The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King

Chapter 75: Chapter 75 Damian’s Rage

Damian’s POV

The hospital room felt suffocating after Aria left.

I stood by the window, watching the city lights blur together, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles had gone white. The bandages wrapped around my torso pulled with every breath, a sharp reminder of the silver blade that had nearly killed me.

But that pain was nothing compared to the look in her eyes before she walked away.

Hurt. Betrayed. Shutting down right in front of me.

Because I hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her the truth. Because I’d hidden the danger from her, thinking I was protecting her, when all I’d done was prove that I saw her as fragile. As someone who needed to be kept in the dark.

I’d fucked up. Badly.

The silver wound in my side throbbed with each movement, the healing slower than it should be.

Silver poisoning did that—delayed the supernatural healing that normally would have closed the wound in hours. Instead, I was looking at days, maybe a week before I’d be back to full strength.

But staying in this sterile room, away from her, was unbearable.

A sharp knock interrupted my spiraling thoughts.

"Enter."

Rick stepped inside, his expression carefully neutral. But I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he kept his distance.

Smart man.

"The arrangements have been made as you requested," he said quietly. "The suite at V&A is ready for her."

"And the meal?"

"Delivered personally. The chef prepared everything according to your specifications."

I nodded, some of the tightness in my chest easing slightly. At least I could do that much—make sure she ate something. She’d looked so pale at the hospital, so exhausted. When was the last time she’d had a proper meal?

My phone buzzed—a text from the hotel manager.

*Ms. Smith has accepted the meal. She’s eaten approximately half.*

Something loosened in my chest. She’d eaten. That meant she wasn’t completely shutting me out. It was a small victory, but I’d take it.

I turned back to the window, watching the city sprawl below. Somewhere out there, Aria was alone, thinking I didn’t trust her. Thinking I saw her as weak.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

She was the strongest person I’d ever met. Strong enough to walk away from a Pack that had used her. Strong enough to stand up to the Council, to my parents, to me when I was being an arrogant ass. Strong enough to make me want to be better.

And I’d repaid that strength by hiding the truth from her.

Around midnight, another text came through—this one from the Gamma warrior I’d stationed near the hotel.

*Ms. Smith has left the building. She’s heading toward the financial district.*

I sat up too fast, pain lancing through my side. Where the hell was she going at midnight?

Another text: *She’s entered a wine bar on financial district. Appears to be meeting someone.*

Meeting someone.

The words sent an irrational spike of jealousy through me. I knew it was ridiculous—Aria wasn’t the type to run to someone else. But still. She was upset, vulnerable, and I wasn’t there.

*Stay close. Don’t let her out of your sight.*

I stared at the phone, debating. The rational part of my brain said to stay here, to give her space like she’d clearly wanted. To trust that the Gamma would keep her safe.

But the mate bond—and the possessive Alpha instinct that came with it—was screaming at me to go to her. To make sure she was okay. To eliminate any potential threat to what was mine.

*Mine.*

I swung my legs off the bed, ignoring the way pain radiated from the silver wound. The IV in my arm came out with practiced efficiency. The bandages around my torso would have to stay—I’d deal with bleeding through my shirt if it came to that.

I was pulling on my jacket when another text arrived.

[ Several males are showing interest with Ms. Smith.]

That did it.

I was out the door before I could think better of it, my stride eating up the hospital corridor despite the pain that threatened to drop me to my knees.

A nurse called after me—something about discharge papers and monitoring for silver poisoning—but I ignored her.

Nothing mattered except getting to Aria.

The drive to the financial district took too long. Every red light felt like torture. Every block between us like a physical weight pressing down on my chest.

*She’s fine,* I told myself. *The Gamma is there. She’s safe.*

But my wolf didn’t care about logic. It only cared that our mate was out there, upset and vulnerable, and we weren’t beside her.

I forced myself to breathe. To think rationally.

But rationality fled the moment I walked into that wine bar and caught her scent.

Honey and vanilla, but underneath it—fear. Distress.

My vision tunneled, the silver wound forgotten as pure rage flooded my system.

The crowd parted instinctively as I moved through it, responding to the Alpha authority that I wasn’t even trying to contain anymore.

And then I saw her.