Chapter 140

Lauren

We smelled like smoke, antiseptic, and regret.

The bedroom was dim, moonlight painting stripes across the ceiling. Someone had brought in extra blankets, bandages, clean clothes, and tea neither of us touched. The windows were cracked to let the cool night air in, but it still felt heavy in here. Too quiet. Too final.

We lay tangled on top of the sheets, not quite asleep. Not quite speaking. Just breathing.

After the battle, it all felt surreal. I wasn’t even sure it was over, but it just…was. I couldn’t tell you how I got to this bed.

I shifted slightly, wincing as the bruises along my ribs reminded me they were still very much present.

Alexander stirred beside me. His arm was tucked behind his head, and the other was wrapped around my waist like he was afraid I’d vanish if he let go.

I slid closer, tucking my face against his shoulder. My skin prickled where the bandages pressed, but I didn’t care. I just needed him.

His arm tightened instinctively.

“Alexander,” I murmured, my voice a rasp against his chest. “This week…kinda of…sucked.”

He let out a low grunt that might’ve been a laugh. “Were you expecting a vacation in war?”

“I was hoping for one day where we weren’t almost murdered.”

He smiled faintly, eyes still closed. “We’ll put that on the schedule. Right after the pack meeting. And the funeral. And the next diplomatic disaster.”

“Great. Love that for us.”

A beat of silence.

Then I lifted my head slightly to glance at his hand—the one he’d crushed to get out of those chains. It was wrapped up tight, fingers stiff and bruised.

“Is it still hurting?” I asked quietly, nodding at it.

He raised an eyebrow without opening his eyes. “What, you care now?”

I rolled my eyes and nudged his good shoulder. “I’m asking if it hurts, not proposing marriage. Again.”

“I’d say that depends on how long you plan to keep cuddling me like this,” he teased, turning just enough to kiss my temple.

“Shut up and answer the question.”

“It’s fine.”

I raised a brow. “That’s code for ‘I can’t feel three fingers.’”

“That’s code for ‘you’re cute when you worry.’”

I groaned and dropped my head back on his chest, which was shaking slightly with laughter.

“Ugh. You’re insufferable,” I muttered.

“And you’re warm.”

We fell quiet again, the silence a little softer now. A little safer. But under it all still felt… sharp.

The fire had burned itself out in the hearth. Everything had.

But that didn’t mean I felt calm.

Not even close.

“I still can’t believe she’s gone,” I whispered.

Alexander’s hand slid up my back slowly, steady. “Sophia?”

I nodded.

It felt strange, saying her name in this room. In this context.

“I don’t know what to feel,” I admitted. “She tried to ruin me. For years. She was reason for this. All of it. She almost succeeded. And yet—”

“She saved you,” he finished.

“Yeah. And clearly… meant something to my brother.”

He was quiet for a long moment.

“I’m not sure how I feel, either,” he said eventually. “We were… mates. Once. And then not. She did so much damage. But she wasn’t always like that. I think part of me mourns what we could’ve been.”

I looked up at him, surprised.

He met my eyes. “And another part just feels… tired.”

I nodded slowly. That, I understood.

We were quiet again. The kind of silence that said everything we couldn’t.

“I saw Mark today,” I said.

Alexander’s jaw flexed.

“He’s still not speaking,” I went on. “I mean, he never really did, but now he doesn’t smile either. Just sits and works on her cabin. Hasn’t moved much.”

Alexander swallowed. “Mark’s always carried things on his own. We just need to be there for him, and time will handle it.”

“He’s catatonic,” I whispered. “I don’t know how to help him.”

“You can’t fix this one,” Alexander said gently. “All we can do is be there.”

I pressed closer to him, feeling the way his heartbeat thrummed steady under my cheek.

“At least…GrimMaw’s locked up,” I murmured. “But Gingi…”

“She got out.”

“Yeah.” My voice dropped. “Took a few rogues with her.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. The tension in his arm told me everything.

“She’s still out there,” I said. “She might come back. She might… finish what she started.”

“She’s not GrimMaw, and she knows that. She won’t get near you again,” he said firmly. “Not if I’m breathing.”

I closed my eyes for a beat. Let that promise settle into my bones.

“Liam told me something,” he added after a pause.

“Oh?”

“That the only reason the Alpha King showed up at all… was to save face. Public image for the Pack.”

I let out a short, bitter laugh. “So not because he suddenly believed in me?”

“Afraid not. But everyone saw what you did. They saw us.”

“They also saw us lose half the pack.”

His silence confirmed the weight of that.

I rubbed my face. “There’s going to be a meeting. The whole pack. They’ll want answers. And forgiveness. And direction. What if they blame me? What if they don’t want me anymore?”

Alexander leaned over me, cupped my face in his hands, and made sure I was looking right at him.

“They already chose you, Lauren,” he said. “They followed you. They survived because of you.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m scared.”

“I know.”

He brushed his thumb over my cheek. “But you’re not alone.”

I let myself believe it, even for just one breath.

Then I looked at him sideways. “You know who isn’t scared?”

“Abigail?”

“And Theo.”

Alexander made a noise that could only be described as a groan of future-dad-panic. “Oh, no.”

“They’re close, Alexander. Like, suspiciously close.”

He rubbed his hands over his face. “No, no, no. Absolutely not. He is… he is the Rogue King’s kid!”

“He’s a good kid,” I pointed out. “Turned out alright.”

He looked at me with wide, exhausted eyes. “If they end up together… the Rogue King gets his wish in the end.”

I nodded. “An heir from my bloodline. Through them.”

We stared at the ceiling for a moment.

“They’re still kids,” I said quickly. “Teenagers. Nearly.”

“Please let them stay that way for at least another ten years,” he muttered.

“Agreed.”

We both sighed.

And then, somehow, despite everything, we started laughing. That wild, broken laughter that comes after a war and a funeral and too many impossible days strung together.

After a minute, the laughter died down and I looked up at him. He was looking at me like he still couldn’t believe I was here.

I leaned forward and kissed him.

Not soft.

Not light.

Like a promise.

He groaned into it, pulling me closer, our bodies pressing together between the bandages and bruises.

We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to.

His lips were warm and familiar and home.

I ran my fingers through his hair, tugging him closer. He shifted over me, careful, gentle, but full of something aching and real.

And just as I was drifting in that high, caught in him and this moment—

I felt it.

A prickle.

The faint sensation of being watched.

I froze.

Eyes darted toward the window across the room.

Nothing.

Just the breeze.

Just the moonlight.

Just my imagination.

…Right?