Falling For The Demon Wolf-Chapter 55: Fragile

ZAIN

Days passed in a haze of waiting.

I rarely left her side.

When I did, it was only because Maren forced me to leave long enough to shower or eat something—and even then, it was only minutes before I returned.

The pack adjusted around my absence. Rhys and Cian handled the patrols. Jade hovered nearby sometimes, sitting in the hall or slipping quietly into the room just to make sure Violet was still breathing. I barely acknowledged any of them. My entire world had narrowed down to the fragile girl lying in my bed, bruised and broken because of me.

Because I hadn’t protected her.

Each morning, I was there when the sun bled through the curtains. I watched the slow, shallow rise of her chest, counted the beats of her heart when I could no longer trust my own ears. Her scent—usually so fresh, so stubbornly sweet—was faint under the layers of herbs and medicine.

I hated it.

Hated seeing her like this.

Sometimes she stirred—small, twitching movements that made my heart leap—but she never woke. Maren told me it was her wolf keeping her under, forcing her body to heal before consciousness returned. I tried to be patient.

Tried to trust the process.

But every hour she didn’t wake felt like a lifetime clawing down my spine.

At night, I sat in the chair beside her bed, elbows on my knees, staring at her through the dim light of the fireplace. I would talk to her sometimes—low murmured things no one else would ever hear. Promises. Regrets. Apologies.

"I should have told you I was leaving," I whispered one night, fingers dragging over my jaw, feeling the prickle of days-old stubble. "If I had... maybe you wouldn’t have gone after me."

Maybe you wouldn’t be lying here like this.

Her fingers twitched once, and I froze, leaning closer—but it was only a dream spasm. My heart crashed back into the pit of my stomach.

Maren checked on her twice a day. Each time, the same update: her vitals were steady, her wounds healing slower than a normal wolf’s might, but healing nonetheless. Whatever rogue magic they had used on her, it lingered like a stain.

"You need to fight, Violet," I said hoarsely one morning, my voice rough from disuse. I dragged the chair closer to her bedside and took her hand gently between mine. "Fight. Come back."

The door creaked open, and Rhys stepped inside. He didn’t speak at first, just watched me.

"How’s she doing?" he asked finally.

"The same," I said without looking away from her face.

"You can’t sit here forever, Alpha," he said carefully. "The pack still needs you."

"I am here for the pack," I growled low under my breath. "She’s one of us."

Rhys nodded and backed out of the room, sensing my mood.

Another day passed.

Another sleepless night.

I refused to leave her.

I caught Karen once, trying to sneak in and change her dressings without waking me. She froze under my glare, but I softened almost immediately.

"Go ahead," I muttered, standing back against the far wall, arms crossed, watching like a hawk as they tended to Violet.

Maren said the fever had broken.

That was something.

But her wolf—whatever awakening had started—still kept her under. As if it knew she wasn’t ready yet.

As if it knew there were battles still to come.

I stayed.

Every day.

Every night.

Waiting.

Hoping.

Praying to gods I didn’t even believe in anymore.

Come back to me, Violet.

I didn’t realize I’d said it aloud until I felt a warm, slight pressure against my hand.

I looked down sharply.

Her fingers had twitched—just barely.

And for the first time in days, something inside me roared back to life

Her eyelids fluttered once.

A second time.

I leaned in so fast the chair scraped against the floor.

"Violet," I rasped, my thumb brushing against her knuckles. "Come on, little wolf. Open your eyes."

Her lashes lifted sluggishly, her gaze unfocused, distant, as if she was seeing through me instead of at me. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

"You’re safe," I said quickly, adjusting the blankets around her frail body. "You’re home."

She blinked slowly, her brow twitching like she was trying to piece the world back together. Every movement was agonizingly slow, like her body was still trapped between waking and darkness.

Maren pushed the door open quietly behind me, her scent of herbs and sharp magic flooding the room.

"Alpha," she said under her breath, moving closer to examine Violet. She frowned almost immediately.

"What is it?" I snapped.

"She’s awake, yes," Maren murmured, pressing a hand to Violet’s clammy forehead, "but her wolf... it’s still dormant. She’s barely clinging to consciousness."

Violet’s hand weakly squeezed mine. My heart twisted painfully.

"What do we do?" My voice was rougher than I intended. "Tell me what the hell to do, Maren."

The old healer hesitated. Her eyes flicked between Violet’s pale face and mine.

"Right now we just have to wait and see how fast she heals on her own."

Just as the words left her mouth, Violet drifted into unconsciousness again, falling limp in my arms.

"Hey," I whispered slowly moving her but no response.

"She’s fine, her body just need to rest more," maren said.

The days dragged into one another, slow and suffocating.

Violet remained unconscious, her body weak and broken, though the bleeding had stopped. Her breathing was steady, but shallow — too shallow for my liking.

I barely left her side.

If I did, it was only to shift and run through the woods to keep from going mad. Then I would come straight back, sitting by the bed, watching every small movement she made, every flutter of her lashes, every twitch of her fingers.

The pack functioned without me.

Cian and Rhys took charge of security.

Selene organized the patrols.

But my world had narrowed to the four walls of my quarters and the fragile girl lying still beneath the covers.

Wolf — her loyal companion — refused to leave the room, his large form curled protectively near the bed.

Sometimes, when the silence became too much, I spoke softly to her, telling her what was happening in the pack, about how Jade and Rhys had finally found each other, how the rogues were being hunted down one by one.

I didn’t know if she could hear me.

But I talked anyway, for both our sakes.

By the fourth day, faint signs of healing started to show.

The bruises faded slightly.

The swelling in her face lessened.

Her body began fighting back — slowly, painfully slowly.

But she didn’t wake.

And her wolf... it remained silent.

I could feel the emptiness where her wolf should have been — like a gaping wound inside her.

Maren reassured me that sometimes trauma could drive a wolf into hiding, but her eyes told a different story.

Concern.

Doubt.

Fear that Violet’s wolf might not return at all.

I refused to accept that.

Not my Violet.

Not my stubborn, defiant little wolf.

I stayed with her day and night, forcing food down when Maren or Selene shoved it into my hands, refusing to sleep unless exhaustion claimed me where I sat.

Every time her fingers twitched, every time her brow furrowed slightly in her sleep, hope flared sharp in my chest — only to be dashed again when she settled back into stillness.

On the sixth night, she whimpered softly in her sleep.

A broken, pained sound that tore straight through me.

I climbed into the bed carefully, pulling her frail form against my chest, cradling her protectively.

Wolf lifted his head, watching me, then laid back down again.

"I’m here," I whispered, pressing my lips to her hair.

"I’m not going anywhere."

Her body was so small against mine, so fragile I was afraid I might hurt her by holding her too tightly.

Still, I couldn’t let go.

I wouldn’t.

The idea of losing her after everything — after fighting so hard to get her back — was unbearable.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

I was supposed to protect her.

I had failed her.

Guilt gnawed at me like a living thing, feeding on the silence, on the helplessness.

I didn’t know how much longer she could survive like this without her wolf fully waking.

And deep down, I knew — no matter how much I hated it — that the time was approaching when I might have to do something I had been dreading.

To mark her.

Maren would kill me if she knows what I’m thinking, but if only she could heal on her own like we all do then maybe she has s chance at survival.

But I couldn’t

Not until I was sure she could wake up on her own.

And stay awake.

I tightened my arms around her slightly, careful not to jostle her injuries.

And in the darkness, with only Wolf’s steady breathing and her faint heartbeat for company, I made a silent vow.