Aiden didn't realize how tense his body still was until the quiet settled.
The den was warm and peaceful again, the chaos of the night reduced to little more than a dull ache in his muscles and a lingering heaviness in his chest. He sat up against the headboard, blanket pulled over his lap, ears flicking as his senses slowly returned to something like normal.
Theron stood a short distance away — giving him space like Aiden asked — arms crossed loosely as he watched him with careful attention.
"You breathing better?" Theron asked.
Aiden nodded. "…Yeah."
His wolf stirred restlessly inside him, not panicked now, just tired. Full. Confused.
Aiden dragged a hand through his hair. "My head hurts."
"That's normal," Theron said. "False heat mixed with real heat strains the body. The aftershock can last a day or two."
Aiden frowned. "…You sound like you've seen this before."
Theron exhaled slowly, then nodded. "Too many times."
That answer didn't comfort Aiden as much as it should have.
Silence stretched again.
Then Theron turned toward the entrance of the den.
"I'm calling the healer."
Aiden stiffened immediately. "What? No. I'm fine."
"You're stable," Theron corrected gently. "Not fine."
"I don't want the whole pack knowing—"
"They won't," Theron said firmly. "She's discreet. And this isn't about pride."
Aiden's jaw tightened.
"This happened because of me," Theron added quietly. "Because you were targeted. I won't ignore that."
Aiden looked down at his hands.
"…Okay."
It came out smaller than he meant it to.
Theron inclined his head in acknowledgment, then stepped outside briefly. Aiden listened to the low murmur of his voice — calm, controlled, but threaded with something sharp underneath. Not fear. Not anger.
Resolve.
When Theron returned, he brought a folded cloth and a small cup of water with herbs steeped into it.
"Drink," he said. "Slowly."
Aiden sniffed it suspiciously. "Is this going to knock me out?"
"No."
"…Are you sure?"
"I promise."
That trust — offered so easily — made Aiden hesitate.
Then he drank.
Warmth spread through his chest almost immediately, the dull fog in his head easing just a little. His shoulders relaxed without permission.
"That's," he paused, "…actually nice."
Theron hid his smile behind turning away.
They waited in quiet together until soft footsteps approached.
The healer was an older omega woman with steel-grey hair tied in a braid and steady amber eyes that missed nothing. She paused when she saw Aiden, then bowed her head slightly — respectful, not pitying.
"May I?" she asked, gesturing to his wrist.
Aiden glanced at Theron.
Theron nodded once.
The healer's touch was cool and grounding as she pressed two fingers to Aiden's pulse, then lightly beneath his jaw, checking scent glands without invading his space.
"Residual heat symptoms," she murmured. "But fading. The suppressant you were given was crude — dangerous."
Aiden swallowed. "Yeah. I figured."
The healer's gaze sharpened. "You were lucky."
Theron's jaw tightened.
"He will need rest," she continued. "And distance from stressors. No training. No confrontations. Not for a few days."
Aiden opened his mouth to protest.
Theron beat him to it.
"He'll rest."
Aiden shot him a glare.
The healer almost smiled.
Before leaving, she paused and looked at Aiden again. Her voice softened.
"You did well surviving that, child. Heat does not make you weak."
Aiden didn't answer — but something in his chest loosened.
When she was gone, Theron turned back to Aiden.
"You heard her."
Aiden huffed. "Yeah. Yeah. Rest. Be boring. Don't stab anyone."
Theron stepped closer, lowering himself to sit at the edge of the bed — still not touching unless invited.
"You don't have to process everything today," he said quietly. "What happened… what you felt… it'll take time to untangle."
Aiden stared at his knees.
"…I wasn't myself," he said. "But some of it felt real. That scares me."
Theron's voice was steady. "It's allowed to."
Aiden finally looked up.
"Will you… stay?" he asked, hating how small it sounded. "Not— not like last night. Just… here."
Theron didn't hesitate.
"I'm not going anywhere."
Aiden let out a slow breath, sinking back into the blankets.
For the first time since the warehouse, since the fight, since the heat —
His wolf rested.
And Aiden slept again, not because he was overwhelmed — but because he finally felt watched over.
Aiden didn't sleep long.
He drifted in and out, half-aware of Theron's presence — the steady weight of it, like gravity. When he finally woke fully, the ache in his body had dulled, replaced by a strange, fragile calm.
Theron sat nearby, back against the stone wall, reading something Aiden didn't recognize. He looked… ordinary. Too ordinary for someone who carried so much power.
Aiden watched him for a while.
Then—
"Theron?"
The Alpha King looked up immediately. "Yes?"
Aiden hesitated. His fingers twisted into the blanket.
"…How old are you?"
Theron blinked.
"That's your question?"
Aiden flushed. "I—I mean— you don't have to answer. I just— sometimes you talk like you've lived longer than you should have."
Theron studied him carefully.
Then he closed the book and set it aside.
"Older than I look," he said truthfully.
Aiden frowned. "How much older?"
Theron tilted his head, considering. "Long enough to watch packs rise and fall. Long enough to know most mistakes before they happen."
A chill slipped down Aiden's spine.
"That's not normal," he whispered.
"No," Theron agreed softly. "It isn't."
Silence returned — heavier this time.
Aiden swallowed. "You knew about heat. About false heat. About… omega signs. Before anyone else noticed."
Theron didn't answer right away.
"And sometimes," Aiden continued, voice quieter, "when you're angry, it feels like the whole world listens. Like the air itself is paying attention to you."
Theron's eyes flickered — gold catching the light.
"That frightens you," he said.
"Yes," Aiden admitted. Then, after a pause, "But it also makes me feel… safe."
Theron exhaled slowly.
"I wasn't always a king," he said. "Before territory. Before crowns. Before laws. I existed… differently."
Aiden leaned forward without realizing it.
"Differently how?"
Theron's gaze drifted past him, toward the den entrance where moonlight still lingered faintly even though the sun was rising.
"There are forces older than packs," he said quietly. "Older than alphas and omegas. Things that guide, rather than rule."
Aiden's heart thudded.
"…Like fate?" he asked.
Theron met his eyes.
"Yes."
Aiden's wolf stirred, ears lifting.
"You talk about the moon like it's alive," Aiden whispered. "Like it answers you."
Theron's mouth curved — not quite a smile.
"It listens."
Aiden laughed softly, almost breathless. "You say things like that so casually."
"I forget sometimes how strange it sounds."
Aiden grew serious.
"Is that why the bond happened?" he asked. "Because of… whatever you are?"
Theron's voice dropped. "The bond happened because it was meant to."
"That's not an answer."
"No," Theron agreed. "But it's the truth."
Aiden studied him — really looked. The strength, yes. The dominance. But also the restraint. The care. The way Theron never crossed lines without permission, even when instinct screamed.
"…You could've forced me," Aiden said quietly.
Theron stiffened. "I would never."
"I know," Aiden said. His voice shook. "That's why I'm asking."
Theron looked at him then — truly looked — like the weight of centuries pressed behind his eyes.
"One day," he said softly, "if you choose to stay… I'll tell you everything."
Aiden's chest tightened.
"…And if I don't?"
Theron smiled — sad, gentle, honest.
"Then I'll protect you anyway."
Aiden looked away, overwhelmed.
"I don't know how to feel about you," he muttered. "You're unfair. And terrifying. And you make everything complicated."
Theron chuckled quietly.
"And yet?"
Aiden's tail flicked under the blanket.
"…And yet I asked."
That silence between them changed after that.
Not shattered.
Just… shifted.
Like something old had begun to wake.