Chapter 327

Sofia’s POV
The moment Damien left the room, I felt my knees weaken. I sank into the chair beside my son’s bed, my hands shaking as I smoothed the hair from his damp forehead. My heart was torn in half—fear for my child’s fragile life, and fear of the storm Damien had promised once this was over. Minutes stretched like hours before the door opened again. A nurse entered, her expression tight with urgency. “We need to prepare him for the procedure. Both the donor and the child will be taken to surgery.”
Donor.
The word echoed in my head like a drumbeat. Damien returned soon after, already in the sterile gown they had given him. His expression was unreadable, carved from stone, but his eyes betrayed the truth—they were fixed on our son, unwilling to look anywhere else.
When the medical team began moving the boy onto a gurney, I gripped the rails, my chest aching. “Be careful with him,” I whispered, though my voice broke. “Please… he’s all I have.” For the first time, Damien’s gaze flicked to me. The look in his eyes wasn’t soft, but it wasn’t cruel either. It was… sharp, heavy, filled with emotions I couldn’t untangle. He said nothing, only walked beside the gurney, his hand resting on our son’s arm until they wheeled him into the surgical wing.
I wasn’t allowed inside. I was left outside the doors, clutching the fabric of my dress as if it could anchor me to the earth. Every second gnawed at my nerves, every muffled sound beyond the sterile walls made me flinch. I pressed my palms together, whispering prayers I hadn’t said in years. Please… don’t take him from me. Not now. Not like this.
Through the small glass window, I caught glimpses of what was happening inside. Damien was lying on one table, my son on the other. Tubes, monitors, doctors, and healers moving swiftly. Damien looked terrifyingly calm, his chest broad, his face set like he would rip the world apart if anything went wrong.
The minutes dragged on. At one point, I swore my vision blurred from holding my breath too long. Then finally, the doors opened. The surgeon pulled down his mask, his face weary but calm. “The transplant was successful. He’ll need time to recover, but your boy is strong. And Alpha Damien’s marrow was a perfect match.”
My legs gave out, and I would have collapsed if Olivia hadn’t caught me. Relief broke through me in a violent rush, tears streaming down my cheeks as I whispered, “Thank you… thank you over and over.
But when I lifted my gaze again, I saw Damien being wheeled out, pale but awake, his piercing eyes already on me. They weren’t softened by the weakness of the operation. No, they burned with anger for me. They wheeled him into the recovery room, his skin pale from the procedure but his dominating presence still filling the air. My breath hitched when, instead of collapsing into the bed as anyone else would, Damien swung his legs over the side and sat upright, defying weakness itself. The strength of his wolf was already knitting him back together, healing what should have taken hours.
Olivia hovered close for a moment, her eyes flicking between us. I saw the way her lips pressed together, as if she was weighing whether to stay. Then she gave me a nod. “I’ll give you space.” With that, she slipped out, the door shutting softly behind her.
I rose, intending to follow, but Damien’s voice stopped me cold.
“Stay.”
The command rolled through the air like thunder, leaving no room for refusal. My body obeyed before my mind could resist. My fingers curled nervously into the fabric of my skirt as I stood frozen in place, my heart pounding so hard I feared he could hear it.
Damien moved with slow, deliberate precision, removing the thin gown the healers had given him. The silence in the room thickened, each sound of fabric shifting scraping against my nerves. My eyes darted away, but I still felt every movement, every flex of muscle as he dressed with the ease of a man utterly in control—even after nearly giving a piece of himself away. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ (.)net
When he finally turned, the anger in his eyes hit me like a physical blow, twisting my chest until I could barely breathe.
My throat went dry. “Damien I whispered, but the word cracked before it even left me.
He took one step closer, and out of panic I took a step away. His brow furrowed as he studied me. “So now you’re scared of me?” he asked, sounding like he didn’t like the thought of that.
I swallowed hard and looked away, not able to meet his eyes. “I’m not… scared,” I managed, though my voice betrayed me. It trembled like a fragile thread about to snap.
Damien’s steps were measured slow, each one closing the distance between us. “You should be,” he murmured, not in threat, but in a dark, restrained truth. His hand lifted—and for a moment, I thought he might touch me—but instead he dragged it through his hair, his jaw tight.
The air between us burned with all the words neither of us had spoken. His chest rose and fell with controlled breaths, but his eyes… they blazed with questions, accusations, pain.
“You kept him from me,” he finally said, his voice low and filled with pain. “My son. My blood. And only because he was at the verge of death did you contact me.”
Tears welled in my eyes, spilling before I could stop them. “I did what I thought was best. I was trying to protect him. Protect us—”
“Protect?” His laugh was hollow, sharp, and angry. “Do you even hear yourself, Sofia? You kept me from him. You denied him his father.”
His angry voice resounded through the walls of the room. Feeling a little terrified, I wrapped my arms around myself, fighting the urge to crumble under the force of his fury. “I was afraid I whispered.
That stopped him. Just for a moment, the anger in his eyes deepened. “Afraid of me?” he asked again, softer this time, though the anger in his eyes remained.
I pressed a trembling hand to my chest, my heartbeat wild. “It’s not just about you, Damien… Damien, we are related… our families are enemies
“I don’t fucking care!” he spat in anger. “They can be in each other’s throats for all I care… that has nothing to do with us… that didn’t give you the right to steal almost three years of my son’s life. Do you even know what that means? Do you know what it feels like to know you have a son who has been kept away from you for almost three years and you are only being contacted because it was life or death!”
His rage erupted so violently that the equipment and furniture in the room rattled from the force of it.