I Forgot I Loved You Alpha (Ellie and Nolan) novel Chapter 334

Chapter 334

Third Person POV

The silence came slowly.

Not all at once-not as a sudden absence of sound-but in layers, like the world cautiously testing whether it was finally safe to breathe again.

Steel stopped ringing. Orders ceased. The distant clash at the border faded into memory as horns signaled retreat and surrender. Even the storm above seemed to recognize the end, rain easing from a relentless downpour to a quiet, steady fall that washed blood from stone and soot from walls.

The packhouse stood scarred and broken, but standing.

Bodies lay where they had fallen, rogues and warriors alike, the cost of the night written plainly in blood and ruin. Survivors moved carefully now, as if any sudden motion might shatter what little

peace

remained.

Healers arrived in waves.

Moonstone first-drawn by the bond, by instinct, by grief. Pine Ridge followed close behind, their healers moving with disciplined urgency, immediately setting to work alongside those they’d once called rivals.

No one argued jurisdiction.

No one questioned authority.

This was no longer about packs or borders. It was about keeping the living alive.

Claire slipped in with the second group.

She didn’t announce herself. Didn’t seek anyone out. She wore no insignia, no symbols of rank or family. Just healer’s leathers darkened with rain, a satchel already open at her side as she knelt beside the first wounded warrior she saw.

She didn’t ask permission.

She didn’t look around to see who noticed.

She simply worked.

Her hands were steady as she assessed injuries, voice low and calm as she murmured instructions to anyone close enough to help. She tore cloth into bandages, pressed glowing palms to torn flesh, stitched wounds with practiced efficiency.

Someone handed her a bowl of water. She nodded in thanks and kept going.

Cassian sat on the edge of the stairs, elbows braced on his knees, staring at nothing.

Blood streaked his arms and chest-some his, most not. A shallow cut along his ribs had already stopped bleeding, ignored entirely. His sword lay at his feet, forgotten.

He hadn’t moved since they’d carried Alaric away.

1/3

Shock clung to him like a second skin. He answered when spoken to. Followed instructions when given. But his eyes were hollow, fixed on a place just past the present, where the world had irrevocably changed and he hadn’t yet caught up.

Claire found him there.

She stopped a few feet away, taking him in quietly. The tension in his shoulders. The way his jaw was clenched just a little too tight. The subtle tremor in his hands he probably didn’t even realize was there.

She didn’t say his name.

She knelt instead, careful not to crowd him, and held out a small vial. “Drink,” she said gently. “You’re dehydrated.”

He blinked, eyes flicking to her face as if seeing her for the first time.

“Claire,” he said, flat and distant.

“Yes,” she replied simply.

No apology. No explanation.

Just presence.

He took the vial automatically, swallowing without tasting it. She waited, then reached for his arm.

“Let me see your side.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know,” she said. “Let me see anyway.”

He hesitated, just for a second, then nodded.

Her touch was light, clinical. She checked the wound quickly, murmuring under her breath as she sealed it with a faint glow of magic. When she finished, she sat back on her heels and studied him for a moment longer.

“You’re holding together,” she said quietly. “That’s all anyone can ask right now.”

Something in her voice-unassuming, steady-made his throat tighten.

Before he could respond, movement caught his attention.

Rae stood a few paces away.

Her hands were wrapped in a blanket someone had draped over her shoulders, though she didn’t seem to notice it. Her eyes were fixed on Cassian, wide and searching, like she was afraid he might disappear if she blinked.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify