Chapter 23 Nestled in the Dark and in his Arms.

Chapter 23 Nestled in the Dark and in his Arms.
The second strike never lands.

She braces for it, body tightening instinctively, her breath caught in her throat. The whip rises again with that unmistakeable whoosh in the air, the leather whispering sharply as it cuts through the air on its way down but...

But something stops it.

A hand and the whip stops in the air. A single hand gripping the length of leather mid-air with such force that the whip jerks back and the head of security stumbles half a step. Startled at the interference and the open door that he was sure he had locked.

Amaris opens her eyes, blinking through blinding tears.

Someone stands behind the guard, his eyes glistening red.

The head of security recovers quickly and turns, irritation already twisting across his face.

“Who the fuck are you to interfer—”

Then the guard sees him.

And the color drains from his face. He drops to one knee so fast that the crack of his kneecap hitting the stone ground echoes across the small chamber.

“Your Majesty,” he says, his voice suddenly trembling. “I did not realize—”

Hunter does not look at him, not even once even with the ends of the whip still cluctched tight within his palms.

His attention is fixed entirely on Amaris.

His expression is unreadable at first, carved from something cold and ancient, but his eyes… they are sharp and burning like fire held behind ice. He takes her in with a single, sweeping look, her shaking hands, the trembling in her legs, the tear tracks down her cheeks, the long and red cut blooming angrily on her bare shoulder.

His jaw tightens.

The room grows colder.

“Stand up,” Hunter says.

The head of security obeys instantly, rising with a rigid snap, a look of relief crossing his eyes. The whip is still gripped in Hunter’s hand. He holds it as if it offends him that it exists at all.

Hunter steps closer to the man.

The guard keeps his eyes on the floor.

“Did she fight you?” Hunter asks calmly.

“N-no, Your Majesty.”

“Did she attempt to attack you?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“Did she resist?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

Hunter’s voice softens in a way that makes the air grow heavy. “And yet you whipped her.”

The guard swallows hard as he realizes the relief he’d felt earlier was a gross miscalculation. “She gravely injured one of the candidates. I thought… I believed the punishment was necessary…”

Hunter releases a quiet breath, slow and controlled. He looks at the whip in his hand, then at the guard then at helpless Amaris, then back to the guard. “You punished her before you gathered the full truth,” he says. “You punished her without my command. And you punished her in a dark room where no one could witness it, locked the door so no matter what happens in her, no one would ever know...”

The guard flinches. “It will not happen again,” he mutters.

Hunter steps closer, so close the guard’s breath catches. “It will not,” Hunter says. “Because you will not touch another woman under my roof again, you will not touch anything infact. You are relieved of duty, effective immediately.”

The guard’s head snaps up in shock. “Your Majesty, please…”

Hunter’s eyes flash, glowing faintly with the warning of a beast who should never be challenged.

“Unless you would prefer me to have your head delivered as an apology to her… Leave!”

The guard stumbles backward, pale and shaking. He rushes out of the room without another word, nearly tripping over himself in his haste. The door creaks behind him and silence settles like dust.

Hunter remains still for a moment.

Then he turns to Amaris.

His voice loses all hardness, falling into something low and steady.

“Amaris.”

He knows her name… The sound of her name in his voice breaks something inside her. She tries to stand straighter, tries to wipe her face, but the pain stings too sharply and her hand shakes too much, even her legs buckle, the fear had slowly paralyzed her.

He steps toward her slowly, as if approaching something fragile. She watches his expression shift when he sees the welt on her shoulder more clearly. Rage flickers beneath the surface, but he restrains it, keeping his movements precise and controlled.

“Come here,” he says softly, opening his palms for her to take.

She hesitates only because she is stunned.

No one has ever spoken to her like that, no one has ever stepped in for her as gently as he just did. His voice gentler even more. “You are safe now.”

Her eyes fill again, but not from pain this time.

She steps toward him.

He reaches out with careful hands, touching nothing at first, simply hovering near her, giving her space to pull away if she wishes. When she does not, he eases an arm around her back, supporting her weight as her knees threaten to give way.

“Breathe,” he murmurs.

She does, trembling in his hands.

The dark room feels less suffocating with him there, less cold, less frightening. He holds her steady but does not restrain her. His warmth brushes against her shoulder, soothing the terrible sting. Her wolf, the perpetrator, usually sharp and sarcastic, goes quiet in her mind.

Hunter exhales, a low, steady sound meant only for her.

“They will not hurt you again,” he says. “Not while I am here, I owe you a favor, and while I am here, I will repay it by protecting you.”

Amaris believes it.