Chapter 53

Chapter 53


Lyla’s POV

I didn’t know how I managed to keep walking.

My legs felt heavy, almost numb, and the blanket around my shoulders suddenly felt too warm. The sunlight blurred, the courtyard sound faded, and the only thing echoing in my head was Dalia’s voice.

“We should start preparing for our wedding.”

Wedding.

The word dug deep, settling in my chest like a stone.

I kept walking until I reached the shaded hallway near the clinic entrance. I leaned against the wall, pressing my palms gently to the cool surface, trying to steady my breathing.

It shouldn’t hurt.

Rowan was not mine.
Rowan was never mine.
And I already had Damon; patient, warm, gentle Damon.

But hearing Dalia say it so proudly, so loudly, brought a sting I could not ignore.

Maybe it was because I remembered Rowan storming into the bakery that afternoon I collapsed. The fear in his voice. The way he grabbed me, shaking, shouting my name like I mattered more than anything else in the world.

Or maybe it was because deep inside me, a small part still wondered why he cared so much and yet kept stepping away.

I took a slow breath.

“Don’t think about it,” I whispered to myself. “He’s marrying his lover. It’s normal. You have no reason to feel like this.”

My chest still hurt.

I didn’t even realize Damon was walking toward me until he touched my elbow gently.

“There you are,” he said softly. “I’ve been looking all over.”

I straightened quickly and forced a smile. “Sorry. I needed some air.”

He watched me closely, the way he always did when he sensed something off. His hand slipped from my elbow to my fingers, holding them carefully.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” I lied. “Just tired.”

Damon didn’t push, but he didn’t believe me either. He took the blanket from my shoulders and fixed it better around me so the wind wouldn’t hit my back.

“You should be resting,” he murmured. “The healer said you shouldn’t strain yourself.”

“I’m fine,” I replied. “Really.”

He didn’t argue. He simply stayed beside me, his presence warm and grounding.

But the moment his arms circled around me, giving me comfort, I saw Rowan’s face again, the way he froze when Dalia mentioned their wedding.

He didn’t look happy. He didn’t look relieved. He looked… shocked.

But that wasn’t my business.

I pushed the thought away.

“Are you hungry?” Damon asked. “I can make you something.”

“You?” I teased, trying to lighten my mood. “Cooking?”

“I can try,” he said proudly. “I once made toast without burning the pack house.”

I laughed weakly, and he smiled because he liked being the reason I smiled. He helped me walk back to the clinic, steady and slow, and I could feel the worry wrapped around him even though he stayed calm.

Inside, I sat on the bed and let him place the blanket over my legs.

“You okay?” he asked again, brushing a stray piece of hair from my cheek.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I will be.”

But my chest still felt suffocated.

Damon sat beside me, and for a moment we stayed quiet. Not awkward. Just gentle silence.

Then he leaned forward and kissed my forehead.

“Don’t disappear on me again,” he said softly.

That snapped something inside me; guilt, warmth, fear... all mixed together. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close, because he had been nothing but patient and kind.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said.

And I meant it.

Even if the world around us kept trying to pull everything apart.

Damon held me a little tighter before he pulled back. “I have to go speak with the patrol team. Stay here and rest. I’ll be back in a bit.”

I nodded.

He kissed my cheek and left.

The room grew quiet again.

But not peacefully quiet. There was a charge in the air, a strange chaos I couldn’t place.

I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself, but footsteps approached the doorway, slow and hesitant.

I felt him before I saw him. His presence always carried a certain sorrow. A seriousness that filled spaces even when he didn’t speak.

He stopped at the door but didn’t enter. I opened my eyes slowly.

He stood there with one hand resting on the frame, watching me with an expression he struggled to mask.

“You should rest,” he said quietly.

“I am,” I replied.

He nodded, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease.

“I wanted to check if the healer returned,” he said. “I want full details on why the poison affected you the way it did.”

My fingers tightened around the blanket. “I’m fine now.”

“You were almost gone,” he said, too softly.

My breath hitched.

Rowan looked away quickly, as if he regretted the words. He took a slow breath, then forced himself into the calm mask he kept wearing today.

“You’ll be monitored for the rest of the day,” he said. “And I’ll increase security around your room.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I whispered. “I’m not helpless.”

“No,” he said. “But you’re under threat.”

There was more he wanted to say. I could see it in his eyes—something heavy, something he was swallowing down.

But before either of us spoke again, Dalia appeared behind him.

“There you are,” she said sweetly, brushing past him to step into the room. “Stop hiding from me, my love.”

He stiffened.

She held onto his arm tightly. “We still have a long list to discuss about the wedding.”

My throat closed.

Wedding.
Again.

Dalia smiled at me; not kind, not polite. Smug. Victorious.

“You’ll hear about the date soon, Lyla,” she said in a sugar-coated voice. “It’s going to be the biggest celebration this pack has ever seen.”

Rowan’s jaw didn’t tighten but something inside him shifted. I felt the air change.

He looked down at Dalia, then at me.

But he said nothing. And somehow, that silence hurt even more.

Dalia looked proud, almost glowing, as if the universe itself had just told her she was right about everything.

Rowan didn’t pull away from her touch.

He didn’t step closer to me either.

He only stood there, silent, caught between two places he didn’t want to be.

I dropped my gaze to the blanket on my lap, trying to pretend none of this bothered me. Trying to pretend I didn’t see the way Dalia kept leaning into him, placing her head a little too close to his shoulder, as if she needed to remind me of her claim.

“I’m glad you’re better now,” Dalia said, her voice dripping forced sweetness. “We wouldn’t want you collapsing again. It would be such a shame if the pack had to worry about you for one more night.”

Rowan shot her a look, but she pretended not to notice.

“I’m feeling better,” I said softly.

“Good,” she replied. “You should rest. It’s best you stay here. Far from stress.” She paused, letting her eyes sweep over me slowly. “And far from trouble.”

My fingers curled around the blanket.

She wanted a reaction. She always wanted a reaction and I refused to give it to her.

“Rowan,” she said in a slightly impatient tone, tugging his arm gently, “we should go. We need to start working on the guest list for our wedding. My parents are waiting.”

Wedding.
Again.

The word punched through my chest every time she said it. I didn’t understand why it hurt so much. Damon was the one I was choosing, Damon was the one who made me feel safe, Damon was the one who held me last night by the lake, whispering promises against my skin.

But something tight twisted inside me anyway.

Maybe it was because Rowan had saved my life more times than I could count. Maybe it was because no matter how hard he tried to act distant now, a part of him still watched me like he couldn’t help it.

Rowan exhaled slowly and turned toward me again.

“You’ll rest?” he asked.

“I will,” I murmured.

He nodded, but his eyes lingered on me longer than they should have. It was only a second, but I felt it; the hesitation, the worry, the unspoken words he buried deep.

Then he forced himself to look away.

Dalia tugged again, firmer this time, and Rowan finally let her pull him toward the door.

As they reached the hallway, she said loudly, loud enough for me to hear:

“I’m glad you’re finally behaving. I told you this wedding would put everything in place.”

Rowan didn’t respond.

The door swung closed, leaving me alone in the quiet room with my chest aching.

I sat still for a long moment, staring at the empty doorway. My emotions didn’t even know where to settle. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t jealous. I wasn’t heartbroken. It was more complicated than that, a mixture of confusion, disappointment, and a faint ache I kept trying to ignore.

Rowan was not mine.

I reminded myself again. And again. And again.

The healer walked in quietly a few minutes later, carrying herbs and a small wooden bowl. She gave me a warm smile.

“You’re back,” she said. “That’s good. How do you feel?”

“A little tired,” I admitted.

“That’s normal after poison,” she said gently. “Even the strongest wolves would feel drained.”

I nodded, lowering my gaze to my hands.

“Drink this,” she said, passing me the bowl. “It will help your body recover faster.”

The drink was bitter, but I swallowed it without arguing.

The healer checked my pulse, then examined the slight discoloration on my arm from where the poison reacted. She hummed approvingly and straightened.

“You’ll be back on your feet by tomorrow morning,” she said. “Just avoid stress tonight.”

I almost laughed.

Avoid stress? In this pack?

“That’s difficult,” I murmured.

She smiled knowingly. “Rest anyway.”

She left the room, shutting the door softly behind her.

The quiet returned but it wasn’t the peaceful kind.

I lay back slowly, my body still sore but manageable. I stared at the ceiling, letting my thoughts drift, to Damon, to Rowan, to Dalia’s smug smile, to the council, to the mysterious threats lurking around me.

My life had turned into one long storm.

I closed my eyes, trying not to think about any of it.

But I couldn’t.

Damon’s face came to mind first; warm, steady, patient. His hands cupping my cheeks last night, his voice soothing me, his breath brushing my skin like a promise.

Then Rowan’s eyes followed; dark, troubled, intense. Full of a worry he kept denying. Full of something he refused to name.

I exhaled slowly.

“I don’t know what to feel anymore,” I whispered to myself.

Minutes passed.

Then footsteps approached again—louder, firmer, almost hurried.

My heart skipped.

Damon?
Rowan?

The door opened, and Damon stepped in.

Relief washed over me so fast I almost gasped.

His eyes ran over me immediately, checking my color, my breathing, everything.

“You should be resting,” he said gently as he walked toward the bed.

“I am,” I answered.

He sat beside me, taking my hand carefully, as if afraid to cause pain. “You look tired.”

“I’m okay,” I whispered. “I promise.”

He squeezed my hand lightly. “Rowan told me you were awake. I didn’t want to bother you if you were still tired, but… I needed to see you.”

A warmth spread through me, soft and calming. Damon always knew how to make everything feel safe.

“Are you hurting anywhere?” he asked.

“No.”

“Good.”

He brushed a thumb over my knuckles and exhaled. “You scared me.”

“I know,” I whispered. “I scared myself too.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned forward, placing a warm kiss on my forehead.

“Rest,” he murmured. “I’m right here.”

I eased back into the pillows, letting my body relax for the first time in hours.

Damon stayed by my side, watching over me quietly.

But even with his hand in mine, even with his presence calming the storm inside me, a part of my mind drifted toward Rowan’s silence… and Dalia’s words.

No matter how much I tried to force the thought away, it kept hovering around me like a faint shadow.

Damon kept soothing me, and slowly, my eyes grew heavy.

Eventually, I drifted into sleep, Damon still holding my hand.



When I woke up again, the room was dim and warm. Someone had turned down the lanterns, leaving the soft yellow glow filling only the corners. For a moment, I didn’t move. I listened to the quiet, letting myself adjust.

Damon was still there.

He had fallen asleep on the chair beside my bed, one hand still loosely wrapped around mine. His head was tilted slightly forward, his dark hair falling over his forehead. He looked peaceful in a way I rarely saw. Relaxed. Almost boyish.

A small smile touched my lips before I realized it.

Slowly, I slid my hand out of his, trying not to wake him. I pushed myself up and leaned back against the pillows, stretching gently. My body was still tired, and a faint ache lingered in my muscles, but I felt stronger.

The healer’s remedy worked.

I watched Damon for a while longer, letting my heartbeat settle. Then the door opened slightly, and someone stepped inside.

Rowan.

He paused when he saw me awake. His eyes flicked from me to Damon, still sleeping with his head bowed. Something in Rowan’s expression shifted, something quick, small, and tightly controlled.

He stepped closer, keeping his voice low. “You’re awake.”

“I am.” My voice came out softer than I intended.

“Good.” He nodded. “The healer said your body responded well to the antidote. You’ll be fully stable by morning.”

“That’s good,” I said.

We remained quiet for a few seconds. The silence wasn’t sharp, but it wasn’t comfortable either. It felt full of things neither of us knew how to say.

Rowan looked tired… more than usual. There was a seriousness in his eyes that made my stomach twist. It wasn’t anger. It was something heavier, something he had been carrying all day.

“I came to check on you,” he said finally.

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“You should rest,” he repeated. “The pack is on high alert now. Extra guards will be placed at the clinic tonight.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I murmured.

“I do.”

His tone was firm. No room for argument.

The quiet stretched again.

Damon shifted in his sleep, and Rowan’s gaze moved to him. His jaw eased, but the tension behind his eyes deepened. I could almost feel the conflict under his calm voice.

“Damon wouldn’t leave your side,” Rowan said quietly.

“I know.”

“You… mean a lot to him.”

My throat tightened. “He means a lot to me too.”

Rowan didn’t respond, but the silence that followed carried its own story. He looked away for a moment as if steadying himself.

Then he cleared his throat slightly.

“Dalia is still outside with her parents,” he said. “Meetings, preparations… all of that.”

The word “preparations” felt heavy in his voice. Not proud. Not excited. Just heavy.

I swallowed.

“That’s good,” I said, though it didn’t feel good. “She must be happy.”

“She is.” His answer was flat.

“And you?” I asked before I could stop myself.

He looked at me sharply, surprised. His lips parted, as if he wanted to answer honestly. But then something inside him closed again, and he said, “It’s what has to be done.”

I nodded slowly, even though everything inside me clenched at those words.

Rowan turned away, stepping toward the window. He looked out for a long moment, his hands resting on the sill. His shoulders weren’t relaxed. He carried tension like it belonged to him.

“Uhmm,” he said quietly. “I should go.”

I only nodded.

He took one last look at me, watching me in a way he didn’t allow himself to do for long then left the room without saying anything else.

The door shut softly.

I lowered my gaze to the sleeping Damon. His face was calm and kind. His warmth was real. His love felt steady.

I reached out and touched his hand again. His fingers curled around mine automatically, even in sleep. That simple gesture soothed something deep inside me.

“You’re good for me,” I whispered softly, brushing my thumb over his knuckles. “And I want to choose you.”

But a small ache still lingered — quiet, confusing, unwelcome.

It wasn’t love for Rowan.
It wasn’t longing.
It was something softer… more complicated.

Maybe it was just history.
Maybe it was just gratitude.
Maybe it was fear.
Maybe it was something I didn’t understand.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the pillows.

Damon’s breathing was slow and steady beside me. Feeling that calm helped pull me back down from all the noise in my heart.

A little while later, he stirred.

“Lyla?” he murmured.

“I’m here,” I whispered.

He blinked sleepily and sat up straighter. “You scared me. Again.”

“I know.”

He brushed a hand over his face, then smiled faintly. “I must have fallen asleep like an idiot.”

“You fell asleep after taking care of me,” I said. “That doesn’t make you an idiot.”

He reached for my hand again, warm and gentle. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little.” I nodded.

“Good,” he said softly. “The pack is restless tonight. Everyone’s nervous. But I promise you’re safe. I promise you’re not alone.”

His sincerity wrapped around me like a blanket. Damon meant every word he said. He didn’t pretend. He didn’t hide. He didn’t hold back the way Rowan did.

He kissed the top of my hand and smiled.

“I’ll stay here,” he whispered.

A warm calm settled inside me. “Okay.”

I relaxed, letting my eyes grow heavy again as his thumb stroked slow circles over my skin.

His warmth followed me as I drifted toward sleep.

But before unconsciousness fully pulled me under, a single thought whispered through my mind… soft but stubborn:

Even if Rowan keeps acting distant…
Even if he tries to pretend he doesn’t care…
There is something he’s hiding. Something he’s afraid to admit. Something that won’t disappear.

And I didn’t know whether that truth would save us…
or break everything.