Page 90 of My Fated Mate

He reaches out a shaky paw, brushing away a tear from my cheek. "You won't," he assures me, his voice barely a whisper. "You'll save them all. And you'll save me… indirectly. Use your power, Elowen. Don't let me die knowing it could have saved our people."

His words pierce through my grief, sparking determination within me. He's right. My grief can't cloud my judgment. The battle may be over, but the wounds run deep. My pack, our allies—they need me.

"I… I love you," I choke out.

He smiles weakly, his eyes filled with a love that mirrors mine. "And I love you," he murmurs.

Taking a deep breath, I steel myself.

This isn't about me.

This is about protecting everything we hold dear. With a silent apology to Thorne, I close my eyes and focus.

The moonlight bathes me in its soft glow, and I channel it, amplifying its power. Then, I reach out, searching for the injured wolves scattered across the clearing.

I anchor my power to them, sending healing energy in waves that wash over their wounds.

The process is grueling. It drains every ounce of strength from me, my body screaming in protest. But I push on, fueled by a desperate need to save them all.

Groans and whimpers fill the air as wounds begin to close, bones mend, and strength returns.

I watch Thorne through blurry eyes, his form lying still beside me.

Is he watching me? Can he feel the drain on my energy? A silent prayer escapes my lips, a plea for him to hold on.

As the last wave of energy leaves me, relief washes over me in a crushing wave.

The clearing is silent. The only sound is my ragged gasps for breath. My eyelids grow heavy, the moonlight fading.

And then, darkness.

Goddess, help me.

Help Thorne.

Chapter 25

THORNE

EPILOGUE

THREE MONTHS LATER…

The late afternoon sun paints the meadow with a golden glow. I lean against the rough-hewn oak tree at the edge of our pack, the rhythmic click of my crutch blending with the chirping of birds and the distant laughter of pups playing.

Despite the ache in my leg, a phantom limb at times, a wide smile stretches across my face.

Elowen walks over to me, looking so beautiful it should be a crime. She sits beside me, her head resting on my shoulder. Her hair, now kissed with silver streaks, shimmers like spun moonlight.

Her hand cradles her belly, a gentle rise beneath the loose fabric of her dress. Our pup—a spark of hope and new beginnings.

I reach over and gently trace a circle on her swollen belly. A tiny kick responds, a jolt of pure joy that sends shivers down my spine. We haven't decided on a name yet, but it hardly matters. This pup, this miracle we created together, is a testament to our love and resilience.

The battle against the Dark Moon Pack feels like a lifetime ago. The scars, both physical and emotional, are constant reminders of the darkness we faced. But we emerged victorious, forging a fragile peace in the process.

The other packs, once rivals, now live alongside us, a tapestry woven from the threads of shared experience.

"Have you thought any more about names for her?" Elowen asks.

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