More movement. Bright lights. The smell of antiseptic and ozone.
They laid me down on something soft. Medical equipment surrounded me—monitors, scanners, things I didn't recognize. Hands moved over me, assessing damage, starting treatments.
"Cullen." Serna's voice cut through the chaos. "Cullen, look at me."
I forced my eyes open. Found her face above mine.
She was still covered in blood. Still breathing hard. But she was alive. We were both alive.
"Stay with me," she said again, and her voice was fierce. Commanding. The voice of a leader who'd never learned to accept defeat. "Don't you dare leave me now. We survived. We made it. So you stay with me, do you hear? You stay with me."
I wanted to tell her I would. Wanted to promise her forever.
But the darkness was closing in, and I was so tired.
Though it was hazy and distant, I felt her panic. Felt her pouring everything she had into me—her strength, her will, her love.
Stay,she commanded through our connection.Stay with me.
I let myself drift, secure in the knowledge that when I woke, she would still be there.
My mate. My Prime. My Serna.
And we had survived.
Chapter 18
Cullen
I caught my reflection in the polished metal wall of the antechamber and still didn't quite recognize the man staring back at me.
The Garoot healer had done more than save my life. It had turned back the clock—approximately twenty-six years, according to the medical team. The gray at my temples was gone. The lines around my eyes had smoothed. My skin looked tighter, healthier. Even my posture felt different—straighter, stronger, like my body had shed decades of wear and tear along with the injuries.
I was fifty-three years old. I looked thirty-three.
It was disorienting as hell.
"You know," Chloe said from across the antechamber, her tone dry, "it's really not fair that you look younger than I do. I'm your daughter. This violates some fundamental law of nature."
Despite the tension coiling in my gut, I managed a smile. "If it helps, I still feel old."
"It doesn't help." But she was smiling too, even if the expression didn't quite reach her eyes. She was nervous. We all were.
The antechamber was elegant in that understated way that screamed power—high ceilings, walls of pale stone veined with gold, furniture that looked ancient and priceless. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the sprawling city of Calpa below,all gleaming spires and flowing architecture that seemed to grow organically from the landscape.
But none of us were looking at the view.
Ako stood near the door that led to the Council chamber, his posture rigid, his expression troubled. He'd been quiet since we'd arrived, his usual calm replaced by something that looked uncomfortably like worry.
Nansar sat beside Chloe, one hand resting on her knee in a gesture of comfort. He was Ako's son—tall, muscular, with that same warrior bearing—with pale skin and long platinum hair. He'd saved my daughter's live. He adored her. I could do much worse for a son-in-law.
Charick stood by the windows, his mate Willa at his side, staring out at the city. Serna's son looked like his mother—same strong features, same intensity—but there was something heavy in his posture. Something resigned.
"How long do you think they'll deliberate?" Chloe asked, breaking the silence.
"They won't," Ako said quietly. "Serna will address them directly. They'll respond immediately."
"And if they don't approve?" I heard myself ask.
