Chapter 20 Did she say anything?
Kael’s POV
Darren doesn’t hesitate, his voice steady over the line, a rock in the storm of my rising unease. “Yes, sir,” he says, the words clipped and efficient, the way he always delivers bad news—or what feels like it in this moment. “She left just after six. Used her staff credentials for the private elevator. No alarms triggered.”
My jaw tightens, muscles flexing involuntarily as I grip the phone harder, the cool metal biting into my palm. Six? That means she slipped away while I was still lost in that deep, restorative sleep—the kind I haven’t known since before the rut claimed me.
Hours ago. Alone in the predawn quiet of the tower. The beast stirs again, a low rumble in my chest that I suppress, but it leaves a bitter taste. “Alone?” I demand, my voice sharper than intended, shadows flickering at the edges of my vision, coiling around the phone cord like dark vines seeking purchase.
“Yes.” The word lands heavier than it should, a weight pressing on my ribs, squeezing the air from my lungs. Alone. My mate, the woman who tamed the storm within me, venturing out into the city without so much as a guard or a word.
The tower is secure—wards layered thick as armor, cameras in every shadow—but the world beyond? It’s a jungle of threats: rivals sniffing for weakness, opportunists who’d love to strike at me through her. And after the bond, she’s more than my anchor; she’s my vulnerability exposed. I pace the office, the marble floor cold under my bare feet, each step echoing like a heartbeat too loud in the silence.
“Where?” I demand, stopping at the window, staring out at the city awakening below—skyscrapers piercing the dawn sky like spears, streets filling with the ant-like bustle of early commuters. My reflections stares back, golden eyes narrowed, scar shimmering faintly under the rising light.
He taps the console on his end—I can hear the rapid clicks, his efficiency a balm to my fraying control. “Hospital district. St. Aurelia Medical Center. She arrived about twenty minutes ago, sir. Logged in at the private wing entrance. No deviations in her path—straight from here.”
My shadows still, retracting slowly as relief floods in, cool and sharp like a gulp of water after thirst. Of course. Her mother. The frail woman whose illness had been the catalyst for all this—the desperate plea that brought Elara to my door, offering her magic, her body, in exchange for the treatments only my wealth could secure.
She didn’t run from me, from us. She didn’t wake doubting the bond that now pulses eternally between our souls. She went where she always goes—where her heart bleeds first, the healer in her drawn to mend what’s broken, even as she mends herself.
But the relief twists with dread, a knot in my gut. Why alone? Why not wake me, let me stand beside her in that sterile room, my shadows a shield against the world’s cruelties? The bond hums faintly, reassuring—she’s safe—but it doesn’t erase the void her absence carved in my chest.
“Did she say anything?” I ask quietly, leaning my forehead against the cool glass, watching a vendor below set up a coffee cart, steam rising like a miniature echo of our shower last night.
Darren hesitates—a tell I’ve known for years, the slight pause before delivering something personal. “Only that she’d be in the office by nine. She... asked that you not be disturbed. Said you needed the rest after... everything. She seemed composed, sir. No signs of distress on the feeds.”
A sharp exhale leaves me, something between frustration and affection. Even now—after anchoring me through the rut’s madness, after surrendering to the beast and emerging as my mate, her light fused with my darkness—she’s thinking of my schedule. Of duty. Protecting me from interruption, as if I’m the fragile one. It’s so Elara: selfless to a fault, her healer’s instincts extending even to the Alpha who claimed her.
But it chafes, this independence, this space she claimed without consulting the bond. We’re eternal now; her silences are mine to fill, her worries mine to shoulder. I straighten, control snapping back into place like armor over the raw edge of vulnerability. “Cancel my first meeting,” I say, voice firm, brooking no argument. “Push the board call to ten. I’ll be late.”
He nods—though I can’t see it, I know the motion, his loyalty unwavering. “Already on it, sir. Do you want a detail sent to the hospital? Or the SUV readied for you?”
I consider it, the beast urging action—storm the medical center, stride into her mother’s room, pull her into my arms and remind her she doesn’t face anything alone anymore. But no. This is her sanctuary, her ritual.
After the intensity of our nights, the fusion of magics and bodies, she might need this— a return to normalcy, a moment to breathe without my shadows enveloping her. Intruding would be possession, not partnership. “Not yet,” I decide, turning from the window. “Monitor her discreetly—phone pings, cams if needed. If anything shifts, alert me immediately. And Darren... thank you.”
“Always, sir.” The line clicks off, leaving me in the quiet hum of the penthouse.