The Alpha's Forbidden Vow novel Chapter 23

POV: Selene

Elias’s clinic was a fortress of warmth and sterile light against the raging storm outside.

The air inside smelled of rubbing alcohol, coffee, and dried herbs—the scent of healing.

He had settled Leo on a padded examination table, wrapped in a thick, warm blanket, and was now talking to him in a low, soothing voice, asking him to name all the capital cities he knew.

It was a clever distraction that was slowly pulling my son back from the brink of his terror.

My own shock was beginning to wear off, replaced by a bone-deep tremor that I couldn’t control.

The events of the alley replayed in my mind in a disjointed, violent loop.

The scent of the rogues, the fear in Leo’s eyes, the impossible courage of the human man now tending to my wounds.

“Let’s take a look at that arm,” Elias said, his voice gentle as he turned his attention to me.

He carefully cut away the ruined sleeve of my jacket and shirt, his expression turning grim.

The gash was deep, a clean slice from just below my elbow to my wrist.

My werewolf biology was already sluggishly trying to knit the flesh back together, but it was too deep to heal cleanly on its own.

“They used silver,” I heard myself whisper, the words escaping before I could stop them.

A normal blade wouldn’t have left a wound that burned like this.

Elias’s eyes met mine, and for a long moment, there was a silent, knowing communication between us.

He didn't act surprised. He simply nodded, his expression becoming even more serious.

“I thought so,” he said quietly, reaching for a specific kit on his counter. “It complicates things. But I can handle it.”

His quiet confidence was more reassuring than any empty platitude.

As he began to meticulously clean the wound, his touch was light and professional.

My inner wolf, which had been a raging, snarling beast in the alley, was now a wary, watchful creature.

It observed Elias, cataloging his steady heartbeat, his scent that held no malice, only a deep well of calm and concern.

“Elias, I can’t…” I started, overwhelmed by his generosity. “We’re… you barely know us.”

“I know enough,” he said, his gaze soft but intense. “I know you’re a mother who would die for her son. And I know you’re in danger. That’s all that matters.”

He picked up a sleeping Leo, who had finally succumbed to exhaustion, into his arms with a surprising ease.

Leo, who never went to strangers, simply snuggled into Elias’s shoulder with a soft sigh.

My heart ached with a strange, unfamiliar emotion.

It felt like gratitude, but it was deeper than that.

It was trust.

“Let me help you, Selene,” he said again, his voice a low, steady promise. “Let me keep you safe.”

And for the first time in five long, lonely years, I let someone else be strong for me.

“Okay,” I whispered.