Darius Pain lanced through my side, hot and blinding, but I didn’t fall.
I refused to fall.
Not with her still bound to that pole, not with her eyes wide with terror aimed straight at me.
“Darius!” Lyra’s scream tore through the chaos, and it did more to keep me upright than sheer stubbornness ever could.
I spun, catching the leader’s wrist before he could yank the blade free for a second strike, and crushed it in my grip until I felt bone splinter beneath my fingers.
He howled, dropping the knife, and I drove my fist into his jaw hard enough to send him sprawling across the concrete floor.
“You put a blade in a king,” I snarled, blood soaking through my shirt, staining my hand where I’d pressed it against the wound.
“You just signed your own death warrant.” “P-please,” he stammered, scrambling backward.
“I didn’t know she was yours, I swear, I didn’t…” “You knew exactly what she was.” My wolf surged forward, fury eclipsing the pain radiating through my ribs.
“You called her a commodity and you put her on display like livestock.” I didn’t give him the chance to beg further.
My claws found his throat, and the warehouse fell disturbingly quiet in the wake of what followed.
“Darius!” Lyra’s voice again, cracked with panic, and it yanked my attention away from the mess at my feet.
I staggered toward her, ignoring the way the wound in my side screamed with every step, and dropped to my knees in front of her, tearing through the zip ties binding her wrists like they were nothing more than string.
“You’re hurt,” she gasped, her hands immediately flying to my side the second she was free, pressing against the wound like she could stop the bleeding through sheer force of will.
“Darius, you’re bleeding so much…” “I’m fine.” I wasn’t, not really, but the sight of her safe in front of me dulled the pain to something almost bearable.
“Are you hurt?
Did they hurt you?” “No, I’m…” Her voice caught, her dark eyes glassy with unshed tears.
“I’m okay but you need help, you need…” “Lyra.” I cupped her face with my uninjured hand, forcing her to look at me instead of the wound.
“I found you, that’s all that matters right now.” Around us, the fighting had mostly died down, my men subduing the last of the rogues while the buyers who’d come to purchase her scattered into the night like the cowards they were.
Kieran jogged over, blood splattered across his shirt that wasn’t his own, and his eyes widened at the sight of my side.
“You need a healer now.” “I’ll survive.” I tried to stand and immediately regretted it, black spots swimming across my vision as the world tilted dangerously.
“Darius!” Lyra caught me before I could fall, her small frame somehow bracing against my weight, and Kieran rushed to my other side, hauling my arm over his shoulders.
“You absolute idiot,” Kieran muttered, though his voice shook with something closer to fear than anger.
“I told you to let the team handle the extraction.” “And let them touch her?
Not a chance.” My words slurred slightly, and I hated how much effort it took to keep my eyes open, to keep focused on Lyra’s face pressed close to mine, worry etched into every line of her expression.
“We need to move him,” Kieran barked at the guards nearby.
“Get the car.
Now!” Everything blurred after that, the warehouse tilting and spinning as they half carried, half dragged me toward the exit, Lyra’s hand never once letting go of mine.
“Stay with me,” she kept saying, her voice thin and frightened.
“Darius, please, stay with me.” “Not going anywhere,” I managed, though the words felt distant even to my own ears.
They loaded me into the back of one of the vehicles, and Lyra climbed in without hesitation, cradling my head in her lap as Kieran barked orders at the driver.
“Fastest route back to the pack house.
I don’t care if you break every law doing it.” The vehicle lurched forward, and Lyra’s fingers threaded through my hair, gentle despite the tremor in her hands.
“You shouldn’t have come for me,” she whispered, though her voice cracked around the words like she didn’t believe them herself.
“You didn’t even know me.” “I knew enough.” I forced my eyes to stay open, fixed on her face, memorizing every detail like it might be the last time I saw it clearly.
“I knew you were mine the second I caught your scent in that bar.” “I stole from you.” “You needed cab fare.” A weak laugh rumbled in my chest, and pain flared sharp in response.
“I would have given you the whole damn wallet if you’d asked.” Her breath hitched, something wet sliding down her cheek and dropping onto my face.
“Why are you being kind to me?
I ran from you.
I left you without a word.” “Because you’re my mate.” My hand found hers, weak but insistent.
“Because nothing else matters.” “Sir, his pulse is dropping,” someone said from the front seat, voice tight with alarm, and Lyra’s grip on my hand turned bruising.
“No,” she breathed.
“No, no, you don’t get to do this.
You don’t get to save me and then…” “Lyra.” Her name came out barely above a whisper, and I felt my vision darkening at the edges despite my best efforts to hold on.
“Whatever happens…
I’m glad I found you.” “Don’t you dare,” she sobbed, gripping my face with both hands now, forcing me to look at her.
“Don’t you dare say goodbye to me.
You hear me?
I just found you too.” I wanted to answer her.
I wanted to tell her a thousand things, about the years I’d spent waiting, about the bride selections that meant nothing because none of those women were her, about the way roses would probably haunt me for the rest of my life in the best possible way.
But the darkness swallowed me whole before I could say another word, and the last thing I heard was Lyra screaming my name.
*** I came back slowly, awareness bleeding in through layers of fog, the sharp scent of antiseptic and something warmer beneath it…roses, always roses filling my senses before my eyes even opened.
“Darius?” I forced my eyes open, and found Lyra hunched in a chair beside the bed, dark circles bruising the skin beneath her eyes, her hair a tangled mess like she hadn’t slept in days.
“How long,” I rasped, my throat raw and dry.
“Three days.” Her voice wobbled, relief flooding her features as she leaned forward, taking my hand in both of hers.
“You’ve been out for three days.
The healer said the blade nicked something vital, said you were lucky to survive at all.” “Told you I’d be fine.” “You almost died,” she snapped, though the anger in her voice was drowned out entirely by the way her whole body trembled.
“You almost died because of me.” “Worth it.” I squeezed her hand weakly.
“You’re safe, that’s all I care about.” Her lips pressed into a thin line, tears welling in her eyes again, and she opened her mouth to respond when the door to the room burst open without warning.
“Your Majesty!” One of my guards stood in the doorway, face pale, chest heaving like he’d run the entire way here.
“We have a situation.” “What kind of situation?” I forced myself upright despite the protest of my body, ignoring Lyra’s hand pressing against my chest to stop me.
“It’s Alpha Ronan, sir.
He’s here and he’s brought an army with him.”