Anya lay curled on the floor of the private suite, rocking slightly, the residual terror and guilt from lying to Maya a visceral, agonizing knot in her chest. She had betrayed the only family she had left to save her own life.
The Mate Bond screamed in response. The sharp, overwhelming spike of her emotional distress flowed directly into Kaelan, manifesting as a sudden, crippling headache and a paralyzing spasm in his newly stabilized hand.
Kaelan staggered into the suite, clutching his temple. He had won the political battle, but his Mate's emotional trauma was undoing his physical gains. He looked down at Anya, his expression a tight mask of frustrated dependency.
"Stop it, Mate," he ordered, his voice strained. "Control your emotions. You are compromising my stability."
"I can't!" Anya cried, tears finally stinging her eyes. "I lied to my sister! I have no one left but the monster who claimed me!"
Kaelan sank to his knees beside her, abandoning his imposing Alpha posture. He understood the concept intellectually: the bond made his Mate's health paramount. Her despair was now his physical burden.
He reached out, bypassing the usual dominance of the Scenting ritual. He simply pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his blood-soaked tactical shirt. It was a raw, exhausted gesture of mutual necessity.
"The bond doesn't care about your hate, Anya," he murmured into her hair, his own emotions muted to broadcast only a dense, powerful calm. "It cares about survival. I am protecting you, and you are stabilizing me. We are each other's shield."
The sheer weight of his presence—the heavy pine scent, the warmth of his strong body—worked its terrifying magic. The agonizing pressure in Anya's chest eased. She allowed herself a single, desperate sob against his shoulder before pulling away, horrified by her dependence.