Chapter 78
Chapter 78
Klaus POV
The snow hadn’t even swallowed the last echo of battle when I saw her,still standing, somehow. Amelia.
Blood streaked her face. Her hands trembled against Demian’s fur like she’d done something worth pride. Like she belonged here.
I hated the sight of it.
Not because of the wolves or the blood or the exhaustion caked into my brother’s body, but because she was still breathing. She shouldn’t be.
She never should’ve been here.
And yet—there she was. Shaking, wide-eyed, but still somehow the center of Demian’s world. His wolf leaned into her touch as if she’d been the one bleeding for him, the one throwing herself between jaws and steel. It made my stomach twist.
No. Not twist. Burn.
Demian deserved better than this fragile, broken thing clinging to him like a lifeline. He didn’t see it, but I did. Every time he saved her, every time he poured himself into holding her together, a piece of him bled away. And she—gods, she just stood there.
I wanted to rip her hand away from him. To tear the bond from her chest and see what she was without it.
Nothing. That’s what.
\---
Elian’s voice broke through the quiet, clipped and sharp. “We need to move. They’ll come again.”
Corrin grunted in agreement, dragging his shield back into place like he hadn’t just spent the last hour spilling his lungs into the snow. Kira flicked blood from her blades, eyes cutting toward Amelia once before shifting away, unreadable.
And Demian—my brother, the fool—shifted back into human form, staggering, blood drying down his arms and chest, but his gaze never left her.
Amelia.
Always her.
I wanted to laugh. Bitter, hollow. I wanted to shake him until the spell broke.
Instead, I bit out, “We should leave her here.”
The words came sharp, deliberate, heavy as the steel in my hand.
Every head turned. Even Amelia’s, her eyes wide like a wounded doe’s, as if I’d just shoved a blade between her ribs. Good. Let her feel it.
Demian’s growl came low, dangerous, more wolf than man. “Watch your tongue, brother.”
I did. I always did. But not tonight.
“She’s a liability,” I spat, my voice carrying across the ridge. “You all saw it. She froze. Again. We nearly died for her. Corrin nearly lost his arm. Kira nearly lost her throat. And you—” My gaze sliced toward Demian, hard enough to cut. “You’ll die for her, if you keep this up. And for what? So she can stand there shaking, pretending she matters?”
Amelia flinched, but I didn’t stop.
Because someone had to say it.
\---
Demian stepped toward me, blood streaking across his bare skin, fury carved into every line of his face. “She does matter. She’s mine.”
The word dripped with possession, with the kind of conviction that made lesser men step back.
Not me.
“Yours?” My laugh came harsh, ugly. “Is that what this is? Some twisted bond you mistake for strength? You’re blind, Demian. She’ll be the death of you, and you’re too stubborn to see it.”
For a moment, silence pressed against the snow, heavy and suffocating. Elian shifted his weight but didn’t speak. Corrin stared into the distance, jaw tight. Kira’s eyes flicked between us, sharp, calculating.
And Amelia? She stood behind him, small and trembling, lips parting like she wanted to defend herself but couldn’t find the words. As if there were any.
\---
I hated her more in that moment than I ever had.
Not because she’d done something wrong, but because she hadn’t. Because she didn’t fight back. Because she just let Demian fight for her, bleed for her, burn for her.
And she let him.
\---
Demian’s chest rose and fell, ragged, but his voice dropped to something lower, almost pleading. “Klaus. She’s not the enemy.”
The enemy.
The laugh that ripped out of me wasn’t humor—it was something darker. “She’s worse than the enemy. Enemies you can kill. Enemies you can fight. But her?” I pointed at Amelia, my hand trembling with rage I barely controlled. “She rots you from the inside. And you call it love.”
Amelia’s eyes glassed with tears. I didn’t care.
She should cry. She should break. Maybe then Demian would see what I saw.
\---
Elian finally spoke, voice steady as a blade sliding free. “Enough. We don’t have the time or strength for this.”
But Demian wasn’t done. His eyes blazed molten, his wolf riding close to the surface. “If you touch her, if you speak against her again, brother or not—I’ll tear your throat out.”
The words hung heavy between us, the bond of blood strained thin as ice.
For the first time in years, I wondered if he meant it. If he would really choose her over me.
And gods help me—looking at him, I knew the answer.
\---
We moved after that. Down the ridge, through the snow, silent except for the crunch of boots and the drag of weapons. But silence didn’t kill the thoughts boiling in my skull.
Every glance Demian gave her was another twist of the knife. Every stumble she made, every time someone else steadied her, was another reminder of the weight she chained around his neck.
I watched her, every step, every breath. The way she leaned into him. The way he let her.
It should’ve been me at his side. His brother. His blood.
Not her. Never her.
\---
Hours later, when camp was made and the fire hissed low, I stood apart, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the flames. Demian sat close to her, as if the world itself might snatch her away if he didn’t guard her. His gaze never left her. His hand brushed hers like it was instinct.
I hated it.
I hated her.
And beneath that hatred, a crack split open in my chest, raw and bleeding.
Because no matter how much I despised her, no matter how loudly I spat venom into the snow, I knew one thing with a clarity that hurt worse than any wound.