Chapter 58 – The Moment Between Heartbeats
Rowan moved through the ruins like a storm barely contained.
The air stank of blood and sweat, and his boots pounded against the worn stone paths of the hidden rogue camp. His claws were still extended, the battle-thrill barely faded. The moon hung heavy and full above, its pale glow seeping through gaps in the ruined structures like judgment.
Each heartbeat was a war drum in his chest. Each breath, a struggle against the mounting panic clawing at the edges of his mind. His boots slammed into stone, the scent of smoke and battle still fresh around him. Bodies littered the ground behind them, but he didn’t look back.
The rogues were either dead or fled, but Rowan didn’t stop to check.None of it mattered.
Only one thing mattered now.
Giselle.
She was close—he could feel her. Not just her scent, but something deeper. A pull in his chest, his soul vibrating like a string wound too tight.
Then he saw it.
A crumbling stone building tucked into the far side of the camp, half-swallowed by the earth and shadowed by the forest. The scent hit him hard. *Her.* Underneath the iron and dust and rot—*Giselle.*
His heart thundered.
“Rowan—wait!” Kalen’s voice was distant, muffled by the storm roaring in his ears. “Slow down!”
He didn’t.
He couldn’t.
He was already moving towards the building where he could feel Giselle’s presence.
He reached the thick metal door, his claws already unsheathing.
A shove. A snarl. The door creaked open with an agonized screech.
The scent inside was worse—so thick it was choking. Old damp walls, dried blood, and something fresh. Too fresh.
Then he saw her.
“Giselle!” he roared. Her name tore from his throat, raw and desperate.
His wolf slammed against his skin, howling in his mind. ‘She’s hurt. She’s bleeding. MOVE.’
She lay crumpled on the cold stone floor, her body twisted unnaturally, blood trailing from her abdomen like a river. Her skin looked waxen. Lifeless.
“No,” he whispered. “No, no—”
Something inside him snapped.
‘Mine. Go. NOW.’ His wolf surged forward in his mind, feral and unstoppable. ‘She’s dying! MOVE!’
Rowan reached the cell door. His fingers barely gripped the iron before his wolf took over fully—shoving through the barriers, snarling in his head, muscles thickening and eyes glowing gold as claws gripped the bars and his muscles snapped tight. Power surged through every nerve.
With a roar that rattled the rafters, he ripped the door off its hinges and threw it aside.
Charlie and Kalen reached the hallway just in time to see it crash to the floor.
“Rowan—” Charlie started, but he didn’t hear her.
Didn’t see them.
Didn’t care.
The world narrowed to her.
He dropped to his knees beside Giselle and gathered her into his arms. Her body was limp. Her head lolled against his shoulder like a broken doll. Blood soaked into his chest where he held her.
Too much blood.
His breath came in gasps. “Why isn’t she healing?” he barked, frantic, eyes darting over her wound. “Why the hell isn’t she healing?!”
Then he realized.
The connection—the flicker of soul and fur and strength that he always felt deep in his gut—it was fading. Dimming.
Her wolf…
He stilled.
His heart cracked in two.
‘She’s losing Aeris.’ His wolf reeled, howling in agony. ‘We’re losing her. DO SOMETHING. Anchor her!’
A quiet gasp escaped his throat. His hands trembled.
‘Now. Mark her.’
Rowan pressed his face into her neck, trembling. “I’m here,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I found you. I’m here, Giselle. Please…”
Then, with no hesitation, he shifted just enough to bare his fangs.
He bent down, pressing his mouth to the curve of her neck, his fangs sinking through her skin in a single, clean bite. His wolf poured everything—power, love, desperation—into the mark. A tether. A lifeline.
Light burst behind his eyes as the connection flared—wild and bright, then unstable, flickering like a flame in the wind.
‘Please,’ he begged through the bond. ‘Stay. Just stay.’
Giselle’s body jerked slightly, a soft whimper escaping her lips—but still she didn’t wake.
The bond between them flared again, faint and flickering, as if her soul was on the edge of some great chasm.
He pulled back, clutching her tighter, brushing her hair from her face with a bloodied hand. “Come back to me,” he said, voice cracking. “You don’t get to give up now. You hear me?”
Her blood still flowed—slower, but steady. Too much. Too fast.
He cradled her tighter, rocking slightly. “You can’t leave me. You’re stronger than this, Giselle. You’re mine. And I am *yours.*”
His wolf growled low, wrapping around her soul like a shield.
They weren’t losing her.
Not today.
Not ever.
Behind him, Kalen and Charlie hovered, weapons lowered, faces pale. Neither spoke.
Rowan barely registered them.
All he saw was her.
Her breath was shallow. Her pulse—a flicker beneath her skin.
But it was there.
So he held her, rocking slightly. Desperately.
“Giselle,” he whispered against her temple. “I love you. I love you, damn it. Don’t you leave me.”
The bond trembled.
For a moment, he thought it was snapping apart.
Then—faint. So faint he might’ve imagined it—a flicker of something warm. A soft exhale. A whisper of fur against his soul.
He pulled her closer and closed his eyes.
“Hold on. Just a little longer.”
A soft crunch of boots on stone echoed through the cell, but Rowan didn’t look up. His world was narrowed to the faint rise and fall of Giselle’s chest, the tremble of life that barely clung to her.
Then a warm hand settled on his shoulder.
“Rowan,” Charlie said gently, kneeling beside him. Her voice was quiet, but there was urgency behind it. “We need to move. If we don’t get her back to the pack, she’s not going to make it.”
He said nothing, eyes still locked on Giselle’s blood-smeared face. Her skin was too cold. Her breath too shallow.
“She’s hanging on, but barely,” Charlie continued, squeezing his shoulder. “She needs a healer. She needs safety. And you—she needs you steady.”
Rowan blinked hard, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. He nodded once, throat too raw to speak.
He adjusted his grip on Giselle’s limp form, cradling her carefully, protectively, as if she might shatter.
Charlie stood and moved aside to clear the doorway. “Let’s bring her home.”
Rowan rose with her in his arms, her blood seeping into his clothes, her scent clinging to him like a prayer.
Please, he thought. Don’t let it be too late.
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