(Lina's POV)
The second his name escapes my lips, the wheels of utter chaos are in motion. Arrows fly from every direction, and the robed mob collapses, their foundation shaken by the fury of their alpha. I half expect Scar-Face to lunge at me and make good on his earlier threat, but instead, he lowers his head—in utter defeat.
Daniel emerges from between the river of bodies, unrecognizable and utterly powerful, his frame dripping with blood, claws extended. His eyes glow that same gold as the day in the woods, and he lets out a piercing roar. The sound is strong enough to shatter glass. Everyone in the forest falters beneath it. I clamp my hands over my ears, nauseated by the sheer force of it.
No one fights back. No one even runs. That's the power of an alpha: even the worst of them—the ones who were about to kill me in the most brutal way imaginable—are cowed to stillness, to obedience.
He orders the survivors to take care of the dead. Only the inner circle was struck by arrows; the others—those who likely came under pressure and didn't seem keen on any of it—are spared. They seem to realize this too, bowing their heads in shame and moving diligently to obey. I don't look to see who's beneath the hoods. I don't care. Daniel reaches me, pulls me behind him, and levels a sharp dagger at Scar-Face.
Scar-Face doesn't flinch, not even in the rain, not even as the blade gleams inches from his throat. Daniel glances over his shoulder at me, and I double-take at his expression—so harsh, so deadly—until he softens it.
He motions toward Scar-Face."Did he hurt you?"His eyes trace the cut on my cheek. His nostrils flare, and I tense, afraid he might lose control again."I'm fine," I blurt, but he doesn't believe me. He turns back, raising the blade.
Panic surges in my chest. For some reason, the idea of Scar-Face dying by Daniel's hand unsettles me. I reach out and grab his shoulder."Please don't kill him. He's not the one who hit me—it was the others."
He doesn't move.
I curse inwardly. I thought that would work. It had before. I step closer."Daniel… please. The rest of them are already dead." My voice breaks with desperation.He pauses. Raises his hand——but then slowly lowers it and nods at Scar-Face to get moving. Scar-Face ducks his head and joins the others.
Daniel turns to me, inspecting me from head to toe, completely ignoring my insistence that I'm fine. Without a word, he scoops me into his arms.
I stare at the bloodied hands holding me and wonder how they can still bring me comfort. I lean my head against his chest and exhale long and slow, suddenly, completely exhausted.
Daniel carries me back to his office like I weigh nothing. He doesn't falter once, even through the slippery terrain the rain has made treacherous. When we reach the door, a strange déjà vu hits me: last time he brought me here, he was carrying me too. Except then, I was furious with him.
He steps inside, switches on the lights, and gently sets me down on the sofa. Then he rummages around until he finds a first-aid kit. Kneeling before me, he begins to clean my wounds.
His jaw is tight enough to crack. I place my hand lightly on his face."It's okay, Dan."
His stormy gaze lifts to mine."How the hell is it okay? They could've killed you!"His hands pause, bandage suspended."I should've known those fuckers were up to something. I'll murder them all."
I don't answer. Honestly, I felt the same. I didn't stop him earlier out of pity—I felt a sick satisfaction seeing him kill for my sake. What kind of person does that make me?
He finishes bandaging the cut on my face and moves to the one on my neck."I want you to stay in this room, next to my office. At least until we reach the homeland. You'll be safe there."
I glance at the office.Wouldn't his mate have something to say about me being so close?
Instead, I focus on his words."Your homeland?"
He nods.
"You're in trouble because of me, aren't you? They said that if they killed me, you'd be in the clear."
His frown deepens."Forget them. It doesn't matter."
Frustration coils in my chest."Why won't you just tell me?"
He looks like he's going to yell again—but instead, he sighs."Please… just trust me. Just this once, alright?" His voice softens."I'll tell you everything once we reach the homeland and it's all sorted. I promise—"He stops himself, remembering, I think, what I said about his promises.
He offers me his hand and helps me stand, though most of my weight ends up supported by his arm around my waist. My legs are jelly after that run.
He guides me into the bedroom and tells me to lock the door.
"You're not staying?" I ask, surprised.
"I'm sorry. I want to, but I need to help Dave sort things out."
He leans down, kisses my forehead lightly."Sleep well."And just like that, he's gone. The door clicks shut.
I stand for a few seconds before dropping onto the bed in the middle of the room. The pillow smells like him. Of course—it's his bed. My fingers trail over the fabric, seeking—
Wait.
Didn't he share this bed with his intended mate?
But there's no trace of anyone else. No faint floral perfume. No other scent. Just him.
Strange.
The thought of his mate makes my chest ache. I scold myself for overthinking. No matter how fiercely he protected me today, it's probably just guilt. A sense of duty from our shared past. He doesn't feel anything for me anymore.
…Isn't that just sad?