Not memory, but something deeper. Something older.
In its jaw, impossibly gentle despite how strong it is, he carries a baby wrapped in cloth already tied at the edges. The infant is crying, tiny fists clenched, unaware of the war tearing the world apart around them. The wolf bounds forward, weaving through fire and falling debris, until he reaches a pair of human arms extended toward him—hands shaking, desperate, terrified.
The wolf pauses.
The fire around it flares brighter, violent and beautiful all at once, and I feel a wrenching sorrow slam into my chest so hard it steals my breath. This is not a rescue.
It’s goodbye.
The wolf lowers its head and places the baby into the waiting human arms with reverence, as if surrendering the most precious thing it has ever known. Its golden eyes linger on the child for one unbearable second longer, burning, full of grief and resolve.
Then it turns back toward the flames, lifts its head, and howls with so much sorrow that the sound makes my own heart wrench.
“No,” I sob, my voice finally breaking free. “Don’t!”
The wolf doesn’t look back.
The shadows surge all at once, swallowing the wolf in a storm of black smoke and fire. The village collapses in on itself, screams cutting off one by one, until the world is nothing but roaring flames and falling ash.
The baby's cries slice through the air, the sound echoing, stretching, warping, until it becomes my own.
I wake with a sob tearing out of my chest, my body curled in on itself, hands clutching at my shirt as if I can still feel the heat, the loss, the grief vibrating through my bones. My face is wet with tears I don’t remember shedding, my heart hammering like it’s trying to escape my ribcage.
For a long moment, I can’t breathe.
And then a pair of warm, soothing hands pull me closer, until I'm pressed up against a solid chest that feels safe enough to sob into, his prominent scent surrounding me like protection.
When I finally open my eyes, my vision blurred, I look up to find Damian holding me tight, his expression raw and unguarded in a way I’ve never seen before. His eyes are dark, almost haunted, like he saw something, too.
I choke on a breath, a part of me wanting to say something, wanting to push him away, but after what I saw, what I felt in that dream, I can't bring myself to fight him. Not now, anyway.
It's as if Damian can sense that shift, and he holds me tighter, cupping my face with one hand and stroking away the tears on my cheek with the pad of his thumb. His presence is firm, steady, an anchor that pulls me into reality, even if it's a reality I'm denying.
There's so much I don't know, but suddenly, it feels like I can rely on Damian. It may be a fleeting feeling, a volatile one, and it may disappear in the morning, but for now, his presence is what I need to know I'm not going insane.
And for the first time since all of this began, I don’t push him away. I curl up into him, closing my eyes and allowing myself to feel safe. For the first time, Damian doesn't feel like the enemy, even if it's something I'll regret feeling in the morning.
It's what I've learned in the past. Trusting Damian has only hurt me.
Chapter 9 - Damian
I feel Sophie’s body tense while I hold her tightly, and even if I may not be able to read her mind, her body language is enough of an indicator that she’s having second thoughts about finding comfort in my arms.
Two parts of her are in a tug-of-war, one part gravitating toward me because of the fated mate bond, while the other remains hostile and distrusting, based on what happened between us in the past.
I don’t allow the latter to deter me, keeping my arms secured around her to allow her to go through whatever she needs to feel right now. I heard her murmuring in her sleep, and those murmurs quickly turned to a sob that prompted me to come into her room and lift her to my chest.
She’s had a crazy night, wielding powers neither of us was aware she had to begin with, and then Anastasia was called in by the council to check up on her upon seeing what happened. It’s not like I had to call the council in, but Sophie burning the demon to ashes wasn’t exactly discreet, and the others saw it happening, including the council, who’d gathered in Red Moon territory when the attack was called in.
I purse my lips, wishing the incident had been kept a secret, at least long enough for us to figure out what happened. The council gathered for a meeting last night, but I didn’t even attend, too worried about Sophie’s condition to leave the house after she came rushing back in. The horror was written clearly in her eyes when she saw me in the kitchen, and she bolted for the bedroom without a word.
Sophie Torres is unraveling into something we’re not sure of, and I can only imagine how frightened she is. I can feel itin the way her body trembles against my chest, and I rock her gently to soothe her, wanting to be her steady anchor despite how unsure I am of what’s going on.
Her sniffling stops, and I feel her body doing the final tense-up, turning rigid as she lifts her head and meets my eyes with a scowl. Without saying a word, I already know what that look means, and before she can shove me away or throw nasty words at me, I remove my arms from around her and shift to the edge of the bed.
“Wh—what are you doing here?” she asks, not sparing me from any bitterness despite my pulling away.
“I heard you crying in your sleep,” I tell her earnestly, but honesty is no saving grace when Sophie doesn’t trust a word I say.
