The Blood Tie
The deafening CLANG of the vault door sealing shut echoed in my bones.
For ten agonizing seconds, the three of us were plunged into absolute, suffocating darkness. Outside, the muffled shouts of Silas's mercenaries and the heavy pounding of fists against the steel door sounded a million miles away.
Then, with a low mechanical hum, the emergency backup generator kicked in.
A row of dim, red tactical lights flickered to life along the ceiling of the concrete tunnel.
"Killian," I gasped, dropping to my knees on the cold floor beside him.
The Supreme Alpha of the Shadow Pack looked terrifyingly mortal. He was lying flat on his back, completely naked, his massive chest heaving with shallow, ragged breaths. Five distinct, jagged bullet holes painted his tanned skin and dark tattoos with thick, dark red blood.
But it wasn't just blood. Black, poisonous veins were physically spider-webbing out from the wounds, traveling just beneath his skin.
"Silver," Killian choked out, his voice a wet, agonizing rasp. He coughed, a splatter of blood staining his lips. "It's... burning."
"I know, I know, I'm going to get it out," I panicked, my eyes darting frantically around the red-lit vault.
It was a survival bunker. There had to be supplies.
My eyes landed on a heavy red metal box mounted to the concrete wall a few feet away. I scrambled over to it, throwing the latches open. It was a military-grade trauma kit. It had gauze, antiseptic, bandages, and, most importantly, a pair of long, stainless-steel medical forceps.
I grabbed the kit and rushed back to Killian's side.
"Mommy, is he going to die?"
I looked up. Leo was standing near Killian's head. The burst of Alpha magic had completely drained my four-year-old son. He looked pale, his little hands trembling as he stared at his father's bleeding chest.
"No, baby," I promised, my voice breaking despite my desperate attempt to sound brave. "I'm going to fix him. But I need you to sit against the wall and close your eyes. Please, Leo."
Leo nodded weakly, shuffling over to the concrete wall and hugging his knees to his chest.
I turned back to Killian. I ripped open a packet of sterile wipes and grabbed the metal forceps. My hands were slick with his blood, shaking so violently I dropped the forceps against his collarbone.
"Clara," Killian whispered, his icy grey eyes fluttering open. The feral gold was completely gone, replaced by a hazy, delirious pain. He reached up with a massive, trembling hand and weakly gripped my wrist. "Breathe."
"You have five silver bullets in you, Killian," I sobbed, the tears finally spilling over. "I have to dig them out without any painkillers. It's going to be excruciating."
"I've survived worse," Killian managed a dark, incredibly faint smirk. "Do it."
I took a sharp, jagged breath. I positioned the forceps over the first wound, located dangerously close to his collarbone, and pushed the metal deep into the torn flesh.
Killian didn't scream. But his entire massive frame arched off the concrete floor, his muscles locking in absolute, mind-shattering agony. A low, guttural groan tore from the back of his throat.
Clink.
I pulled the forceps out and dropped a warped, blood-soaked silver bullet onto the concrete.
I didn't stop to apologize. I moved immediately to the second wound in his shoulder, then the third in his lower abdomen. The smell of burning werewolf flesh and hot metal was nauseating.
By the time I pulled the fourth bullet out, Killian was fading fast. The black veins were spreading toward his heart. The silver had been inside him too long, neutralizing his accelerated healing factor.
I reached for his chest to dig out the final, deepest bullet.
Suddenly, Killian's bloody hand shot up. He didn't grab my wrist this time; he grabbed the front of my ruined dress, pulling me down forcefully until my face was inches from his.
"Stop," Killian commanded, his voice barely a whisper, but vibrating with an absolute, desperate urgency.
"Killian, let me go, there is one more—"
"There isn't time," Killian interrupted, his chest violently rising and falling against mine. He coughed again. "Silas has explosives... they will blow the door... eventually. If they get in here... and I am dead..."
"You are not going to die!" I yelled, crying freely now, my tears dropping onto his face.
"Listen to me!" Killian used the last ounce of his Alpha strength to pull me even closer.
His eyes locked onto mine, burning with a fierce, heartbreaking devotion.
"You are human. The pack saw me claim you.
.. but if I die, the bond breaks. Silas will tell them I was weak.
They will kill you, and they will take Leo. "
A fresh wave of terror washed over me. "Killian, please..."
"There is only one way to make my command permanent," Killian breathed, his thumb weakly brushing my tear-stained cheek. "I have to mark you. I have to mix our blood. If you carry the Alpha's bite... the pack cannot defy you. You will be their Queen, even if I am a ghost."
My breath hitched.
The Marking. It was the ultimate, sacred bond in the werewolf world. A bite that permanently fused two souls together, leaving a physical scar that radiated the Alpha's scent and authority forever.
He wasn't doing this to claim me as property. He was doing this to wrap me in an unbreakable armor of his protection before he died.
"Do it," I whispered without a single second of hesitation. I tilted my head to the side, completely exposing the soft, vulnerable skin of my neck and shoulder. "Mark me, Killian."
Killian let out a shuddering breath. His eyes darkened with pure, overwhelming love.
"I love you," the Supreme Alpha confessed into the dark, red-lit vault, the words slipping from his lips like a prayer. "I have loved you since the night you walked into my shadows."
He leaned up. I felt the sharp, terrifying prick of his elongated fangs resting against the pulse point of my neck.
Then, he bit down.
I cried out, my hands instinctively grabbing his broad shoulders. It was a sharp, piercing pain, but it only lasted for a microsecond.
Instantly, the pain was swallowed by an explosion of pure, blinding heat.
It felt like liquid fire was injected directly into my veins.
A massive, overwhelming rush of emotion crashed into my mind—Killian's emotions.
I felt his fierce protectiveness, his devastating guilt, and his absolute, unwavering adoration for me and our son.
Our souls violently, permanently snapped together.
Killian pulled back, his fangs slipping from my skin. A perfect, crescent-shaped mark was bleeding sluggishly on my collarbone, already beginning to scar over with a faint, silvery glow.
He looked at the mark, a look of profound peace finally washing over his rugged, blood-stained face.
"My Luna," Killian whispered.
His icy grey eyes rolled back, and the massive, lethal King of the Shadow Pack slumped back onto the concrete floor, completely unconscious.
Above us, the heavy, terrifying sound of a drill biting into the steel vault door began to echo through the tunnel.