Chapter205 Fated Mates

Chapter205 Fated Mates
Third Person POV
The moment Klaus said those words, the bond between them stopped being an impression and became something solid.
Emma was still on her knees, both hands pressed over his chest.
A sharp pain hit her palms and drove straight through her body. It was deeply specific. She could feel the tear where the bullet had passed through him, feel the silver toxin burning his veins from the inside, feel the suffocating drag of heavy blood loss pulling at the edges of consciousness.
These were Klaus's wounds, his pain. All of it was crossing the reawakened bond and landing in her body with full force.
Emma doubled forward, shoulders shaking hard.
Her breathing went ragged. She gasped for air. Tears came down without stopping and hit his clothes.
--
Klaus felt her, too. For the first time, completely.
He could sense her panic. Her despair. The fierce, aching refusal to let him die.
All of it came through skin and blood and found him directly.
The gunfire in the corridor hadn't stopped. Grayson's men were still there.
But for this moment, for both of them, none of that reached them.
There was only each other's breath and heartbeat.
The white glow around Emma's hands steadied.
She had no idea how to use what had just woken up inside her. She didn't understand any of it.
She only knelt there, crying, pressing her hands over the wound, her body pushing everything it had toward him without her telling it to.
The black toxin from the silver bullet had been crawling through the blood vessels around the wound. Now the glow pushed back against it. The spread slowed, then stopped. The burning sensation tearing through his nerves began to weaken.
The blood at Klaus's chest stopped flooding out. The flow dropped to a seep, then less than that. His breathing, which had been on the edge of stopping entirely, evened out into something that could be sustained.
Andrew turned toward Emma from behind the door.
He saw the light around her hands. He saw what was happening to Klaus's wound.
He stood still for a full second, gun half raised.
Then he snapped back and shouted at her.
"Keep your hands on him! Don't let go!"
Emma caught his voice, bit down hard on her lip, and bore down with everything she had. Both hands stayed flat on the wound, pushing the warmth and light into him steadily.
The silver-neutralizing energy was working, but it wasn't enough to bring Klaus back to his feet. It pulled him back from the edge, back from the specific darkness of dying, and held him there.
Through the haze, he thought he heard Emma saying his name.
Klaus opened his eyes. His vision came back slowly in the dim light.
The first thing he saw was Emma. Kneeling in the blood. Hands soaked red. Crying.
Looking at her face, the memories came again.
He remembered seeing her for the first time. The way she had walked into the room. The pull he'd felt in his chest, the way his wolf had gone restless and refused to settle.
He remembered spending months forcing that pull down and denying it.
He remembered Nancy's manipulation. He remembered how many times his own judgment had failed him, how many times he had turned this woman away.
Klaus looked at Emma, and something in his chest went very still.
He was certain of two things now.
The woman kneeling in front of him, the one the entire Golden Moon Pack had dismissed and written off for years, was an extraordinarily rare white wolf.
And Emma was his true fated mate.
His grandfather had been right all along.
His body and his wolf had known from the very beginning. His logic had just refused to catch up.
--
The white wolf pheromones radiating from Emma carried an absolute bloodline suppression.
It wasn't aggressive. It was a purifying field, combined with a hierarchy pressure that reached every werewolf in the corridor.
Grayson's men had stopped advancing. Their bodies wouldn't obey the order to move forward. They stood with their guns raised, still aimed, but their feet had gone to stone.
The one closest to the front was breathing in sharp bursts, sweat breaking across his forehead.
Steven was pressed against the wall with a knife, wounded in the side. He felt the pressure too. He turned to look at the light around Emma's hands and stopped moving entirely.
Grayson stood with both hands on his cane, eyes fixed on Emma's direction.
He was trying to understand what he was looking at.
The legends about white wolves existed throughout werewolf history. He had never seen one with his own eyes. He needed to know what this power was, how long it would last, and what it meant for everything he had planned for tonight.
That brief stillness settled over the corridor.
The only sounds were labored breathing.
Emma knelt on the floor with tears blurring her vision.
She could feel Klaus's chest rising more steadily under her hands.
Then a hand came to rest over hers.
Klaus had lifted his arm and covered her hands with his own. He was still weak, his grip slower than normal, but it was firm. The heat from his palm passed into her skin.
Emma looked down at him.
Klaus looked back at her, his eyes carrying a clarity they hadn't held in days, along with something else. Possessive. Certain. Protective in a way that went all the way down.
"Emma." He said her name.
Low, roughened from blood loss.
His fingers tightened over hers.
"You're my mate."
Emma didn't move.
She looked at him, both hands still over the wound, and couldn't find a single word.
She had believed, for all these days, that his attachment to her was a side effect of the amnesia. Dependency. Instinct without context.
She had never considered this.
Emma's eyes went wide, tears still balanced in them, and she had absolutely no idea what to do next.