Chapter 11: Saving the Alpha

The world narrowed to the sound of Damon's ragged breathing and the copper scent of his blood soaking through her shirt. Elena dragged him across the warehouse floor, her arms burning, her legs screaming. He was dead weight—two hundred pounds of muscle and bone, and every step felt like moving a mountain. "Stay with me," she hissed, her voice cracking. "You don't get to die here. Not after everything." His eyes fluttered, unfocused, but his lips moved. She caught only a whisper: "Elena..." It was the first time he'd said her name without cold formality. The sound of it, broken and vulnerable, sent a jolt through her. She gritted her teeth and pulled harder. Behind them, the warehouse groaned. The fire she'd started in the foreman's office was spreading, licking at the walls, consuming the evidence she'd come for. She'd found the safe open—too easy, she'd thought at the time. Now she knew it was a trap. Her father had known she'd come. He'd set the ambush, and Damon had walked into it trying to save her. She'd been so focused on her revenge, so blinded by her need to destroy Marcus Vance, that she hadn't seen the obvious. Damon was the only one who'd ever put himself between her and danger. And now he might die for it. "No," she said aloud, as if the word could change reality. "No." She reached the emergency exit and kicked it open. Cold night air hit her face, sharp and clean. She dragged Damon through the door and into the alley, then lowered him to the ground as gently as she could. His chest was a mess of blood and torn fabric. The bullet had entered just below his collarbone, and the exit wound was worse—a ragged hole that pumped dark blood with every heartbeat. She pressed her hands against the wound, applying pressure the way she'd learned from years of patching herself up. But this was different. This was an alpha's life bleeding out through her fingers. "Kael!" she screamed into the darkness. "Kael, where are you?" No answer. The pack's backup should have been here by now. Either they'd been delayed, or they'd abandoned them. She didn't know which was worse. His fingers found her wrist. His grip was weak, barely a touch, but the meaning was clear. He was still there, still fighting. She tore off her jacket and bunched it against his wound, then used his tie to bind it in place. It was crude, temporary, but it might buy time. She checked his pulse—thready, but present. "You're going to be fine," she said, more to herself than to him. "You're an alpha. You don't die from a single bullet." His lips curved into the ghost of a smile. "Says the woman who tried to kill me last week." "I didn't try to kill you. I just... didn't save you." "Same thing." She almost laughed. Almost. But the sound of approaching footsteps killed the moment. She looked up, ready to fight, and saw Kael running toward them, his face pale, his eyes wild. "Alpha!" He dropped to his knees beside Damon, his hands immediately checking the wound. "What happened?" "Ambush," Elena said. "My father's men. They knew we were coming." Kael's gaze snapped to her, cold and accusing. "You led us into a trap." "I didn't know." "You're a Vance. You knew exactly what you were doing." She felt the accusation like a physical blow, but she didn't have time to argue. "He needs a hospital. Now." Kael pulled out his phone and barked orders. Within minutes, a black SUV screeched into the alley. Two wolves—pack members she didn't recognize—lifted Damon onto a stretcher and loaded him into the vehicle. Kael climbed in after him, then turned to face her, his expression hard. "You're coming with us. Under guard." "I'm not a prisoner." "You are until I decide otherwise." She had no choice. She got into the vehicle, wedged between two silent wolves who watched her every move. The drive to the pack's medical facility was a blur of streetlights and sirens. Damon lay unconscious on the stretcher, his face slack, his breathing shallow. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, counting each breath, willing him to keep going. At the facility, a team of medics rushed Damon into surgery. Elena was left in a sterile waiting room, still wearing his blood on her clothes, her hands stained red. She sat in a plastic chair, her mind replaying the moment he'd stepped in front of her, taking the bullet meant for her heart. He'd saved her. Why? She was his enemy. She was the one who'd betrayed his pack, who'd come to destroy everything he'd built. And yet he'd protected her. The thought twisted in her chest, sharp and painful. She didn't deserve his protection. She didn't deserve his trust. Hours passed. Kael didn't speak to her, but he stayed in the room, his eyes never leaving her. Other pack members came and went, whispering, casting dark looks in her direction. She heard fragments of their conversations: "...should have known..." "...Vance blood..." "...can't trust her..." She ignored them. All that mattered was Damon. Finally, a surgeon emerged, his scrubs stained. "He's stable. The bullet missed his heart by an inch. He'll recover, but he needs rest." Elena's knees went weak with relief. She leaned against the wall, her breath coming in shuddering gasps. Kael stepped in front of her. "You're not done yet. I'm placing you under house arrest until the alpha wakes and decides your fate." "I understand." "You'll be locked in your room. No communication with the outside world." She nodded. She didn't have the energy to fight. Two guards escorted her back to the penthouse. They led her to her room—the same room she'd been given when she first arrived—and locked the door behind her. The click of the deadbolt echoed in the silence. She stood in the middle of the room, alone, still covered in Damon's blood. The weight of everything crashed down on her. She'd failed. Her plan to get evidence against her father had collapsed. Damon was nearly dead. And now she was a prisoner again. But as she looked around the room, her gaze caught on something strange. The bookshelf against the far wall was slightly askew. She walked over and ran her fingers along the edge. It gave way, swinging open to reveal a dark passage. Her heart raced. A secret passage. In Damon's penthouse. What else was he hiding? She stepped into the darkness, the door swinging shut behind her.