Adele's POV
The night air trembled as Caden carried me toward his car, his stride steady, unyielding, as though the world itself might fracture before he loosened his hold on me.
I felt every eye on us.
Wolves, guards, men hardened by blood and obedience—every single one of them stared as if they were witnessing a miracle or a madness. The Alpha who ruled them with iron and fear had never touched anyone this way. Never cradled. Never shielded. Never held as though his very soul were stitched into the fragile body in his arms.
A bodyguard rushed ahead, snapping the door open, his gaze flicking toward me for only a fraction of a second before dropping respectfully to the ground.
Caden lowered me into the back seat with excruciating care, as though I were spun from moonlight instead of bruised flesh. The leather was cold beneath me. I shifted immediately, pressing myself toward the opposite side, desperate for space—distance—air.
I didn't get it.
The door shut. The next heartbeat, his arms were around me again, lifting me effortlessly, settling me onto his lap as though this was the most natural thing in the world.
"Put me down, you deranged psychopath," I snapped, fury flaring through the ache in my body.
The driver stiffened. The guard swallowed.
No one spoke to Caden Wayne like that.
Yet instead of rage, amusement flickered across his face—soft, stunned, threaded with something far more dangerous than anger.
Relief.
Worry shadowed his expression as his gaze traced the cuts along my cheek, the dried blood on my wrists, the torn fabric clinging to my skin. His wolf stirred beneath his calm, restless and violent, furious at the harm done to what it claimed as its own.
"Easy," he murmured, his voice lowered, reverent. "Let me take care of you, moonlight. Just until we reach the healers."
He reached for the first-aid kit, hands steady despite the storm in his eyes, and began cleaning my wounds with a gentleness that made my chest tighten painfully.
I didn't understand it.
This Alpha—this man—had never noticed my pain before. Never paused for my blood or my tears. And now his touch lingered as if every mark on my skin was carved into his heart.
I didn't trust it.
The car moved, city lights bleeding into streaks beyond the window. No matter how much I protested, how often I tried to shift away, he kept me there—anchored against his chest, his warmth surrounding me, his scent wrapping around my senses like an old, dangerous memory.
He watched me as if I might vanish if he blinked.
Then, he bent his head, unable to resist, and pressed his lips to mine.
The kiss stole my breath.
I reacted on instinct, striking his chest, shoving at him with what little strength I had left. "Stop that!" I hissed. "Have you lost your damn mind?"
He pulled back, confusion flickering through his eyes like shattered ice.
"I can't," he whispered, his forehead resting briefly against mine. "I can't help it. I need to know you're real."
His arm tightened around my waist, possessive, protective—territorial in the way only an Alpha could be. I hated how my body betrayed me, how my pulse stuttered under his nearness, how my wolf whimpered despite my resolve.
"I'm not your wife anymore. Not your mate." I said sharply.
The words barely left my mouth before his lips crashed against mine again, desperate and consuming, stealing the protest from my tongue. His hold was firm, not cruel, but it spoke of fear—of loss—of a mate reclaimed from death.
I only came back to myself when the door opened with a surprisingly loud swoosh.
Cool air rushed in. Reality followed instantly.
Heat rushed to my face as I realized the driver and guards had witnessed everything. Caden, however, was utterly unbothered. He brushed his thumb across my lips, slow and deliberate, before draping his jacket around my shoulders as if to shield me from the world.
Then he lifted me again.
"I can walk on my own," I protested.
He silenced me with a brief, shameless kiss in full view of the hospital entrance.
My eyes widened. Who the hell was this man?
This wasn't the Alpha who once ruled through silence and cruelty. This wasn't the mate who ignored my existence for years.
"Keep arguing," he murmured near my ear, almost playful, "and I won't stop until you faint."
Infuriating. Impossible. Infuriatingly impossible.
He carried me inside as if I weighed nothing, ignoring the doctor's repeated warnings to stay outside. Only when treatment was complete did he finally allow a step of distance—though his gaze never left me.
"She'll recover very soon," the doctor said. "No internal injuries. She only needs some rest."
Caden's jaw tightened.
He pulled the doctor aside, voice low and commanding. "Check her again. She's not herself. And her wolf is dormat––she needs her wounds fixed."
"She's fine––her wolf is already healing her," the doctor replied calmly. "As for your other concern... Shock can cause confusion. Keep her safe. Keep her calm. She'll get better."
Caden scowled as if that answer offended him personally.
"You're incompetent," he muttered. "I'll find someone better."
He turned back to me, softening instantly. "Come on, love. Another healer."
"I'm fine, Mr. Wayne," I said coolly.
The name hit him like a blade. I saw it—the flicker of pain, the memory resurfacing.
"And I'm not your wife, so don't you call me 'love, '" I added firmly. "My name is Fleur Swann."
The doctor chuckled—until Caden's death stare chased him from the room.
When the door shut, Caden stepped closer, arms opening again. "If you're angry, I deserve it. But come home with me. Please. We can talk about it."
I struggled. He held tighter.
His presence overwhelmed my senses—Alpha, wolf, mate. The bond pulled at me like gravity, and I hated it.
His lips brushed mine again—hesitant this time—before his hand stilled, restraint warring with instinct.
I shoved him with everything I had left.
"Get away from me," I snapped, voice shaking. "You don't own me anymore."
For the first time, he froze.
And in that silence, I wondered which of us was more afraid—the woman who ran… or the Alpha who finally remembered what he had lost.