The Feral Alpha's Captive-Chapter 74: His Name On Her Lips

🔹 THORNE

Horror churned in my gut as the delta worked on her, hands deft but just as confused as I was. Her skin had greyed to a terrifying pallor.

I watched them crowd her—three deltas, including Ivanna, all moving around but none of that did nothing to ease the knot of dread tightening in my chest.

Blood still seeped between her legs, soaking through the furs they’d laid beneath her. Too much blood. Far too much.

"What’s happening to her?" My voice came out rougher than intended, edged with something I refused to name.

The head delta—an older woman with silver streaking her dark hair—didn’t look up. "We don’t know yet, Alpha."

"Then figure it out."

"We’re trying—"

"Try harder."

Ivanna moved closer, her expression carefully neutral. Professional. But I caught the flash of something else beneath it. Something that looked almost like satisfaction.

"Alpha," she said, her voice as neutral as she could manage, "we need space to work. You should—"

"I’m not leaving."

"Thorne." She touched my arm, and I jerked away instinctively. Her jaw tightened. "We need to examine her properly. That means—"

"I said I’m not leaving."

A flicker of irritation crossed her face, quickly masked. "This is a delicate situation. We’ll need to check her thoroughly, and your presence—"

"I’m not leaving." The words came out as a growl, Umbra rising beneath my skin.

He was agitated. Pacing. Snarling at the very thought of being separated from her.

Our mate. She lost blood, so much fucking blood.

I would never be able to rip out the memory of blood oozing down her quivering legs out of my feverish mind.

She’s not dying, I told him, though I wasn’t sure I believed it.

We can’t leave. We won’t leave.

She had been carrying that boy, numbing out the pain. Had I hurt in some way? Raised my hand without meaning to? Did someone hurt her when I was not around? Had the guards at the door allowed it?

The questions spiraled in my mind, fear curdling to sharp suspicion. The burn in my temple intensified with ear whirling thought.

Maybe I was projecting? I had slammed her into the wall at the sanctum, in front of the pack too. I had let them spit foul words at her.

Had she been bleeding by then? Slowly?

Ivanna’s expression hardened. "Alpha, I understand this is difficult, but—"

"No." The word was final, absolute as the guilt that ripped through me.

A hand settled on my shoulder. It’s weight, gentle but firm. I did not need to turn around to know exactly who it was. Her scent of incense, herbs and earth hit me.

My grandmother.

She’d arrived moments after we’d gotten Althea inside, moving quietly behind Me. I had seen the terror in her face.

"Thorne," she said softly. "Let them work."

"I can’t—" The words stuck in my throat.

"I know." Her eyes, dark and knowing as they held mine. "But you need to trust them. They’ll take care of her."

"Umbra won’t—"

"I’ll stay with her," she interrupted, her voice brooking no argument. "I won’t leave her side. Not for a moment."

My jaw clenched. Every instinct screamed at me to refuse. To stay. To guard what was mine.

But my grandmother’s hand squeezed my shoulder, pulling me back to earth before I spiralled out of control of my feelings.

"I promise," she murmured. "I’ll watch over her."

I opened my mouth to argue—

"Thorne."

The word was barely a whisper.

Breathless and utterly broken.

But her. The room froze.

Every head turned toward the bed where Althea lay, pale and bleeding and unconscious—

Except her lips had moved. "Thorne," she breathed again, her voice cracking on my name.

My hand moved before thought caught up, reaching for her face. My fingers brushed her cheek—cold, far too cold—and something in my chest cracked.

"I’m here," I said, my voice low and rough. "I’m right here."

Her brow furrowed slightly, like she was trying to surface from deep water. But her eyes didn’t open.

Still, she’d called for me.

Even unconscious and bleeding. Even—

My wolf settled, slightly. Enough that the snarling in my head quieted to a low, constant growl.

I stroked her cheek once more, my thumb tracing the sharp line of her cheekbone.

"You’re safe," I murmured, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince. "You’re safe."

Ivanna’s voice cut through the moment like a blade. "She’s delirious."

I looked up.

Her expression was carefully blank, but something flickered in her eyes. Something sharp and bitter.

"Blood loss causes confusion," she continued, her tone clinical. Professional. "She doesn’t know what she’s saying."

The words shouldn’t have stung.

They did anyway.

Because some part of me—some pathetic, desperate part—had wanted it to mean something. I wanted her to call my name to mean she knew I was there. That she felt safer because of it.

But Ivanna was right.

She was delirious.

Dying, maybe. That filled me with a horrible chill.

And I was standing here like a fool, stroking her face while she bled out.

I pulled my hand back.

Stepped away.

"Fine," I said, the word tasting like ash. "I’ll go."

My grandmother’s hand found mine, squeezing once. "I’ll send word the moment we know anything."

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

So I forced myself to turn around, away from her. My body vibrated with the effort. I forced myself to walk toward the door, my feet dragging..

Every step felt wrong. Like tearing away from something vital. Something necessary.

Umbra howled in protest.

Go back. Stay. Protect.

I can’t, I told him. They need space to work.

She needs US.

She needs to survive.

At the door, I stopped and dared to take a second look.

Althea lay motionless on the bed, surrounded by healers and deltas and my grandmother’s watchful presence.

Her lips moved again, soundless this time.

But I could read the shape of it.

Thorne.

I left before I could change my mind.

Before Umbra could take over and drag us back to her side.

The door closed behind me with a finality that felt like a death knell.

And all I could do was wait.