Roland stared at Sasha, his smirk vanishing. The weight of the command in the other man's voice was undeniable, but Roland was not the type to back down easily. His amber eyes shifted between Sasha's tightened jaw and the way Aylin stiffened beside him.
He raised his hands, palms open, in mock surrender. "Easy there, Commander," he said evenly. "I meant no harm."
Sasha didn't move. He held Roland's gaze for a long time; his breathing labored due to his injuries, but the silent warning in his stance was clear. Even in his weakened state, he was imposing. His broad shoulders, marred with faint scars from past battles, radiated raw strength, and his bare chest, though free of visible wounds, carried the weight of exhaustion and determination alike. His presence alone commanded the room, a reminder of the predator beneath the man. Aylin was under his protection. No exceptions.
Roland exhaled through his nose, his lips twitching in reluctant amusement. "Huh," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, that's how it is."
Aylin swallowed hard. The tension in the room was suffocating, but she was too exhausted to unravel it. She stood in an old hunting suit, the fabric stiff with dried blood and dirt. It clung to her, a reminder of everything she had endured before stumbling into this chamber. Her limbs ached, every muscle screaming for rest, but her mind refused to quiet. She wasn't even sure what had just happened. Why is Sasha so possessive of her? Sure, she saved him, but for whatever reason, she did not expect the man to die so easily.
Her wolf stirred at the thought, a low growl echoing in the back of her mind. 'He is strong. He protects us.'
'He is not ours,' Aylin snapped internally, trying to suppress the surge of heat spreading through her chest.
Her wolf growled again, a slow, lingering sound filled with satisfaction. 'He could be.'
'No.' She pushed back against the thought, gripping her own arms to keep herself grounded. She had spent too long clawing her way to freedom, resisting the chains others had tried to place on her. She wouldn't trade one prison for another.
The warriors surrounding them remained silent, watching the exchange with keen eyes. The healing chamber was dimly lit, its stone walls lined with flickering torches that cast long shadows. The scent of herbs and damp earth filled the air—a mix of medicinal salves and old blood. Cots lined the far end of the room, some still occupied by wounded fighters, their shallow breaths the only other sound in the stillness. None of them questioned Sasha, but Roland was another story. He shifted his gaze back to Aylin, curiosity darkening his expression.
"You've been busy, haven't you?" he muttered, shaking his head. "The Silas I remember would never turn down a mate. And now, you're here, with him." He nodded at Sasha and crossed his arms. "Gotta say, Aylin, I never imagined you would be the type to trade one powerful wolf for another."
Aylin stiffened. A snarl formed in her throat before she could stop it, her wolf rising in defiance. 'We bow to no one!'
She opened her mouth to defend herself, but Sasha moved before she could say anything.
Sasha grabbed Roland by the front of his armor and yanked him forward before he could react. The movement was quick, and even though Sasha was weak and wounded, he was still stronger than Roland. His grip was firm, and Roland's expression flickered with surprise before a low growl rumbled in his throat.
"You talk too much," Sasha rasped.
Roland smirked, but there was a tinge to it. "And you get territorial fast," he countered.
Sasha didn't let go. His breath was shallow, but his strength hadn't waned entirely. "She is not yours to question."
Aylin inhaled sharply, stepping forward before things escalated further. "That is enough," she stated, her voice firmer than she felt.
Sasha hesitated. His jaw was clenched, but after a long beat, he released Roland with a firm push. Roland staggered back a step, rolling his shoulders as if to test Sasha's strength. His amusement had not completely faded, but there was a more calculated look in his eyes now.
"Well," Roland said, adjusting his armor. "That answers one question."
Aylin shot him a look. "And what's that?"
His smirk returned. "Whether or not he's your mate."
Her breath caught in her throat. A silence fell over the room, thick and unrelenting.
Sasha's gaze slid to her, unreadable. The tension that had been building between them since they first met rose to the surface, more tangible than ever. Aylin didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure what answer she even had.
She had fought so hard against the idea of being bound to anyone. She had spent years plotting the perfect moment to escape from Silas's grasp. And now, here she was, standing beside a man who would never let her go.
A man who growled at the mere thought of someone else touching her.
A man who, despite all his strength and dominance, had reacted to her name like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
'He is not ours,' Aylin reminded herself, but the words felt empty. Her wolf did not respond with defiance this time. Instead, it simply waited, as if knowing something she did not.
Sasha stepped forward, his gaze never leaving hers. "You should rest," he murmured, his voice low but certain.
Aylin wanted to argue, to demand answers, but her body betrayed her. The exhaustion pressed down on her like a weight, and her vision blurred around the edges.
Roland sighed, shaking his head. "Fine. We'll talk later," he said, mostly to her. Then he turned to face the other warriors. "Make sure she has a place to sleep."
Sasha growled, his hand moving to Aylin's lower back. "She stays with me."
Roland huffed a short laugh. "Yeah," he muttered. "Figured as much."