"There," I said softly when I finished, securing the last part of the bandages. My focus was purely professional, my movements precise and deliberate. "That should hold much better now."

"Thank you," he murmured, the word carrying a weight that forced me to look up. His expression was impossible to decipher—a complex blend of pain, gratitude, and something intensely focused—yet it caused my pulse to quicken involuntarily. It was the look of a wolf who knew exactly what I was, and what he was feeling.

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed with raw self-consciousness, I stepped back quickly, putting necessary distance between us, and began gathering the discarded medical supplies. "I should... I'll just finish these dishes and give you some privacy to rest."

I escaped into the kitchen, my hands distinctly unsteady as I scrubbed the bowls with much more physical force than was necessary. The guilt was consuming me—not merely for accidentally reopening his severe wound, but for the profound, terrifying way my body had reacted to being pressed against his, for the raw, aching part of me that had actually longed to remain pinned beneath him, even as every survival instinct screamed for me to run.

When I finally returned to the living room, Damon was lying back on the couch, his eyes closed, but the rhythm of his breathing suggested he was merely resting, not asleep. I noticed him briefly glance toward the exact spot on the table where my phone was resting.

"Trying to contact your friend again?" I asked quietly, picking it up and extending it to him.

He opened his eyes and nodded, sitting up slowly and with great, visible care. This time, when he dialed, I distinctly heard a voice answer immediately on the other end.

"Elias? Thank the Moon Goddess," Damon's entire body seemed to visibly relax, the tension draining out of his broad shoulders with palpable relief. "I need you to come and get me. Yes, I'm intact, but I urgently need a ride. I’ll send you the location." There was a tense pause as he listened carefully. "How quickly can you be here?"

Another pause, then Damon's expression became significantly more serious and guarded. His eyes briefly flickered toward me—a signal of privacy, a wall going up. "I'll provide all the painful details later, Elias. Just arrive as quickly as you can manage without drawing attention."

He ended the call and immediately began composing a text message, his focus absolute.

"Your friend is coming for you?" I asked, striving to ignore the undeniable, heavy hollow feeling that was expanding painfully in my chest.

"Yes," Damon confirmed, setting my phone aside after hitting send. "Elias will be here in approximately twenty minutes. I will be out of your way very soon, and you can comfortably return to your regular life, Lyra. You can forget this ever happened."

"Right," I said, forcing a brittle, utterly fake smile. "That's... that's good news. You'll certainly be more comfortable when you're with your own Pack." The word Pack tasted like ash on my tongue.

When the sharp, impatient knock finally came at the door exactly twenty minutes later, my stomach completely dropped despite the fact that I knew it was imminent. This was it—the undoing of the last twelve hours of insane, forbidden proximity.

"That will be Elias," Damon said, immediately pushing himself to stand, his face set in a grim mask of resolve.

I opened the door to find a tall, imposing figure completely filling the doorframe. Elias was undeniably striking. His skin had a warm, deeply sun-kissed bronze complexion, and his physique was as broad and powerful as Damon's.

Deep brown eyes rapidly assessed me with sharp, unsettling intelligence before softening into an expression that closely resembled a weary smile.

"You must be Lyra," he greeted me, his voice low and commanding. "I am Elias Thorne." He extended a large hand, and when I shook it, his grip was impressively firm but notably respectful. "I cannot thank you enough for taking care of this fool."

"Hey," Damon protested weakly from behind me, though there was a definite, complex hint of fondness in his strained voice.

Elias's gaze moved past me to quickly evaluate Damon's overall condition, and I watched his expression tighten immediately with genuine, Alpha concern. "You look like absolute hell, man. You should be in a clinic."

"Feel worse than I look," Damon admitted, immediately accepting Elias's offered arm for crucial support.

As they prepared to make their painful exit, Damon turned to me one last time. "Before I go—may I get your contact number? I genuinely want to repay you for this somehow. If you ever need absolutely anything, anything at all, I want you to be able to contact me."

I hesitated briefly, the significance of giving a Thorne my personal access number huge and terrifying. "How should I provide it to you?"

Damon looked at Elias, who promptly pulled out his phone. Damon then turned back to me. "I will save it on my friend's phone for now. Once I retrieve my own device, I will call you." I carefully typed in my number, creating a new contact entry that felt like crossing an invisible boundary, before handing the phone back to Elias.

"There," Damon said, his voice low and intimate as he briefly looked at the screen. "Thank you, Lyra. I will definitely be in touch to repay you properly."

Elias gave me a respectful nod. "Take care of yourself, Lyra. Stay safe."

And then they were gone, Elias expertly supporting Damon's substantial, injured weight as they carefully navigated their way down the narrow, creaking staircase. I stood in my open doorway, feeling the sudden, cold exposure of the outside world, until I distinctly heard the muffled sound of a powerful car engine starting and quickly driving away into the distance, taking all the tension and all the life with it.

The silence that followed was utterly deafening.

I closed the door and leaned my back heavily against it, my small apartment suddenly feeling vast and profoundly empty, despite being exactly the same physical size it had been that morning.

For reasons I could not begin to explain or rationalize, I felt an overwhelming urge to collapse onto the floor and weep.

The worn couch still faintly held the deep impression of Damon's body, and his powerful, unique scent—that warm, arresting combination of cedar, leather, and something profoundly him—lingered stubbornly in the air, making my wolf whine softly and miserably in the back of my consciousness.

"What on earth is wrong with me..." I muttered desperately to myself, running my hands through my messy hair.

I should be experiencing an immense, cleansing sense of relief. My life could finally revert to its proper, safe routine. No more wounded, dangerous stranger violently disrupting my schedule, no more confusing, intense feelings stirring in my chest every time he looked at me with those mesmerizing blue eyes.

But instead of the expected relief, all I felt was this hollow, visceral ache that made absolutely no logical sense.

I was just about to shake my head and mentally force myself to begin getting ready for the day when my phone suddenly and loudly shrieked.

"Lyra! Where are you right now? I urgently need your help!" Rhea's voice came blasting through the speaker, thick with both genuine tears and raw, barely contained panic.

Rhea was my best friend, a vibrant Beta who very rarely sounded this profoundly shaken.

"Rhea? What on earth happened?" My own immediate, personal problems instantly vanished, and I immediately switched into my highly focused, problem-solving worry mode.

"I... I think Gareth is betraying me!" A tremor of pure, sharp rage cut painfully through her heartbroken sobs.

Gareth. I had never once liked Rhea's boyfriend of two long years. There was something dark, possessive, and utterly wrong about him that had always rubbed my Omega instincts the wrong way, right from the start.

"Stay right there. I'm leaving now." I said without a moment of hesitation, already grabbing my jacket and keys with sudden, necessary resolve. The threat might have gone, but the danger never truly left. I had a friend to protect.