Chapter 79: Chapter 79
Christian’s eyes started to flutter closed mid-sentence, and I watched his body basically give up on him. The adrenaline from the fight was crashing hard.
"Christian, whatever Harold said can wait," I said, pushing him back against the pillows. "You literally just fought for your life like two hours ago."
"But—"
"No buts. Rest first, cryptic villainous father drama later."
Christian’s jaw tightened, but exhaustion won. His breathing was getting raspy and labored in that way that made my chest hurt. I arranged the pillows around him, super careful with his ribs because I’d seen Harold slam into that side during the fight.
"Fine," Christian muttered. "But we’re talking about this."
"Sure. After you don’t look like you’re about to pass out."
I grabbed the medical kit from the bathroom, and my hands were shaking. Like, actually trembling. The post-fight anxiety was hitting me harder than I’d expected.
Christian watched me come back to the bed. "Your hands."
"I’m fine."
"Sophie."
"I said I’m fine." I sat down and opened the kit, pulling out antiseptic and gauze. "Now hold still."
The gash on his shoulder was deep. Deeper than I’d thought when I’d seen it in the arena. I cleaned it carefully, trying not to wince every time Christian’s jaw clenched.
"You don’t have to be gentle," Christian said.
"Yes, I do."
I worked in silence, cleaning each wound methodically. The cut on his torso. The bruising along his ribs. The scrapes on his arms were where Harold had gotten too close. The pack healers had given me this special salve that was supposed to speed up Alpha healing, and I applied it like my life depended on it.
Maybe it did.
When I finished bandaging the worst of it, Christian caught my wrist, he wrapped his fingers around it and pulled me down beside him.
I went willingly, curling into his uninjured side.
Christian’s hand found my back, tracing these slow, mindless patterns that made something in my chest unclench. Through our bond, I felt his exhaustion mixing with relief. And something else. Something warm and solid that felt like home.
"I was terrified," I whispered into his chest. "Watching you fight him. I’ve never been that scared in my entire life."
Christian’s hand stilled on my back. "Every move I made, I was thinking about you. Every strategy, every counter—it was all about getting back to you."
"I thought I caused this." The words tumbled out before I could stop them. "The boardroom thing. Winning. I thought—"
"Sophie, no." Christian’s voice was firm. "Harold orchestrated everything. He wanted to lose that fight so he could challenge me. This was never about you."
"Promise me you won’t do something like this again."
Christian was quiet for a long moment. "I can’t promise that."
I knew he couldn’t. That was the problem with loving an Alpha.
Someone knocked on the door—soft, respectful—and Diana walked in carrying a tray with tea and more medical supplies.
Her expression was different than I’d ever seen it. Softer. Almost... maternal?
"The pack is celebrating," Diana said, setting the tray down. "Christian’s victory is being honored throughout Shadow Ridge territory."
"And Harold?" Christian asked.
"Retreated to the elder quarters. In disgrace." Diana’s mouth curved slightly. "You won more than the challenge today, Christian. You won the pack’s respect."
She turned to me, and her hand squeezed my shoulder. "Both of you did."
Then she left, and I was still processing the fact that Diana had basically just given me approval.
An hour later, Marcus showed up with official-looking documents.
"Challenge outcome documentation," Marcus said, placing them on the desk. "Pack members are requesting audiences with you both."
Christian didn’t even lift his head from the pillow. "Schedule them for two days from now."
"Understood." Marcus hesitated. "Harold’s supporters have mostly dispersed. Those who remain have sworn renewed loyalty."
"Good."
Marcus’s eyes flicked to where I was basically draped over Christian, and his ears went red. "Right. I’ll just... leave these here."
He practically ran out of the room.
"We scandalized him," I said.
"Marcus needs to get scandalized more often."
Christian insisted on showering despite my protests about his injuries being fresh and him potentially passing out and hitting his head.
"I have arena dirt in places where arena dirt should never be," Christian said.
"That’s horrifying, but also you can barely stand."
"Then help me."
So I did.
The shower was... intimate, but not in the way I’d expected. I washed the blood off his back, careful around the bandages. Christian leaned against me under the warm water, finally letting himself be vulnerable in a way he hadn’t since before the challenge.
"I’ve got you," I murmured.
Christian’s forehead pressed against my shoulder. "I know."
