Chapter 88
Chapter 88
Amelia’s POV
The firelight burned low, but it wasn’t the dark that kept me awake.
It was him.
Klaus.
Every time my gaze drifted across the circle of flame, I found him already watching me. Not with the sharp disdain he’d worn since the moment we met, but with something worse. Something unreadable.
And it terrified me more than hatred ever had.
I tucked myself deeper into Demian’s arms, pressing my cheek against the steady thrum of his heartbeat. His warmth was my anchor, my shelter from the cold that gnawed at my bones. But even with him wrapped around me, I couldn’t quiet the storm inside.
Why was Klaus helping me?
Why had his voice softened when he caught me? Why had his hand lingered, guiding mine over the hilt of a blade, teaching me how not to die?
He was supposed to despise me. And maybe he still did. But tonight, when his eyes met mine across the fire, it hadn’t been hatred burning there.
It had been… something else.
\---
“Stop thinking so loudly,” Demian murmured against my hair. His voice was rough with exhaustion, but his arms tightened around me, protective even in half-sleep.
I bit my lip. “I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” His fingers brushed the curve of my arm, grounding me. “Tell me.”
I hesitated. The words tangled in my throat. How could I tell him I couldn’t stop thinking about his brother? That every time Klaus’s gaze caught mine, I felt like the ground shifted beneath me?
Demian’s head tilted, his lips brushing my temple. “You’re restless.”
“Because of the howls,” I lied quickly. “They’re closer tonight.”
He hummed low, unconvinced. But he didn’t press. “Sleep, Amelia. I won’t let anything touch you.”
I closed my eyes, breathing him in, clutching at his promise like a lifeline. But even as I willed myself to believe it, I felt Klaus’s gaze again. Heavy. Searching.
And I hated that part of me wanted to look back.
\---
The next morning, the storm had left the world glittering with frost. Every branch sparkled, cruelly beautiful in the pale light. But my body ached from the cold, my boots weighed heavy with snow, and every step felt like dragging chains.
Still, I forced myself forward. Demian walked at my side, always close enough to steady me. But I didn’t want him to—not every time. If I was going to stay, if I was going to fight, I needed to prove I wasn’t just a burden he had to shield.
So when my boot caught on a root and I lurched forward, I bit back the cry that rose in my throat. I caught myself, breath ragged, willing my spine straight.
But before I could take another step, a hand closed around my arm.
Not Demian’s.
Klaus.
His grip was firm, steady, holding me upright before I could fall.
My heart thudded painfully, my eyes snapping up to his. His expression wasn’t sharp this time. Not mocking. It was… softer. Almost gentle.
“Careful,” he said quietly.
The word lodged in my chest. No venom. No scorn. Just warning.
I swallowed hard, whispering, “Thank you.”
His hand lingered a heartbeat longer than it should have, then slipped away.
I stumbled back into Demian’s orbit, his arm sweeping instantly around me, pulling me close. I felt the tension humming through him, sharp as a drawn bowstring.
He didn’t look at me. His glare was fixed on his brother.
But Klaus didn’t flinch. He only faced forward again, expression unreadable.
Letting Demian wonder.
Letting me wonder.
\---
The day dragged mercilessly, snow swallowing our pace, wind biting at every exposed inch of skin. My body screamed for rest, but I clenched my jaw and matched Demian step for step.
I wouldn’t slow us down. Not again.
When we finally stopped, I dropped heavily onto a half-buried log, my hands trembling as I tried to steady them. Demian crouched beside me immediately, his eyes sweeping over me with worry.
“You’re pale,” he murmured.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” His hand brushed my cheek, warm against the cold of my skin.
“I said I’m fine,” I insisted, sharper this time. Because I needed him to believe it. Because if he kept treating me like glass, I’d shatter for real.
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He only handed me water, his thumb brushing mine when I took it.
And then—
Klaus approached.
I stiffened instantly, Demian rising to his feet like a wall between us.
“What do you want?” Demian snapped.
Klaus’s gaze flicked over me, unreadable. Then he crouched, ignoring his brother’s fury. “She’s holding her weapon wrong.”
I blinked. “What?”
He didn’t wait for permission. He reached for my blade, and instinctively, I looked at Demian. His eyes burned, head shaking.
But before he could forbid it, I whispered, “Let him.”
Both brothers froze.
I wasn’t sure why I’d said it. Maybe because part of me wanted to understand Klaus’s shift. Maybe because I was tired of stumbling blind while everyone else fought like shadows carved from steel.
Either way, I handed him the blade.
His fingers brushed mine as he adjusted my grip. Calloused, steady. My breath caught at the contact.
“You’re strangling it,” he said. “Loosen here.” He shifted my fingers, his touch precise, controlled. “Let it move with you.”
I tried, clumsy at first. He corrected again, murmuring instructions, moving me into a stance that felt less like flailing, more like purpose.
When he finally stepped back, his gaze lingered on me, dark and steady.
“Better,” he said.
I swallowed hard. “Why are you helping me?”
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
His silence stretched, heavy as the snow around us. Then, low: “Because if you’re going to stay at his side, you should at least know how not to die.”
It shouldn’t have sounded like kindness. But it did.
And that terrified me most of all.
\---
That night, the fire cast shadows long and sharp. I curled against Demian again, but my eyes kept drifting across the flames.
To him.
Always to him.
Klaus sat with his back against a tree, blade balanced across his knees, eyes catching the firelight. Watching. Always watching.
When our gazes met, he didn’t look away.
Neither did I.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I whispered, before I could lose my nerve.
His head tilted slightly. “Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to solve me.”
A low sound escaped him, half-laugh, half-sigh. “Maybe I am.”
My chest tightened. “And what do you see?”
For a long, suspended moment, he only stared at me. The fire flickered, painting his features in gold and shadow. Then he said softly—so softly I almost didn’t hear it:
“Something I can’t name.”
The words sank deep, stirring something in me I couldn’t bear to name either.
But then Demian shifted, his eyes opening, sharp and furious the moment he realized where my gaze had been.
“Enough,” he growled.
The moment shattered. I tore my eyes away, burying my face against Demian’s chest, ashamed of the flush burning across my skin.
But shame didn’t stop me from remembering the way Klaus had looked at me.
As if I wasn’t weakness.
As if I wasn’t a chain.
As if I was something else entirely.
And gods help me… I wanted to believe him.
\---
The days blurred into snow and silence, exhaustion and dread. But inside me, another battle raged—louder, sharper, more dangerous than the howls that stalked us.
Because every time Klaus looked at me that way, part of me wanted to look back.
And every time Demian’s arms locked tighter around me, part of me wondered how long before the war between them stopped being silent.