Chapter 75

DEREK

I’ve heard Elena scared before.

Once when she woke up from a nightmare, gasping like she was still trapped underwater. Another time, because a mouse had darted across her foot when she was in the Silverclaw stables.

But I had never heard her like this.

Not like now.

The sound in her voice was almost animal. Not just fear—it was terror. Desperate, raw. Her body was trembling with it, I could hear her heart pounding through her ribs like a war drum.

I could smell it on her. Salt and blood and something acrid, sharp.

And Aiden—

The kid looked like he was holding himself together by a thread. His feet dragged in the sand as the rogue pulled him slowly toward the waiting boat. His face was pale, jaw clenched tight, trying not to cry.

And under the pale edge of his jaw…

Blood.

A thin red line trickled down his neck. Just a drop or two.

But it told me everything I needed to know.

That blade had already broken skin.

The rogue’s hand was too tight. His movements too jerky. He wasn’t thinking clearly—wasn’t thinking at all. And with silver, you didn’t need a deep cut to do damage. Aiden didn’t even know how vulnerable he was.

My stomach twisted. Shame crawled up my throat.

This is my fault.

I should have gotten him out of the villa the second I found him in that kitchen.

Should have carried him out the back and handed him off to Brock and Joe before I went after Pierce.

But I didn’t.

I let my panic for Elena guide me. My fear. My guilt.

And now we were standing on this beach, watching a child being dragged toward the water with a knife at his throat.

If something happened to Aiden—

If Elena lost him—

I wouldn’t forgive myself.

I wouldn’t survive it.

“You don’t want to do this,” I called out, forcing my voice calm. Neutral. Not Alpha. Not a threat.

The rogue’s head jerked slightly, eyes flicking toward me.

“The way I see it, neither of us has a whole lot of choice!” he barked, his voice high and frayed.

“You do have a choice,” I said, taking a slow step forward, hands still at my sides. “Let the boy go and we won’t hurt you.”

Beside me, I felt Joe shift just a fraction to the right, subtle, like a shadow sliding across the sand. Drawing attention.

Brock’s hand was creeping slowly toward the hilt of his throwing knife.

The rogue noticed.

“Stop!” he yelled, and both Brock and Joe froze.

“You have my word we won’t hurt you. We’ll let you go,” I called out.

“You’ll hunt me,” he shouted, tightening his grip on Aiden. The blade pressed closer. “After you let me go, you’ll hunt me!”

Aiden winced.

“I know what packs are like,” the rogue continued. “You’ll kill me for touching him.”

I held up both hands.

“No,” I said. “Not if you let him go.”

His eyes narrowed, wild and darting. Sweat poured down his temple. He was looking for a way out, but the water behind him wasn’t deep enough for escape, and we were too many.

He’d never make it far in the boat. He knew it.

He just didn’t want to die alone.

“Take me instead,” I said.

Elena gasped beside me—sharp and immediate.

ELENA

For a moment, I didn’t understand what I’d heard.

Take me instead.

The words echoed like a sound underwater—slow, muffled, impossible.

My heart was pounding so hard I could barely see straight, but I felt the shift the second Derek said it. Felt the air change. Felt the rogue hesitate. Felt every muscle in my body go rigid.

I turned to look at Derek—really look at him—and what I saw made my breath catch.

He wasn’t bluffing.

He wasn’t posturing like an Alpha trying to control a negotiation.

He meant it.

He would give himself up to save my son.

Our son.

The way he stood—hands out, steps careful, voice low—he didn’t look like the man who had just torn Pierce apart with his bare hands. He looked like someone ready to die if it meant Aiden lived.

I wanted to scream at him.

I wanted to grab his arm and shake him and tell him he was insane, reckless, mine.

But all I could do was stare.

My fear didn’t disappear—it twisted.

Curled tight in my chest and became something else. Not panic. Not terror.

Something raw. Something painful.

Something dangerously close to love.

DEREK

I didn’t take my eyes off the rogue.

“I’m worth more than a child,” I said evenly. “I’m Alpha of Silverclaw. I’m your way out.”

The rogue’s face contorted—shock, then disbelief, then something almost like amusement.

“And then what, Alpha?” he scoffed. “I let him go and you come with me? So I can have a knife in my back the second I turn around?”

“I won’t hurt you,” I said. “I swear it.”

I took another step forward.

He didn’t move.

Another step.

Beside us, the ocean rolled, waves coming in and out in an endless rhythm that didn’t care if a boy bled in the sand or a man bargained with his life for someone else’s son.

The rogue blinked, processing.

I was getting closer. Not enough to strike. Not yet. But close enough to see that his hands were shaking worse than before.

“You should know,” I said, my voice dropping into something darker. “If you do hurt him…”

Another step. My boots sank into the sand with slow, deliberate weight.

“I will kill you.”

The words were steady.

Absolute.

Not a threat—a vow.

The rogue’s jaw clenched. His lips curled, like he was about to spit some bitter retort—something smug or desperate or cruel. But before the sound left his mouth—

“HEY!”

A voice ripped through the trees behind us. Rough. Loud. Male.

Another rogue.

Crashing out of the jungle with no plan, no cover—just noise and movement and bad timing.

The sound shattered the moment like glass underfoot.

The rogue holding Aiden flinched, head snapping toward the noise. His hand moved with him—just slightly, just enough.

And that was all it took.

Aiden twisted.

A hard, panicked jerk of his whole body, like instinct had taken over before his mind could catch up.

The rogue lost his grip.

The silver blade in his hand slashed sideways as he tried to hold on—just a reflex.

And it made contact.

Too much contact.

I saw the line open on Aiden’s neck and into his shoulder—bright red across pale skin.

I heard Elena scream—a high, primal sound that seemed to split the sky.

And then Aiden stumbled back a step—his legs gave out beneath him—and he dropped.

Just dropped.

Like someone had cut the strings that held him up.

He hit the sand with a dull thud, crumpling in on himself, one hand pressed instinctively to the wound already blooming through his shirt.

Time broke apart.

For a split second, the world went utterly silent.

No ocean.

No wind.

No voices.

Just the sight of that child—Elena’s child—bleeding into the sand.

And something inside me snapped.