Chapter 74
Chapter 74
Amelia POV
The ridge wind cut sharper than his words.
I walked ahead of him, not because I wanted to lead, but because if I stayed beside him, I’d shatter. My boots crunched over the frost-bitten path, every step a scream in my bones. The silence between us wasn’t silence at all—it was thunder. It echoed in the bond, relentless, vibrating with things I wasn’t ready to feel. I couldn't feel it.
Carrying his child.
The words had been a blade. Not just in how he said them—public, cold, Alpha—but in what they meant. What they chained to me. I hadn’t even had the chance to breathe the truth to myself before he carved it into the world. Before he made it real.
I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready for any of this.
And still, it was in me. A flicker of life I hadn’t asked for, hadn’t planned, but one the bond whispered of like it had always known.
“Don’t slow,” Elian’s voice snapped ahead, sharp as steel against the mountain air. He didn’t look back at me. None of them did. Maybe out of respect. Maybe because they didn’t know if I was about to break.
Demian followed a few paces behind, his presence so heavy I felt it pressing between my shoulder blades. My palm still stung from where it had cracked across his cheek. I should’ve felt satisfaction. Instead, I just felt hollow.
\---
By the time the sun tipped west, every muscle in my body ached. The whisper never stopped, not even for a breath. It slid under my skin, coiled around my ribs, tugged at my veins. Stronger. Louder. Demian was wrong—it wasn’t going to wait until it rotted. It wanted me now.
And part of me wanted it back.
That was the sickest part. That I felt relief in its pull. Temptation. As if the whisper was the only thing that could drown out the sound of Demian’s voice in my skull. You’re carrying my child.
Mine.
Like it was a flag to plant. Like I was territory to be claimed.
I hated him.
No—I loved him. Gods curse me, I loved him so much it burned. And that was worse.
\---
We stopped at dusk. Jagged rock rose around us like a cage of teeth. No fire. No warmth. Just the press of stone and cold.
I sat apart from the others, back against the ridge wall, knees drawn tight. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling. I told myself it was the cold. That was a lie.
“Eat.”
The word dropped like a stone in front of me. Demian’s shadow loomed, his hand outstretched, a strip of dried meat in his palm.
I didn’t move.
“Amelia.” His voice was softer now, low and rough. “You need—”
“I need you to shut up.” The words came out sharp enough to slice the air. My throat ached with them.
For a second, he froze. Then, slowly, he lowered himself onto the rock beside me. Too close. Always too close. He set the food between us like a peace offering.
I didn’t touch it.
The silence stretched until I couldn’t stand it. My voice broke first, quiet, bitter. “How long have you known?”
His jaw flexed. “Two nights.”
Two nights.
Two nights he’d held me close, brushed my hair back, whispered strength into me—while keeping this locked behind his teeth. While waiting for the perfect moment to brand me with it.
“You should’ve told me first,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
He looked at me, eyes dark, burning. “Because I was afraid.”
I laughed. A cracked, hollow sound. “Afraid of what? That I’d scream? That I’d run?”
“That you’d break.” His voice was a rasp now, thick with something I almost wanted to believe. “That if you heard it too soon, it would crush you before you had the chance to fight back. I wanted—” He broke off, dragging a hand through his hair. “I wanted to protect you.”
“By taking away my choice?” My voice rose, sharp enough to draw stares from Kira and Corrin. I didn’t care. “By stripping me of the one thing that was mine?”
He flinched. Not visibly. Not in a way anyone else would see. But I felt it through the bond, a hitch in the current between us.
“You think I wanted this?” I pressed, my throat raw. “You think I asked for it? For your child? For the bond? For any of this?”
The words were acid on my tongue. Cruel. But they were true.
His eyes went black. Not rage—pain. “No.” His voice was low, guttural. “But it’s here. And I’ll tear this world apart before I let it take you. Or them.”
Them.
The word gutted me.
I turned away, pressing my palms hard against my eyes, as if I could block it all out—the whisper, the bond, him. But I couldn’t.
Not when the bond thrummed like a live wire, not when my body already ached with the truth.
Not when his shadow stayed steady beside mine.
\---
That night, sleep didn’t come. The others drifted in and out, muttering in dreams, twitching in exhaustion. But I stayed awake, knees tucked against my chest, my eyes on the dark horizon.
And the whisper… shifted.
It didn’t just call. It cradled. It pressed soft against me, curling around the spark inside me, wrapping it in promise. Not just to take me. But to take us.
A cold sweat broke over my skin. My hands flew to my stomach, trembling. “No.”
The word came out cracked. Desperate.
But the whisper laughed.
I clamped my hands harder, willing myself to feel nothing, to block it out. To drown in silence.
A hand closed over mine.
I jerked, twisting. Demian knelt beside me, his face shadowed, his grip firm. His eyes burned into me, fierce, steady.
“Don’t,” he said, voice low and harsh.
“I didn’t—” My voice broke. “It—it knows.”
“I know.” His forehead pressed against mine, his breath hot against the cold. “That’s why you don’t listen. Not to it. Not ever. You hear me?”
I squeezed my eyes shut, trembling against him. His hands were fire around mine, grounding me.
But the whisper didn’t fade.
It smiled.
Because it knew I wasn’t strong enough to ignore it forever.
\---
By morning, the air was thinner, sharper. Each step down the ridge felt heavier than the last, like the mountain itself wanted to keep us here.
Kira caught my arm once when I stumbled. “Careful.” Her voice was clipped, but her eyes lingered too long. Not pity. Calculation. As if she was weighing me, measuring how much longer I could hold before I snapped.
I wanted to snarl at her. To rip free and prove I wasn’t weak. But I didn’t. Because maybe I was.
Demian walked at my side again. Not touching. But close enough. Always close enough.
I hated him for it.
I loved him for it.
And I didn’t know which would destroy me first.
\---
By midday, my body was shaking. The whisper pressed harder with every step, louder than the crunch of boots, louder than the wind. It throbbed through my blood, relentless.
When Elian called a halt at another clearing, I couldn’t sit. Couldn’t breathe. I paced the perimeter like Klaus, restless, sharp, haunted. My chest felt too tight. My skin too small.
“Amelia.”
His voice again. Always his voice. I turned, sharp as a blade. “Don’t.”
He stopped mid-step. His face was a mask, but I felt the crack under it. The ache. The bond screamed with it.
I wanted to cut it. I wanted to tear it out of me and hurl it over the ridge.
But when I looked at him—really looked—I saw the silver handprint I’d left on his cheek. And I hated myself for wanting to trace it.
\---
That night, the whisper won.
I woke to cold stone under my knees, to wind clawing through my hair, to the drop yawning wide beneath me.
The edge. Always the edge.
My body leaned forward, pulled by something deeper than thought. Something ancient. The whisper coiled soft and sweet around my skull. Come.
One step. That was all it would take.
But then—
Arms. Steel around me, yanking me back, crushing me to fire.
“Not tonight,” Demian snarled against my hair, his chest heaving like he’d run through hell itself. His grip shook with fury, with terror. “Not ever.”
I struggled, gasping, “You don’t understand—it wants—”
“I don’t care what it wants!” His voice cracked like thunder, Alpha-command thrumming through every word. “You’re mine. Ours. And I’ll burn the world before I let it take you.”
The bond flared hot, fierce, alive.
And for one heartbeat—one ragged, fleeting heartbeat—the whisper went silent.
But I knew it wouldn’t last.
Because it wasn’t just calling anymore.