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It's over. The assassination failed.

Raxen's lion form shimmered as he forced the shift back to human, his naked body emerging streaked with blood and dirt. The wounds across his chest, ribs, and shoulder burned like fire, but he was alive.

"You're safe," Amara's voice carried across the courtyard as she sprinted from the estate's entrance. "You're still alive."

She reached him just as his legs threatened to give out, her arms wrapping around his bloodied torso with desperate relief. He pulled her against his chest despite the pain, burying his face in her hair as the reality of their survival crashed over him.

"I told you," he murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion and overwhelming emotion, "you weren't going to lose me."

Around them, Vessa, Jalen, and Pax shifted back to human form, their own bodies bearing the marks of battle but their eyes bright with victory.

"Alpha," Jalen's voice carried the strain of recent combat but also unmistakable satisfaction. "We need to get you inside. Those wounds need treatment, and we have questions that need answering."

Pax nodded grimly, wiping blood from a cut on his arm. "The attack was too coordinated to be random. Someone's been planning this for a long time."

"I know exactly who," Raxen said, his deep voice carrying the cold certainty of a man who had finally seen the pattern hidden beneath twenty years of careful manipulation. "And it's time we had a conversation with my dear uncle about his definition of family loyalty."

Minutes later, Amara's steady hands guided Raxen's naked, bloodied form through the estate's grand entrance, her arm wrapped around his waist as he leaned heavily against her smaller frame. The marble floors gleamed under the crystal chandeliers, but the elegant surroundings felt surreal after the violence they'd just survived.

"Easy," Amara murmured as they reached the base of the grand staircase. "Lean on the railing if you need to."

Raxen's hand gripped the ornate banister, his knuckles white as pain lanced through his ribs with each step upward. The wounds across his chest burned like liquid fire, but having Amara's warm body pressed against his side made everything bearable. Her lavender and pear scent wrapped around him, grounding him in the present instead of letting his mind spiral toward thoughts of vengeance.

"You're doing great," she said softly as they climbed. "Just focus on one step at a time."

How did I survive twenty years without this woman?

The question hit him with startling clarity as they reached the second-floor landing. Not just her competence or her courage—though both had saved his life tonight—but her presence. The way she anchored him without trying to control him.

They turned down the corridor toward his private chambers, passing portraits of his ancestors who stared down with painted eyes that seemed to judge his bloodied state. Those same ancestors had trusted family. Had believed blood meant loyalty.

Vessa's face was pale but determined. "The healer will be here within minutes," she said softly.

"Thank you," Amara replied, shouldering more of Raxen's weight as his strength wavered. "Help me get him to the sitting area."

Together, they guided him through the heavy doors into his private chambers. The spacious room felt different now—no longer the sanctuary where he'd retreated from the burdens of leadership, but a place where his mate had positioned herself to save his life. The balcony doors stood open, night air carrying the lingering scent of gunpowder and blood.

"Here," Vessa directed, moving toward the plush sofa positioned near the stone fireplace. "This will be easier for the healer to work on than the bed."

Amara helped lower him onto the burgundy leather, her hands surprisingly strong as she supported his shoulders. "Careful," she instructed Vessa.

Raxen settled back against the cushions, his breathing labored but steady. The adrenaline was fading now, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion that made his eyelids heavy. But his mind remained sharp, focused on the two women who'd risked everything for him.

"I need to know," he said, his deep voice rough but determined. "How did you figure out it was an assassination attempt?"

Vessa perched on the edge of the coffee table. "It was all Amara. She pieced it together before I even understood what was happening."

Amara knelt beside the sofa. "Tavian gave me a strange look and smile before he left the conference room tonight," she said, her voice calm despite the gravity of her words. "He said something about 'such a shame when history repeats itself.'"

History repeats itself.

The words hit Raxen like a battering ram, rage flooding his system so completely that his lion roared beneath his skin. His muscles tensed as he started to push himself upright, his vision going red with the need to shift, to hunt, to tear his uncle apart with his own claws.

Twenty years. Twenty fucking years I trusted him.

"You are not going anywhere." Amara's firm hands pressed against his shoulders, holding him in place with surprising strength. Her green eyes blazed with determination as she met his furious stare. "You are seriously injured."

"I'm going to kill him," Raxen snarled, his deep voice carrying the deadly promise of an Alpha who'd been pushed beyond his limits. "He will not get away with this."