Damien's POV:
She woke up—her eyes, those mesmerizing emeralds, fluttered open, and I was completely unprepared. I had hoped for this moment, prayed for it, but now that it was happening, I was at a loss. What was I supposed to do? Check her over? Ask her if she was fine? But how could she be fine? She had just woken up in a hospital bed, her body weak and broken, having lost the child she carried. She was anything but fine.
As I stood there, staring into her eyes, my mind raced with what to do next. Midnight, my wolf, growled in frustration, shouting for the doctors. I snapped back to reality and called them in, watching as they swarmed over her like bees to a flower. But the bewildered expression on her face told me I had made a mistake. I shouldn't have called all of them—just one or two, maybe three at most, to ensure she was alright. Then, one of them, in their sheer stupidity, tried to tell her that they couldn't save her baby. It was a horrible move, a careless mistake. She had just woken up, fragile and confused, and they thought it was a good time to drop that bombshell?
Midnight surged to the surface, his rage palpable, and he growled, his Alpha power flooding the room. "Leave," he commanded, his voice filled with authority, and they scrambled out just as quickly as they had come.
Our mate looked at us with a strange expression, her gaze locking onto our eyes—Midnight's golden eyes. There was always something peculiar about the way wolves reacted to those eyes, a mixture of awe and fear. But this time, when she whispered the word "mate," there was a moment of pure joy. Midnight and I both felt it, the acknowledgment of our bond, the recognition of who we were to each other.
We couldn't help but advance toward her, eager to be close, to embrace the connection we had longed for. But something was off. I could see it in the way she struggled, her movements uneasy, as if she was fighting something. Was she in pain? Panic seized me, and I moved closer, only for her to whisper, "No." The word was so soft, so full of fear, that if not for my sharp werewolf hearing, I would have missed it.
She bolted from the bed, ripping out the IV with a determination fueled by terror. She ran to the furthest corner of the room, her face stricken with fear, and it broke something inside me. She was terrified of us—of me. Midnight whimpered, "Mate is scared of us." Was it because of his eyes? This wasn't how we envisioned meeting our mate, how we imagined her reaction after waking up. Confusion, yes, but terror? Never.
Maybe she knew who I was—Alpha of the Shadow Pack, a man with a ruthless reputation. But did she really think I would hurt her? Me, her mate? Couldn't she see that she was the best thing that had ever happened to me, that she was the very essence of my being?
As she crouched down, trying to make herself as small as possible, as if shrinking could protect her from me, the pain was unbearable. Midnight and I wanted nothing more than to comfort her, but that wasn't an option. Not now. Left with no other choice, we just stood there, helpless, watching her try to hide from us. And when we realized that our presence was only causing her more pain, we left the room.
But I couldn't bring myself to leave her completely. I called my mother, the only person I knew who could handle this delicate situation. When she arrived, she took one look at me and pulled me into a hug, one that I desperately needed. I explained everything, and she reassured me, telling me to shower and eat, joking that my hellish appearance must have been what scared the poor girl. But I knew better. Reluctantly, I agreed, knowing she was right.
After arranging for some clean clothes to be brought to me, I showered in the hospital's private rooms. The whole time, I couldn't stop thinking about her, about what she must have gone through. I hurried back, not wanting to be away from her for too long. When I returned, my mother had just come out of her room, assuring me that everything was fine and that she was sleeping peacefully.
Even though I was hesitant to go in, Midnight insisted. 'We wouldn't wake her, we'd just watch over her,' he promised. My mother's reassuring smile gave me the courage to step inside. The room was filled with her scent, lavender mixed with the sterile smell of medicine. I focused on her scent, letting it calm my racing heart.
Slowly, I moved toward her, careful not to make a sound. Seeing her sleeping peacefully, knowing she was out of danger, filled me with a sense of relief and contentment I hadn't felt in weeks. I took the furthest seat from her, where I could still watch over her, and sat down, vowing to do whatever it took to make things right.
As I watched her sleep, I made a mental note to ensure she had a healthy meal ready for when she woke up. Midnight and I promised ourselves that we would fix this—we would protect her, love her, and never let her feel this kind of fear again.
She stirred in her sleep, her face twisted in discomfort as if she was trapped in a nightmare. Midnight growled softly, urging me to rush to her side, but I held him back, reminding him of our last encounter. She needed comfort, yes, but she also needed space—a delicate balance that was agonizing to maintain.
Minutes passed, each one feeling like an eternity as I watched her struggle in her sleep, her breaths coming in shallow, erratic bursts. My heart ached for her, for the pain she was enduring even in her dreams. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, I stood up and moved to the chair beside her bed. Carefully, I took her hand in mine, hoping to soothe her without waking her up. The last thing I wanted was for her to open her eyes and see the face of the person she feared so much. She was already in the throes of a nightmare—waking up to me would be like stepping from one terror into another.
The moment I held her hand, I felt her relax. Her grip tightened on mine as if she was drawing strength from the contact, as if my touch was enough to banish whatever horrors were haunting her. The tension in her face eased, and her breathing steadied. I watched in awe as the peaceful expression I had seen earlier returned to her features.
A wave of relief washed over me, along with a flicker of hope. Midnight and I both felt it—this small, simple act had made a difference. She wasn't repulsed by our touch. Even if it had to start in her dreams, we could begin to earn her trust. We could build something, a connection that might eventually reach beyond her sleep and into the waking world. For now, I was content just to be there, offering her whatever comfort I could, holding on to the hope that one day, she might willingly seek us out when she was awake too. It was a sign, a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, not all was lost.
We could work with this. We could rebuild the trust that had been shattered, even if it had to start in the quiet moments of her sleep.
Leslie's POV:
That was the best sleep I've had in a long time. As I stirred awake, the door creaked open, and the lovely woman from earlier entered with a warm smile.
"You see? All you needed was a peaceful sleep, and voilà, you turn out to be a pretty little thing. Whatever struggles you're facing can't ruin your lovely sleep—a little rest is all you need," she said with a gentle laugh.
Apparently, her idea of "a little sleep" meant the whole night and most of the day. I wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't pulled back the curtains, revealing the dusky sky. The sun was setting, painting the horizon with streaks of orange and pink, and night was taking its place in the world once again.
Goddess bless her soul, she had brought me some toiletries and food—both of which I desperately needed. I opted to shower first, brushing my teeth to rid myself of the awful breath I knew I had, and then I sat down to eat. The food was delicious, a warm, home-baked meal that filled me with a sense of comfort I hadn't felt in ages. After my mom passed away, my father was hardly ever home, only coming back to shower and sleep. He ate at the pack house—a place I was neither welcome nor wanted to go, as it was the last place I saw my mom alive and in pain.
Pushing those painful thoughts aside, I focused on the pleasant conversation with the woman, who introduced herself as Ann. She asked about my health, and I assured her that Elsie was strong enough to heal us. True to my words, after finishing my meal, the wound on my arm had healed completely, as if nothing had ever happened. Ann was surprised when she saw it, mentioning that it wasn't supposed to heal that fast, especially with some wolfbane still in my system. It was supposed to take a month or so, leaving at least a scar.
I was shocked to learn that I still had wolfbane in me. Ann explained that the bullet I had taken wasn't just silver; it was also coated with wolfbane, according to the doctors' speculation. So that's why the wound didn't heal, even after I pulled out the bullet. No wonder Elsie was too weak to fight off that Beta guy.
Speaking of him, Ann told me that he didn't mean to hurt me—at least, not anymore. Yeah, right. As if I would believe her. She kept asking me about my life, but I wasn't stupid enough to divulge my details and life story just because she was kind and reminded me of my mom. Instead, I turned the conversation around, getting her to tell me more about the pack. She shared the information happily, not realizing I intended to use it to escape before that blue-eyed—or should I say golden-eyed—Alpha came to claim me as his mate.
Maybe he just wanted to become stronger like Jaden by sleeping with his mate. On this decision, both Elsie and I agreed: we'd had our fair share of mate life and didn't want to experience it again. We had to escape.