The Royal Heirs #50: Theo

The Royal Heirs #50: Theo

I caught Emma as she collapsed, Aeson's reflexes allowing me to lunge forward despite the agony in my side where the bullet had torn through flesh and muscle. Benjamin's body lay beside us, his throat a ruined mess, his eyes still open in shock at how quickly death had come for him. The taste of Emma's blood lingered in my mouth—Aeson had bitten through Benjamin's jugular while he still had his teeth in her neck. But the copper tang brought no satisfaction, only mounting horror as I realised what had happened. The bond between us, that golden thread that had connected our souls since our mating, was unraveling. I could barely sense her anymore, my mate slipping away even as I held her physical form in my arms.
Mate bond breaking, Aeson whined, his anguish merging with mine as we cradled Emma's unconscious form. Mate marked by enemy. Bond severed.
Blood soaked the collar of Emma's sweater, spreading across the pale fabric like spilled wine. The wound on her neck was ragged, ugly—a chunk of flesh torn away when I'd ripped Benjamin off her. Her pulse fluttered beneath my muzzle as I nosed at her throat, weak but present. Alive. She was alive, even if our connection was fading like mist in morning sun.
Victor and Nathaniel lay crumpled in the corner, taken down by Simpson's men who had followed us into the house. Their betrayal would be dealt with later—right now, all that mattered was getting Emma to safety, getting help for her and our daughters. I gathered her limp body against my chest, Aeson's strength allowing me to carry her despite my own wound. Each movement sent fresh agony through my side, but the pain felt distant, unimportant compared to the hollow emptiness where our bond had been.
I shouldered through the door, emerging into chaos. The clearing before the house had become a battlefield—bodies lay scattered across the ground, some moving, some ominously still. Simpson's forces had prevailed, but not without cost. In the centre of it all stood Elijah, supporting a battered Elena, both of them scanning the house entrance with desperate hope.
When Elijah saw us—me in Lycan form carrying his sister's bloody, unconscious body—his face contorted with such grief I nearly staggered under the weight of it. He rushed forward, Elena stumbling beside him despite her own injuries.
"Emma," he breathed, reaching out with his good arm. "Is she—"
Alive, I projected, the mental communication strained through the fog of pain and loss. Needs help. The pups...
Understanding flashed across his face. With gentle urgency, he took Emma from my arms, cradling his sister against his chest despite his own injuries. "Shift back," he said. "You need hands to help her."
The transformation was agony, my body screaming in protest as bones shifted and reformed around the bullet wound. I forced myself through it, gritting my teeth against the pain until I stood on two feet again, naked and bleeding but human. Elijah immediately returned Emma to my arms, her weight familiar despite the circumstances that had brought us here.
Her eyelids fluttered as I adjusted my hold, a soft moan escaping her lips. "Theo?" Her voice was barely a whisper, her eyes unfocused as they struggled to open.
"I'm here," I said, throat tight with emotion. "I'm right here, Emma."
Her hand moved immediately to her belly, panic flashing across her features before the distinct movement beneath her palm made her exhale in relief. "The twins..."
"They're okay," I assured her, though in truth I had no way of knowing for certain. "We're going to get you all to a doctor."
Emma's fingers moved from her belly to her neck, touching the ragged wound where Benjamin had tried to mark her. Pain crossed her face, followed by something worse—a deep, soul-level anguish as she realised what I'd already felt.
"The bond," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "Theo, I can't feel you anymore. Not like before."
"I know." My voice broke on the words. "I can barely feel you either. He... he broke it somehow."
Aeson whimpered within me, his golden presence dim with grief. Mate bond damaged. Not gone completely. But weak, so weak.
I pressed my forehead against Emma's, our breath mingling in the small space between us. "We'll fix it," I promised, not knowing if such a thing was possible but unwilling to accept any other outcome. "Whatever it takes, Emma. This isn't the end of us."
Chief Simpson approached, his uniform torn and bloodied but his expression professionally composed. "Your Majesties, we need to get you to safety. Medical teams are standing by."
I nodded, shifting Emma in my arms to better support her head against my shoulder. She weighed almost nothing in my grip, though her pregnant belly pressed against my abdomen, a reminder of what we still had, what we still fought for.
"The car," I said, already moving toward where our convoy had parked at the edge of the property. 
Elijah and Elena followed close behind, his arm around her waist, supporting her battered form as she limped beside him. The four of us made a grim procession—the royal couple and the Alpha pair, all bleeding, all broken in different ways, yet all still standing.
The SUV waited, its engine running, a different driver now behind the wheel—one of Simpson's trusted officers. The back doors opened as we approached, revealing the same luxurious interior that had witnessed our betrayal hours earlier.
I settled Emma across my lap once we were inside, her head resting against my chest where she could hear my heartbeat. Elijah and Elena sat opposite us, their hands intertwined despite their injuries, drawing strength from each other in a way Emma and I no longer could through our damaged bond.
As the vehicle pulled away from Whispering Pines Estate, Emma drifted in and out of consciousness, her breathing shallow but steady. Each time her eyes opened, they sought mine first, then moved to her belly where her hands rested protectively.
"They're still moving," she murmured once, a faint smile touching her lips. "Strong girls."
"Like their mother," I replied, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.
I pulled out my phone with my free hand, dialing the palace with blood-slick fingers. The connection was patchy in these woods, but it held long enough for me to issue terse instructions: medical teams ready, the midwife on standby, security at maximum alert. Then I called Christian, his relief at hearing my voice so palpable I could almost feel it through the phone.
"We're coming home," I told him. "Emma's hurt. I'm hurt. Our bond..." My voice failed me.
"What about the bond?" Christian asked, instantly alert to the despair in my tone.
"Benjamin tried to remark her," I managed. "It's... damaged. We can barely feel each other."
Silence stretched across the line, broken only by Christian's measured breathing as he processed this. "We'll figure it out," he said finally. "Just get her home. Get both of you home."
After ending the call, I looked down at Emma's pale face, peaceful now in unconsciousness. Blood still seeped from the wound on her neck, her body too taxed by pregnancy and trauma to heal with normal werewolf speed. The mark I'd placed there—the symbol of our bond—seemed diminished somehow, the skin less vibrant, the impression less defined.
Aeson curled tightly within me, his golden presence a knot of grief and determination. Find way to fix, he insisted. Mate still ours. Pups still ours.
"Yes," I whispered, too quietly for Elijah and Elena to hear. "Still ours."
The armoured SUV carried us toward the Royal City, toward help, toward home. Each mile put distance between us and the horror at Whispering Pines Estate, but nothing could separate me from the hollow ache where our bond had been—a void I would spend my life trying to fill again, whatever it took. I pressed my lips to Emma's forehead, a silent promise in the gesture.
We would survive this.