Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother

Chapter 45

Elara’s POV

The silence pressed against my eardrums like deep water.

Cassian pushed himself up on one elbow. Slow. Careful. He looked down at his thigh—the thigh that moments ago had been a ruin of severed muscle and nicked artery and spreading blood.

There was nothing.

Smooth skin. Unmarked. As though the wound had never existed.

His fingers traced the spot where the gash had been. Pressing. Testing. His face cycled through confusion, disbelief, and something close to awe.

“What—” He swallowed hard. Looked at Riley. Looked at me. “What happened to my leg?”

Riley couldn’t speak. She had one hand clamped over her mouth, the other still gripping the blood-soaked field bandage that was no longer needed. Tears kept falling, but her eyes were wide. Not with grief anymore. With absolute shock.

Everyone was staring at me.

I could feel it—the weight of all those gazes like physical pressure against my skin. Knights, physicians, the wounded men on their cots who had turned their heads despite their pain.

All looking at the woman with the hollow, trembling hands.

“Elara.” Cassian’s voice was rough. Quiet. “Did you do this?”

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

Moonlight?

My wolf stirred. She was coiled tight inside my chest, radiating warmth but also something I’d never felt from her before. Caution. Protectiveness.

I don’t know, Ela. Her voice was a low hum against my thoughts. That light—it came from you. From us. But I’ve never felt anything like it.

What was it?

A long pause. I don’t know.

That was the most frightening answer she could have given.

“I don’t know,” I said aloud, admitting it to Cassian and the room. My voice came out thin. Unsteady. “I don’t know where this white light came from. I just—my hand started glowing, and I—”

I looked down at my right palm. It looked ordinary now. No light. No warmth. Just skin, slightly pink, faintly trembling.

Riley finally lowered her hand from her mouth. She stepped closer. Reached out with careful fingers and touched Cassian’s leg, her touch filled with marvel.

“This isn’t possible,” she whispered. Her voice had the fragile quality of someone whose entire understanding of the world had just cracked down the middle. “For a werewolf—instant regeneration of a severe wound like this is impossible. It should take extensive healing draughts at minimum. A long period of recovery.” She set his leg down. Stared at me. “You did this in moments. With your hands.”

I had no answer. I had nothing except exhaustion and a growing hollow ache behind my sternum that made it hard to draw a full breath.

Then I heard it.

From across the room. A wet, gurgling cough.

My head turned before I’d made the decision to look, driven by an irresistible urge.

Ben Thompson.

He lay on a cot near the far wall. A knight fighting a massive chest wound. His hair was darkened with sweat. His chest was wrapped in Riley’s field bandages, but the white fabric was already soaked through, fresh crimson blood steadily seeping out. Each breath he took produced a terrible, bubbling sound.

His eyes were open. Fixed on the ceiling. The look on his face wasn’t pain anymore. It was resignation.

The urge pulled at me again.

Not a thought. Not a decision. A pull. Deep in my chest, like a hook behind my ribs drawing me forward.

I took a step toward him.

Ela. Moonlight’s voice sharpened with warning. Wait.

I took another step.

Ela, listen to me. Whatever you just did—it nearly emptied us. I can feel it. You are pushing your limits. If you push further—

He’s dying, Moonlight.

I reached Ben’s cot.

Up close, the damage was worse than I’d thought. Blood seeped steadily from beneath the wrappings, dripping off the edge of the cot onto the stone floor.

His eyes found me.

“You’re...” A whisper. Barely formed. “You’re the one who... who healed Sir Cassian?”

I knelt beside him. “Yes.”

Hope. It broke across his face like sunrise through storm clouds. Raw, desperate, and filled with deep gratitude.

“Can you...” He couldn’t finish. But his eyes finished for him.

I placed my hands against his chest.

Ela, don’t! Moonlight’s voice was urgent now. You are breaking past our unknown limits!

The severe injury required so much more energy. The warmth came slower this time. Reluctant. I had to reach deeper—past the exhaustion, past the hollow ache, down into some well of energy I hadn’t known existed until tonight.

The white light bloomed again beneath my palms. Dimmer than before. Flickering.

I poured the light into Ben’s body.

The connection snapped into place. The torn flesh began to stitch itself together beneath my palms. The terrible bubbling stopped. Ben gasped—a clean, sharp intake of air. Muscle rebuilt itself in layers.

But the light was guttering. Dimming fast because of the massive toll.

My hands began to shake. Not a tremble. A violent tremor that ran up my arms and into my shoulders. The room swayed around me.

Behind me, I heard the crowd whispering.

“—her bloodline—”

“—never seen anything like it—”

Then footsteps. Heavy. Fast. The double doors crashed open.

Kaelen rushed in, his face a portrait of absolute panic. I felt his presence slam into the room like a physical force, all raw authority and barely contained terror.

His hands closed over my shoulders. Large. Warm. Gripping hard.

“Stop.” His voice was ragged, a frantic warning. “Elara, stop! This toll is taking your life!”

“Almost... done...” I slurred. My tongue felt thick. The light was barely a glow now.

With a final, desperate push, the last wound closed completely. The flesh knit together beneath my palms, smooth and whole.

Ben Thompson stared up at me. His color had returned. His breathing was even. Deep. Clean.

“Thank you,” he breathed.

I tried to smile.

My vision narrowed. The darkness came in from the edges like ink spreading through water. Fast and absolute.

“Moon Blessed,” someone whispered in the gathering dark. “She is one of the Moon Blessed.”

Then there was only my fading breath, and Kaelen’s strong arms catching me as I fell.