Chapter 5: Bruised But Standing
1431 Words
The walk back to Neasa’s cabin was a blur of blood, fog, and sheer stubborn will.
My limbs didn’t want to work anymore. My ribs ached with every breath. The bruises were blooming dark and deep under my skin, and my knuckles were raw where I’d hit him—harder than I should’ve, not that it mattered. He still won.
But I walked.
I refused to limp.
Neasa’s door was open when I got there, and the warm light spilling through it felt like a betrayal after the cold judgment of the ring. She saw me and didn’t even curse. Just exhaled sharply and dropped the kettle she’d been pouring from, letting hot water splash onto the stone.
“Gods, Silas.”
“I’m fine,” I lied, because that’s what you do when your pride is all you’ve got left.
“You look like you lost a bar fight with a bear.”
“Still walked home.”
She was already by my side, pulling my arm over her shoulder, guiding me in like I was some half-drunk revenant and not the proud i***t who refused to yield in front of an Alpha.
The inside of her cabin was warm with firelight and herbs, but it didn’t touch the cold in my bones. Not the kind the wind brings. The kind that comes from losing badly and getting back up just so no one gets to say they broke you.
“You’re going to sit down and shut up,” she muttered, steering me into the old creaky chair by the hearth. “And let me fix whatever the hell’s still fixable.”
I didn’t argue. I was too tired to argue. But I sat like it was my choice.
Neasa vanished into the back and returned with bandages, jars of salve, and a focus in her eyes that told me if I flinched, she’d strap me down out of spite.
“I’m going to kill him,” she said, voice low and flat.
I smirked. “Got a long list?”
“You’re at the top of it if you don’t shut your mouth.”
She peeled the remains of my shirt away, hissing at the angry purple bruises beneath. My shoulder looked like someone had driven a cart over it. My ribs were definitely cracked.
“You didn’t have to fight him.”
“They made the call. I made mine.”
“You could’ve yielded.”
I laughed, then winced hard. “What, and let him win easy?”
She glared. “You did let him win.”
“I made him work for it.”
Neasa bit the inside of her cheek and didn’t answer. She kept working, cleaning blood off my temple, pressing salve into deep aches I didn’t want to acknowledge.
Then came the knock.
Or rather—the door opened, no knock at all, and in stepped the last person I wanted to see.
Cathal.
Still in his leathers, arms folded behind his back, his presence heavy like fog soaked in steel. He didn’t look at me at first. Didn’t look at Neasa either.
“Status?” he asked. To her.
“Alive,” she said, not missing a beat. “Bleeding. Grumpy. Still proud.”
Cathal’s gaze flicked to me.
“You could’ve died.”
“Wasn’t in the mood,” I said.
“You fought like a half-blind wolf with a death wish.”
I smiled through the split in my lip. “And yet here I am.”
He stepped closer, just a foot over the threshold, but no further. I could smell the night air on him, the chill clinging to his coat.
“I came to ensure you didn’t do anything more foolish tonight.”
“Like what? Challenge you again? Gimme a day.”
His jaw flexed, like he wanted to bite something but settled for grinding his teeth.
“I could’ve ended it earlier,” he said.
“But you didn’t,” I snapped. “You let me get up. Every time.”
“I wanted to see if you’d make the smart call.”
“I wanted to make yours hurt.”
Cathal’s eyes narrowed, but not with anger. Something else. Frustration? Pity? Guilt?
“Spite isn’t a strategy,” he said.
“It kept me standing.”
“Barely.”
I leaned forward, bones screaming in protest. “Still standing.”
The silence stretched.
Neasa didn’t say a word. She just bandaged my ribs like she wasn’t watching a pissing contest with too much blood and pride in the ring.
Cathal finally looked away.
“I’ll inform the elders he’ll be fit for the next trial,” he said, and turned for the door.
Before he left, Neasa spoke, her voice like a knife drawn slow.
“Next time you ‘check in,’ Alpha, maybe don’t make a mess that needs stitching first.”
The door shut behind him.
I slumped back with a long exhale I hadn’t realized I was holding. My whole body felt like it had been chewed on by something large and angry.
“You didn’t have to bait him,” Neasa muttered.
“He started it.”
“You’re going to end up dead.”
I closed my eyes. “Then they’ll have to bury me proud.”
The door barely closed behind Cathal before Neasa’s eyes locked on me—steady, unyielding, like a storm barely held at bay.
“Sit,” she said, voice low and certain. Not a request.
I obeyed, though my body screamed.
She stood over me, arms crossed, radiating a quiet power that could crush if she wanted. Not weakness. She was steel forged in storms, tempered to hold back her fury for only the most necessary moments.
“What the hell were you thinking today?” she demanded, each word precise and heavy.
I said nothing.
Her gaze didn’t waver.
“You threw yourself at the Alpha like a wildfire ripping through dry brush. You didn’t just lose—you dared to burn yourself down in front of him.”
“I didn’t yield.”
She exhaled slowly, like she was holding back a force ready to break free.
“Good. But you barely held together. Every step after he struck you looked like it cost all you had. You’re bruised deep, cracked ribs and all, bleeding from places I don’t even want to touch. That’s not strength, Silas. That’s recklessness, wrapped tight in stubborn pride.”
I met her eyes, hard.
“You think you prove something by this? That pain will earn you a place?”
Her voice dropped, calm and terrifying in its certainty.
“You’re wrong. It doesn’t.”
“Then what does?”
Her eyes sharpened, holding mine like a vice.
“Control. Strategy. The strength to choose when to strike, when to stand, and when to back down. The strength to protect yourself because you matter—not because you want to prove you can bleed.”
I swallowed hard.
“Your pride will break you before they do. And when you’re broken, it won’t be a point scored for the pack. It’ll be a loss they count on.”
She stepped forward, her presence pressing into me with the weight of a mountain.
“I’m not going to sit here and watch you burn yourself out like some reckless flame. If you want to be part of this, you need to fight with your mind as much as your body.”
I opened my mouth.
She raised a hand—no anger, just absolute command.
“Listen. I’ve seen what happens when power goes unchecked. I’ve learned how to hold it back so I don’t destroy everything I touch. You need to learn that too. If you can’t, you’re better off out of my sight.”
Her voice softened—not less fierce, just different.
“I’m here because I care. Because I want to patch you up so you can fight smarter, not so you can throw yourself into the dirt again.”
She bent slightly, catching my gaze.
“Do you hear me?”
I nodded, voice quiet but sure.
“Yes.”
She straightened, her fierce calm filling the room.
“Good. Then live. Fight with everything you’ve got—but don’t bleed like you don’t matter.”
She turned, leaving me with the quiet crackle of the fire and the warmth of the tea in my hands—a reminder that strength isn’t just power. It’s control.
- Writer
