Chapter 187: What We Carry Out
Rhydan carries me.
My arms are locked around his neck, my face buried in the warm, pine-and-ozone crook where his collarbone meets his throat, and he does not set me down for a single step.
Past the broken Great Hall doors...
Past the faculty calling his name...
Past the medical staff pushing through the cold gallery with stretchers.
Students shrink back against the stone walls as he passes, staring in dead silence at the blood drying on his temple, at my torn black velvet dress, at the way his broad arms hold me against his chest like I am the only thing keeping him from tearing the school apart.
He does not take me to the clinic.
He carries me all the way to the end of the east wing, to the empty classroom with the broken lock he has used since first year when he needed a space no one would interrupt him.
He kicks it open with his boot, steps inside, and slams it shut behind us.
The latch clicks into place.
Then he sets me down on the edge of the high wooden desk.
The moment his arms leave my body and my boots touch the wood, the space between us goes freezing.
He steps back.
Not far... just two steps... but the distance hits me like a physical blow.
The piece of his soul sitting behind my ribs screams at the separation. It lunges toward his chest like a live wire, a hot, desperate pull that sends a wave of heat straight through my blood.
Across the small room, Rhydan’s whole body locks.
His jaw clenches so hard I hear his teeth grind. His chest heaves under his ruined formal shirt, his hands curling into tight, shaking fists at his sides as he feels the exact second the piece of him inside my body reaches for him.
"Get it out," Rhydan says.
His voice is not a roar. It is low, flat, and scraped completely raw.
"Rhydan..."
"Get it out of you, Veyra."
"I cannot just take it out," I whisper, my hands gripping the edge of the desk so hard my knuckles go white. "I do not know how to give it back."
"You are carrying me around under your skin like a trophy from a fight I did not agree to share!" The words explode out of him, his grey eyes flashing with a sudden, violent gold before he forces it down. "Every breath you take, I feel it! Every time your ribs ache, I feel it! Every time I think about what you did..."
He stops.
He doesn't have to finish the sentence.
The link between us betrays me anyway. Guilt floods through the warm place behind my sternum, a heavy, suffocating wave that rushes straight down the connection into his chest.
Rhydan laughs once... short, ugly, and entirely broken.
"There," he spits, leaning his head back against the stone wall. "There it is. Even now. Even after I carried you out of that hall. Even after everything I had to endure so you wouldn't be dragged out in chains."
My eyes burn with hot, heavy tears.
"I only carried you because your knees were water," Rhydan continues, his voice dropping into a register so cold it cuts deeper than any shout. "I carried you because if another man put his hands on you to help you off that floor, I would have killed him in front of the whole school. But do not think for one second that means we are suddenly okay."
"I know we are not okay," I choke out, the tears finally spilling over my lashes and running hot down my face.
"You looked me in the eye outside Corvyn's office," he says, taking one slow, heavy step toward the desk. "You looked at me after I offered you my entire life... my name, my pack, my future... and you lied to me so you could run to Zael."
"I was trying to protect you!"
"I did not need protection from the truth!" Rhydan roars, his hands slamming down flat onto the desk on either side of my hips, caging me in. His face is inches from mine. I can smell the iron of his dried blood, the sweat on his skin, the pure, unadulterated fury radiating off his body. "I needed you to stop deciding what I could handle! I needed you to trust me like you did inside that hall! And instead, you treated me like a threat you had to manage!"
I do not look away.
I do not defend myself, because every word he is saying is true.
"I lied to you," I say, my voice cracking on the words. "I was terrified, and I was stupid, and I broke your trust when you were handing me everything. I know what I did, Rhydan. And I am sorry. I am so sorry."
The bond flares between us, raw and unshielded.
He feels my genuine, crushing guilt.
I feel his bleeding, betrayed hurt... and underneath the hurt, the terrifying, indestructible depth of a love that refuses to die even when he wants it to.
Rhydan’s eyes search mine, dark and wild.
"I hate that I can feel you like this," he breathes, his forehead dropping against mine hard enough that the shock vibrates through my jaw. "I hate that even right now... even when I am furious... even when I want to walk out of this door and not look at you... this piece of me inside your chest pulls me toward you like I belong to you."
"You do belong to me," I whisper, my hands coming up to grab his ruined shirt, pulling him closer until his chest is pressed flat against mine. "And I belong to you. You can be angry with me, Rhydan. You can yell at me. But do not look at me like I am a stranger."
His breath hitches.
He makes a low, wrecked sound in his throat, and then his mouth crashes down onto mine.
It is not a gentle kiss.
It is a surviving, desperate, possessive kiss that tastes like copper, winter air, and the absolute end of the world. His hands leave the desk and frame my face, his thumbs pressing hard into my cheekbones, his fingers tangling into my hair as he pulls me off the edge of the wood and flush against his body.
My arms wrap around his neck, my fingers digging into the firm muscles of his back.
The piece of him inside my chest surges, locking with his actual heart, and for ten seconds the entire world disappears into the heat of his mouth against mine.
When he finally pulls back, his breathing comes in short, heavy gasps against my lips. His forehead remains pressed to mine, his grey eyes dark, exhausted, and completely mine.
"I am still angry," he whispers.
"I know."
"I am still hurt."
"I know, Rhydan."
"And I am still not going anywhere."
A broken laugh leaves my throat, mixing with my tears.
"Good," I say. "Because I am not letting you go."
He presses his mouth to the corner of my lips... slow, heavy, and deliberate... before his hand slides down my arm, his fingers interlacing with mine, squeezing hard enough.
Then a heavy fist slams against the wooden door.
"Rhydan!" Cassian’s voice comes through the wood, tight and urgent. "Your father is in the main gallery! He brought three pack Elders with him! Your grandfather is surrounded by school guards near the north gate, and your father is calling a formal pack council right now!"
Rhydan doesn't let go of my hand.
He looks at the locked door, then back at me, his jaw setting into a hard, resolute line.
"We walk out there together," Rhydan says quietly.
"Together," I agree.
"You stay at my side. No managing me. No protecting me from my own family. You stand there as my equal... even while we are still fixing what we broke."
"I can do that."
"And later..." His hand shifts, pressing my palm flat over his heart, directly over the matching hollow where the piece of his frequency came from. "Later, we figure out what this piece of me inside your chest means for us... for our future."
"Later," I whisper.
He turns the latch and pulls the door open.
The cold, crisp air of the main gallery rushes in to meet us.
Torren Valecrest stands near the center archway, dressed in his dark travelling coat, three older wolves in formal pack robes standing behind him like stone pillars. Elder Valecrest is twenty feet away, pale, ruined, and trapped by Corvyn's guards.
Students linger in the shadows, whispering, but the moment Rhydan and I step out into the hallway, the gallery goes dead silent.
Rhydan does not look at any of them.
His grip on my hand is firm, unbreakable, and absolute.
We walk out into the light together, the piece of his soul burning steady and warm behind my ribs, and every step feels like the start of a story we are finally going to finish on our own terms.