Nicholas’s POV

Her scent was everywhere.

That was the worst part. I’d torn through half the east wing looking for — I didn’t even know what. A note. An explanation. Some sign that she’d at least had the decency to leave something behind. But there was nothing. Just her scent, still clinging to the sheets, the chair by the window, the edge of the bathroom doorframe where she’d stood every morning waiting for the mirror to clear.

Everywhere.

And nothing.

I’d already put my fist through the wall once. The plaster was still on the floor. I didn’t care.

I went through the room again. Methodically. Closet — half-empty, some of the clothes still hanging, which meant she’d left in a hurry or she’d left on purpose with as little as possible. I stood there staring at the dresses I’d had brought in for her and something hot crawled up the back of my throat.

She hadn’t taken them.

I yanked them off the rail. The hangers hit the floor. I stood there breathing hard, hands braced against the closet frame, and told myself to stop.

I didn’t stop.

---

Roman and Andrei found me in the study.

I was at the window. Arms crossed. Staring at nothing. The city below was doing its usual thing — moving, alive, completely indifferent. I hated it.

"Nicholas." Andrei’s voice.

"I heard you both come in," I said. "Don’t do the thing where you stand in the doorway."

They came in.

Andrei sat down. Roman didn’t. He stood slightly off to one side, arms folded, with that expression he had when he was holding something back and calculating the exact right moment to say it.

"We’ve got men on the transit routes," Roman said. "She crossed on foot, so she doesn’t have a vehicle. She’s somewhere in Clearwater, almost certainly. It’s the nearest human city with enough density to disappear into." He paused. "It’s a matter of time."

"How much time."

"Days. Maybe less."

I didn’t say anything.

Roman’s jaw shifted. "I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now."

"Then don’t say things that aren’t what I want to hear."

"Nicholas." His voice stayed measured. "I was wrong about her. I want to say that first. I was wrong, she fooled me completely, and I didn’t see it." A pause. "What I’m less sure about now is whether she ever — whether any of it was real. From the beginning. The fear. The trauma. All of it." He stopped. "She might have walked into this palace with a plan already in place."

Something in my chest went very still.

"Don’t," Andrei said from the couch. It was the first thing he’d said. Quiet and flat and directed entirely at Roman.

Silence.

I didn’t look at either of them. I kept my eyes on the window. The city. The overcast sky.

I turned away from the window.

"What else," I said.

Roman straightened slightly. "The elders have been informed that you’re awake. They’re requesting an audience. Three of them have been pushing for an emergency council since word got out that you were down — Volkov, Medvedev, the woman from the Brechin syndicate." His expression didn’t change. "They’ve been waiting for an excuse."

"They’re always waiting for an excuse."

"Yes, but now they have one." A pause. "Word got to the border packs. Probably through a leak — we’re working on identifying who. Two of them have already moved scouts into disputed territory. Nothing aggressive yet, but it’s a message." He looked at me directly. "You being incapacitated was an invitation. You need to be visible. Soon."

I already knew that.

I’d known it since the moment my legs had held me upright in that cell with Alexei. The world didn’t stop while you were bleeding. It adjusted. It found the gaps and pushed.

"Set the audience with the elders for the day after tomorrow," I said. "Give them enough time to gather but not enough time to coordinate anything useful." I moved away from the window. "The border packs — I want names. Every scout, every move, which direction, who gave the order." I looked at Roman. "Do it today."

He nodded once.

"And—" I paused.

I already knew I was going to say the next part. I just needed a second to hear it myself first.

"Before she left," I said. "Was there anything? Anything that should have been a sign?"

Roman and Andrei looked at each other.

Not the quick glance of two people with nothing to say. The other kind.

"Tell me," I said.

Roman spoke. "She had an episode in the medical wing. Several days before the end." He chose his words carefully. "Something happened — the doctor’s assessment was that it appeared to be a healing event. Spontaneous. Significant." He paused. "The working theory at the time was that she’d developed an ability — something rare, latent, possibly triggered by stress or the bond. Her wolf spirit was damaged, but not — not entirely gone. Apparently."

I stared at him.

"She healed you," Andrei said quietly. "That’s what doctor thinks. The blood transfer — it wasn’t just blood. Whatever she did, it accelerated your recovery. You should have been down for another week minimum." He looked at me with something careful in his face. "She chose to wake you up. She just didn’t stay for it."

The room was very quiet.

*She woke me up.*

I pressed two fingers against my jaw and stood there.

"So she had the ability to wake him," Roman said, slowly, like he was working through it himself. "She used it. And then she ran." He shook his head. "I don’t know if that’s mercy or — I don’t know what that is."

"I don’t either," Andrei said.

Neither did I.

"When she’s brought back," Roman said. His voice had shifted into the tone he used for operational matters — clean, precise, no emotion attached. "How do you want it handled? Her involvement in the poisoning — that’s conspiracy against an alpha king. Technically—" He stopped. Then said it anyway. "Alexei was executed for less."

The word landed in the room.

Andrei went still.

I looked at Roman.

"No," I said.

One word. Flat as a wall.

Roman didn’t flinch. "Nicholas. If we don’t apply the same—"

"She’s carrying my child." I said it the same way I said everything when I’d already decided. No heat. No room. Just the fact, delivered like a door closing. "She’s not to be touched. She’s not to be harmed. She is to be found and brought back." I held Roman’s gaze until he looked away. "And when she’s standing in front of me — when I can actually look her in the face and ask her why —"

I stopped.

The mate bond pulled outward. Thinning. Distant.

Still there.

Still connected.

*Still her.*

"Bring her back," I said. "Bring her back, and I’ll let her know exactly what she’ll face."