Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother

Chapter 112

Kaelen’s POV

The waiting room smelled like death.

Not literal death. Pungent herbs. Lye soap. The faint copper ghost of blood that no amount of scrubbing could fully erase from stone walls. But to me, in that moment, it all smelled the same.

I sat in a chair that was too small for my frame. Elbows on my knees. Head bowed. Had it been three hours? Four? I was agonizing over the lost time in this damn medical wing waiting room. My hands were clasped together so tightly the knuckles had gone white hours ago and hadn’t recovered since.

Pace. Turn. Pace. Turn.

That was Alex. My inner wolf. Wearing a trench into the floor of my chest cavity like a caged animal who’d forgotten what open sky looked like. His claws scraped against the inside of my ribs with every pass. Not trying to get out. Just—unable to stop moving.

She’s in there. Our mate is in there and we can’t reach her.

I know.

We hurt her. We had our hand around her throat and we—

I know.

The memory played again. It had been playing on a loop since the carriage ride. My fingers. Her throat. The way her pulse had fluttered against my palm like something trapped and terrified. The bruises I’d left—fresh violet crescents pressed into skin that was already mottled with older, uglier marks from whoever had held her captive.

I’d been choking her.

She’d been whispering my name, and I’d been choking her.

The fact that I hadn’t recognized her immediately—that the Wolfsbane had stripped her scent so completely that my own mate had felt like a stranger in my hands—didn’t matter. None of the logic mattered. What mattered was the shape of my fingerprints on her skin. For the thousandth time, I told myself this was all my fault.

I pressed the heels of my palms into my eye sockets until I saw sparks.

"Your Majesty."

Boots. Careful, measured footsteps approaching from the corridor. I didn’t lift my head.

Cassian stopped beside me. I heard the faint clink of ceramic. Smelled dark roast and something vaguely herbal.

"Coffee," he said. "You haven’t eaten or drunk anything since we found her."

"I don’t want coffee."

A pause. Then he sat in the chair beside mine. Set both cups on the small table between us. The ceramic scraped against stone, and the sound went through my skull like a blade.

Everything was too loud in here. The drip of water from a pipe somewhere behind the wall. The distant shuffle of nurses’ shoes on flagstone. The muffled clatter of surgical instruments behind the closed door of the treatment room. My senses were cranked to their absolute maximum—every sound, every smell, every vibration amplified to a level that turned the sterile corridor into an assault.

I couldn’t turn it off. Alex wouldn’t let me. He needed to listen. Needed to track every heartbeat, every murmur from behind that door, because if he stopped listening, he would lose what little remained of his sanity.

"Brenna has Valerius," Cassian said quietly. "She’s keeping him occupied. Games. Stories. He’s asking for his mother, but she’s managing."

My jaw locked.

Valerius. Those dark gold eyes—my eyes—wide and frightened and searching every room he entered. Where’s Mommy? When is Mommy coming back?

"He doesn’t come here," I said.

"Kaelen—"

"He doesn’t come here, Cassian." I finally raised my head. Met his gaze. He looked like he’d aged a decade in a single night. Deep shadows carved beneath his eyes. Dried blood still flecked along the edge of his jaw from the earlier skirmish. But his expression was steady. Controlled. The face of a man holding himself together through sheer discipline.

"If he sees her like that—" My voice cracked. I stopped. Swallowed hard. Started again. "Her face. Her throat. The bruises that I—"

I couldn’t finish.

Cassian leaned forward. His voice dropped low enough that only wolf hearing could catch it.

"Kaelen. You couldn’t have known."

"I had my hand around her throat."

"She was unrecognizable. The Wolfsbane had erased her scent completely. You were operating on pure threat instinct in a hostile environment. You couldn’t have—"

"Don’t." The word came out harder than I intended. Almost a growl. Alex surged behind it, fur bristling. "Don’t rationalize it. I don’t want absolution. I want her to open her eyes."

Silence settled between us. Heavy. Suffocating.

I picked up the coffee. Not because I wanted it. Because my hands needed something to do besides remembering the way her pulse had stuttered under my grip.

The liquid was bitter and lukewarm. I drank it anyway.

Minutes crawled past. Each one felt like it had been stretched on a rack. I counted the water drips from the pipe. Lost count. Started again. Lost count again.

Alex, sit down.

I can’t.

You’re making it worse.

I CAN’T. A snarl ripped through my mind. Raw. Anguished. I can barely feel her across the bond, Kaelen. Moonlight is so faint. It’s too quiet. Something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong.

My hand tightened around the cup until a hairline crack formed in the ceramic.

The door to the treatment room opened.

I was on my feet before the hinges finished their arc. The coffee cup hit the floor. Shattered. I didn’t hear it.

Dr. Morgan stepped into the corridor.

She looked like she’d been through a war. Silver hair had come loose from its bun, falling in damp strands around her face. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. Deep lines of exhaustion carved from nose to mouth that I didn’t remember seeing before. Her surgical gown was streaked with rust-colored stains—some fresh and wet, some already drying to brown at the edges.

But she was standing. And she was looking at me.

Not with grief. Not with the carefully blank expression physicians wore when they were about to destroy your world.

She was smiling. Small. Exhausted. But real.

"Kaelen," she said.

I couldn’t speak. My throat had closed completely. Everything hinged on the next words out of her mouth—my entire existence compressed into the space between her exhale and whatever came after it.

"She’s critical," Morgan said. "But stable. The hemorrhaging is controlled. Her body is responding to the antitoxin, slowly. It’ll be a long recovery."

Air left my lungs. All of it. At once. My knees almost buckled. Cassian’s hand appeared at my elbow—steadying, discreet—and I let him, because pride meant nothing right now.

"And the baby?" The words scraped out of me like gravel.

Morgan’s tired smile widened by a fraction. "Strong heartbeat. Remarkably strong, actually. That child is a fighter."

A sound escaped me. Not quite a laugh. Not quite a sob. Something in between that had no name and no dignity. I pressed my fist against my mouth and turned away for a moment because the Emperor of the Nightfire Empire did not weep in medical wing’s corridors.

But Kaelen did. The man underneath the title. The man who had held his shattered mate in a frozen field and watched her lips form their son’s name with what she thought was her last breath.

I pulled myself together. Turned back to Morgan. She was watching me with the patience of someone who had delivered both miracles and death sentences in equal measure and understood the weight of both.

"There’s something else," I said. Not a question. I could see it in the way her shoulders were set. The way her smile had dimmed.

Morgan’s expression shifted. The warmth drained from it, replaced by something careful. Something clinical.

"Perhaps we should sit down."

"Tell me standing."

She studied me for a long moment. Then nodded.

"The Wolfsbane compound used on her was unlike anything in our medical records. It wasn’t designed merely to suppress her abilities temporarily. It was engineered—deliberately, precisely—to sever the neural pathways connecting Elara to her wolf spirit."

The corridor went very quiet.

"Sever," I repeated.

"Permanently." Morgan’s voice was gentle. The gentleness of a knife slipping between ribs. "The pathways are destroyed, Kaelen. Not damaged. Not dormant. Gone. Her connection to Moonlight, her healing ability, all of her supernatural capacities—they no longer exist."

No.

Alex’s voice. A whisper. Then a howl that filled every corner of my skull, as an icy, bottomless terror dragged me down into the abyss.

NO.

"She’s essentially human now," Morgan said softly. "Completely and irreversibly mortal."