POV Matthias
Victory's supposed to taste sweet.
Instead, it tasted like blood and regret with a side of 'what the fuck now?'
The battlefield looked like a butcher's fever dream. Bodies scattered across what used to be pristine forest, the iron scent of blood so thick it coated the back of my throat.
We'd won. Nightshade territory was ours by right of conquest, their remaining wolves either dead or surrendered.
Fantastic. I'd expanded my pack's territory while my mate lay dying in the infirmary.
Real winner material right there.
"Matt." Zack appeared at my elbow, gore-splattered but intact. "We have them."
Them.
Blake's parents. The architects of twenty years of systematic torture disguised as parenting.
They knelt in the mud, wolfsbane-laced chains keeping them docile.
Lucas Bishop still managed to look arrogant despite the blood trickling from his temple. Cassandra maintained her ice-queen facade even with her perfect hair matted with dirt.
"How bad did you hurt her? Is she still alive?" My voice came out surprisingly calm for someone whose wolf wanted to redecorate with their intestines.
"Dead, hopefully." Lucas smiled, actually fucking smiled. "The bloodline embarrassment finally did something useful and got herself killed defending the enemy. Poetic, really."
My fist connected with his jaw before conscious thought caught up. The crack echoed across the battlefield, satisfying and nowhere near enough.
"She's weak," Cassandra added, like we were discussing weather. "Always was. Couldn't follow simple instructions. Couldn't maintain her cover. Couldn't even die properly when her sister managed it so efficiently."
"You blame her for Amelia's death?" The question tasted like acid.
"Who else? Amelia was perfect until Blake's weakness infected her. If we'd disposed of the defective twin at birth—"
I grabbed Cassandra's throat, cutting off whatever poisonous justification she was about to spew. My wolf pushed forward, turning my eyes gold, claws pricking at her skin.
"Here's what's going to happen," I said conversationally. "My Beta going to take you to our special guest accommodations. Daily wolfsbane injections—enough to keep you weak but conscious. You'll have plenty of time to think about every bruise, every broken bone, every moment of torture you inflicted on your daughter."
"You can't—" Lucas started.
"I'm Alpha of both territories now." I released Cassandra, letting her gasp for air. "I can do whatever the fuck I want. And what I want is for you to suffer a fraction of what you put Blake through."
I turned to Zack then.
"No permanent damage. I want them lucid for every second. Rotate guards who lost family tonight—let them get creative."
"With pleasure." Zack's smile held too many teeth.
As they dragged Blake's parents away, I heard Lucas snarl about pack law and proper treatment of prisoners. Rich, coming from someone who locked his own daughter outside for three days because she 'breathed wrong.'
The infirmary smelled like antiseptic and desperation.
Blake lay in the furthest bed, so still she could've been carved from marble. The bandages around her torso were tinged pink despite recent changing.
Too much blood lost. Too much damage.
"Prognosis?" I asked Alex, though his expression told me enough.
"Critical. The wound went deep, nicked several organs. She's lost too much blood, and..." He hesitated. "She's not fighting, Alpha. It's like she's given up."
Of course she had.
I'd told her to leave. She'd finally chosen us, and I'd rejected her for it.
"Out." The command emerged rougher than intended. "Everyone out!"
The medical staff scattered. Even Mom left after squeezing my shoulder, understanding what I needed to do.
The bed wasn't designed for two, especially when one of those two was an Alpha werewolf built like a brick house. I made it work, carefully sliding in beside Blake, arranging her limp form against my chest.
Skin to skin. Maximum contact. The ancient healing only true mates could provide—pulling another's pain into themselves, metabolizing it, dispersing it.
The first pull nearly knocked me unconscious. Fuck, she hurt.
Not just the physical wound but layers of agony I hadn't expected. Years of accumulated damage, poorly healed breaks, scar tissue from wounds that should've killed her.
"What did they do to you?" I whispered, pulling more pain with each breath.
My wolf whimpered as we absorbed year after year of abuse.
A broken rib that healed wrong—age seven. Fingers fractured from being slammed in doors—age twelve. Internal scarring from that time they'd locked her out during a blizzard—age fifteen.
Each injury I took into myself felt like penance. I'd sent her away. I'd failed to protect her. The least I could do was carry her pain.
Hours blurred together. Pull pain, push healing, repeat.
My own body screamed protests as it processed damage meant to destroy, but I kept going. She stirred once, a soft whimper that made my wolf keen with hope, but didn't wake.
"Come back…" I begged, lips pressed to her hair. "Please, Blake. Come back to me. I'm sorry… I'm so fucking sorry."
Tears came then, hot and shameful.
Alphas didn't cry. Alphas were strong, decisive, unbreakable.
But I wasn't just an Alpha. I was a mate who'd failed spectacularly, and the weight of that failure crushed worse than any physical pain.
"I read Amelia's diary," I confessed to her unconscious form. "I know what they did. I know why you couldn't tell me. I sent you away because I was hurt and stupid and—"
My voice broke. The words ran out.
All that remained was the steady rhythm of healing, the desperate hope that love could undo damage, that second chances existed for idiots who didn't deserve them.
Exhaustion eventually won. I fell asleep wrapped around my mate, still pulling her pain with each breath, my wolf maintaining the healing connection even as consciousness faded.
‘Stay,’ I pleaded through our bond, unsure if she could even hear. ‘Stay with me. Let me fix this. Let me prove you're worth everything.’
The monitors beeped steadily, neither improving nor declining. Blake remained still, balanced on the knife's edge between staying and going.
All I could do was hold her and pour everything I had into keeping her here. Alpha strength, healing power, and love desperate enough to defy death itself.
It had to be enough.
It had to be.