Chapter 7 — Fractures
1475 Words
Regina POV
The warmth of the sitting room should have been comforting.
A fire crackled softly in the hearth, the golden light dancing across the walls and soaking into the thick rug beneath Regina’s feet. The scent of chamomile and honey drifted from the steaming mug the healer had pressed into her hands, sweet and soothing, but Regina couldn’t stop the faint tremor running through her fingers.
Her wrists stung where the rope had cut into her skin, now wrapped in soft linen bandages that smelled faintly of herbs and clean cotton. The healer had worked with gentle efficiency, murmuring reassurances as she cleaned the shallow wounds, but Regina barely remembered the words.
Her mind kept slipping back to the cave.
Cold stone. The drip of water. The wrongness of that masked figure’s voice.
Her pulse jumped again, breath hitching before she forced herself to focus on the room — the warmth, the soft chair beneath her, the faint hum of life moving through the estate beyond the walls.
You’re safe.
The words felt fragile. Temporary.
The healer — Mara, she’d introduced herself — crouched beside her, warm brown eyes searching Regina’s face. “You did very well,” she said gently. “Your body is still flushing the sedative. You may feel shaky for a while.”
Regina nodded, though her throat felt tight. “Thank you.”
Mara gave her a soft smile before standing. “Try to drink. I’ll return shortly.”
The door closed quietly behind her.
Regina stared into the fire, watching flames curl and collapse into glowing embers. Her body felt heavy and light at the same time, like she wasn’t entirely inside it yet. Every small sound made her shoulders tense — footsteps in the hall, distant voices, the creak of floorboards.
Her wolf paced restlessly beneath her skin, unsettled but slowly regaining strength. The drug’s fog was lifting, leaving behind a raw awareness that made everything feel sharper.
She pulled Aldric’s coat tighter around her shoulders, the fabric still holding his scent — smoke, forest, and something crisp like winter air. It grounded her in a way she didn’t fully understand, calming the frantic flutter in her chest just enough that she could breathe.
The memory of his silver eyes when he stepped into the cave flashed through her mind — the way his expression had shifted instantly from controlled to something fierce and protective.
A small, unexpected warmth flickered beneath her ribs.
He came for me.
Her father had too, of course — she’d heard his voice — but Aldric’s presence had felt like a shield snapping into place, instinctive and absolute.
The thought made her chest tighten, emotions tangled and confusing.
A sudden burst of raised voices echoed faintly from somewhere deeper in the estate.
Regina stiffened, heart jumping.
The sound wasn’t panic exactly — more like controlled urgency — but it sent a spike of unease down her spine.
She set the mug aside, rising slowly to her feet. Her legs felt steadier now, though a faint dizziness lingered when she moved too quickly.
The voices grew louder.
Something was wrong.
Regina stepped toward the door, hesitating with her hand on the handle. Part of her wanted to stay exactly where she was, safe and warm, pretending the world outside the room didn’t exist.
But curiosity — and a creeping dread — pushed her forward.
She opened the door.
The corridor buzzed with activity. Wolves moved quickly past, their scents sharp with adrenaline and concern. A pair of enforcers hurried down the hall, murmuring urgently to each other.
Regina’s stomach dropped.
“What happened?” she asked, stopping one of the passing wolves — a young woman with dark braids and worried eyes.
The woman hesitated, clearly recognizing her, sympathy flickering across her face. “You… you should stay with the healer,” she said gently.
Regina’s chest tightened. “Please. Just tell me.”
The woman swallowed. “Rebecca. The Alpha’s daughter. She’s missing.”
The words hit Regina like a physical blow.
All the air left her lungs at once. “Missing?”
“Taken,” the woman said quietly.
The corridor seemed to tilt.
Regina’s mind struggled to process the words, but the meaning slammed into place with brutal clarity.
A trade.
The masked figure’s voice echoed in her memory. The way they’d said prey.
Her knees weakened, and she reached for the wall to steady herself, fingers pressing against cool stone.
No.
No, no, no—
Guilt surged up so violently it made her stomach churn.
This is because of me.
If she hadn’t followed her father… if she hadn’t wandered… if she hadn’t been taken—
Rebecca would still be here.
Her chest constricted painfully, breath coming fast and shallow.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, though the woman had already moved on.
Regina turned and stumbled back into the sitting room, shutting the door behind her with shaking hands. The warmth that had felt comforting moments ago now felt suffocating, like the walls were pressing in.
She sank into the chair, pressing her palms hard against her eyes as if she could block out the thoughts clawing through her mind.
It should have been me.
Rebecca was younger. Innocent. She hadn’t done anything to deserve this.
Tears burned behind Regina’s eyes, but she forced them back, jaw tightening.
Crying wouldn’t help.
But the guilt sat heavy in her chest, a crushing weight she couldn’t escape.
A soft knock sounded.
Regina dropped her hands, wiping quickly at her face. “Come in.”
The door opened slowly.
Aldric stepped inside.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
He looked different than he had in the cave — still controlled, still composed, but something darker lingered beneath the surface now, like a storm barely contained. His shoulders were tense, jaw set, silver eyes shadowed with something that made Regina’s chest ache.
Grief.
Fear.
Rage.
“Is it true?” she asked softly, though she already knew the answer.
He nodded once.
The simple movement felt heavier than any words.
Regina swallowed hard, her throat tight. “I’m so sorry,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “This is because of me.”
Aldric’s gaze snapped to hers, sharp. “No.”
The word was immediate. Absolute.
“But—”
“No,” he repeated, stepping closer. His presence filled the room, grounding and steady despite the tension radiating from him. “You didn’t do this.”
“They took me,” she said, guilt spilling out despite herself. “To distract everyone. If I hadn’t—”
“Stop,” he said gently but firmly.
The softness in his tone made her chest tighten.
“This is not your fault,” he said, holding her gaze. “The only ones responsible are the ones who took her.”
Regina wanted to believe him. She did.
But the guilt clung stubbornly, whispering otherwise.
His expression softened slightly, though the tension didn’t leave his shoulders. “We’ll find her,” he said quietly. “I promise you.”
The certainty in his voice wrapped around her like a fragile shield.
She nodded faintly, though fear still coiled in her stomach.
“I should… I should go home,” she said after a moment, the words feeling hollow even as she spoke them. The estate suddenly felt like the center of a storm she didn’t belong in.
Aldric’s eyes searched her face. “You’re safe here,” he said. “But if you want to leave, we’ll make sure you’re escorted.”
She looked down at her bandaged wrists, at the faint tremor still lingering in her hands.
Part of her wanted to run — to put distance between herself and this nightmare before it swallowed her whole.
But another part of her — quieter but steady — knew she would carry this night with her no matter where she went.
“I just…” She trailed off, unsure how to explain the tangled mess of fear, guilt, and exhaustion twisting inside her.
Aldric seemed to understand anyway.
“You don’t have to decide anything tonight,” he said softly.
The kindness in his voice made something fragile in her chest crack open slightly, and she had to look away to keep her composure.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
They stood in silence for a moment, the fire crackling softly between them.
Then Aldric inclined his head once. “Try to rest,” he said. “We’ll handle the rest.”
As he turned to leave, Regina felt an unexpected flicker of steadiness settle in her chest.
Because despite the fear, despite the guilt…
She believed him.
And that belief — small but real — was the only thing keeping the fractures inside her from breaking completely apart.
⸻
- Writer
