Damion's POV
I had imagined this moment a hundred times.
Elara was back safely in my pack. Away from Henry and away from Chrysantha’s claws.
And yet, standing in the healing chamber with her lying pale and weak on the bed, I felt no victory, only relief laced with a gnawing ache. Relief because she was here and breathing. Ache because she wouldn’t even look at me.
“Get the healer,” I barked, my voice carrying through the halls. Within moments, three healers rushed in, then they laid herbs and salves on the wooden table, deciding which one to administer to her. I was growing impatient, seeing them just grinding different leaves into a cup.
“Treat her wounds first. She’s lost too much strength.” I barked at them.
“Yes, Alpha,” they answered in unison, bowing before setting to work.
