Chapter Ten
ELSKE
Mattis led us to a hidden cabin the Prowlers used when they needed to vanish for a while.
It was safe and well-stocked, even with spare clothes.
But it sat deep in the forest, which meant Adelmar and I carried Dierk with our powers until we were spent, then Mattis and Gerhard carried his body the rest of the way through mud and roots, every sound stripped down to footfall and breath.
When we finally reached it and laid him on one of the bunk beds, I tore through his ravaged clothes, cutting and pulling while Gerhard and Mattis helped move him.
“No bleeding anywhere,” I whispered, my voice shaking as my fingers searched for what I couldn’t see.
I’d felt his pain but thought it was from the wolfsbane burns.
His beautiful mouth still bore the marks, but they were already healing.
Then I saw his chest. Its rise and fall were.
... wrong, uneven. Strained. I leaned down and pressed my ear to his side.
A wet rattle, bubbling, faint but there.
He coughed weakly, and a bead of pink foam touched his lips.
My heart froze. “The rib is broken,” I said, forcing steadiness into my words and my hands that I didn’t feel. “I think it punctured his lung.”
Gerhard swore; Mattis began pacing. But Adelmar came close and set a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“He’s stubborn, strong. You know that,” he murmured.
“He won’t leave you like this. Come on, my darling pup.
Help me turn him. You too, you mongrels,” he barked at the others, a hint of warmth under the words.
My body obeyed before my mind caught up, hands steady only because they had to be. “On his injured side,” the Feuermeister said. “Let the good lung work. Commander, Prowler, fetch willow bark, poppy sap, pine resin. I can make him a poultice to dull the pain.”
“What can I do?” I asked.
“Stay with him. You’re his mate. Just being near will make him fight harder to come back to you.”
They found the supplies; Adelmar brewed and pressed the poultice to Dierk’s ribs, tea to his lips. Then the men left to wash in the stream that ran behind the cabin.
I cleaned him as best I could with warm water and a cloth, until the dirt and blood were gone.
Then I washed myself and slipped into the bed behind him, curling against his still body.
My arm wrapped over his waist, and my cheek pressed to the broad warmth of his back.
Even lost to pain, he was solid heat. His scent was smoke and pine and home.
I couldn’t lose him. Not now.
Not ever, I realized with a shiver.
I’d known it from the start, though, didn’t I? I’d always known it was a real possibility. His strength belonged to myth, his fire burned wild. He’d grown up in violence and survival, and now he had a warrior’s training to him.
And yet, he was still only a male.
Could still be hurt. Bleed. Be killed.
The thought of that loss, of the emptiness inside me where he’d come to live, was enough to make me want to run away with him, to burn the world behind me if it meant he’d be safe. Shame had nothing on the need to protect him, to do whatever it took to keep him breathing.
I could live with shame. I wasn’t sure I could live without him.
And if we stayed the course, we’d never be completely safe. So my father be damned. The pack be damned. Justice be damned.
While I listened to his labored, wet breathing, everything I’d ever wanted—freedom, vengeance, peace—fell away like ash in the wind.
We could vanish, I told myself. Hide in one of the Summer Kingdoms. Duneshard, maybe, near the Dornwulf border.
I’d give up my forests and their freedom, trade them for the heat, the sand, the barren, rocky mountains.
Anything. Anywhere, so long as nothing ever left him like this again.
For the first time in years, I cried.
At some point, I must have drifted with him, because his stirring awoke me.
Careful not to hurt him, I pulled up. He wasn’t as pale, and I strained to listen to his breathing, nearly crying when I found it closer to normal. He opened his eyes, a warm golden brown for once. “My Princess,” he croaked. His voice was strained, but there was no sign of wetness.
I swallowed my tears as I smiled. “My stray.” I took his hand, carefully, kissed it. Leaned into it as he cupped my cheek. “My love,” I whispered as my wolf leaned to him.
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he tasted these words, their meaning, and let it sink into him. When he opened them, they were bright gold again, his voice steadier, almost fierce, as he repeated, “My love.”
He pulled me to his lips. His scent hit me, knitting strength back into places that had gone cold without him. I stroked a lock of dark hair away from his face. “How are you feeling?”
“Good.”
I simply looked at him. “Dierk.”
“I’m alright. My mouth is perfectly healed, and breathing doesn’t hurt.” He tried to push up to sit, but had to rethink it with a grimace of pain.
“I’ll get you more tea and tell the others you’re better. They were worried.”
But when I tried to get up, he grabbed my wrist. His eyes burned, not from pain. His breathing, if clear, was hurried as much as his thundering heart. He looked like he wanted, desperately needed, to say something, but his jaw clenched.
“What is it?”
“I....” he swallowed. “I love you.” He took a long breath, released it. “I love you.”
“I know. And I love you too.” I put a hand on his chest, where his heart beat, wild and strong. “So much that...” I looked away, mortified by my own thoughts. But I gathered myself and found the courage to meet his eyes again.“I wanted to run away.”
He frowned.
“I... I don’t think I could live without you anymore.
But what we’re about to do...” I’d never been so out of my element.
What I wanted from my life, what I was set to accomplish, was always clear.
And here I was. Admitting the unthinkable.
“I thought to run away, just you and me. Somewhere no one could hurt you. Where danger wouldn’t follow us like shadows. ”
He was serious. Dead serious. “And?”
I chuckled out a half-sob. “What do you mean, and?”
“Tell me the word, Elske, and I’ll come with you wherever you want.”
“But–”
“No buts. I want to destroy the system that made me into what I was. I love you more. I want you safe and happy. And so, if that is what you want, then I’ll be with you.”
“Would you judge me? Hate me for it? For taking away the chance I promised you?”
“No.”
There was absolutely no doubt in his words, no hesitation smearing the bond with condemnation. And only a simple question when he tilted his head, and asked, “Would you?”
It stopped me.
“Would you be able to live with that choice?” he repeated quietly.
I wanted to say yes. Mother knew, I wanted to believe I could. Just us, far, safe. Soil on my hands instead of blood.
Outside, Matthis shouted something to Gerhard. Their voices reached me, and my wolf shuddered. Leave the pack? Let it burn? Leave them to die?
Dierk smiled, wiped a tear I hadn’t realized was crossing over my cheek with his thumb.
“That’s what I thought,” he said gently.
“We could disappear and pretend the world doesn’t exist. But one day, we’d wake up and feel the weight of what we didn’t finish.
Heavy enough to crash the most justified of lies. ”
I shuddered a sob. Caged. I was caged in an impossible choice. “I love you too much to stay and watch you die,” I whispered. “I love them too much to let them die in our place. There’s no living with either choice. I thought I could. I was sure I could.”
His hand came to the back of my neck, strong, unwavering. “Then we make a third,” he growled, his wolf fully back in his eyes. “We survive.”
I let out a trembling breath, lowered my head to rest my forehead against his. Grief and relief coalesced into tears that burned my eyes. Outside, voices faded; a hawk cried far off in the reddening trees. The forest was waiting, and so was the fight. “Then we survive,” I repeated.
Dierk’s hand lingered a heartbeat longer before he pulled back, resolve hardening the harsh lines of his face. “We need planning.”
I wiped the rest of my tears and dropped a full kiss on his lips. “I’ll get you the tea. And the others.”
The door creaked as I stepped out of the room and then into the cold bite of the forest and its pine trees.
Matthis and Gerhard were crouched near a firepit, their words dying the moment they saw my face.
Adelmar straightened from where he’d been pacing.
“He’s awake,” I said simply. That was enough.
Gerhard was already on his feet, Matthis and Adelmar right behind him. “How is he?”
“Healing,” I answered. “But he shouldn’t move yet.”
I led them back inside, took a cup and the teapot, and went to Dierk.
He planted his hands on the cot and rose when he saw us all, a low growl breaking from him as his ribs protested, sweat on his forehead as he fought the pain.
He stood anyway, pride straightening his spine where strength alone couldn’t.
And the room filled with something I’ve never really felt, not in my own pack.
Worry, relief, loyalty, all collided into one, a single pulse shared by every single wolf in the room—and it centered on Dierk.
He felt it, too, and not only didn’t shy away from it, he didn’t fight it.
He raised his chin, proud.
He burned from the inside out, accepting a call he’d never wanted.
He’d become.
For a moment, no one spoke. Even time seemed to bow, recognizing what he was. What it meant.
A heartbeat claimed, a kingdom answered.
Then the world exhaled.
Gerhard moved first, walking in front of him. Where he went down to one knee, bowing his head low, his fist on his chest. “Where you stand, I stand.”
An old vow. A rare one. Not sworn to a throne or a name, but to the wolf who could bear the weight of others. It had not been spoken in a long, long time. It took a fight to crown a rightful Alpha. A true Alpha transcended that.
Matthis followed, slower. Kneeled, one hand fisted against his chest. “Where you stand, I stand.”
Even Adelmar, who had never really bowed to anyone, lowered himself with a trembling exhale. “Where you stand, I stand.”
Dierk looked at them, at the males he’d risked his life for. Those for whom he’d do it all over. He swallowed. “You don’t have to.”
“We already did,” Gerhard said simply. “You lead; we follow.”
And that was it.
The next two days were filled with whispered news, tending wounds, and pretending the forest could keep the world out.
Dierk’s wound had closed, and he could stand now, move, though every breath still seemed to cost him something.
His strength was returning. We could only hope it did fast enough.
The challenge came closer and closer, and he’d be going into it already at a disadvantage.
His fire was still uncertain compared to my father’s, and now his body might not be caught up to his will.
I didn’t let him see how much it scared me.
He needed strength reflected back at him, not worry.
So I quieted the bond and helped when he practiced, even when the effort left him shaking with pain.
I steadied his stance, bandaged his wounds when my fire nicked him, and made sure he drank Adelmar’s tonics.
Every breath he drew felt borrowed, and I guarded each one as if it were gold.
Two Prowlers came at dusk, silent as always, only to bring word.
Some of the soldiers loyal to Gerhard had deserted and had taken to the forest. Others had been dragged into the streets as an example.
The Alpha had declared the rescue an act of rebellion.
Whole families were punished. Another village burned.
The smoke carried for miles. They said the city was quiet now, like everyone was afraid to breathe.
I sat by the window that night, listening to the wind move through the trees, and felt the weight of what was coming settle over us.
A few days of borrowed peace, and then the full moon would rise.