Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother

Chapter 107

Elara’s POV

The smell hit me before consciousness did.

Sweet. Wet. Rotting. The kind of smell that crawls inside your skull and nests there.

My face was pressed against something soft. Not pillow-soft. Soft the way things get when they’ve been decomposing for too long. Spongy. Yielding. Wrong.

I opened my eyes.

A face stared back at me. Inches away. Milky dead eyes bulging from swollen sockets. Skin mottled green and black, split along the jaw where gases had bloated the tissue past its limit. The mouth gaped open in a frozen scream, and inside it—things moved. White. Writhing. Crawling over teeth and tongue.

Maggots.

I lurched backward so hard my skull cracked against something solid. A rib. Not mine. Someone else’s—jutting from a chest cavity that had been torn open and left to the elements.

I scrambled. Clawed. My hands sank into wet flesh. My fingers closed around something cold and cylindrical—a bone, stripped mostly clean. I screamed, but what came out was barely a rasp. Just air scraping against a ruined throat.

Move. Move. Move.

I threw myself sideways, rolling off the pile of bodies. My hip struck the edge of the pit—packed earth, crumbling—and I hauled myself up and over, fingernails splitting against dirt and rock.

I made it about three feet before the vomiting started.

Nothing came up. My stomach was hollowed out, empty, but my body heaved anyway—violent, punishing contractions that bent me double on the forest floor. Bile burned up my throat. Tears streamed down my filthy face. I retched until my ribs ached, until every muscle in my abdomen screamed for mercy.

When it finally stopped, I lay on my side in the dirt, panting.

The pit was behind me. I didn’t look back. But I could hear it. The soft, wet sound of insects doing their work. The drone of flies—thousands of them, a living black cloud hovering over the grave.

Not a grave. A dump.

I’d seen enough in that single horrific moment to understand. Dozens of bodies. Men. Women. Teenagers. Thrown in like refuse. A massive, brutal slaughter that only the savage Rogues could have committed deep within their territory. If they were mobilizing on this scale, Kaelen and the Empire were facing a colossal threat. Limbs tangled together in grotesque arrangements. Some were fresh. Others had been there long enough that nature had already begun reclaiming them.

And I’d been buried among them. Discarded.

They thought I was dead.

My hands were shaking. My entire body was shaking. I pressed my palms flat against the ground and focused on breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

Moonlight.

I reached inward, the way I’d done a thousand times before. Reaching for that warm golden presence curled at the base of my consciousness. My wolf. My other half.

Nothing.

Not silence. Silence implies a space where sound could exist. This was absence. A void. A place that had been scraped clean and cauterized shut.

Moonlight was gone.

The memory hit me—the poisoned holy water forced down my throat, the green fire ripping through every nerve. The brutal hands of my captors, who had callously discarded me here, certain I was already a corpse.

My chest seized. Not from poison. From grief. Raw, animal grief that rose up my throat like a howl I couldn’t release.

No. Not now. You grieve later. You survive first.

I forced my eyes open. Forced myself to assess.

The forest was dense. Ancient trees with canopies so thick they choked out most of the daylight, leaving everything in a perpetual greenish twilight. No birdsong. No rustling. The silence was oppressive, unnatural—the kind of quiet that falls over a place where predators have already cleared everything worth hunting.

My body was a catalog of damage. My left ankle was grotesquely swollen—nearly twice its normal size, the skin stretched tight and bruised a deep, angry purple. Every slight movement sent lightning bolts of pain shooting up my calf. My wrists were raw and bleeding where the shackles had bitten in. Dried blood caked one side of my face from a wound I couldn’t see. And underneath all of it, beneath the surface injuries, the poison still hummed in my blood. A low, constant burn, like embers refusing to die.

Without Moonlight, I had no accelerated healing. No enhanced senses. No strength beyond what my battered human muscles could provide.

I was as fragile as glass.

Kaelen.

His name surfaced like a lifeline thrown into dark water. I seized it. Held on.

The mate bond—I reached for it. Where Moonlight’s thread had been a golden rope, the mate bond was different. Deeper. Woven into something more fundamental than wolf magic. It lived in my blood, my heartbeat, the marrow of my bones.

It was there. Barely. Like a faint whisper drowning in a roaring storm of static. Crackling. Fragmenting. The poison had buried it under layers of interference, but it hadn’t killed it.

Through the noise, I felt him. Distant. Faint. But alive, and radiating a frantic, tearing desperation. He thought I was dead, and he was searching for me with absolute madness.

A sob broke from my chest.

He’s alive. Kaelen is alive.

And if he was alive, then Valerius was safe. Kaelen would never let anything happen to our son. I had to believe that. I had to hold that truth like a flame cupped between trembling hands, or the darkness around me would swallow everything.

Get up.

I couldn’t walk. I tried. Pushed myself to standing, put weight on my left ankle, and the world went white. I crumpled immediately, catching myself on my hands, a scream locked behind my clenched teeth.

So I crawled.

Hands and knees. Over roots that tore at my palms. Through undergrowth that scratched my arms and face. Every forward motion was a negotiation with pain—a bargain struck between the part of me that wanted to stop and the part that could still see Valerius’s face.

His dark curls. His serious golden eyes. The way he pressed his small hand against my cheek when he could tell I’d been crying.

Mama’s coming home, baby. Mama’s coming home.

I crawled until my knees bled through the remnants of my clothes. Until the skin on my palms was shredded. Until every breath felt like inhaling crushed glass.

Thirst hit next. Savage. Consuming. My tongue was thick and dry, stuck to the roof of my mouth. I hadn’t had water since—I didn’t know. The cell. The interrogation. However long I’d been unconscious in that pit.

I found a patch of damp moss on a fallen log and pressed my mouth to it, sucking at the moisture. It tasted of dirt and decay but it was wet, and my body seized on it with desperate gratitude.

I kept going.

The forest stretched endlessly in every direction. No path. No landmarks. No way to orient myself. Without Moonlight’s senses, I couldn’t smell water or track game trails or hear distant movement. I was blind and deaf in a wilderness that had no interest in keeping me alive.

The sun moved overhead—what little of it I could see through the canopy. It had been high when I woke. Now it was sliding toward the horizon. Shadows deepened. The temperature dropped.

I fell. Again and again. My ankle caught on a root and I went down face-first into rocky soil, opening a gash above my eyebrow. Blood ran into my eye. I wiped it away with a hand that was barely recognizable—swollen, caked in dirt and dried blood.

Get up.

I got up.

I fell again crossing a shallow ravine. Slid down the embankment on my hip, rocks tearing through what was left of my clothing. Landed in the dry creek bed at the bottom with a force that knocked the air from my lungs.

For a long moment, I lay there. Staring up at the darkening sky through the skeletal branches above.

Maybe I should just stay here.

The thought was seductive. Gentle. My body was begging for it—every screaming nerve, every shattered joint, every poisoned cell crying out for rest.

Close your eyes. Let go. It won’t hurt anymore.

Then I felt it again. That faint, static-riddled pulse through the mate bond. Kaelen’s heartbeat, distant as a drum heard from underwater.

And behind it, threaded through every fiber of my being—Valerius. Not a bond. Something deeper. The primal, bone-deep memory of carrying him inside me. Growing him from nothing. Breathing for two.

If I died here, in this nameless ravine, my son would grow up motherless. He would wait for me. He would watch the door. And eventually, he would stop watching, and that would be the worst thing of all.

I crawled out of the ravine.

The sun was touching the treeline when I saw them.

Three figures. Moving through the trees ahead and to my right. Distant—maybe a hundred paces—but the fading light caught something on their shoulders. Armor. Insignia.

Imperial uniforms.

Border patrol.

I opened my mouth. Tried to shout. What came out was a fractured whisper that died before it traveled a body’s length.

They were walking away from me. Heading deeper into the trees. In moments they’d be gone.

No. No, no, no—

I dragged myself forward. Over a rock shelf that scraped my stomach raw. Through a tangle of briars that hooked into my skin. My ankle screamed. My vision blurred. Blood dripped from my hands, my knees, the cut above my eye.

I tried again. Drew breath from a place I didn’t know existed. Pushed every remaining fragment of strength into my throat.

The sound that came out was barely human. A raw, tearing shriek that ripped through the silent forest like something dying.

One of the figures stopped. Turned.

"There’s someone there," I heard one of them say.