Chapter 96
Damon
I carried Lila through the halls in silence. Servants froze when they saw me. Courtiers paled. One noble tried to speak–some hollow, startled protest.
I didn’t hear it.
My focus was on the woman in my arms. The way her breath caught. The way her fingers curled slightly into my shirt, even now.
She didn’t know where she was. But I did. And I knew exactly where I was taking her. To my bed, and my protection.
Let the Court watch. Let the Elders whisper.
I walked through the front of the royal wing like I owned it–because I did.
And she belonged here, in my arms, not rotting in the dark.
The doors to my chambers opened before I even called for them. The servants stepped back in silence.
I carried her across the threshold, already knowing I wasn’t going to leave her side. The door shut behind us with a soft thud, sealing the world out.
I crossed the room in three long strides and laid her gently on the bed–my bed. The mattress dipped beneath her weight, and she stirred, just slightly, as
if the unfamiliar softness unsettled her more than stone.
I brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, my hand lingering longer than it should have. Her skin was cold, even in the warm light of the chamber.
She was still wearing that damned gown. The hem was torn, smudged with dirt. Blood had dried along the cuffs. Her feet were scraped. Her lips chapped. Her wrists…
I reached for her hands, turning them gently.
Bruises. Thin, red lines circled her skin like phantom shackles. The kind meant to suppress. Control. Hurt without fully breaking. I pressed my thumb to the marks and exhaled through my teeth.
Someone had done this under my roof. While I was away. While I was stupid enough to believe the Council would act with restraint.
I stood and called out, voice sharp. “Healer. Now. And a basin. Towels. Clean bandages.”
Two servants entered silently, heads bowed. They did not meet my gaze.
Smart.
“I’ll handle the rest,” I said. “No one else touches her.”
The healer, an older woman with steady hands, nodded and moved quickly. Her magic worked quietly–reduced swelling, soothed the inflammation. She said nothing about the bruises. Nothing about the damage to Lila’s wolf.
But I saw the flicker of rage in her eyes as she bowed and left.
Good. Let them all know what she endured. Let it/spread.
I pulled a blanket over her and adjusted the pillows to support her back. When I tried to let go, her fingers curled against my coat.
I froze.
She didn’t open her eyes. Didn’t speak. Just held on. That one motion said more than anything she could’ve whispered.
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“I’m here,” I murmured, voice low. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She didn’t respond. But she didn’t let go either.
I sat beside her, elbows resting on my knees, and stared at the floor for a long time. The lights glowed low in their sconces. The fire in the hearth cracklest Every tick of silence between us sounded louder than the gossip of the court outside these walls.
Someone knocked. Too soon.
“Speak,” I said without looking up.
A steward’s voice: “The Elders ask for an audience.”
Of course they did. They would want to smooth this over. Reclaim control. Hide what they did before it leaked beyond the Palace.
“They’ll wait,” said flatly. “And when I speak, they will listen.”
A pause.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Footsteps retreated.
I leaned back in the chair beside the bed and looked at Lila again. Her lashes fluttered briefly. Her breathing had evened out.
But the damage wasn’t gone. The wards still clung to her. Her wolf still curled, silent and wounded, beneath her skin.
She hadn’t spoken a full sentence since I found her. Not because she couldn’t–but because she didn’t believe she was safe.
And that was my fault.
I reached forward and took her hand, gently, pressing my thumb over the faded marks at her wrist.
She didn’t pull away. Not even a flinch.
“I should’ve been here,” I said, more to myself than her. But I think she heard it because her fingers twitched against mine–small, fragile, but finally
warm.
She was still here.
And gods help them…I would make sure no one ever forgot it.
The servants had long since retreated. Even Emma, who had asked to check on Lila had given me one last, hesitant glance and slipped out.
Now it was just the two of us.
Lila lay motionless beneath the covers, the soft rise and fall of her breath the only sound I could trust. Her lashes trembled sometimes, but her eyes didn’t open. Her fingers were slack.
The skin at her throat, once flushed with warmth, looked almost translucent in the firelight.
I had moved to sit at the edge of the room, back pressed to the stone wall, knees drawn up. Not because I needed to be there–but because I couldn’t bring myself to get closer the longer she was still out.
Because Zane paced inside me like a caged thing. One moment silent. The
next snarling
He’d been howling since 1 stepped into that cell. I’d shoved him down to keep control–because if I hadn’t, I would’ve torn through the Elders‘ Wing before anyone could stop me. But now that I was still… the fury returned.
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And something worse beneath it.
Guilt.
She had been beneath my protection. My roof. My bond.
And I hadn’t known.
My hands curled into fists against the floor. The stone bit into my knuckles. I welcomed the pain.
The memory kept looping behind my eyes–her body curled in that dark cell, the bruises around her wrists, the way her eyes didn’t recognize me at first. The way she asked if I was real.
I wasn’t. Not when she needed me.
Zane howled again, louder this time. Not aloud–but inside. It shook something in me. I pressed my hand to my chest as if that would still him.
She’s ours, he snarled. She was alone.
I know.
She was afraid. She thought we left her.
“I didn’t know,” I whispered, throat raw.
But knowing didn’t matter now.
She was here. Damaged. Drained. Unconscious.
Because I was too focused on treaties, council meetings, the optics of power–when I should have been watching my mate.
My mate.
I dragged myself up from the wall and crossed the room, slow and quiet. My knees bent beside the bed and I lowered myself until I was eye–level with her pillow.
Her breathing hitched once, but she didn’t stir.
I reached out–just barely–and touched her hand, gently enough not to wake her. My fingers ghosted over the backs of her knuckles.
“Lila,” I murmured.
h layers of fog.
No response.
The bond was still there, but dulled. Like the threads were waterlogged and heavy, dragging us both under.
I reached inward, carefully–like approaching a wounded animal in a storm. I didn’t push. I didn’t speak through the link. I just listened.
Nothing.
But I imagined I felt something–her scent, muted but still hers. A flicker of recognition, like her wolf was pressing against mine
Zane whined low in my chest. Not rage now. Regret.
I leaned forward and pressed my forehead gently to the edge of the mattress.
“I’m sorry,” I said into the blankets. “For not being here. For not knowing. For not stopping it before it began.”
The fire crackled in the grate. My voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ve killed for less than what they did to you.”
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Chapter 96
No answer. But her fingers shifted slightly beneath mine. Barely there. But it was enough to make my heart stutter.
