Chapter 83
Maya POV
I woke up because breathing hurt.
That was the first thing I knew — not fear, not memory, just pain every time my chest rose. I tried to move and couldn’t. My body felt like it had been dropped from somewhere high and forgotten where it landed.
I lay still for a long time.
Not because I was unconscious — because I was scared to find out how much of me was still working.
When I finally opened my eyes, all I saw were leaves.
Not Hollow Creek.
Not stone.
Not sigils.
Trees.
Relief hit so fast I started crying before I could stop it.
“Okay,” I whispered hoarsely. “Okay… okay…”
My voice sounded wrong. Thin. Like it might disappear if I pushed it too hard.
I tried to sit up.
Pain lanced through my side and I screamed — sharp and ugly and real. I curled instinctively, hands pressing against my ribs, teeth grinding until spots danced in my vision.
“Idiot,” I muttered to myself. “Slow.”
Memory came back in flashes.
Light.
Tiara screaming.
Lucien’s roar.
Noland diving.
Then nothing.
I lay there shaking, staring up at the trees until the world steadied again.
That’s when I smelled him.
I froze.
Not Watcher.
Not ash-wolf.
Not controlled.
Wolf. Familiar. Clean.
“Don’t move,” a voice said quietly from my left. “I can hear your ribs grinding.”
I swallowed. “That’s… comforting.”
A pause.
Then, “You always did joke at the worst times.”
I closed my eyes.
“Cael,” I said.
He stepped into view slowly, hands visible, posture deliberately non-threatening. He looked older than the last time I’d seen him — not by years, but by weight. Scars lined his forearms. His hair was tied back with a strip of leather instead of the silver clasp he used to wear.
“You’re alive,” he said.
“Barely,” I answered.
He crouched beside me without touching me. That mattered more than he probably knew.
“I thought you were dead,” he said.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
That earned a breath of a laugh. “You never were good at staying gone.”
Silence settled between us — not awkward, just careful.
Finally, he said, “May I?”
I nodded.
He moved slowly, assessing me with practiced ease. “Ribs.”
“Cracked,” I said. “Maybe worse.”
“Breathing?”
“Hurts.”
“Bleeding?”
“Inside, probably.”
He exhaled. “You need help.”
“I know.”
“I can carry you.”
“No,” I said immediately.
Cael looked at me. “Maya—”
“I said no,” I repeated, firmer. “I’m not… I can walk. Eventually.”
He studied my face for a long moment. Then nodded. “Alright.”
He reached into his pack and pulled out water, holding it where I could see it instead of pressing it to my lips.
“Small sips,” he said.
I took it with shaking hands and did as told.
After a while, I whispered, “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know.”
“They’ll be looking for me.”
“I know.”
“You could get killed.”
He shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone tried.”
I glanced at him. “You followed me.”
“I followed the blast,” he corrected. “Found you after.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer right away.
When he did, it was simple. “Because you were alone.”
That broke something in my chest.
I turned my face away quickly, but not fast enough. He saw my mouth tremble.
“I didn’t betray her,” I said suddenly. “I never did.”
“I know.”
“I was scared,” I continued, words spilling now. “Not of dying. Of losing myself. Of hurting her. Of waking up one day and realizing I didn’t care anymore.”
My voice cracked. “I would rather have died.”
Cael stayed quiet.
I clenched my fists. “They took pieces of me. Every time I fought it, it hurt more. I thought if I just— if I just gave them something small, they’d stop digging.”
“They never stop,” he said gently.
“I know that now.”
Silence again.
Then he said, “You don’t owe me love to deserve protection.”
I looked at him sharply.
“I know why you said no,” he continued. “And I don’t hate you for it.”
“You should,” I whispered.
“No,” he said. “I should respect it.”
Tears slid down my face, hot and humiliating.
“I didn’t choose Hollow Creek over you,” I said. “I chose Tiara.”
“I know.”
“I would choose her again.”
“I know.”
That made it worse.
He reached out then — not to touch me, but to set his cloak around my shoulders, careful not to jostle my ribs.
“You don’t have to explain yourself,” he said. “Not to me.”
I laughed weakly through tears. “You always were unfairly decent.”
“Don’t spread that around.”
I rested my head back against the tree. “They’re going to come again.”
“Yes.”
“And Hollow Creek won’t survive another night like that.”
“Probably not.”
“I have to go back,” I said.
Cael didn’t argue.
“I don’t know if they’ll forgive me,” I added.
“They don’t have to,” he said. “You’re not going back to be forgiven. You’re going back to stand.”
I nodded slowly. “On my terms.”
“That’s the only way you ever do anything.”
I managed a small smile.
“Will you help me walk?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Just walk,” I added. “No carrying.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You’re stubborn.”
“I’m alive,” I corrected.
Carefully, painfully, we got me to my feet.
Each step burned. My vision swam. But I stayed upright.
When we reached the edge of the trees and Hollow Creek’s scent brushed against me — smoke, blood, home — my chest tightened.
“I’ll go alone from here,” I said.
Cael stopped. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “This part… this part has to be mine.”
He hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pressed something into my palm — a small blade, simple, sharp.
“For protection,” he said. “Not claiming.”
I closed my fingers around it. “Thank you.”
He stepped back. “For what it’s worth… I’m glad you survived.”
“So am I,” I whispered.
I turned toward Hollow Creek.
Broken.
Breathing.
And this time — choosing to walk back.