Chapter 22, Thorne
The world was a red and black blur of speed and terror.
Thorne ran, his paws tearing up the forest floor, his lungs burning, his heart a frantic drum of dread against his ribs.
The sounds of his pack thundering behind him were a distant, irrelevant hum.
His entire world had shrunk to a single, all-consuming purpose: get back to the keep. Get back to Aria.
He burst through the trees and into the main courtyard, his body skidding to a halt on the flagstones.
The scene that greeted him was a nightmare.
The bodies of his wolves, both human and beast, littered the ground.
The air was thick with the scent of blood and fear.
But it was the silence that was most terrifying.
A heavy, oppressive silence where there should have been the sounds of life.
He shifted back, the change violent and agonizing, his bones cracking and reforming in a desperate rush to be in his human form.
“Aria!” he roared, his voice a raw, guttural sound of pure anguish.
He sprinted into the Great Hall, his bare feet slipping on the blood-slicked stone. And then he saw him.
Ronan. The Ironclaw Alpha stood in the center of the hall, his massive frame a monument of arrogant cruelty. He was wounded, a dagger hilt protruding from his shoulder, but he was alive. And at his feet, laid out like a sacrificial offering on the cold stone floor, was Aria.
She was unconscious, her auburn hair a splash of vivid color against the pale stone, her face pale and still. The silver collar on her neck seemed to mock him with its glittering emeralds.
A sound tore from Thorne’s throat, a sound so inhuman, so full of rage and agony that it didn’t seem to come from him at all.
It was the howl of his wolf, a soul-shattering cry of loss and fury that echoed through the silent hall.
The beast inside him, the one he kept so carefully chained, broke free with a roar.
He didn’t shift. He didn’t need to. The wolf was in his eyes, in his snarl, in the killing intent that radiated from him in waves.
“Ronan,” he growled, the name a curse. Ronan turned, a slow, triumphant sneer on his face.
“Thorne. I was wondering when you’d get back. I was just getting acquainted with your new mate. She has spirit. I’ll enjoy breaking that out of her.”
Thorne didn’t wait. He launched himself across the hall, a blur of naked fury.
He collided with Ronan, and the fight began.
It was a brutal, primitive clash of titans, a whirlwind of fists, claws, and teeth.
They were two Alphas at the peak of their strength, fighting for more than just territory.
They were fighting for pride, for dominance, for the woman lying on the floor between them.
At first, it was clear Ronan had the advantage.
He was fresh, while Thorne was exhausted from his run to the border.
Ronan’s blows were heavy and punishing, his claws raking across Thorne’s chest and arms, opening deep, bleeding gashes.
Thorne fought back with a desperate ferocity, but he was taking too much damage.
He could feel his strength waning, his movements slowing.
He stumbled back, his vision blurring, and Ronan pressed his advantage, kicking his legs out from under him.
Thorne crashed to the floor, his head cracking against the stone.
And that was when he heard it. A soft, weak moan.
He turned his head, and through a haze of pain and blood, he saw her.
Aria’s eyes were fluttering open. She was trying to sit up, her face a mask of confusion and pain.
“Thorne?” she whispered, her voice fragile.
His heart clenched. She was awake. She was seeing this.
Seeing him lose. Ronan saw it too. A cruel, triumphant grin spread across his face as he saw the distraction in Thorne’s eyes.
He lunged, not for Thorne’s throat, but for his side, his claws extended, aiming for a killing blow.
But Thorne was faster. Fueled by a surge of pure, protective instinct, he reacted with a speed that surprised them both. He rolled, the deadly claws missing him by a hair’s breadth, and in the same fluid motion, he drove his own claws deep into Ronan’s unguarded stomach.
Ronan froze, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He looked down at the hand buried in his gut, then back up at Thorne, his triumphant sneer replaced by a look of dawning horror.
“You… should not have… touched her,” Thorne snarled, his voice a low, deadly rasp.
With a final, brutal twist, he ripped his claws free.
Ronan staggered back, a wet, choking sound gurgling in his throat.
He looked down at the massive, bleeding wound in his abdomen, his life pouring out onto the stone floor.
He took a stumbling step forward, then another, and then his legs gave out.
He crashed to his knees, his massive body swaying for a moment before he finally pitched forward, landing with a heavy, final thud in a pool of his own blood.
Thorne stood over him, his chest heaving, his body quivering with a rage so intense it was almost painful. He watched the life fade from Ronan’s yellow eyes, a cold, merciless satisfaction settling in his soul. He was dead. The threat was gone.
He didn’t spare the corpse another glance. He was already moving, rushing to Aria’s side, his anger vanishing, replaced by a wave of overwhelming fear and tenderness. He knelt beside her, his hands hovering over her, afraid to touch her.
“Aria? Aria, can you hear me?”
“Thorne,” she whispered, her eyes focusing on his blood-soaked face.
He gently took her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her cheeks.
His eyes scanned her body, and then he saw it.
A dark, angry bruise was already forming on her cheek, the skin swollen and red.
A low, dangerous growl rumbled in his chest.
He had been too late. He had failed to protect her.
“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.
He leaned down and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to her uninjured cheek, his lips trembling against her skin.
“I’m so sorry I left you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”
He looked into her eyes, his own gaze raw and vulnerable, laying his soul bare.
“I love you, Aria. I love you so much.” Tears welled in her eyes, tracking through the grime on her face. She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek, her touch a balm to his wounded soul.
“I love you too, Thorne,” she whispered, her voice strong and clear, the only sound in the hall that mattered. “I love you too.”