Seraphina’s POV
Consciousness returned slowly, like surfacing from deep water. The first thing I beca aware of was warmth—the steady heat of soone’s hand wrapped around mine, anchoring to the world of the living. Then ca the scent. Sandalwood and masculine power that imdiately told exactly who was sitting beside my bed.
I opened my eyes to find myself in what appeared to be a private dical room, all white walls and gleaming equipnt that humd softly in the background. Damien was slumped in a chair pulled close to my bedside, his expensive shirt wrinkled and his dark hair disheveled as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. His blue eyes, when they t mine, were filled with relief so intense it took my breath away.
"Hey," he said softly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of my hand. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got hit by a truck," I admitted, my voice coming out as barely more than a rasp. "But alive." I tried to sit up, wincing as various muscles protested the movent. "How long was I out?"
"Six hours." Damien’s grip on my hand tightened slightly, as if he was afraid I might disappear if he let go. "The doctors wanted to run every test imaginable, but your vitals were stable, so we decided to let you sleep it off naturally."
"Lucas," I said urgently, trying to push myself further upright. "Is he okay? And Ben Thompson? The others who were wounded?"
"They’re all fine," Damien assured quickly. "Better than fine, actually. Every single warrior you touched is back on active duty with nothing but faint scars to show for injuries that should have taken weeks to heal." His expression grew thoughtful, almost reverent. "Sera, what you did today... I’ve never seen anything like it. None of us have."
"I had the strangest dream," I said, settling back against the pillows as exhaustion still pulled at the edges of my consciousness. "Or maybe it wasn’t a dream. I don’t really know anymore."
Damien leaned forward, his full attention focused on with laser intensity. "Tell ."
So I did. I told him about the impossible adow with its silver grass and star-touched river, about the figure in robes of moonlight who had revealed truths I’d never imagined. I watched his expression grow more serious with each detail.
"She told about my real parents," I continued, my voice growing stronger as the mories crystallized. "They weren’t just any wolves, Damien. They were the Alpha and Luna of the Northern Ridge Pack. And they didn’t die in so accident—they were murdered."
"The pack was betrayed," I continued, tears beginning to spill down my cheeks as the Moon Goddess’s revelations played out in my mind. "Soone they trusted led rogues right to their territory. My parents died fighting to protect their people, to protect . And I... I was the only survivor."
Damien was completely still, his face carved from granite as he absorbed what I was telling him.
"The Northern Ridge Pack," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I rember when that happened. The entire werewolf community was shocked by the brutality of it. An entire pack, wiped out overnight." His blue eyes t mine, and I could see pain flickering in their depths. "I was seventeen when the news reached our territory. My father said it was the worst massacre he’d ever heard of."
"You knew them?"
"My father knew your father." Damien’s grip on my hand tightened. "If you’re his daughter, Sera, then you’re not just any oga. You’re alpha-born."
The words sent a shiver down my spine. "The Moon Goddess said sothing similar. But I don’t feel strong, Damien. I feel completely lost."
"That’s understandable," he said gently. "Having your entire understanding of yourself turned upside down would shake anyone." He paused, studying my face. "But it explains a lot. What else did she tell you?"
"That I’m supposed to seek justice for what happened. That I have the power to ’heal more than just wounds.’" I looked at him desperately. "But Damien, I don’t know how to do any of that. I can barely control these healing abilities, and I have Adrian to think about."
"Sera," Damien said, his voice carrying a note of sothing I couldn’t quite identify. "What you learned today about your parents, about the betrayal that led to their deaths... it’s stirred up mories I’d tried to put to rest."
Sothing in his tone made look at him more carefully. There was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before, a shadow in his eyes that spoke of old pain being reopened.
"What kind of mories?"
Damien was quiet for a long mont, his eyes fixed on our joined hands as if they held answers to questions he’d never dared ask. When he finally looked up, the pain in his blue eyes was devastating.
"My parents were murdered too."
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