Betrayed by an alpha claimed by a lycan king

5:44 Fri, Dec Chapter 114

SAGE

1 sat in the dimly lit room where lolt rested, his chest rising and falling steadily as he lay unconscious. The healers had done their job, patching up his wounds and ensuring he was out of danger. The medicine they'd given him had knocked him out cold, but at least I could breathe a little casier knowing he'd be okay.

Despite everything that had happened, I couldn't shake the worry gnawing at me about Titus. He was an alpha, which meant he'd heal faster than most, but that didn't make him invincible. I seen his injuries after the fight-deep, brutal, and far worse than he let on. Even for someone like him, they would take time to recover.

I wanted to check on him, to make sure he wasn't pushing himself too hard, but the memory of our last argument stopped me. Would he even let me in?

Elara sat nearby, her presence comforting, but what caught me off guard was seeing Scott there too.All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my brows furrowing in confusion. "Shouldn't you be with Titus?"

Scott shook his head, his expression grim. "He's not letting anyone treat him."

"What?" I exclaimed, disbelief and frustration bubbling up. "Is he out of his mind? I saw those wounds. He *needs* treatment!"

"We've tried, Sage," Scott replied, his voice heavy with defeat. "But he refuses to let anyone into his room."

"Stubborn bastard," I muttered under my breath, my eyes catching on a jar of ointment sitting on the nearby table. It was the same one the healers had used for Holt. Without hesitation, I grabbed it and stood.

"Sage, where are you going?" Elara called after me as I marched toward the door. "Didn't you hear Scott? He's not seeing anyone!"

I didn't answer. My mind was set.

Walking briskly down the hallway leading to Titus' room, I was just a few steps away when Anna stormed past me, her footsteps heavy with frustration. Even she hadn't been allowed in.

"See? I told you he's not seeing anyone. Elara said, following behind me, her voice laced with concern.

I stopped outside his door, my resolve wavering for a moment. Maybe I should just leave him alone, let him have the solitude he clearly wanted. But then I remembered the blood seeping through his shirt after the fight, the way his breathing had sounded strained. I couldn't just leave him like that. "Sage-" Elara tried to reason with me, but seeing the determination on my face, she threw her hands up in exasperation. "Fine, do whatever you want. You're impossible."

She was about to follow me when a frantic woman approached her. "You're a healer, right? We need your help immediately!" Before Elara could protest, the woman grabbed her arm and whisked her away, leaving me alone in front of Titus' door.

I took a deep breath, gathering every ounce of courage I had. Standing outside his room, I hesitated, my hand raised to knock. Before my knuckles even touched the wood, his deep, baritone voice rumbled from the other side.

"Go away! I said I wanted to be alone!" He growled, his tone sharp and raw.

I flinched, my heart pounding as panic crept in. His voice was strained, almost feral, like a wounded wolf guarding its den.

"I-I brought some ointment for your wounds," I stammered, trying to steady my voice. "I'll just leave it outside the door."

I was crouching down to place the jar on the floor when the door suddenly swung open. My breath hitched as I came face-to-face with him. His dark, piercing eyes locked onto mine, the usual fire dimmed by exhaustion. Sweat dripped from his brow, and his chest heaved with labored breaths. He looked like he was barely holding himself together, his strength more of an illusion than reality.

And then, as if on cue, his body swayed, leaning toward me as he began to collapse.

I moved quickly, catching him before he could hit the floor. His weight was heavy, his body radiating heat. "Let me help you," I said softly, slipping his arm over my shoulder to steady him.

As I guided him toward the bed, he muttered through gritted teeth, "Close the door."

I kicked it shut behind me, focusing on getting him to lie down. Easing him onto the bed, I shook my head in exasperation.

"Shh! You're lying here half-dead, refusing help like a stubborn fool," I muttered, setting the ointment down on the bedside table.

He let out a low, pained groan in response, his eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion finally overtook him.

I knelt beside the bed, my heart twisting at the sight of him. Even in this state, Titus refused to show weakness. His face was pale, his breathing shallow, and every inch of him looked like it was screaming in pain.

I reached for the ointment, my hands trembling slightly. "You can call it off now," I murmured, more to myself than to him. "You don't have to pretend you're strong. Quit being stubborn."

Titus let out a weak, humorless chuckle, his eyes barely opening "Says the woman who doesn't know when to stay away.

I froze for a second, then glared at him, my worry briefly replaced by irritation. "You're unbelievable. You're lying here, one step away from passing out, and you still have the energy to pick a fight with me?"

He smirked faintly, though it quickly faded as pain rippled through him. "I didn't ask you to come," he muttered.

I ignored his words, unscrewing the lid of the ointment. "Well, someone has to take care of you, since you're too stubborn to let anyone else do it."

When I dipped my fingers into the cool salve, he stiffened, his body tensing.

"Relax," I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you."

He didn't respond, but he didn't stop me either. Gently, I dabbed the ointment onto the gashes on his arm, trying to ignore how his skin burned under my touch. His sharp intake of breath made me pause. "Did it hurt?" I asked softly, glancing up at his face.

His jaw tightened, his eyes still shut. "It's nothing. Keep going."

I let out a quiet sigh, the sound barely cutting through the heavy silence in the room. The unspoken tension between us felt like a weight pressing on my chest as I carefully cleaned the wounds on his battered body. His faint groans of pain added to the unease, but I pushed on, determined to help him even if he was being his usual stubborn self.

As I moved closer to his side to tend to a deeper wound near his ribs, his voice broke the silence like a sharp blade.

"Shouldn't you be with your little boyfriend and not here?" he muttered, his voice low and rough, laced with the bitterness I'd unfortunately grown used to.

His words made me pause, my hands freezing mid-motion. I looked up at him, startled, and caught his intense gaze. His dark eyes held a mix of pain and anger, emotions he was trying hard to hide but couldn't fully mask.

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For a moment, I didn't know how to respond. Then, as his words sank in, frustration bubbled up inside me. "Really?" I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes as I turned back to the wound.

I pressed the cloth against his side, maybe with a bit more pressure than necessary, and he hissed in pain. "He's fine," I said. keeping my voice steady. "Unlike you, he actually let people help him. He's surrounded by healers who know what they're doing." Titus's jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a hard line. He didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes was enough to keep the tension thick between us.

"You're the one who shut yourself away and refused help," I continued, my tone sharper now. "So don't start throwing shade at me when you're the one being unreasonable."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "What are you doing here? I didn't ask you here."

I sighed again, this time more softly, and shook my head. "Seriously, Titus?" I said, my voice gentler now, "You can barely sit up on your own, and yet you're here arguing with me."

"I didn't ask for help," he replied, his tone cold and clipped, like the snap of a frostbitten branch.

"No, you didn't," I shot back, meeting his glare with one of my own. "But here we are anyway. Now, will you let me do what I came here to do?"

He let out a sharp breath, his chest rising and falling heavily before he turned his head away. His silence was all the permission I needed. Without another word, I resumed tending to his wounds, applying the ointment as gently as I could despite the tension radiating from him.

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The weight of everything left unsaid hung thick in the air, suffocating and oppressive. I focused on my task, my hands moving with practiced precision, but my mind was a storm of thoughts. Minutes stretched on, each one feeling longer than the last. Finally, the silence became too much for me to bear. "Thank you," I said softly, the words breaking the stillness like a small ripple in a vast ocean.

Titus turned his head toward me, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he frowned. "For what?"

I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I should continue, but the words came anyway. "I may not understand sparing Holt's life," I said, my voice steady but quiet. "But I want to thank you for not killing him."

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His reaction was immediate. His hand shot out, brushing mine away with a force that made the ointment jar wobble in my grip. He winced, a pained groan escaping his lips as the sudden movement aggravated his wounds.

"Titus!" I exclaimed, startled. My heart leaped in panic as I reached for his arm to steady him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He gritted his teeth, his face etched with pain, but his gaze burned with anger as he turned it on me. "Don't thank me," he growled, his voice low and venomous. "I didn't do it for you. And I don't need your pity."

I blinked, his words hitting me like a slap. "Pity?" I echoed, my voice rising despite myself. "You think this is pity? You saved someone I care about, and I'm grateful, Titus. That's all. But you... you're so hell-bent on being a martyr you can't even accept that!"

His breathing was labored, his chest heaving as he glared at me. For a moment, neither of us said a word, the room practically crackling with tension.

"Why does it matter to you so much?" he asked finally, his voice quieter but no less intense.

"Because despite everything, I care about you, too!" The words burst out of me before I could stop them, raw and unfiltered. "You act like you're some lone wolf who doesn't need anyone, but guess what, Titus? You do. And I'm here whether you like 15:44 Fri, Dec 6 G

it or not."

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His expression softened, just for a moment, but then his walls came back up, his jaw tightening as he looked away again. "You're wasting your time," he muttered.

"Maybe," I admitted, my voice softer now. "But it's my time to waste."

I picked up the ointment again and resumed treating his wounds, the tension still present but somehow less suffocating. His silence felt different now-not the sharp edge of rejection but the quiet weight of someone who didn't quite know how to respond.

For now, that was enough.

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