11. Chapter

Caroline’s POV

The world came apart into pieces. There was no cold anymore, no darkness, only a single, all consuming, pulsing red fog that started in my left arm and, with every heartbeat, slammed fresh waves of pain into my skull.

I felt motion, the jolting rhythm of it as Rowan ran with me. I heard the heavy thud of his boots on wooden flooring, the crash as he kicked the front door open, but every sound arrived as if it had to pass through a thick pane of glass first. Shock settled over me like a lead gray blanket. Only one thing stayed fixed, something I could cling to.

Rowan’s face.

“MYRA!” Rowan’s shout shook his chest. “MYRA, GET HERE NOW!”

I felt myself drop, but not to the floor. He laid me on the living room sofa, and his movements were not gentle. He pinned my shoulder down with a firm, almost rough grip, stopping me from trying to sit up.

“Stay still,” he snarled. His voice was not worried. It was taut and furious, like he was trying to secure a broken tool in place.

Footsteps. Myra burst in, grabbing some kind of robe over her nightgown, and Elenor appeared behind her. They were on me instantly in the firelight. I tried to shrink away from the reaching hands, to press myself into the back of the sofa, but Rowan’s palm held me down like a weight.

“It was Jace,” Rowan snapped at them, his jaw clenched so hard I heard his teeth grind. “She slipped out through the window. Jace got her arm.”

“Oh God, Rowan…” Elenor’s voice broke, but he silenced her with a look that could have killed.

Myra pulled scissors from nowhere and cut up the sleeve of my shirt. When the icy air hit the exposed wound, my body arched and a strangled, animal sound tore out of my throat. Myra sucked in a sharp breath when she saw the ruined flesh.

“Caroline, look at me,” Myra leaned into my face, but I could not pull my eyes off Rowan.

He loomed over me, bare chested, bloody, his eyes still burning with that unnatural darkness I had seen in the forest. I searched him for the injuries the gray wolf had left. On his shoulder I found only fading pink lines. It felt like a nightmare I could not wake from.

“Hold her shoulder,” Myra ordered.

Rowan’s hands settled on my collarbones. Nothing comforting. Nothing soft. Raw strength pressed me into the cushions.

“Look at the ceiling and stay quiet,” Rowan said coldly. He did not ask. He commanded. “Myra will do her job, and you will live with the consequences of not being able to follow rules.”

When Myra pressed disinfectant into the wound, pain flooded my brain in white light. My nails dug into Rowan’s forearm without meaning to. His skin was burning hot, hard as rock. I heard my own ragged breathing. Rowan’s face did not twitch even a centimeter at my grip. He stared down at me like I was a disobedient animal that had dragged itself into trouble.

“Done,” Myra said at last, studying the wound edges as she finished the bandage. “Rowan, look at the tissue. This is not normal. The clotting… it’s unreal.”

“Myra, stop it,” Elenor cut in, warning her with a glance toward Rowan.

“But look,” Myra whispered, stunned. “It’s closing already. Rowan, you feel it too, don’t you?”

Rowan did not answer. He watched with a rigid face as Myra secured the final wrap. His gaze was dark and unreadable, like he was trying to solve a complicated equation in his head.

“Take the bowls and the bloody rags,” Rowan said finally, voice like ice. “Get out to the kitchen. I need to talk to her.”

“But she’s still in shock, she needs to rest,” Myra tried.

“Out,” Rowan’s voice made the living room windows tremble.

When we were finally alone by the fireplace, the silence felt heavier than the storm outside. I lay on the sofa, shaking from cold and shock, and he stood over me. He did not move closer. He did not fetch a glass of water. He just stood there like a dark idol.

“Wh what…” I whispered, my throat burning. “What was that out there. What did I see?”

Rowan turned toward me slowly. His face looked carved from stone. No warmth. No explanation.

“You went into shock, Caroline. You saw what fear wanted you to see,” he said flatly. “A wild animal attacked you. I got there in time to drive it off. That’s it. Nothing else.”

“You’re lying,” I breathed, forcing myself to meet his eyes through the haze. “I saw you. Your wound. On your shoulder. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t watched it with my own eyes. It was gone. And you… you were naked in the snow.”

Rowan leaned forward, but only to snatch the fallen blanket from the floor and yank it over me in a sharp motion. His hand brushed my skin for a second. The heat of him burned. His eyes were colder than the ice on the window.

“You imagined it,” he repeated, low and tight. “You’re staying on the sofa in the living room. Right here. Where I can see you until morning. Don’t you dare get up.”

“Why are you like this,” I asked, my voice cracking with exhaustion. “I almost died.”

Rowan straightened and turned toward the fireplace. He grabbed the iron poker and stabbed at the coals, stirring them with angry force. On his back, where the claws had torn him, there was only smooth, unbroken skin in the firelight.

“Because I warned you,” he said without turning around, his voice rough with suppressed rage. “You thought this was a game. You thought I was just trying to scare you when I told you to stay inside. Tonight you learned why I’m not nice. There’s no room for disobedience on this mountain. If you try to sneak out again, I’ll leave you out there. Do you understand.”

He did not wait for an answer. He dropped into the leather armchair across from the sofa, crossed his arms over his broad chest, and did not take his eyes off me. He stayed with me, utterly still, like a guard.

“Sleep,” he ordered coldly. “You are not moving from here until morning. I don’t trust you enough to let you be responsible for your own life again.”

I was left with my thoughts, my throbbing wound, and the realization that the man who saved me might be more terrifying than the gray beast that almost tore me apart. I could not sleep. I just lay there and stared at Rowan as he sat in the dark, looking like some ancient, merciless god watching his next sacrifice.