CHAPTER 199: _ TEAM UP TO PROTECT HER

"What if they don’t accept her?" Kairos asks again.

Darien exhales through his nose and lets his body drop back onto the bed, arms spread, eyes fixed on the carved ceiling beams. The ceiling’s pattern is familiar, he used to count the little diamond inlays as a kid whenever he couldn’t sleep, pretending they were stars in some impossible sky. Right now, he’d rather be anywhere but here.

"I’m not worried about that," he mutters finally.

Kairos snorts. "You’re lying. You always worry."

Darien rolls onto his side, the bedsheets rustling like dry leaves. His wolf’s right—he is worried. He’s been worried since the moment Halric spoke those cursed words about the prophecy, since the moment he realized Heidi might be the one at its center. But right now, his fear isn’t about acceptance or rejection. It’s about survival.

He throws his hands listlessly in the air. "I’m trying to find a way to protect her. From the pack. From all of them. But I can’t find one."

The admission sits heavily in the air. He stares at the faint shimmer of moonlight bleeding in through his window, tracing the silver line it paints across the floorboards.

"I can’t take on the entire pack and win," he continues, his voice breaking just slightly on the last word. "You know that, Kairos. Even if I wanted to—especially if I wanted to... It’s suicide. And if anyone finds out she’s my mate before I have a plan... it’ll be my own mother who kills her first. She’d do it in the name of mercy, probably. Say she was saving me from ruin."

Kairos growls softly, a sound that vibrates in Darien’s chest like thunder trapped under skin. "Then tell her the truth. Tell Heidi everything. Let her fight with you. She’s not weak."

Tell Heidi the truth? Is Kairos serious right now? Darien can’t help but be appalled by his wolf’s thinking.

He scoffs and sits up, dragging a hand through his hair. "Getting her involved will only hurt her more. You’ve seen what happens when anyone gets tangled in pack politics. They bleed. I’m not letting that happen to her."

"So your solution is what... ignore her?" Kairos snaps. "Let her think her mate forgot her? That he doesn’t care?"

Darien’s jaw tightens. "She’s not my only mate."

The silence that follows is deafening.

Kairos’ voice comes quieter. "You’re really going to use that as an excuse? You know you love her, man."

"It’s not an excuse," Darien grinds out. "It’s the truth. She’s marked by Morgan and Grayson. Her bond with them is stronger anyway."

Kairos huffs. "You know that’s not how it works, Darien. You felt it. The way her pulse synced with yours. The way your wolf... I, clawed for her like you’d die without her. And you’re still pretending it’s just... what? A mild interest?"

Darien stands abruptly, pacing toward the window. His reflection stares back at him in the dark glass: tall, tense, eyes ringed with exhaustion. He looks like a man fraying at the edges.

"I’m not pretending anything," he says tightly. "I care about her, alright? But love? It’s too early to start throwing that word around."

Kairos chuckles amusedly. "The madman always insists he’s sane."

Darien glares at the window. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means you’re already gone," Kairos replies simply. "You just haven’t caught up to yourself yet."

He lets out a breath, shaky and frustrated, and leans his forehead against the cool glass. Outside, the moon floats over the estate like a pale coin, distant and watchful. Somewhere far beyond the gates, the woods stretch endlessly toward the noble estates of the pack.

Toward her.

"Don’t do this," Kairos murmurs. "Don’t shut her out. It’s not protection if it breaks her."

Darien closes his eyes. "You think I don’t know that?"

But I don’t have a choice... he finishes in his mind.

For a moment, neither of them speaks. The room hums with thick and pressing silence. His heart feels like it’s caught between his ribs and the world outside; between duty and the pull of something wild and dangerous.

Then, slowly, the idea comes. It’s reckless. Maybe even stupid. But it feels right in a way that few things ever do.

His eyes open. "There’s only one way to protect her."

Kairos perks up, wary. "You’re about to say something either brilliant or incredibly stupid, aren’t you?"

Darien turns from the window, pacing again, the energy in him sparking like lightning under his skin. "The pack’s power—our family’s influence... It’s divided. Always has been. Tobias has his allies, my mother has hers, and the rest of us; Morgan, Grayson, Amias, me—we’ve spent years clawing at each other instead of realizing what that makes us."

"Idiots?"

Darien ignores him. "It makes us weak. But if we were united—if all of us stood behind her, there’s no council, no elder, no pack warrior alive who could touch her. Not even Father."

Kairos is quiet for a beat, then lets out a low whistle. "You’re actually suggesting you team up with your brothers."

"Yeah."

A laugh bursts out of Kairos, rough and incredulous. "You. The same Darien who once punched Morgan through a door because he looked at your steak too long?"

Darien’s mouth twitches despite himself. "That was one time."

"And Grayson? The one you nearly threw off a cliff during combat training?"

"He shouldn’t have called me predictable."

Kairos is howling now, the sound echoing inside Darien’s chest like shared laughter between two madmen. "Oh, this is rich. You, the great lone wolf, now preaching family unity."

"Don’t make it sound like a fairy tale," Darien mutters, rubbing his temples. "I’m not suddenly holding hands and singing songs with them. I’m saying this is a strategy. We have the same blood, the same instincts. Together, we’re the one force the pack can’t break through."

Kairos sobers, though his tone still carries a trace of amusement. "And what exactly are you planning to do with this united front?"

"Protect her," Darien says simply. "Whatever it takes."

Kairos sighs thoughtfully. "You realize this means swallowing your pride, right? The same pride you’ve been polishing since birth?"

Darien gives a humorless laugh. "I’ll survive."

"You say that, but I’m half-expecting smoke to start pouring out of your ears the moment you try to talk to them."

"Then I’ll light a match and make it a bonfire."

Kairos chuckles again, quieter this time. "You surprise me, Darien. You really do. I never thought I’d see the day you’d willingly work with those two idiots and Amias over a girl."

Darien glances toward the mirror, catches his reflection again to see the faint smirk ghosting over his mouth. "Don’t make it sound sentimental. I’m not doing this because I’m in love."

Kairos snorts. "Right. And I’m a vegetarian."

Darien rolls his eyes, heading for the bathroom. "You’re insufferable."

"You’re in denial."

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he peels off his jacket, tosses it onto the chair, and steps into the bathroom. The light flickers on, casting a golden glow over the marble and steam-streaked mirror.

When he turns on the shower, the water comes in a hiss and rush, hot enough to sting. He stands there for a long moment before stepping under it, letting the heat beat against his skin, washing away the exhaustion, the dirt, and maybe a few pieces of guilt that won’t come off so easily.

He tilts his head back, eyes closed, water running down the planes of his face and chest. For a moment, the only sound is the steady rhythm of the water hitting tile. His thoughts drift... against his will—back to her.

Heidi.

The memory comes unbidden, vivid as flame: her body pressed against his, the tremble of her breath, the way her hands had clutched his shirt like she was holding onto gravity itself. Her scent... that jasmine and wild honey scent fills his head so completely that he almost forgets where he is.

He lets out a soft, strangled laugh, the kind that isn’t quite laughter at all. "You really are losing it," he mutters to himself.

Kairos chirps lazily in the back of his mind. "Not losing it. Just falling in it."

Darien groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You’ve been hanging around my mother too long. You’re starting to sound like her."

"Your mother doesn’t talk about love," Kairos says dryly. "She talks about strategy. I’m the romantic one here."

"Tragic," Darien mutters, reaching for the soap.

But the truth is, he does care. More than he should. The thought of her alone, possibly in danger, makes something deep in his chest ache. He can’t even name it without feeling foolish, but it’s there, a tightness that doesn’t go away.

A tightness that leaves a huge chunk of his heart feeling hollow. A longing. A thirst. An anger. A potent, stubborn tug at the center of his beating heart, wanting to give the one woman he’s supposed to stay away from—the best.