An Angel's awakening

Chapter Eleven

Lucien's POV

We ran deeper.

The forest thinned into a stretch of low brush and open field, moonlight spilling silver across the ground. Silas’s pace faltered again, muscles coiling beneath my control, head lifting as he tasted the air. The pull sharpened—no longer a suggestion, but a constant ache beneath my ribs.

Closer, he breathed. She’s close.

My heart began to hammer, every instinct tightening.

Then the night split open.

A scream tore through the darkness—raw, terrified, human.

It punched straight through my chest.

Silas skidded to a halt, a snarl ripping from his throat so violent it rattled my bones.

Mine.

The scent followed a heartbeat later.

Rot. Decay. Wet iron.

Rogue.

Silas roared, a sound that fractured the stillness and sent birds screaming from the trees. We turned as one, tearing through the underbrush toward the sound, every stride fueled by fury.

Then—her.

Blood and rain and fear, all threaded with something achingly familiar. Her scent slammed into me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs.

Mate, Silas snarled, losing what little restraint remained. They’re hurting her.

We burst into the clearing just as the rogue had her pinned, its body twisted and wrong, fur patchy, flesh split and oozing like it was rotting from the inside out. Its teeth sank into her shoulder, her scream ripping free again.

I didn’t think.

Silas hit the rogue like a freight train.

Jaws locked around its spine as I felt bone crack beneath the force. The creature shrieked, thrashing wildly, claws tearing at my flank—then two more bodies slammed into it from the side.

Cole and Theo.

His wolf went for the throat, teeth snapping, forcing the rogue to release her. Theo circled the fight, watching and waiting but also keeping an eye on the tree line. The rogue staggered, snapping blindly, but Silas was already tearing in, ripping flesh, shredding muscle, rage guiding every movement.

The fight was brutal. Fast. Vicious.

The rogue fought like a dying thing, desperate and rabid, but it never stood a chance.

Silas crushed its throat.

The body collapsed into the mud, twitching once before going still.

The world went eerily quiet.

I turned immediately.

She lay crumpled in the grass, blood slicking her side, breath shallow and uneven. Her scent filled my lungs—pain, fear, and beneath it all, something that made my chest ache.

Home.

Silas approached her slowly now, head low, reverent. I pressed my muzzle gently to her neck, feeling the fragile flutter of her pulse beneath my nose.

Alive, he breathed. She’s alive.

Relief nearly buckled my legs.

I stayed there, guarding her body with mine, while Cole circled the perimeter, snarling at the dark, ready for anything that dared come close.

Hold on, I vowed silently. I’m here.

And in that moment, with blood on my fur and her heartbeat against my senses, I knew—

I hadn’t been late.

I’d arrived exactly when she needed me.

Her breathing hitched.

Once. Twice. Then it faltered, turning shallow and uneven.

No.

Silas surged against my control, panic flaring hot and sharp beneath my skin. She’s slipping.

I didn’t hesitate.

The shift ripped through me, bones snapping back into place as fur receded and the world reshaped itself. I dropped to my knees beside her—human again, shaking, breath coming too fast, hands already reaching.

Blood slicked my fingers the moment I touched her.

Too much.

“Hey,” I rasped, my voice barely holding together as I brushed rain-soaked hair from her face. The red strands clung to my skin, vivid even in the moonlight. My thumb came away crimson. Her skin was cold, rain-chilled, eyes fluttering open just long enough to meet mine.

Emerald green.

Bright. Striking. Too aware for someone losing so much blood.

Something in my chest fractured at the sight.

“Hold on, little one,” I breathed, leaning close, my forehead pressing briefly to her temple. “I’ve got you.”

Her lashes trembled. Her breath shuddered.

Then her body went slack in my arms.

Fear detonated through me.

I scooped her up without thought, cradling her against my chest—one arm locked beneath her knees, the other firm around her back. She was far too light, her head falling against my shoulder, that wild red hair spilling over my arm like a living flame.

“Cole! Theo!” I shouted.

They was already moving.

Cole's wolf surged ahead, massive and alert, circling us once before breaking into a sprint, nose high, eyes scanning the dark. A living shield clearing the path. Theo kept to my right, but not close enough to touch her. No one will touch her again.

I ran after Cole.

Branches tore at my skin, mud slick beneath my boots, lungs burning as I pushed harder—faster—every step driven by a single, terrifying thought:

Don’t you dare leave me.

Her breath ghosted warm and faint against my neck. I bent my head, pressing my mouth briefly to her hair as I ran, anchoring myself to her scent—earth, rain, blood, and something elemental that felt like home.

“Stay with me,” I whispered between ragged breaths. “You’re not alone anymore. I swear it.”

The lights of the Vale pack flared through the trees ahead—dim but unmistakable.

Hope.

And I ran like the world would end if I slowed.

Cole’s howl split the night just as we crossed the Vale pack’s territory line—a long, keening note that rattled through the trees. Silas and I both stiffened, senses screaming. My arms tightened around her, her red hair damp and clinging to my skin, emerald eyes closed, fragile in my grip. Theo ran just ahead of me while Cole hauled straight for the front of the hospital.

The forest gave way to the faint glow of the hospital ahead. Relief burned through me, but it was tempered by every nerve screaming not yet. I could smell the metallic tang of her blood on the wind—and the rogue, fading now but still alive in memory. Rage coiled in my chest, molten and raw.

A team of doctors and nurses surged out, gurney ready, lights flashing across wet pavement. My jaw tightened. “Move her,” one shouted.

I growled low, instinct lashing out before thought could intervene, and the Alpha heat radiated from me, rolling over the medics like a tangible wave. Heads jerked back. The air thickened, every muscle in my body humming with power, protective, untamed.

“Lucien—control!” Cole barked, snapping my focus.

“Let them work! You’re scaring them!” Theo hollered.

But the pull in my chest didn’t care about protocol, didn’t care about human rules. Her life, her breath, her very soul—mine now, mine to defend—and I wasn’t letting anything touch her until she was safe.

Cole stepped closer, pressing a paw a hand against my shoulder. “She’s in their hands! Leave it, or you’ll destroy the chance for them to save her!”

"Come on buddy, you gotta give them room to work!" Theo whispered into my ear.

I exhaled, slowly, the growl fading into a low rumble as I finally let the wave of my Alpha authority recede, though my pulse still hummed like a drum. I crouched beside the gurney, hands hovering just above her, watching every movement. I didn’t touch. Not yet. Not until she was breathing on her own again.

The room swallowed us as they wheeled her inside. Cole and Theo stayed at my side, ever the voices of reason, while I leaned close to the doorway, eyes fixed on her form. Her chest rose and fell under the medic’s hands, her green eyes fluttering just enough to catch mine—and something primal, binding, whispered through me: She’s mine. Always.

I stepped back reluctantly, letting my aura simmer down, the Alpha’s presence still there in quiet, restrained waves, ready to roar if anything threatened her. But for now, I waited, every nerve taut, every heartbeat screaming: Don’t you dare lose her.