Chapter 24 #2
I press my lips to Karina’s forehead, tasting sweat and salt, copper and iron. “I’ll always come for you, kitten. Always.”
My father strides toward us. He carries two folded blankets in one hand, his expression hard as stone. Without looking directly at Karina, he extends them. I accept with a curt nod, wrapping one carefully around her shoulders before securing the other around my waist.
“Lockhart’s forces have broken,” he reports. “The cowards fled into the trees. Those who bent the knee are being held.”
“And Saloma?”
“Anselm has been notified.”
I can picture it clearly. To discover your Luna conspiring with your enemy, it would be enough to test even Anselm’s infamous control.
“Take her,” my father orders, flicking his chin toward Saloma’s unconscious body. Two of his men step forward, dragging her limp form without ceremony.
“She said she killed Elias’s mother.”
My father stills, his composure fracturing for the barest instant. A curse slips from between his teeth, low and venomous.
“That’s not all, Father.” My voice is grim as I tighten the blanket around Karina, shielding her from both the night and the stares of our pack. “She’s a crossbreed.”
His head snaps toward me, pale eyes narrowing, nostrils flaring as he inhales sharply, testing the air as though scent might confirm it.
“You’re certain?” he demands.
I nod, my arm tightening around Karina's shoulders.
Karina shivers against me, and I pull her closer, wrapping the blanket more securely around her shoulders. Her skin feels like ice, despite the warm night air, as shock sets in now that the immediate danger has passed.
“I need to get her out of here,” I tell my father, already scanning the clearing for the quickest path back to the cars.
He nods once, his expression unreadable. “Take her to the compound. I'll handle the cleanup here.”
I don't wait for further instructions. With one arm supporting Karina, I guide her away from the altar, away from Lockhart's cooling corpse, away from the nightmare this clearing has become. Her legs tremble with each step, and I can feel her exhaustion through our bond—bone-deep and overwhelming.
“I can carry you,” I offer, but she shakes her head.
“I need to walk.”
“We'll take it slow.”
“Are we going home?”
Home. The word settles something deep in my chest. Soon I'll have Karina back where she belongs—in my bed, in my arms, where I can protect her properly. Where no one can ever touch her again.
“Yes, kitten. We're going home.”
I gather Karina closer, her body still trembling against mine. Even now, with Lockhart's blood still wet on my hands, I want more vengeance for what he's done to her.
We pick our way through the forest, following the path back to where I left my car. Each step takes us further from the horror of that clearing.
“I can feel you thinking,” she murmurs.
“I was thinking about killing him again,” I admit.
Her hand finds mine, fingers intertwining despite the blood that stains them both. “He's gone. That's enough.”
But it's not. Not for the wolf in me that demands retribution for every blemish on her skin, every moment of terror she endured.
I want to hunt down every wolf who stood in that circle watching, every masked figure who would have witnessed her violation.
I want to tear apart the world that dared threaten what's mine.
“How did you find me?”
“I injected you with a tracking device.”
Her body stiffens against mine.
“You what?”
“I couldn't risk losing you.” The words sound hollow even to my own ears. An excuse, not an explanation. “I knew the plan was dangerous. I knew Lockhart might find a way to take you.”
She pulls away slightly, just enough to look up at me. The bruises on her face look worse in this light.
“You put a tracker in me without telling me?”
“Yes.” I don't sugarcoat it. Don't try to justify what we both know was a violation of trust. “I did what I needed to do to keep you safe.”
“You should have told me. We're supposed to be partners, Damien. Equals.”
“I know.” I tighten my grip on her hand, afraid she'll pull away completely. “I was wrong not to tell you. But I'm not sorry I did it. Not when it meant the difference between finding you and losing you tonight. The second we’re home, I’ll remove it if it survived your shift.”
She's quiet for a long moment, processing my words. “We'll talk about this when I'm not naked in a forest covered in blood.”
I nod, accepting the reprieve she's offering. We both know this conversation isn't over, but she's right—now isn't the time for it.
We reach the cars where one of my father’s enforcers waits. He tosses me a set of keys without a word, understanding that I need to be the one driving us home.
I guide Karina to the car, opening the passenger door and helping her inside.
Her body feels fragile under my hands, though I know better than anyone how strong she truly is.
The shift has exhausted her—especially her first complete transformation after years of suppressing her wolf.
I grab a gym bag from the trunk and find a spare t-shirt for her to wear.
“Here,” I say, handing it to her. “It's not much, but it's better than a blanket.”
She takes it with trembling hands, her eyes downcast. The blood on her skin has begun to dry, cracking like macabre paint as she moves.
I want to help her, to clean every trace of this night from her body, but I know better than to push right now.
She needs space to process what's happened. She slips it over her and wraps the blanket around her for added warmth. I close the door and head back for the trunk, pulling on a pair of my workout shorts before closing the truck and walking around to the driver’s side.
I slide into my seat and start the engine. The heater kicks on, pushing warm air through the vents. Karina huddles against the door, my shirt drowning her slender frame. The silence between us stretches, heavy with everything we're not saying.
The road hums beneath us, the heater filling the car with warmth that still can’t quite chase the chill from my skin.
I want to say something. Anything. But the words knot in my throat, heavy with everything that’s happened tonight.
So, I keep driving, letting the silence stretch between us like a fragile thread neither of us dares to break.
Her hand shifts under the blanket, fingers brushing the seat between us—so slight I almost think I imagined it. But I don’t.
And for the first time tonight, I let myself believe.
The worst is over.