Chapter 49

Chapter 49
Elara’s POV

The noise outside faded, leaving only the pounding of my heart. I stayed by the window, my palms flat on the wooden frame, waiting for Damian to come back. The air smelled of smoke and blood even through the walls, sharp enough to sting my nose.

When the doors finally burst open, healers rushed inside, dragging the wounded. One of the scouts was barely conscious, his side torn open. Another limped in with half his arm shredded. The room filled with groans and the hurried whispers of the healers as they laid them across tables and the floor.

I moved forward before I could think, kneeling beside the youngest. His face was pale, eyes half-closed. “Stay with me,” I said, pressing his hand. He flinched at my touch, but didn’t pull away. His gaze flicked to mine, searching.

“I’m here,” I told him. My voice cracked, but I held his hand tighter, forcing calm into my tone. “You’re not alone.”

His breathing steadied a little, enough for the healer to slide in and start wrapping the wound. I backed away, giving them space, but my stomach churned.

Everywhere I looked, wolves bled. Some of them glanced at me, eyes hard, suspicious. Whispers started again. Not loud, not bold, but I caught enough.

“Would they have come if she wasn’t here?”

“Kael knows she’s tied to Damian. He’s pushing harder because of her.”

“She’s dangerous.”

The words stung worse than the smell of blood. My chest tightened, but I forced myself not to shrink back. I couldn’t. Not here. Not now.

Damian came in then, still shirtless from the shift, blood streaked down his chest. His eyes swept the room once before they landed on me. Relief flickered across his face, quick, before his Alpha mask dropped back in place.

“Report,” he ordered.

One of the healers straightened. “Five wounded, two critical. No dead yet.”

Damian nodded, but his jaw tightened. I knew what he was thinking. Yet.

Thomas slipped into the room behind him, clean and untouched. His wolves weren’t among the wounded. He looked around slowly, his gaze lingering on the injured, then landing on me. His eyes held no pity. Only calculation.

He spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “This is just the beginning. The pack needs to ask itself, can it survive more of this?”

The room went quiet. The healers froze in their work, the wounded stirred, even the air seemed to grow heavier.

I felt the eyes on me again, sharper now. Like I was a wound in the middle of the room.

Damian’s voice cut through. “The pack will survive because we fight together. No one stands alone.” His gaze flicked to me as he said it, but Thomas smiled thinly.

“Together,” Thomas repeated. His eyes moved over the wolves sprawled on the floor. “But some bonds bring nothing but war to our door.”

The tension in the room snapped tighter. The words weren’t subtle, and everyone knew it. My hands shook at my sides, but I lifted my chin, forcing myself to meet his stare.

“I didn’t send the rogues,” I said, my voice steady even if my insides weren’t. “Kael did. He made his choices. Not me.”

“And yet,” Thomas said smoothly, “he comes for you. Again and again. You may not be him, Elara, but you are the thread he pulls to unravel us.”

My throat burned. I wanted to shout, to tell him he was twisting everything, but before I could, Damian stepped between us, his voice like steel. “Enough. This pack bleeds because Kael wants to break it. He fails if we turn on each other. Anyone who can’t see that is blind.”

The growl in his tone left no room for argument, but the damage was done. Doubt had already taken root.

Thomas only bowed his head slightly, lips curved. “As you wish, Alpha.” He turned and left, but the whispers he’d stirred stayed behind, thick in the air.

When the room began to clear, Damian crossed to me. His hands gripped my arms, firm, grounding. His eyes searched mine. “Don’t listen to them.”

I shook my head, the words spilling before I could stop them. “They blame me. Maybe they’re right.”

His grip tightened. “No. This is Kael. Not you. Never you.”

But even as he said it, I saw the worry in his eyes. Not for himself, but for the pack. For how much more they could take. For how much more I could take.

The healer’s voice called him back to the wounded, and he left my side, but I stayed where I was, staring at the bloodstained floor. My chest ached. I wanted to scream, to run, to prove them wrong all at once.

Instead, I whispered to myself, low so no one else could hear. “I’ll show them. I’ll make them see.”

Because if I didn’t, this pack would tear itself apart, and it would be my fault whether I deserved it or not.