The Scorned Luna-Chapter 39: Not Going Anywhere

Damien stood beside the bed, his chest rising and falling sharply as he watched the healer work on Sofia. The air in the room was heavy, thick with the metallic scent of blood mixed with the sharp sting of medicinal herbs.

"What is happening?" he demanded, his voice rough, trembling with impatience and fear he could no longer hide.

"Her heartbeat is slow, Alpha," the healer murmured, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. "The problem is her spirit. She is fighting the healing. It is as if she is holding the door shut from the inside. I have never seen a human with such a strong will to die."

Damien turned away, pacing the room like a caged animal, his hands dragging through his hair in frustration. A cold, oily layer of sweat covered his skin. He told himself he should be happy; this was the justice the pack demanded. An eye for an eye. If she died, the debt for Lola’s life was paid. But when his gaze drifted back to Sofia’s pale, motionless face, the thought of her heart stopping made his own chest tighten until it felt hard to breathe.

He had never meant for the guards to touch her. Never. He would have killed Kael with his bare hands before allowing that. He had only wanted to frighten her, to see her beg for his protection so he could feel like he had power over her again. He never dreamed she would choose to kill herself instead.

"Any success?" he barked.

The healer shook her head. Damien let out a guttural grunt and kicked a side stool, sending it splintering against the wall. "Should I get another healer? A better one?"

"Apologies, Alpha, but no healer can fix a heart that has decided to stop beating," she responded. "She wishes for death, and that wish is stronger than my medicine."

"Then do something!" he roared. "There must be a way!"

The heavy oak door creaked open, and his father stepped inside. The old man’s eyes flicked to the blood staining the floor, then to Damien, disappointment etched deep into his face, before settling on Sofia’s still form.

"Is there any improvement?" his father asked.

"She is blocking me from healing her," the healer complained. "I cannot reach her."

"Why don’t you connect with her through the mind-link?" his father suggested. "Command her soul to return."

The healer sighed. "She hasn’t gotten her wolf yet, sir. There is no bridge. I cannot telepath with a silent mind."

Damien watched her chest barely moving, a jagged hole where his heart used to be. The healer’s words about her "wolfless" status rang in his ears, but he didn’t care. He was an Alpha. His blood was ancient, and his voice carried the weight of a thousand ancestors. If he couldn’t heal her with medicine, he would pull her back with his power.

​He stepped closer to the bed, His eyes flared a blinding, molten gold, the pupils slitting like a predator’s.

​"Sofia," he growled, the Alpha command vibrating through the floorboards, making the glass vials on the healer’s tray rattle. "As your alpha I command you to wake."

​He reached out, his hand hovering over her forehead. He poured every ounce of his Alpha energy into the room, a heavy, suffocating pressure that made the healer gasp and drop to one knee. He was reaching for the spark of her soul, trying to catch it before it drifted into the abyss.

​"Open your eyes!" he roared, his voice echoing with the power of the pack. "You do not have my permission to die!"

​He waited. He expected the gasp, the sudden jolt of her body as his command forced her heart to restart. But there was nothing. The silence that followed was deafening. Sofia didn’t flinch. Her heart didn’t speed up. She lay there, cold and indifferent to his power.

​The Alpha command, which could bring a thousand warriors to their knees, couldn’t reach a girl who simply didn’t want to live anymore.

​Damien’s knees hit the floor. The golden glow in his eyes died out, replaced by a dull, aching grey.

Silence hung heavy in the room. The only sound was the shallow, rattling breath of the girl on the bed.

"Damien," his father called out quietly. "She is dying. This is the justice you wanted, is it not? The traitor is leaving us."

"No... I don’t want her dead," Damien snapped, his voice trembling. "She cannot die. I won’t let her."

His father and the healer exchanged confused looks. Damien noticed—and didn’t care.The uneasiness in his chest was turning into a full-blown panic he couldn’t explain. He let out a frustrated yell and stormed out of the room, heading for the garden.

He collapsed onto the grass, his back hitting the ground as he stared up at the darkening sky. He tried to breathe. He tried to focus on the scent of the garden—the flowers, the damp soil, the night air—but it was useless. All he could smell was blood. Her blood. It clung to his senses, thick and suffocating, refusing to let him forget . He pictured her waking up, looking him in the eye, and telling him she preferred the grave to his palace. He wanted to strangle those words out of her. He wanted her alive, even if it was just so he could hate her.

"Why am I so worried?" he hissed, clutching at the grass.

He couldn’t stay away. He scrambled to his feet and hurried back to the room. When he reached the room, his heart sank seeing how lifeless and paler she had become. It was obvious her condition was getting worse.

With shaking hands, he reached out and took her hand. It was shockingly cold.

"Sofia!" he called, his voice losing its roughness and turning into a plea.

"She is slipping away, Alpha," the healer whispered, stepping back as if she were already preparing for the worst. "We are losing her... I’m sorry."

"Sofia, listen to me!" Damien yelled, leaning over her. "You have no right to die! I own you! You are my property, my subject... my slave!"

His grip tightened around her hand. His palms were slick with sweat, his whole body trembling.

"I know you can hear me! Come back or else..." He trailed off. He had no threats left. He had taken everything from her already.

He looked at his father’s grim face, then back at the lifeless girl. The pride that had fueled his rage for months finally shattered.

"Please," he whispered. Tears gathered in his eyes. "You can’t die. I don’t want you to die."

His voice was no longer that of an alpha giving a command; it was the sound of a man begging for his life. His heart sank, a heavy, hollow feeling devouring him.

Suddenly, Damien felt something in his hand. It was so small he almost thought he imagined it. He froze. His eyes dropped to Sofia’s hand resting in his palm. At first, nothing happened, and his heart sank. Then her finger twitched again—weak and shaky, as if it was fighting with everything it had just to move.

Damien’s breath caught in his throat. "No... I felt that," he whispered. He leaned closer, watching her hand, his heart pounding hard in his chest. Seconds passed, then her finger moved again, a little stronger this time.

"Healer!" he shouted, his eyes wide. "Her fingers! Look!"

The healer rushed forward and placed her hand on Sofia’s forehead and wrist. Her eyes widened. "Her spirit is coming back," she said in shock. "She is no longer fighting the healing."

Damien bent forward, resting his forehead on the bed as a shaky breath left his chest. He held Sofia’s hand tighter, afraid to let go. "You’re not going anywhere, Sofia. he whispered softly. "Not yet."