Darius !
Darius watched as Emmett breathed a sigh of relief once settled in the carriage, gently stroking his daughter Annamarie's brown hair. The girl lay curled against him, her face pale and drawn but peaceful in sleep.
The blonde rogue had fainted, her skin burning hot to the touch. Darius and Ryker had swiftly taken action, placing the rogue and Jack in one carriage, while Emmett and Annamarie shared another.
The silence between the two men was heavy, broken only by the steady clatter of wheels against the dirt road.
"Do not put her in prison," Emmett finally spoke. Darius met his gaze, arching a brow in silent question.
"I owe her my life," Emmett continued, his voice steady. "As well as Annalise's and Jack's."
Darius observed the older man shake his head, his eyes drifting to the window. "It was folly on my part. The unclaimed territories are fiercer than ever. I had already made my peace with the goddess. But I prayed for a saint to guide us to the High Abode, and that's when she appeared."
"I see," Darius replied, his tone measured. "She is still a rogue."
Emmett raised a hand, interrupting him. "That she is. But her heart… Darius, don't put her in that prison." His voice softened, pleading. "I ask only that you let her stay here until the worst of the storms have passed."
Darius ran a hand through his hair, grunting in response. "Until the worst of the storms have passed," he muttered to himself. That meant well into springtime.
The storms of Lupine Hollow were legendary, often used to frighten children into staying indoors. It was said that centuries ago, the original inhabitants had angered the spirits, and they had cursed that stretch of land with relentless winter storms. This year it was showing signs beginning in fall.
"I… I will consult the council on this," Darius finally replied after a long pause.
Relief crossed Emmett's face. "Thank you, Alpha," he said quietly, his gaze returning to the girl in his arms.
Darius nodded absently, his thoughts already turning to the council meeting. Whatever decision he made, it wouldn't come without consequence.
—
Darius had instructed for the rogue woman to be placed in one of the rooms used for holding individuals under investigation. He had ordered that her clothes, which had seen better days, be removed and replaced with something more appropriate.
He had given her two hours since their arrival in Ironshade's heart before deciding it was time to question her. He nodded at the guards stationed near the checkpoints.
Stopping at the door, he paused to exhale deeply, forcing his shoulders to relax. Darius inserted the key into the lock.
There she was, standing near the bathroom door, shaking water off her hands. Her eyes met his, and she seemed to study his face. Darius felt exposed, as though she could see past his title and position, straight to the core of him.
"Who are you?" he asked.
In that moment, his heartbeat quickened, his chest tightening, much like it did when his father had scrutinized his work as a young boy. He wanted nothing more than to grab her and pull her close.
"Mine," he growled, the word coming rough, not entirely his own. Ronan, his wolf, surged to the surface.
She whispered something he couldn't quite catch. Darius watched the tears slip down her cheeks. His body moved before his mind could catch up, closing the distance between them in a single stride.
The softness of her skin excited him, sending a thrill through him that Ronan howled in satisfaction. And then reality hit him like a cold wind.
Darius recoiled, stepping back abruptly. The intimacy of the moment interrupted, replaced by a rising panic. What was he doing? He stepped away, blindly reaching for the door before locking it behind him.
Leaning against the door, Darius breathed heavily. A bead of sweat trickled into his eye, and he quickly wiped it away. He wanted to break the door down and return to her, but logic prevailed.
A guard rushed to his side. "Alpha, are you alright?"
Darius looked at the concerned face and nodded quickly. "Yes. Back to your post," he managed. The guard hesitated, but finally left when Darius gave him a hard stare.
Trying to compose himself, hurried out of the area as though he was fleeing something he couldn't escape.
—
Darius lifted his head from the bucket of cool water, the liquid dripping down his neck and soaking into his shirt. His breaths came in ragged gasps.
He ran a hand over his face, wiping the water away, then leaned back in the leather chair, his eyes darting around the room. The familiar paintings stared back at him, their presence both a comfort and a grave warning.
"It's not a dream," he muttered to himself.
A series of portraits hung on the walls, each one capturing a woman with hair the same fiery red as his own. Her eyes seemed to come alive in every painting.
From left to right, Darius followed the progression of the artworks, as he moved along, the quality of the work diminished. Brushstrokes grew heavier, less precise. Each painting appeared to be done by a progressively less skilled artist, the final one remaining unfinished. Yet, his mother's eyes were captured vibrantly in it.
That last painting had been done by his father just before he went mad. A dry, bitter laugh escaped Darius' lips, filling the room with its hollow echo.
He knelt down, submerging his head in the bucket until he was forced to come up for air. "I will not become like that man," he whispered to himself.
—
The smack from the woman pulled Darius from his daydreams. "Did a crow steal your tongue?" asked the elderly woman.
Darius looked at her with a small smile. "I was just taking a walk in my head, Nana," he replied.
The woman sighed, shaking her head as she rose from the bed. "You had me worried, my boy. Falling ill after visiting the border?" She sighed again. "Oh, the spirits are restless, or you've been overworking yourself."
Darius stood, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She was an Elder and one of the senior healers of the pack. "Enough about that," he said. "We need to decide what to do with the rogue."