook my head.

"Tell me. Now."

The healer hesitated, eyes darting to Isla, but complied.

"It's… strange," she admitted, voice low. "She should need surgery. The fractures, the extent of damage… but…"

I raised a brow. "But what?"

Sheila exhaled, unease flickering across her face.

"Her body, it's already healing rapidly even before your mark stabilized her."

My expression remained stone. I had smelled some uncommon power from Isla when I rescued her. I just still couldn't place my hands around it.

"Explain."

"I can't," she confessed. "It's the mark that saved her life, yes, but her healing… it's… unprecedented. I've never seen anything like it."

Sheila swallowed. “I had the other nurses prepare her bath, but I can see the sedative worked faster on her. She must have been really stressed.” She paused, “I was going to examine her during the bath to find out what miraculously happened.”

“So?” I asked, wanting to understand.

“She will walk Alpha. I don't know but I think with the rapidity of her healing, she will be fine by tomorrow.”

Sheila isn't making sense. Only an Alpha possesses such healing powers.

Before I could push further, my phone buzzed. Liam.

"What did you find?" I snapped, stepping away.

"Miss Isla," Liam began, tone clipped, "was married to Beta Lucien from the RedRidge Pack but it was a sham. The elders of the Pack, Lucien, her mother, even her sister all orchestrated… everything. They wanted her dead."

Rage twisted in my gut.

"Why?" I demanded.

Liam didn't hesitate.

"She's Blackwood blood. The bloodline of the moon’s flame. The long-lost daughter, but she doesn't know."