Mirael closed the door quietly behind her, clutching her satchel of herbs as she found Kael standing exactly where he had been for the past hours—rigid, unspeaking, a storm wrapped in the shape of an Alpha.
He didn't even look away from the door.
"How is she?" His voice was low, controlled too tightly.
Mirael exhaled, steadying herself. "Stronger. Much stronger than expected."
Ryden, seated on the long bench against the wall, lifted his head. "Meaning?"
Mirael hesitated. She had spoken to Elara gently—but reporting to an Alpha was always different. Especially an Alpha like Kael.
"Her healing rate is unnatural," she said finally. "Even under the influence of wolfsbane, her body is fighting back at a level I don't have the words for."
Kael's jaw tightened.
Mirael continued, tone cautious. "Wounds that should take days are nearly closed. Bruises that should last a week are gone. Her wolf is… escalating her recovery. I've never seen such a response."
Ryden muttered something like moon's mercy, but Kael remained still, unreadable.
Though his eyes—those sharp, storm-grey eyes—darkened.
"Is she in pain?" he asked.
"No," Mirael answered. "Mostly disoriented. Weak. But stable. Stronger every hour."
Kael gave a slow nod.
Then he finally moved.
"I'll see her."
Ryden raised a brow. "Alpha—"
"She asked for me earlier."
He didn't wait for a reply.
Kael pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing it behind him with a care that contrasted the fire in his aura.
Inside, the room felt smaller.
Quieter.
Elara turned at the soft sound, her tired eyes widening in surprise. She scrambled slightly, trying to sit upright against the pillows.
"Kael."
Her voice was breathy, still hoarse.
He crossed the room in a few slow steps, as if approaching something fragile—something precious. He stopped at her bedside, gaze sweeping her face, her posture, her breathing.
He didn't hide the worry.
"Elara," he murmured, voice gentling in a way few ever heard. "How are you feeling?"
She swallowed. "Better… I think. Mirael said I'm recovering quickly."
"She's understating it." Kael sat at the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her. "You frightened me."
Elara blinked. "Frightened you?"
His jaw clenched. Then loosened.
"Yes."
The honesty in that single word made her heart twist.
Her wolf, weak but stirring, lifted her head inside her mind—sniffing, reaching, pulling toward him in a way that made Elara's breath stutter.
There was something in his scent she hadn't caught before.
Warmth.
Pull.
Recognition.
Not conscious, not clear—but familiar.
Lyra whispered, confused and breathless:
Something… something old. Something I know.
Why do I…? Why do we…?
But the wolfsbane residue made everything blurry.
Elara pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady her breathing.
Kael leaned closer, brows drawing together. "Are you hurting?"
"No," she whispered. "It's just… my wolf. She feels… something."
He went still at that.
Like he'd been waiting years to hear those exact words.
Before he could speak, Elara forced a small smile.
"Mirael told me something else, too," she murmured. "She said… you haven't slept."
Kael looked away.
"You needed someone nearby."
Elara frowned. "Ryden is nearby. Your entire pack is available. You didn't have to—"
"Yes," he cut in, meeting her gaze again. "I did."
His tone wasn't harsh. It was final.
Elara stared at him, breath thinning. "Kael… you can't protect me if you destroy yourself doing it."
His expression softened—so subtle most people wouldn't notice. But Elara did.
"You are not a burden to me," he said quietly. "Not now. Not ever."
Her chest tightened painfully.
He reached out—but stopped just before his hand brushed hers. He waited, letting her choose. Elara hesitated only a second before she lifted her fingers.
He held her hand gently, like she was something sacred.
Her wolf shivered.
Warmth shot up her arm. Something clicked beneath her skin—something ancient, faint, but real.
Lyra whispered again, voice trembling:
Why… does he feel like… home?
Elara's eyes widened.
Kael squeezed her hand, trying to draw her focus. "You're safe here."
"I know." Her voice shook. "But I—Kael, you should rest."
He exhaled slowly. "I will. After you sleep again."
She opened her mouth to argue—then froze as she noticed the shadows under his eyes. The exhaustion in the strong lines of his face. The stiffness in his shoulders.
He had stayed awake because of her.
For her.
The realization was a weight and a warmth all at once.
"Just… lie down in the chair," Elara whispered. "You don't have to leave. But you don't have to stay awake either."
Something flickered across Kael's expression. Surprise. Relief. An ache he couldn't hide.
"As you wish," he murmured.
He didn't let go of her hand even as he settled beside her, still sitting upright, still watching her like she might disappear if he blinked.
Elara's eyes grew heavy again.
Just before sleep took her, she whispered:
"Kael… thank you."
He bowed his head slightly.
"Always."
And for the first time since he was young—since he lost her once—Kael allowed his eyes to close.
Not because he was tired.
Because she was there.
And her wolf, even in weakness, recognized something she could not yet name.