Chapter 0320

Consciousness returns in slow waves.

The unfamiliar scent of detergent and pine cleaner assaults my senses. My eyes flutter open to an empty hotel room, the sterile white sheets tangled around my legs.

Memory crashes over me like a tidal wave.

My fingers fly to my throat, tracing the tender puncture wounds. The claiming mark.

"Aurora? Where are we?"

"Same as you—I was unconscious."

I push myself upright, scanning the room. Two duffel bags sit near the dresser—mine and Victor's. I scramble to his bag first, rifling through the contents to confirm it's his. My own bag appears untouched, cash still tucked in the side pocket.

The blackout curtains are drawn. I creep to the window, peeling back a corner. A bus terminal glows neon across the street.

That's when I realize I'm wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that smells like cedar and musk. Victor's scent clings to the fabric.

"Aurora...do you think Victor saved us? Is this his mark?"

The bedside phone rings, shattering the silence.

I stare at it for three full rings before snatching up the receiver.

"Isolde?" Victor's voice crackles through the line, laced with urgency. "I can feel your panic through the bond. I'm two blocks away—got us food. You must be starving."

"Victor! The mark—"

"Mine. I'll explain everything. But Isolde...I had no choice."

"I know." My fingers tighten around the phone. "Thank you. For getting me out."

"Always." The word carries the weight of a vow. "Don't open the door for anyone. Key's in my pocket."

The line goes dead.

I splash cold water on my face in the bathroom, gingerly cleaning the claiming bite. The wounds have already closed, leaving only angry red punctures.

The door clicks open.

"Isolde?"

I'm across the room before my brain catches up, crashing into Victor's chest. Two days of terror pour out in shuddering sobs. He lifts me effortlessly, settling on the edge of the bed with me in his lap. His hands stroke my back in slow circles.

"Breathe, little wolf. You're safe now."

When the storm passes, he thumbs away my tears, pressing kisses to each damp eyelid. The tissue box appears like magic.

"Better?"

I nod into his shoulder. The mate bond hums between us, stronger now with his mark in my skin.

Victor's lips quirk. "I can hear you thinking, you know." His palm settles over my growling stomach. "But first—food."

The takeout bags reveal Italian pasta, tacos, and barbecue ribs. Victor shrugs at my raised eyebrow. "Didn't know what you'd want."

"Perfect."

He watches me devour three tacos before speaking.

"I marked you during the fight. Challenged the others." His knuckles whiten around a water bottle. "Rik—Adrian—offered reinforcements, but I wanted you awake first. After everything..."

The unspoken question hangs between us.

I reach across the table, threading our fingers together. "Tell Adrian we're coming."

The corner of his mouth lifts. "Eat first, little wolf. Then we run."