Sold to Bastard Alpha after My Divorce! novel Chapter 213

Chapter 213: Chapter 213

Aria’s POV

The warrior stood up.

He didn’t just sit up—he *stood.* Full weight on both legs, the grey pallor gone from his face, breathing steady and deep. He looked down at his arm, turned it over slowly, like he was waiting for the pain to come back.

It didn’t.

"I—" He looked at me. "Luna, I don’t understand. What did you do?"

I didn’t have an answer.

Because I didn’t know what I’d done.

My hand was still warm—not hot, just warm, the way your skin feels after holding something that radiates heat. But the warmth was fading now, pulling back into my chest, settling somewhere deep behind my ribs.

"I don’t know," I said honestly.

The other warriors were watching. All of them. The ones who could sit up had sat up. The ones who couldn’t were staring from their beds, eyes wide and locked on me like I’d just performed a miracle in the middle of their ward.

Maybe I had.

I stood up slowly. Looked around the room. Forty-three injured warriors, all of them fighting wolfsbane poisoning, all of them healing too slowly, all of them looking at me like I might be able to fix it.

I walked to the next bed.

A younger warrior—early twenties, maybe. Dark hair, pale skin, bandaging across his ribs and left shoulder. He watched me approach with the kind of careful stillness that meant he was trying very hard not to hope.

"May I?" I asked.

He nodded.

I placed my hand over the bandaging on his shoulder.

Waited.

Felt for that warmth again, that pull in my chest that had come so easily with the first warrior.

Nothing.

I pressed a little harder. Concentrated. Tried to summon whatever it was I’d just done—whatever instinct or ability or gift that had flowed out of me without asking.

Nothing.

The warrior’s breathing stayed shallow. The grey tinge to his skin didn’t change. The bandaging didn’t stop seeping.

I pulled my hand back.

"I’m sorry," I said quietly.

"It’s okay, Luna." His voice was rough but kind. "It was worth trying."

I moved to the next bed. And the next. And the next.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

By the time I’d tried with the fifth warrior, my hands were shaking.

Not from exhaustion—from frustration. From the feeling of something being *right there,* just out of reach, like trying to remember a word that sits on the tip of your tongue and refuses to come forward.

I’d done it once. I *knew* I’d done it. I’d felt it happen, seen the results with my own eyes.

So why couldn’t I do it again?

---

I left the medical post twenty minutes later.

The receptionist didn’t ask questions. Just gave me a long look and a nod, and I walked back out into the afternoon light feeling like I’d swallowed something heavy.

The drive home was quiet.

I should have told someone I was going to the checkpoint. I should have coordinated with Kael’s security team. I should have done about fifteen things differently.

But I’d healed someone.

That thought sat with me the whole way back, turning over and over in my mind. The look on that warrior’s face. The way the bleeding had stopped. The way the color had come back into his skin like someone had flipped a switch.

Moon Goddess had said I was special. That I had a gift. That there was something in me that could help.

Maybe this was it.

Maybe this was what she’d meant.

---

Kael was home when I got back.

He was in the main room, standing by the window with his phone to his ear. He glanced up when I walked in, and something in his expression shifted—relief first, then something sharper.

He said something clipped into the phone and hung up.

"Where were you?" His voice was carefully controlled.

I set my bag down. "The eastern checkpoint."

Silence.

I looked up.

His face had gone very still.

"You went to the checkpoint," he said slowly. "Alone."

"I wasn’t alone. There were guards. And the medical staff—"

"Aria." He crossed the room in four strides. Stopped in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "The front lines are under active threat. We’ve had three attacks in the past week. The eastern checkpoint is one of the most vulnerable positions we have right now." His voice stayed level, but something underneath it was vibrating. "You don’t go there without security. You don’t go there without telling me first. You don’t—" He stopped. Exhaled hard through his nose. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking," I said, keeping my voice steady, "that I wanted to help."

"Help how?"

"By being there. By—" I stopped. Took a breath. "By seeing them. The warriors. The ones who are hurt."

His expression didn’t soften. "You could have been hurt."

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify