Chapter 6

Drey’s POV

I saw her before I smelled the blood.

The battlefield was silent in a strange way. That unnatural silence that creeps in only after chaos has done its damage. The kind of silence that feels borrowed, like the world is holding its breath and waiting for something worse.

Bodies lay scattered across the clearing, most already being collected by their packs. Some groaned, some didn’t move at all. But then, through the thick smoke and torn earth, I saw her.

Crumpled near the shattered base of an old tree. She looked small and motionless. A dark stain pooled beneath her like ink bleeding across parchment.

At first, I thought she was dead.

Then, I observed a twitch. Her fingers, moving like she was reaching for something just beyond her grasp.

I ran.

Dropped to my knees beside her and cursed under my breath. Her side was slashed wide open. Her wrists looked twisted and swollen. Blood clung to her skin in places but not all of it was hers. That made my chest tighten.

I reached out, brushed her cheek with the back of my hand. She was cold - too cold.

“Hey… hey, can you hear me?” I asked.

Her lips parted but no sound came out. Not even a breath.

Then her body flinched, just slightly, when I tried to lift her. A strangled, broken sound caught in her throat; one that said more than any words ever could.

She expected pain.

She expected cruelty.

“I’ve got you,” I said firmly. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I carried her back to the truck like she was made of glass. She felt light and fragile. My wolf paced beneath my skin. It was restless, protective and furious at the same time.

I didn’t even know her name, but everything in me screamed to keep her safe.

Because whoever did this to her… they didn’t just want her gone. They wanted her to disappear.

Tessy opened the front door before I even parked.

She took one look and didn’t hesitate. No questions, no panic. Just immediate action. That’s the thing about Tessy, she’s a healer, through and through. She moves like her purpose is to mend the world, one broken soul at a time.

We got her inside, cleaned the wounds, and set the fractures. Tessy worked in silence. I helped where I could.

And then I stayed. Even when Tessy told me to rest. Even when my eyes burned from lack of sleep.

Because I couldn’t leave her. Not like that.

Every time she whimpered in her sleep, my fists clenched. Every time her body tensed at a soft noise, my wolf growled inside me.

It wasn’t just a concern.

It was something deeper.

Something I didn’t understand yet.

The second night, I just watched her.

She curled near the edge of the bed, barely touching the sheets. Like she expected to be punished for taking up space. Like the warmth might vanish if she let herself enjoy it.

She didn’t even react when I walked into the room. Her eyes were open but hollow. The kind of stare people have when they’ve lost too much to count.

I’ve seen hardened warriors limp home from battle with more light in their eyes than she had.

The next morning, Tessy brought her tea. I stayed in the hallway, listening.

No footsteps. No voices. Just the quiet clink of the cup being set down, and the rustle of fabric.

Clarissa didn’t speak. She never did.

But silence can be louder than screams.

I thought maybe she resented us or feared us. But as the days passed, I realized something else.

She didn’t think she was allowed to speak. Like her voice wasn’t hers anymore. Like the world had punished her every time she used it.

That kind of silence? That’s not passive. That’s survival.

And survival… takes strength.

…………………

On the fourth morning, I found her halfway out of bed, shaking with effort.

I caught her before she hit the floor.

“You need to rest,” I said.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” she rasped, and my heart twisted.

I looked at her. I observed how pale her skin was, the shadows beneath her eyes and old bruises peeking from beneath her sleeves.

“You’re not,” I said fiercely.

She didn’t reply but she didn’t flinch, either.

That was a sign of progress no matter how small.

Somewhere along the line, she stopped being a stranger.

I couldn’t say when it happened. Maybe it was the first time she didn’t wake up screaming. Maybe it was the way she touched the tea cup like it might vanish if she wasn’t careful or maybe it was just the way she kept fighting without realizing it.

She never asked for help. Never demanded attention. But every time she breathed, it felt like defiance.

She didn’t see her strength but I did.

And I would protect it even if it killed me.

After a while, I started to notice something about Clarissa.