I slept for a day and a half.
At least, that's what Marta told me when I finally woke again. The sun was streaming through the window, golden and warm, and I felt like I'd been beaten with stones. Every muscle ached. My head throbbed. But I was alive.
"Damon?" I tried to sit up, and this time Marta let me, propping pillows behind my back.
"He's been here the whole time," Marta said, something soft in her usually brisk voice. "Wouldn't leave. Finally passed out in that chair around dawn." She nodded toward the corner, and there he was—Damon, slumped in a wooden chair, his head tipped back, his face slack with exhaustion.
My heart clenched.
"He carried you back himself, you know," Marta continued quietly. "Wouldn't let anyone else touch you. Walked the whole way with you in his arms, and then sat right there and held your hand until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore."
I reached out, and sure enough, my hand found his. He was warm. Solid. Real.
"Thank you, Marta," I whispered. "For everything."
She nodded and slipped out, leaving us alone.
I didn't wake him. I just lay there, holding his hand, watching the tension in his face slowly ease as he slept. There were new lines there, new shadows. Worry lines. Grief lines. Because of me.
I did this, I thought. If I hadn't wandered off alone, if I'd been more careful, they wouldn't have had a chance to take me.
But even as I thought it, I knew it wasn't true. The Red Claw had been waiting for us. They'd known we were coming. The attack had been planned, the ambush carefully set. I was just the prize they'd hoped to claim.
When Damon finally stirred, the sun had shifted across the floor. He blinked, disoriented, and then his eyes found mine.
"Elara." His voice was rough with sleep and emotion. "You're awake."
"I'm awake." I squeezed his hand. "Marta said you haven't left."
"Of course I haven't left." He leaned forward, bringing my hand to his lips. "I thought I'd lost you. When Caleb carried you in, covered in blood, not moving..." His voice broke. "I can't do that again. I can't lose you."
"You won't." I meant it with everything I had. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
He kissed me then—gently, carefully, like I might break. And for a long moment, there was nothing but the two of us, connected in a way that went beyond words.
But even as we held each other, a part of my mind was elsewhere. Worrying about Caleb. Wondering if he was okay. Needing to see him with my own eyes.
Damon must have sensed it. He pulled back, his eyes searching mine.
"What is it?"
"Caleb." I didn't try to hide it. "Is he... is he alright? Marta said he was wounded."
Something flickered in Damon's expression—that same jealousy I'd seen before, quickly masked. "He'll live. Took a bad hit to the side, but Marta stitched him up. He's resting in his hut."
"I need to see him." I started to push myself up, but Damon's hand on my shoulder stopped me.
"Elara, you've been unconscious for a day and a half. You need to rest."
"I will rest. I promise. But first, I need to thank him. He saved my life, Damon. He tracked me through enemy territory, fought his way into that cave, carried me out while he was bleeding." I met his eyes, willing him to understand. "I need to see him."
For a long moment, we just looked at each other. Then, slowly, Damon nodded.
"I'll take you."
Caleb's hut was smaller than ours, simpler. A bed, a table, a chair. Weapons hung on the walls, gleaming dully in the afternoon light.
He was lying on the bed, his eyes closed, his face pale beneath the bandages wrapped around his torso. Even in sleep, he looked tense—his jaw tight, his hand curled into a fist on the blanket.
I crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle him. Damon stood in the doorway, giving us space but not leaving.
"Caleb." I touched his hand gently. "Caleb, it's Elara. I'm here."
His eyes opened slowly, blurry with sleep and pain. Then they focused on me, and something in them sharpened.
"Elara." His voice was a croak. "You're okay."
"I'm okay. Thanks to you." I squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, weak but real. "You saved my life. Again."
A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "I told you. I'd do it every time."
Behind me, I heard Damon shift. I didn't turn around.
"Caleb, I..." I didn't know what to say. Thank you seemed too small. I owe you my life seemed too dramatic. So I just held his hand and let my eyes say what words couldn't.
He understood. Of course he understood. He always did.
"You should rest," he said softly. "You look like hell."
A laugh escaped me, surprising us both. "So do you."
"Then we match." His eyes drifted closed again, exhaustion pulling him under. But his hand stayed curled around mine, and I didn't pull away.
I sat there for a long time, holding his hand, watching him sleep. Damon stayed in the doorway, silent and watchful. I didn't know what he was thinking. Didn't know if I wanted to know.
When Caleb's grip finally loosened, when I was sure he was deeply asleep, I gently freed my hand and stood. Damon moved to meet me, and together we walked out into the fading light.
"He'll be okay," Damon said quietly. "Marta says he's strong. He'll heal."
"I know." I looked up at him. "Thank you for letting me come."
"You needed to." He didn't sound angry, just resigned. "I understand that."
We walked back to our hut in silence, but there was something different in the air between us. Something unresolved. Something that would have to be addressed, eventually.
Just not tonight.
That night, Damon held me like he was afraid I'd disappear.
His arms were wrapped around me, his face buried in my hair, his body warm against mine. I could feel his heart beating, steady and strong, and I let myself sink into the comfort of it.
"I'm sorry," he murmured against my neck. "For everything. For not being there. For letting them take you."
"You didn't let them take me. You weren't there." I turned in his arms to face him. "Damon, you can't protect me from everything. You can't be everywhere at once."
"I know. But I should have been." His eyes were dark with self-recrimination. "I'm the Alpha. It's my job to keep everyone safe, especially you. And I failed."
"Stop." I put my hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at me. "You didn't fail. You came for me. You sent Caleb. You organized the rescue. You carried me home." I leaned in and kissed him softly. "You're not failing me. You're loving me. And that's enough."
For a long moment, he just stared at me. Then something in his expression shifted—the guilt easing, replaced by something warmer.
"I don't deserve you," he whispered.
"Too bad. You're stuck with me."
He laughed—actually laughed—and the sound was so rare, so precious, that it made my heart ache. Then he kissed me, and the laughter turned to something else.
That night, we made love with a desperation that bordered on fierce. It wasn't gentle or tender—it was raw and real, a reaffirmation of life in the face of death. Damon touched me like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world, and I responded in kind, pouring all my fear and relief and love into the connection between us.
Afterward, as we lay tangled together in the darkness, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time: peace.
Whatever was coming, whatever threats loomed on the horizon, we would face them together. Damon and me. Alpha and Luna.
It was enough.
It had to be.
I woke in the middle of the night to an empty bed.
For a moment, panic seized me—images of the cave, of Sera's cold smile, of blood and darkness. Then I heard voices from outside, low and urgent, and I forced myself to calm down.
I pulled on a robe and crept to the door, cracking it just enough to hear.
"—can't keep doing this, Damon." It was Caleb's voice, strained with pain and something else. "Every time I look at her, every time I'm near her, it gets harder. You have to understand."
A pause. Then Damon's voice, heavy with resignation. "I understand better than you think. But she's my mate, Caleb. My Luna. There's nothing I can do about how you feel."
"I'm not asking you to do anything. I'm telling you because you're my brother, and I won't lie to you." Another pause. "I love her. I know I shouldn't. I know it's wrong. But I do."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I pressed my hand to my mouth to keep from crying out.
"And what do you want me to say?" Damon's voice was tight. "That it's okay? That you can have her?"
"No. I want you to say that you trust me. That you know I'll never act on it. That I'll spend the rest of my life being the best Beta you've ever had, because it's the only way I can be near her without losing my mind."
Silence stretched between them, long and heavy.
Finally, Damon spoke. "I trust you, Caleb. With my life. With the pack. With her." A beat. "But if you ever hurt her—if you ever cross that line—I'll kill you myself."
"I know." Caleb's voice was soft, resigned. "I know."
I closed the door quietly and crept back to bed, my heart racing, my mind spinning. I lay there in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, trying to process what I'd heard.
Caleb loved me.
And Damon knew.
And nothing would ever be the same.