The air in Regina's small room was different from the rest of the stronghold. It wasn't much—just a simple cot, a wooden table, and a single shelf lined with small jars of dried herbs—but it was hers.
The stone walls were bare, the single candle flickering weakly against the chill of the night, but the space was quiet.
She hadn't expected to find someone waiting for her, but she's happy to see Blue sitting at her table. His sharp blue eyes flickering up to meet hers the moment she stepped inside. He was relaxed, but not at ease—he never was. The room wasn't large, yet his presence filled it completely.
Regina blinked, momentarily thrown off. She had been prepared for exhaustion, for silence, for curling up and waiting for sleep to take her. Not this.
Blue had prepared dinner. A bowl of steaming stew, a few pieces of bread, and a small cup of tea sat neatly on the table, their scent filling the air.
Regina froze, something twisting deep in her chest. She hadn't eaten all day, hadn't even thought about it.
"You should eat," Blue said, his voice calm, steady, as if this was something he always did.
Blue had been her shadow about more than two years now, the silent presence who ensured she wasn't mistreated, who stepped between her and danger without ever asking for anything in return.
Slowly, she stepped forward, lowering herself into the chair across from him. The warmth of the stew curled into the air between them, wrapping around her like an embrace she didn't know she craved.
She picked up the spoon, stirring the stew absently. It smelled good.
"Why are you here?" she asked finally.
Blue leaned back in his chair, watching her carefully. "Because you don't take care of yourself."
Regina stiffened.
She focused on the food, pretending his words didn't affect her. "I'm fine."
"You're exhausted."
"I'm used to it."
Regina lifted the spoon to her lips, taking a small sip of the stew. It was rich, seasoned well, comforting in a way she didn't know how to handle.
Blue was still watching her. He never pried, never pushed, but she could feel the weight of his gaze, heavy with things he never said out loud.
"Alpha Sirus is getting worse," she murmured, breaking the silence. "He could barely hold his cup today."
Blue didn't react, but she saw the slight tightening of his jaw. "And?"
"And he knows he's dying." She set the spoon down, glancing up at him. "You should be careful. When he's gone, things will change."
"They already have," Blue said simply.
She knew what he meant. The power struggle had already begun. The warriors who had once bowed easily were now whispering in corners, sharpening their blades not for battle, but for each other.
And Marco wasn't here. Regina pushed the thought away.
She reached for the bread, breaking off a small piece, but the moment she put it in her mouth, she felt her stomach twist painfully. She froze, fingers curling around the edge of the table.
Blue's eyes darkened. "Regina?"
She forced herself to breathe. It had been too long since she ate properly. Her body was rejecting it, demanding more while struggling to accept anything at all.
Blue's fingers brushed against her wrist, steady and grounding.
"Slow," he murmured. "Eat slowly."
She swallowed carefully, nodding, focusing on the warmth of the food, the gentleness of his presence.
For a long time, they sat in silence, the only sound the soft scrape of a spoon against a bowl, the quiet flicker of the candle.
Regina had never let herself feel safe in this place.
But tonight, sitting here in her small room, sharing a meal with the only person who had never once hurt her… She allowed herself to feel something close to it. Even if it wouldn't last.
She set the spoon down, her body warm from the meal, her limbs heavy from exhaustion. But Blue wasn't looking at the food. He was looking at her.
Before she could speak, before she could even question it, Blue reached out. His fingers brushed against her cheek, a slow, deliberate touch. Regina's breath caught.
She should pull away.
But she didn't.
His hand slid to her jaw, tilting her face toward him, his thumb brushing against the corner of her mouth. Blue never hesitated. Never second-guessed. But right now, he was waiting--waiting for her to stop him. Regina didn't. She didn't stop him when he leaned in.
She didn't stop him when his lips brushed against hers, warm, firm, claiming her like something he had held back for far too long.
Regina let herself fall into it, just for a moment. For a moment, she let herself be kissed. His lips pressed against hers, slow at first, testing, before something inside him snapped. His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, and suddenly there was nothing gentle about the way he kissed her.
Blue was always calm. Always controlled.
But not now.
Now, he kissed her like he was desperate. Like he was starving.
Regina's fingers curled against his chest, not pushing him away.
She should.
She should stop this.
She didn't.
The warmth of his mouth, the roughness of his hands, the way he made her feel like she was something more than just a slave, just a survivor—it was too much.
Too much.
And yet, not enough.
Then, suddenly, Blue pulled back.
His breath was uneven, his hands still curled into her waist. Regina's chest rose and fell, her lips still tingling, her mind still reeling. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Blue broke the silence.
His voice was low, quiet. "Have you heard?"
Regina blinked, still trying to process what just happened. "What?"
Blue's fingers flexed against her waist, but his face was unreadable now, his jaw tight.
"Marco's been doing well in the camp."
The moment the name left his lips, her heart skipped a beat. She hadn't heard anything. She had forced herself not to ask. But now, her chest ached.
Her lips parted, the beginnings of something—hope?—starting to form in her mind.
Then, Blue shut it down.
"And he's coming back with his mate."