Chapter 261 261
Aurélie POV
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
I was torn, ripped between standing beside my mate and my pack in battle, and staying behind with my children.
They needed me. Damien was right. He could lead our warriors to victory without me. As an alpha, I would still feel everything the guilt, the deaths, every loss echoing through the pack bond. But I had to be here. For the children.
One of us had to remain behind. And as much as it shattered me to admit it… that one had to be me.
Damien was already dressed for war. And those damn swords were back on my land.
The sight of them twisted something deep in my chest. Every flash of silver was a trigger, stirring memories I fought desperately to keep buried memories I could not survive reliving tonight of all nights.
He was the best warrior we had. The strongest. The deadliest. And still, fear gnawed at me relentlessly. Damien and the children were my entire world now. I could not lose him.
He stood with Lucas, discussing battle formations, while I sent word through the link to Théo, instructing him to follow Damien’s commands without hesitation.
The vulnerable Émilie, Roland, and baby Renée were being moved into the secure basement beneath the alpha house, an extra layer of protection. Every precaution mattered. Every life mattered. I needed to keep casualties to an absolute minimum.
“Fabrice?” I reach out through the mind-link, my gaze finding him as he stands absorbed in a book of old battle strategies. My father had always kept that book here. Rest had never come easily to him.
“Hhmm?” He barely glances up as he responds through the link.
He wanted to stay wanted to remain here with Florence and the children. And I wanted that too. But I also needed him there. With my mate. Acting as my beta in a battle I would not be present to fight.
The guilt hit hard, sharp and unforgiving.
“I know I’m asking a lot, but”
“Aurélie,” he interrupts gently, finally lifting his eyes to mine, “why do you think I’m reading this?” A small smile tugs at his lips. “Of course I’m going. I’ve spoken with Maurice. He’ll stay behind to help you protect the children and Sabine.”
I turn and spot Maurice outside, already speaking with his warriors. Sabine was still upstairs, refusing to come down. My heart ached for Maurice. He was such a gentle soul. I could only hope pray that somehow, they would find their way back to each other.
“It’s just… knowing you’re there helps,” I admit softly. “It eases my mind.”
“I’m your beta,” Fabrice replies without hesitation. “I’d be there with or without you. Hopefully they’re untrained rogues and we won’t be gone long.”
He smirks, snapping the book shut before pulling me into a firm embrace. When he finally releases me, his hand comes to rest against my forehead, his brow furrowing.
“Are you feeling alright?”
“Y-yes,” I lie lightly. “Just on edge. Like everyone else.”
My heart fractures all over again as I watch him say goodbye first to the children, then to Florence.
Breathe, Aurélie. Just breathe.
They will be fine. Every one of them. They are the best of the best. And Fabrice is no exception.
Damien pulls Dominique aside, speaking to him quietly. I can’t hear their conversation over the sounds of warriors preparing outside metal clashing, voices raised but Damien makes sure to keep his voice low.
He kneels on one knee, a steady hand resting on Dominique’s shoulder. Dominique listens closely, nodding, absorbing every word his father says.
Delphine is already trembling, shaken by having to say goodbye to Fabrice. She doesn’t fully understand what’s happening but she knows enough to know it’s bad.
Florence cradles her in her arms when Damien approaches, gently lifting Delphine into his broad, powerful chest. She relaxes almost instantly, soothed by his presence. I hear him promise her that when this is over, she can see Roland again.
One by one, everyone files outside.
And I become painfully aware that Sabine is still alone upstairs unaware of what’s unfolding, of how close danger truly is.
Damien strides toward me, all controlled power and barely leashed emotion. I’m grateful I’m leaning against the back of the sofa I don’t think I could remain standing otherwise.
My throat tightens. My chest aches. Saying goodbye feels unbearable.
But only for a short time, I tell myself.
Only for a short time.
We haven’t had enough time… not nearly enough.