Chapter 176

Aria

The world erupted into chaos around me, a deafening roar of fury and movement as the protesters surged forward. Hundreds of voices shouted, feet pounded the pavement, and bodies pressed together in a wild rush toward Bella’s father.

I caught a fleeting glimpse of him, his face twisted with rage and fear as the crowd swallowed him whole. Hands reached out, pulling him down into the sea of people, his shouts drowned out by the collective outrage.

He disappeared beneath the swell, but I barely noticed. My world had narrowed to the man bleeding out in my arms.

Darren lay crumpled on the ground, his chest a mess of crimson where the bullet had torn through him. My hands pressed against the wound, but the blood kept seeping through my fingers and staining the delicate silver wedding band I wore. Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision as I sobbed over him.

“No, no, no,” I whimpered, clutching him tightly. “Darren, please. You can’t leave me. You promised.”

His face was pale, too pale, his eyes closed, lashes dark and still against his cheekbones. I couldn’t feel him breathing, couldn’t hear the steady rhythm of his heart over the pounding of my own.

My mate was slipping away, and I was powerless to stop it. My wolf howled, roiling against the underside of my skin. Pure agony lanced through me, as if an artery had been cut. But it wasn’t an artery. It was our mate bond. Severing.

A wail tore from my lips, then another, rattling my windpipes. I thought he was gone. I thought I’d lost him forever—my mate, my other half, the pup I’d found shivering by the roadside all those years ago. The man who I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with.

But then, through the haze, my wolf stilled. A faint flicker stirred deep inside of me, like one of those trick candles that sparks back to life after a moment.

I froze, my breath catching as I leaned down to his face, turning my head so I could listen. There it was: a shallow, shuddering breath, so weak I’d almost missed it. His chest was rising, barely, beneath my palms.

“He’s alive,” I gasped, sitting upright. “Darren, you’re alive. Stay with me, please.”

Just then, my own chest burned again, and I realized it hadn’t been the bond snapping that I’d felt at all, but rather a sharp, searing pain radiating from a wound I hadn’t even noticed until now.

Gasping, I looked down to see blood staining my shirt, and for a moment, I recalled an afternoon from months prior. The park. A gash on my leg. A similar one stitching itself back together on Darren’s own.

It was a mirror to Darren’s injury, although not as deep, not as deadly. It was the mate bond, I realized—his pain echoing in me, his wound bleeding into my own flesh. It hurt like hell, but I didn’t care. The pain meant that our bond hadn’t severed yet.

“Help!” I screamed, my voice raw as I twisted around, searching the chaotic crowd. “Someone, please! He’s been shot!”

The protesters were still locked in utter chaos, some grappling with the remaining officers, others shouting into phones or cameras, Alfira’s livestream no doubt capturing every second. But through the madness, a figure broke free—Liam. He shoved his way toward me, breathless and wide-eyed.

“Please,” I choked out, frantic. My voice was hardly a whisper, the pain of my twin wound making it hard to breathe. “Help me.”

“Aria,” he said, dropping to his knees beside us. He looked just as horrified as I felt, his face flecked with sweat and road dust from the chaos. “An ambulance is on the way. Hold on.”

I nodded, clutching Darren tighter, my hands slick with his blood and now my own. “Hurry. He’s barely breathing.”

The minutes seemed to stretch into eternity. My wolf paced inside of me, restless, urging me to do something, anything, but all I could do was hold Darren, whispering in his ear. “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to make it through this. Together or not at all, remember?”

He didn’t answer. I didn’t even think he heard me.

Finally, the wail of sirens pierced the air, and red and blue lights flashed through the crowd. Paramedics pushed their way toward us with a stretcher rattling between them. Liam waved them over, shouting instructions I couldn’t process. Hands reached for Darren, gently prying him from my grasp. I fought at first, instinct momentarily taking over, but quickly got ahold of myself.

“He’s my mate,” I said, my voice trembling as I stumbled to my feet. “I’m going with him.”

The paramedics didn’t argue. They lifted Darren onto the stretcher, and I followed, my legs shaking beneath me. Liam hooked his arm around my waist and helped me move, and I leaned into him, grateful for his support. They loaded Darren into the ambulance, and I climbed in after.

“I have to stay,” Liam said, remaining on the street, where chaos still ensued. “I’ll come as soon as I can.”

I nodded, and just like that, the doors slammed shut.

The ride to the hospital was a blur. A human paramedic pressed gauze to Darren’s chest, another checking his pulse, while a third turned to me, frowning at the blood soaking my shirt. “Ma’am, you’re hurt too. Let me—”

“Not now,” I snapped, my hand finding Darren’s, lacing our fingers together. “Take care of him first.”

When we reached the hospital, everything happened too fast. Doctors and nurses swarmed us as the stretcher rolled through the doors, barking orders and wheeling Darren away. I tried to follow, but a firm hand on my shoulder stopped me.

“Miss, we need to take him to surgery,” a nurse said. “You’re injured, too. Let us help you.”

“No,” I protested, straining toward the doors they’d taken him through. “I need to be with him.”

“You will be,” the nurse promised. “After we’ve treated you both. Come on.”

Reluctantly, I let them lead me away, my body screaming with exhaustion and pain as they guided me to a bed. They cleaned my wound—a shallow gash across my chest, nowhere near as bad as Darren’s—and stitched it up.

After that, they hooked me to an IV, murmuring about blood loss and shock, but I barely heard them. My eyes stayed fixed on the clock, counting the minutes since they’d taken Darren.

He had to be okay. He had to.

I waited for what felt like hours. Eventually, exhaustion from the whole ordeal began pulling at my eyelids. I fought it, but my body betrayed me. The adrenaline faded, and the world blurred at the edges. Before I knew it, I had drifted off without even meaning to.

I didn’t know how long I slept before a gentle shake woke me. “Miss?” a soft voice said, and I blinked awake.

A nurse stood over me. I realized with a start that I was in a hospital bed, an IV line taped to my arm, the faint beep of a monitor nearby. My chest ached from my wound. It took a moment to recall what had happened. But then, my eyes scanned the room.

And there he was.

Darren was laying in a bed beside mine, staring at me. He was... awake. Alive. Relief hit me so hard I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think beyond the need to get to him.

Without thinking, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the nurse’s protests. My fingers fumbled at the IV, yanking it free, and I didn’t care about the blood that trickled down my arm. I stumbled to my feet and crossed the small space between us.

“Darren,” I choked out, my voice breaking as I reached him.

His arms opened, and I slammed into them, crashing against his chest with enough force to rattle the hospital bed.