Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 107

Chapter 107: Chapter 107

Elara’s POV

The smell hit me before consciousness did.

Sweet. Wet. Rotting. The kind of smell that crawls inside your skull and nests there.

My face was pressed against something soft. Not pillow-soft. Soft the way things get when they’ve been decomposing for too long. Spongy. Yielding. Wrong.

I opened my eyes.

A face stared back at me. Inches away. Milky dead eyes bulging from swollen sockets. Skin mottled green and black, split along the jaw where gases had bloated the tissue past its limit. The mouth gaped open in a frozen scream, and inside it—things moved. White. Writhing. Crawling over teeth and tongue.

Maggots.

I lurched backward so hard my skull cracked against something solid. A rib. Not mine. Someone else’s—jutting from a chest cavity that had been torn open and left to the elements.

I scrambled. Clawed. My hands sank into wet flesh. My fingers closed around something cold and cylindrical—a bone, stripped mostly clean. I screamed, but what came out was barely a rasp. Just air scraping against a ruined throat.

Move. Move. Move.

I threw myself sideways, rolling off the pile of bodies. My hip struck the edge of the pit—packed earth, crumbling—and I hauled myself up and over, fingernails splitting against dirt and rock.

I made it about three feet before the vomiting started.

Nothing came up. My stomach was hollowed out, empty, but my body heaved anyway—violent, punishing contractions that bent me double on the forest floor. Bile burned up my throat. Tears streamed down my filthy face. I retched until my ribs ached, until every muscle in my abdomen screamed for mercy.

When it finally stopped, I lay on my side in the dirt, panting.

The pit was behind me. I didn’t look back. But I could hear it. The soft, wet sound of insects doing their work. The drone of flies—thousands of them, a living black cloud hovering over the grave.

Not a grave. A dump.

I’d seen enough in that single horrific moment to understand. Dozens of bodies. Men. Women. Teenagers. Thrown in like refuse. A massive, brutal slaughter that only the savage Rogues could have committed deep within their territory. If they were mobilizing on this scale, Kaelen and the Empire were facing a colossal threat. Limbs tangled together in grotesque arrangements. Some were fresh. Others had been there long enough that nature had already begun reclaiming them.

And I’d been buried among them. Discarded.

They thought I was dead.

My hands were shaking. My entire body was shaking. I pressed my palms flat against the ground and focused on breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

Moonlight.

I reached inward, the way I’d done a thousand times before. Reaching for that warm golden presence curled at the base of my consciousness. My wolf. My other half.

Nothing.

Not silence. Silence implies a space where sound could exist. This was absence. A void. A place that had been scraped clean and cauterized shut.

Moonlight was gone.

The memory hit me—the poisoned holy water forced down my throat, the green fire ripping through every nerve. The brutal hands of my captors, who had callously discarded me here, certain I was already a corpse.

My chest seized. Not from poison. From grief. Raw, animal grief that rose up my throat like a howl I couldn’t release.

No. Not now. You grieve later. You survive first.

I forced my eyes open. Forced myself to assess.

The forest was dense. Ancient trees with canopies so thick they choked out most of the daylight, leaving everything in a perpetual greenish twilight. No birdsong. No rustling. The silence was oppressive, unnatural—the kind of quiet that falls over a place where predators have already cleared everything worth hunting.

My body was a catalog of damage. My left ankle was grotesquely swollen—nearly twice its normal size, the skin stretched tight and bruised a deep, angry purple. Every slight movement sent lightning bolts of pain shooting up my calf. My wrists were raw and bleeding where the shackles had bitten in. Dried blood caked one side of my face from a wound I couldn’t see. And underneath all of it, beneath the surface injuries, the poison still hummed in my blood. A low, constant burn, like embers refusing to die.

Without Moonlight, I had no accelerated healing. No enhanced senses. No strength beyond what my battered human muscles could provide.

I was as fragile as glass.

Kaelen.

His name surfaced like a lifeline thrown into dark water. I seized it. Held on.

The mate bond—I reached for it. Where Moonlight’s thread had been a golden rope, the mate bond was different. Deeper. Woven into something more fundamental than wolf magic. It lived in my blood, my heartbeat, the marrow of my bones.

It was there. Barely. Like a faint whisper drowning in a roaring storm of static. Crackling. Fragmenting. The poison had buried it under layers of interference, but it hadn’t killed it.

Through the noise, I felt him. Distant. Faint. But alive, and radiating a frantic, tearing desperation. He thought I was dead, and he was searching for me with absolute madness.

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