The silence in Nate’s chamber felt heavy. The walls themselves were still holding onto what had just happened.
Nate stood where Alaric had stopped him.
His breathing had already evened out. His claws had retracted and his eyes were no longer gold.
There was no rage left in him now and that was the strange part.
The rage had burned fast, bright, and violent, then disappeared as quickly as she left. What remained instead was stillness.
He stared at the floor where Aire had stood and at the faint trace of blood that had dripped earlier before it was wiped away in haste.
The mory of it did not fade. It replayed too clearly. He rembered her back slamd against the wall.
The sound of it, and her gasp. He rembered how her hands trembled as she tried to pull him off.
He rembered her eyes. His jaw clenched at the confusion that appeared in them before the fear.
Nate exhaled slowly through his nose.
He should have felt satisfied and certain. Instead, all he could see was her face when she said, "So much for being my mate."
That line did not leave him. It hooked itself deep behind his ribs and refused to move.
Nate shut his eyes briefly. It should have ant nothing. She was not supposed to matter. She was not supposed to affect anything inside him beyond duty, caution, and control.
Yet his mind did not obey that logic.
It replayed her again.
Aire’s voice, cracked, furious, and betrayed when she said, "I’m not a fae spy." The mory tightened in his chest.
Nate opened his eyes again.
His jaw clenched slightly.
He had seen the mark. He knew that mark.
His wolf had surged forward like it had recognized sothing it had been searching for its entire existence.
Nate’s fingers curled slowly. His wolf did not doubt her, even now and even after what he had done.
His wolf still pushed against his chest. It wanted her back. He could feel how offended his wolf got after she was gone.
Nate’s breath slowed. That contradiction sat inside him like a fracture.
If she was dangerous, if she was part of a prophecy tied to the fae, then why did his wolf ache for her like that?
Why did the mory of her laugh earlier feel like sothing he had lost? Why did her panic feel wrong in his chest?
Why did the image of her fingers shaking against his wrist not feel like threat but like sothing he should have stopped?
Nate pressed his knuckles briefly against his jaw. He rembered how she slapped him. That was definitely not ordinary. It felt like strange powers but he refused to dwell on that.
Alaric stepped forward.
"You nearly killed her."
Nate did not react.
He took one step forward, then another and stopped a few feet away.
"You nearly killed her," Alaric repeated, slightly annoyed.
Nate t his gaze finally. "I didn’t."
Alaric’s eyes narrowed slightly. "You had your claws in her throat."
Nate said nothing.
Alaric’s jaw tightened. "You slamd her into a wall hard enough to draw blood." He said, well detailed like Nate wasn’t around when everything happened.
Still, he got nothing from Nate as a response.
"And you called her a fae spy." He reminded u her gritted teeth.
Alaric stepped closer now. "You nearly killed her over a dream,"
Nate’s gaze slightly flickered to him. "It wasn’t just a dream."
Alaric stared at him. His expression tightened. "And that makes it acceptable to attack her?"
"No." Nate replied imdiately, voice was flat.
Alaric watched him carefully now. "Explain it." He urged.
Nate exhaled slowly. His fingers brushed once against the edge of the vanity. "I saw it before," he said again. "In a dream, we got it in a phrophecy, and now I saw it again on her."
Alaric’s gaze sharpened.
Nate continued. "And when I saw it—" His voice paused slightly. "My wolf reacted."
Alaric’s expression changed faintly.
Nate saw it.
Alaric understood what that ant. A wolf reacting that violently was not casual recognition.
Alaric spoke more slowly now. "Recognized how?"
Nate did not answer imdiately. He did not like the answer. His wolf did not feel threatened like the moon goddess had said.
Rather, his wolf felt pulled. He simply attacked her out of caution and logic.
Nate’s voice dropped. "As ours." He said lowly, cursing u her his breath.
"You’re insane." Alaric cursed him.
Nate’s gaze lifted slightly. "I thought that would be her fae blood manipulating my wolf." He explained.
The words sounded stupid after he said them.
Alaric gaze hardened. His voice remained cold. "That woman has been accused of nothing but existing wrong since she stepped into this castle."
"And you," he continued, "decide she’s a fae spy because of a mark you saw in a dream?"
Nate’s jaw tightened. "It’s not just the mark."
Alaric’s eyes narrowed. "Then what is it?"
"The prophecy, Alaric," Nate snapped. "Damn it."
Alaric’s expression shifted imdiately. "You’re speaking nonsense."
"I’m not."
Alaric stared at him long and hard. He stepped closer again.
His voice dropped lower. "If she ends up detesting all three of us because of you, Nate, I’ll forget you’re blood of my blood."
Nate didn’t answer imdiately.
The words hung in the space between them, sharp enough to cut through what little restraint remained in the room.
Alaric’s jaw tightened as he held Nate’s gaze.
"You’re not thinking clearly," he added more quietly. "Whatever you think you saw, it does not justify what you did to her."
Nate’s fingers curled once at his side.
He knew that. Logically, he knew that but logic had not been what moved him in that mont.
His voice dropped slightly. "If I was wrong," he said slowly, "then she can stay away all she wants."
Alaric let out a short, humorless breath. "Try ."
Nate didn’t respond. He felt a strange emptiness at the thought of her not returning.
Alaric stepped back, shaking his head once.
"I’ll give you ti to figure out what you’ve done," he said coldly. "But if she chooses silence after this... don’t expect to stand between you and what follows."
He turned toward the door.
Nate finally spoke again. "What if she’s exactly what the prophecy warned us about?"
Alaric paused at the door. He looked back once. "That depends," he said quietly, and left the room before Nate would say another word.
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