Chapter 100 The Crater

Chapter 100 The Crater
The silence that followed the explosion was heavy. It pressed against my eardrums, thick and suffocating. 

The only sound in the small, silver-lined room was the ragged breathing of the man lying next to me and the occasional tink of cooling metal.

I tried to sit up. My body felt strange. It was light, hollowed out, as if my bones had been replaced with bird bones. 

But at the same time, I felt a heavy, thrumming tether pulling at the center of my chest. 

It was a physical sensation, like a fishing line hooked into my heart, the other end disappearing into Abel’s chest.

"Alpha?" Freya’s voice drifted in from the doorway. She sounded small.

Abel groaned. He rolled onto his side, grimacing as his skin stretched over the new scar. He didn't look at Freya. 

He looked at me. His silver eyes scanned my face, searching for anything broken.

"I'm okay," I whispered. My voice was raspy. "I'm okay."

He nodded, once. He reached out and gripped my hand. The moment our skin touched, a jolt of warmth flooded my veins. It wasn't electric or painful. I

t was like stepping into a warm bath after walking in the snow. It was relief.

"We need to move," Abel said, his voice rough. "The air down here. It smells toxic."

He was right. The scent of ozone was overpowering, mixed with the acrid stench of melted plastic and scorched concrete. T

he silver plating on the walls had run like wax, pooling in ugly, solidified puddles on the floor.

Abel stood up first. He swayed slightly, bracing a hand against the wall for support. The wall was still hot. He hissed but didn't pull away. He reached down and hauled me to my feet.

I looked down at myself. My hospital gown was in tatters, singed at the edges. My feet were bare and black with soot. Abel was worse. 

His shirt had disintegrated. His tactical vest was a melted ruin on the floor. He was bare-chested, covered in ash, the branching silver scar standing out starkly against his tanned skin.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

"Yes," I lied. My legs felt like jelly.

He didn't believe me. He wrapped his arm around my waist, taking my weight. We stumbled out of the Iron Room, past a wide-eyed Freya, and into the corridor.

The walk back up to the main house was a blur of gray concrete and flickering emergency lights. Every step was a battle. I could feel Abel’s exhaustion as if it were my own. 

His muscles were trembling. His head was pounding. I knew this because my head started pounding in the exact same spot, right behind the eyes.

We reached the door to the ground floor. Abel kicked it open.

We stepped into the hallway.

I expected relief. I expected a cheer. I expected the pack to rush forward to help their Alpha.

I got none of that.

We stepped into a crater.

The explosion in the bunker had been contained, mostly. But the surge leading up to it had not. The hallway leading to the infirmary was unrecognisable. 

The windows were blown out, leaving gaping holes where the night wind whistled through. The carpet was scorched. The plaster on the walls was cracked in spiderweb patterns.

But the worst part wasn't the building. It was the people.

The hallway was lined with pack members. Guards, staff, and families who had been evacuated from the upper floors. Dozens of them.

When we appeared, they didn't move. They didn't speak.

They stared.

I saw a mother clutch her child to her chest, taking a step back. I saw a guard’s hand drift toward the stun baton at his belt before he realized who we were. I saw fear. Naked, trembling fear.

They weren't looking at their Luna. They were looking at the thing that had just blown up the East Wing.

"Abel," I whispered, shrinking into his side. "They’re scared."

"Eyes down!" Abel barked. His voice was hoarse, but it still carried the whip-crack of command. "Clear the hall. Now."

The pack flinched. They scrambled to obey, parting like water to let us pass. But they didn't look away. I could feel their eyes on my back. I could hear the whispers starting, low and frantic.

What was that?

Is she safe?

Did you see the light?

Monster.

The word hung in the air, unspoken but heard.

"Ignore them," Abel muttered, tightening his grip on my waist. "They don't understand."

"They understand enough," I said, looking at the destruction around us. "I did this."

We made it to the library. Since the infirmary was a disaster zone, Dr Vance had set up a triage center on the mahogany tables. He was rushing around, treating minor cuts from the flying glass.

When he saw us, he froze. He dropped the roll of bandages he was holding.

"Alpha," Vance breathed. He rushed over, his eyes wide. "Get them a chair! Clear that table!"

We collapsed onto a leather sofa. Vance was on us instantly, checking pupils, shining lights, pressing instruments against our skin.

Vance shouted over his shoulder. "I need the salt solution and the burn salve. Now!"

A lady appeared, looking equally shaken. She began mixing a paste in a bowl.

"Heart rates," Vance muttered, clipping a monitor to Abel’s finger. The machine beeped steadily. 62 BPM.

He reached for my hand. He clipped a second monitor to my finger.

62 BPM.

Vance frowned. He tapped the machine. "That’s odd."

He looked at Abel. "Alpha, take a deep breath and hold it."

Abel inhaled. On the screen, his heart rate slowed slightly. 58 BPM.

On my screen, the number changed instantly. 58 BPM.

I hadn't held my breath.

Vance went pale. He released Abel’s hand and looked at me. "Luna, I’m going to pinch your arm. It will hurt a little."

He pinched the soft skin of my forearm. It was a sharp, stinging pain.

"Ow," I flinched. My heart rate spiked to 75 BPM.

Next to me, Abel gasped, rubbing his own arm in the exact same spot. His monitor spiked. 75 BPM.

The room went deadly silent.

Vance slowly lowered the clipboard. He looked from Abel to me, and then to the silver scar connecting us.

"You aren't just sharing magic," Vance whispered. "You’ve synced your autonomic nervous systems."

"English, Vance," Abel growled, rubbing his arm.

"You are biologically tethered," Vance said, his voice trembling. "Your bodies are mirroring each other to process the trauma. If her heart races, yours races. If she feels pain, you feel pain."

"And if one of us dies?" I asked, the cold dread settling in my stomach.

Vance didn't answer. He didn't have to.

"Alpha!"

The door to the library banged open.

Elder Thomas marched in. He was the oldest member of the pack council, Abel had told me about him after that surprise meeting with the council. 

He was a man who respected tradition and hated surprises. Behind him were three other Elders, their faces grim.

"We demand an explanation," He announced, pointing a shaking finger at the ruined hallway visible through the open door. 

"The East Wing is structurally compromised. The foundation is cracked. The pack is in a panic."

"Not now, Thomas," Abel said, trying to stand up. He winced, clutching his chest.

"Yes, now," Thomas insisted. He looked at me with cold, hard eyes. 

"We warned you, Aipha. We warned you that bringing a hybrid into this pack was a risk. Now look. She is unstable. She is a danger to the cubs."

"She saved herself," Abel snarled. "And she saved the pack from a fallout that would have been much worse."

"She is the fallout!" Thomas shouted. "Look at her! She’s glowing, Abel! She is radioactive with magic we don't understand. She cannot stay in the main house."

I shrank back against the sofa cushions. He was right. I was dangerous. I could feel the hum under my skin, waiting to lash out again.

"She stays," Abel said. His voice was low, dangerous. "She is my mate. She is your Luna."

"She is a liability," Elder Thomas countered. "Until she is controlled, until we know she won't blow us all to hell in our sleep, she needs to be secured."

"Secured?" Abel repeated, his eyes narrowing.

"The containment wing," Thomas said. "The cells."

The air in the room dropped ten degrees.

"You want to put my mate in a cage?" Abel asked softly.

"For her own safety," Thomas said, stepping forward. "And for ours. Just until the energy dissipates. We have guards ready to escort her."

Two large enforcers stepped into the doorway behind the Elders. They held silver cuffs.

Panic flared in my chest. Not the cage. Not again. I couldn't go back to a cage.

My heart hammered against my ribs..

Beside me, Abel bent double, clutching his chest as if he’d been shot. The monitor on his finger screamed a high-pitched warning.

"Get out," Abel wheezed, fighting for air through my panic.

"We are taking her," Thomas said, signaling the guards. One of them reached for my arm.

"No!" I shrieked, scrambling back.

Terror, pure and white-hot, exploded in my brain.

Abel let out a guttural roar of pain. He didn't just feel my fear; he felt it as a physical attack. He fell to his knees, vomiting blood onto the expensive library rug.

"Alpha!" Vance screamed, rushing forward.

The guards froze. Elder Thomas froze.

I stared at Abel, horrified. I was doing this. My fear was killing him.

Abel looked up at me from the floor,. His eyes were wild, dilated, and full of my own terror.

"Don't," he gasped, reaching for me. "Don't... take her."

But then his eyes rolled back in his head.

The monitor flatlined.