The Professor's Mate Clause novel Chapter 112

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CHAPTER 112

FREYA’S POV

I am cold.

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Not the kind of cold that bites the skin, but the kind that settles deep tato the bones, the kind that tells you something vital is shutting down. The world around me feels distant, muted, like I’m sinking underwater while everything else continues above the surface without me.

Adrian’s hand is in mine.

It’s barely warm.

That terrifies me more than the blood soaking into the ground beneath us.

His breathing is shallow, uneven, every inhale sounding like it might be his last turn my head slightly, forcing my blurred vision to focus on him. His face is pale, lips tinged blue, lashes resting too still against his cheeks. This isn’t exhaustion. This isn’t unconsciousness.

This is dying.

Panic claws at my chest, sharp and suffocating. I try to pull more air into my lungs, but even breathing feels like work now. My body is failing too. I can feel it the weakness spreading, the heavy drag in my limbs, the way my heartbeat stutters instead of

racing.

We’re both dying.

Around us, the battlefield has gone eerily quiet. Not because the war is over, but because too many have already fallen. The silence is heavy with loss. With defeat. With endings.

The world tilts every time I blink. Sounds come and go distant howls, the crackle of fire, someone screaming far away but none of it feels real anymore. Blood coats my tongue, metallic and bitter. I try to breathe deeper, but my chest refuses to cooperate.

This is how it ends

Not victorious. Not heroic. Just broken bodies on blood-soaked ground.

I squeeze Adrian’s hand weakly, desperate for any response. His fingers twich faintly, barely perceptible, but it’s enough to

shatter me.

“Stay with me,” I whisper, though I don’t know if he can hear me. “Please… just stay.”

The bond between us feels wrong.

Thin. Frayed Flickering

like the bond has been leaning

Our incomplete bond pulses weakly, It feels like standing on one foot with the other mussing on Adrian alone this entire time, draining him instead of sustaining us both like a dying heartbeat ex hoing inside my chiesi (F- struggles, tugging at me, reaching for something it never fully had it wants to complete

It wants balance. It wants to save us

But Adrian has nothing left to give

He poured everything into protecting the pack, into fighting Asher, into staying on his feet long after he should have fallen There’s nothing left in him for the bond to draw from

He’s empty.

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And I realize, with sudden terrifying clarity, that the bond doesn’t need him to give.

It needs me.

The thought hits me so hard I almost laugh

Female wolves don’t mark males.

No one knows what happens if the bond rejects a female’s claim. No one knows if it will strengthen him or kill us both. I might lose my wolf. I might lose myself. I might fail.

It isn’t tradition. It isn’t custom. It simply doesn’t happen. Our world has never allowed it, never imagined it. The bond has always been one-directional in that final step.

But the bond between Adrian and me was never normal.

And right now, tradition means nothing.

History means nothing.

Rules mean nothing.

Adrian is dying in my arms, and I can stop it.

My heart begins to pound, adrenaline surging through my failing body. The realization terrifies me – not because I doubt it, but because I know what it will cost. I’ll be giving him everything I am. My strength. My power. My royal bloodline.

All of it.

My wolf stirs, weak but resolute.

She doesn’t hesitate.

Mark him.

Her certainty steadies me.

This is the only way.

I gather what little strength I have left and force my body to move. Pain explodes through me as I shift just enough to make it possible. Not a full transformation. My body couldn’t handle that but enough. Just enough.

Blood drips from my wounds as I reposition myself over Adrian. My vision swims, but I lock my focus on hip, on the steady rise and fall of his chest. His throat is exposed, vulnerable, right where the claiming bite belongs.

He stirs.

Through the bond, I feel his awareness sharpen just slightly. Confusion flickers, followed by realization. He knows what I’m

about to do.

And he doesn’t resist.

“Freya…” His voice is barely a breath, barely sound

“I’ve got you,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to his “I’m not losing you Not like this

Through the bond, I let him teel my resolve

I’m choosing this.

“I’m marking you,” I tell him softly. “Completing the bond Equal Always”

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“Yes,” he answers, his acceptance absolute despite his weakness. “I’m yours.”

I sink my fangs into his throat

The bond ignites.

It isn’t a gentle completion. It’s violent, overwhelming, like lightning striking straight through my soul Power floods through me his and mine colliding, merging, intertwining

The bond snaps into place.

Complete.

Balanced.

Perfect.

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