The ride back to camp was brutal.
The storm raged around them, the cold biting deep, but Caidren barely felt it. His focus remained on the fragile weight against his chest.
Elias had not stirred.
His breathing was shallow, his body limp, and the heat of Caidren's furs did little to chase away the chill clinging to his skin.
Caidren kept a firm grip on him, one arm locked around his waist to keep him steady as they rode. His horse moved swiftly through the snow, hooves cutting deep tracks into the ice.
Behind him, Dain followed at a steady pace, silent for once.
It didn't last.
"You ride like a man possessed," Dain remarked over the wind. "One might think you're worried."
Caidren didn't answer.
Dain chuckled. "You're making this too easy," he said. "At least lie to me, Caidren. Say something cold and ruthless so I can pretend you're still the same man who left him behind without a second thought."
Still, Caidren said nothing.
Because, for once, he had no words.
He should not have left Elias behind.
The thought burned through him, unwelcome and sharp.
Not because he cared.
Not because the boy mattered.
But because this?
This was unnecessary.
Unjust.
Caidren prided himself on efficiency, on control, on never wasting resources needlessly. What had happened to Elias was neither efficient nor controlled. It was senseless cruelty, a reckless waste of something that should have been his to decide.
The realization left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Dain, of course, had noticed.
The bastard was always watching, always waiting for weakness.
And yet—
Caidren had no time for this.
He urged his horse forward, faster now, cutting through the storm with a single, unshakable purpose.
Dain's voice followed him.
"Just admit it already," he called. "You like him."
Caidren did not look back.
"You're wrong," he said flatly.
Dain only laughed.
And in the darkness, Elias remained silent.
The Stronghold
By the time they reached camp, the storm had begun to fade, leaving behind a world of ice and silence.
The gates groaned open, and the sentries scrambled at the sight of their returning commander.
Caidren dismounted swiftly, barely waiting for the stable hands to take his horse.
Elias did not stir as Caidren lifted him once more, carrying him toward the barracks without a word.
The soldiers stared as he passed.
Good. Let them see.
Let them understand that Elias had been his to abandon.
And his to bring back.
Dain trailed behind, smirking.
"You realize they're all wondering the same thing, don't you?" he murmured. "Why their fearless Alpha is carrying back a half-frozen Omega like he's something precious."
Caidren ignored him.
He reached his quarters, kicking the door open with more force than necessary.
The room was warmer than the halls, the fire still burning low.
Without hesitation, Caidren moved to the bed, laying Elias down carefully.
The boy was still deathly pale, his breath too light.
Caidren exhaled sharply, shaking off his cloak before kneeling beside the bed. He reached out, pressing a firm hand to Elias's chest.
Too cold. His body was still locked in frost's grip.
With a low curse, Caidren stripped off the boy's damp clothing, tossing them aside before grabbing a thick fur and pulling it over him.
Still not enough.
His lips thinned.
Dain leaned lazily against the doorway, arms crossed, watching. "You know what you have to do," he mused.
Caidren shot him a glare. "Say another word, and I'll break your jaw."
Dain grinned. "Touchy."
But Caidren didn't have time for this.
He moved with purpose, stripping off his own cloak before sliding into the bed beside Elias, pulling the boy against him, sharing his body heat the way he had been forced to do countless times in the frozen trenches of war.
Elias remained still.
Caidren ignored the uneasy weight settling in his chest.
This was necessary.
Nothing more.
He closed his eyes.
And told himself, once again, that he did not care.