Chapter 52 CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
ALORA
I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see the battle—the blood, the violence, the moment Alex lost himself to the berserker rage. The Eastern Pack wolves he tore apart with savage efficiency, far beyond what was necessary to neutralize the threat.
And it's my fault.
I roll over in bed, staring at Alex's sleeping form beside me. He's finally resting after the pack doctors spent hours treating his wounds. Silver burns across his shoulder and ribs, deep gashes that should have killed a lesser wolf. But he's healing, his Alpha blood knitting the damage back together.
I wish I could heal the damage I've caused just as easily.
Through our bond, I feel his nightmares. He's reliving the battle, the berserker rage, the moment he couldn't stop himself even after the threats were eliminated. I reach out instinctively, sending calm through our connection, and his breathing evens out.
At least I can do that much.
I slip out of bed, pulling on one of his shirts. It falls to mid-thigh, and his scent surrounds me—pine and smoke and home. But even that comfort feels wrong right now.
The balcony doors are open, letting in cool night air. I step outside and grip the railing, staring out at the territory. Somewhere out there, twelve families are grieving. Twelve pack members who died defending their home from an attack that came because of me.
Because I'm here. Because I'm Alex's mate. Because I'm a blood-wolf.
"You're thinking too loud."
I turn to find Alex standing in the doorway, shirtless and rumpled from sleep. His silver eyes are shadowed with exhaustion and something else. Guilt that matches my own.
"I couldn't sleep," I say.
"I know. I felt it through the bond." He moves to stand beside me, his hand finding mine on the railing. "You're blaming yourself."
"Shouldn't I?" The words burst out of me. "If I wasn't here, if I wasn't your mate, none of this would have happened. Those twelve wolves would still be alive. The pack wouldn't be facing war. You wouldn't be—"
"Don't." His hand tightens on mine. "Don't finish that sentence."
"Why not? It's true." I pull away, wrapping my arms around myself. "Elder Thomas is right. Your judgment is compromised because of me. The bond makes you more aggressive, more possessive. It triggered your berserker rage—"
"The battle triggered my berserker rage," he interrupts. "The threat to my pack. To you. Not the bond itself."
"How can you be sure?" I spin to face him. "How can you separate what's the bond and what's you anymore? I can't. I feel everything you feel, and it's all tangled up together."
He's quiet for a moment, and through the bond, I feel his struggle. Because he can't be sure. Neither of us can.
"Come back to bed," he says finally. "You need rest."
"I need answers." I shake my head. "I need to know that keeping me here isn't going to destroy everything you've built. Everyone you're supposed to protect."
"Alora—"
"Twelve wolves, Alex." My voice breaks. "Twelve of our pack died today because those packs came here for me. What happens in three weeks when six packs attack? How many more casualties will there be, and they're all because you couldn't let me go?"
"I'm not letting you go." His voice goes hard. "We've had this conversation."
"Maybe we need to have it again." I move toward the bedroom, needing distance. Needing to think past the bond pulling us together. "Because I can't watch you destroy yourself for me. I can't be the reason good wolves die."
"You're not the reason—"
"Yes, I am!" I spin back around, and I feel tears burning my eyes. "Those packs came here for me. The battle happened because of me. You lost control protecting me. Every bit of this is because I'm a blood-wolf and you're my mate and we're exactly what everyone warned us we'd be."
"Stop." He closes the distance between us, his hands gripping my shoulders. "Stop spiraling."
"I'm not spiraling. I'm facing reality." I try to pull away, but his grip tightens. "Alex, let go—"
"No." His eyes flash silver. "I'm not letting go. Not of you. Not of us. Not of anything."
"You don't have a choice—"
"I always have a choice." His voice drops low. Dangerous. "And I choose you. Every fucking time."
The possessiveness in his voice makes my wolf purr, but my human side recoils. This is exactly what I'm talking about. The bond overriding everything else.
"You're not thinking clearly," I say, trying to stay calm. "The bond is clouding your judgment—"
"My judgment is fine." But his hands are shaking on my shoulders. "I know exactly what I'm doing. What I'm choosing. And I'd make the same choice even without the bond."
"You don't know that. You can't know that."
"Yes, I can." He pulls me closer, and I feel his heart racing against my chest. "Because I've never felt clearer about anything in my life. You're mine. I'm yours. And nothing—not war, not casualties, not the entire fucking werewolf world—is changing that."
I want to believe him. Want to trust that this certainty is real and not just the bond talking.
But I can't.
"I'm going to stay with Sarah tonight," I say quietly. "I need space to think."
His grip goes rigid. "No."
"Alex—"
"I said no." His eyes are fully silver now. "You're not leaving this room. You're not leaving my sight."
Fear spikes through me. Not of him, but of what the bond is doing to him. This reaction—this inability to let me have even temporary distance—proves my point.
"You're not thinking rationally," I say carefully. "Listen to yourself. You won't even let me spend one night in a different room—"
"Because every instinct I have says if you leave, you won't come back." His voice is raw. "Because I can feel your doubt through the bond. Your guilt. Your fear that we're doomed." His forehead rests against mine. "And I'm terrified that if I give you space, you'll convince yourself leaving is the right thing to do."
"Maybe it is," I whisper.
His whole body goes still. Through the bond, I feel his anguish. His rage. His absolute refusal to accept that possibility.
"I'm not letting you sacrifice yourself," he says, his voice deadly quiet. "I don't care if you think it's noble or right or what's best for everyone. You're my mate. My Luna. And you're staying right fucking here."
"You can't force me—"
"Watch me." His power floods the room, making my wolf whimper and submit. "You want to leave? Fine. But you'll have to go through me. And we both know you can't."
The Alpha command in his voice is absolute. Unbreakable. And exactly the kind of thing that proves everyone right about the bond affecting him.
I pull away from his touch, and this time he lets me go. But I can feel him watching. Tracking my every movement like a predator.
"This is what I'm talking about," I say, wrapping my arms around myself. "This possessiveness. This inability to let me make my own choices. It's not healthy, Alex. It's not sustainable."
"It's the mate bond." His jaw clenches. "What did you expect? That we'd bond and nothing would change? That I wouldn't become more protective? More possessive?"
"I expected you to still be you." I meet his eyes. "The Alpha who makes strategic decisions. Who puts the pack first. Who doesn't let emotion override duty."
"I am still me." But his voice wavers. "I'm just... more now. More intense. More focused on keeping you safe."
"Too focused." I shake my head. "You can't see past your need to protect me. And it's going to get more people killed."
The words hit him like a physical blow. Through the bond, I feel his pain. His doubt creeping in despite his certainty.
"What do you want me to do?" he asks, and his voice sounds broken. "Tell me what you need, and I'll do it."
"I need you to consider that maybe everyone else is right." I force the words out even though they hurt. "That maybe the bond is affecting you more than you think. That maybe keeping me here is the wrong choice."
"No." The word is automatic. "I won't consider that."
"Why not?"
"Because—" He runs his hands through his hair, frustration rolling off him in waves. "Because if I start down that path, if I let myself believe that giving you up is an option, I'll lose my fucking mind. The bond won't let me. My wolf won't let me. I won't let me."
"So you'd rather watch everything burn?"
"Yes." His eyes meet mine, fierce and uncompromising. "I'd rather watch the whole world burn than live without you."
The confession should make me feel loved. Cherished. Instead, it terrifies me.
Because that's exactly what the old texts warned about. Alphas who couldn't see past their blood-wolf mates. Who'd destroy everything for one person.
"I can't be the reason you lose yourself," I whisper. "I can't be the curse everyone said I'd be."
"You're not a curse—"
"Then what am I?" I gesture around the room. "Twelve wolves are dead because packs came here hunting for me. The pack is questioning your leadership because of me. Six packs are planning to invade because of me. You went into berserker rage because you were protecting me. Everything is falling apart, and I'm at the center of it all."
"The pack is being tested because wolves are greedy and want what's mine," he corrects. "The six packs are planning to invade because they think they can take advantage of a supposed weakness. Those twelve wolves died defending our territory—something they swore to do long before you arrived."
"But it's worse with me here," I insist. "You said it yourself. The berserker rage was more intense this time. The need to protect me makes you more dangerous."
He can't deny it. I feel his acknowledgment through the bond.
"I need space," I say again. "Just for tonight. To think without the bond pulling at me. Without feeling everything you feel."
"The bond doesn't work like that." His voice is gentle now. Defeated. "You'll still feel me no matter where you are."
"Then at least let me try." I move toward the door. "Please, Alex. If you love me, give me this."
His hands clench into fists, and I feel him fighting every instinct he has. The bond screaming at him not to let me leave. His wolf snarling in protest.
"One night," he says finally, the words torn from him. "You get one night. But Alora—" His eyes meet mine, and I see the wildness there. The barely contained violence. "If you're not back by dawn, I'm coming for you. And nothing will stop me."
It's not exactly permission. It's a threat wrapped in compromise. But it's the best I'm going to get.
"Thank you," I whisper.
I leave before he can change his mind, before the bond can pull me back. In the hallway, I press my hand against my neck, feeling the mate mark pulse with warmth. Feeling his anguish through our connection.
But I keep walking.
Because if I don't get some distance, if I don't figure out what's real and what's the bond, we're both going to be destroyed.
And I can't let that happen.
Even if leaving him for one night feels like tearing my own heart out.