Chapter 4 4. Chapter

Aurora

The cold, sharp air instantly cut off the scream lodged in my throat after hitting the ground. Pain shot through my ribs, through my hip, through every fragile part of me that reminded me I was human—breakable. Elijah’s furious outburst, the red glint blazing in his eyes, felt for a heartbeat more real than my own existence. More solid than the asphalt beneath me. More dangerous than the darkness swallowing the road around us.

But then, without warning, his rage shifted. The wildfire in his expression froze back into something far worse—icy, merciless control.

“The chaos is over, Hunter,” he hissed, his voice barely more than a breath, yet sharp enough to slice skin. “Now survival begins. And there is no room for hysteria in that.”

Before I could react or even draw a steady breath, Elijah grabbed my other arm and hurled me back toward the car. His strength wasn’t aimed to kill—but it wasn’t gentle, either. My body flew into the seat, my shoulder slamming into the door, and my head nearly striking the dashboard. The impact rattled my bones. He followed with that steel-hard grip closing around my upper arm, not in anger this time, but with a dominance so absolute it made my lungs tighten.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t push back. But my eyes darted to the dagger lying abandoned on the cold ground.

“My weapon,” I said. It wasn’t a demand. Just two words. Quiet, steady—but trembling slightly, betraying the storm inside me.

Elijah’s gaze swept over me like a glacier sliding over stone, impersonal but devastating. Slowly, he bent down and picked up the dagger gleaming on the asphalt. For a heartbeat I expected him to hand it back. Instead, he balanced it in his palm, testing its weight, turning it over with a detached curiosity that made my stomach twist.

“This is mine as long as I need it,” he said. No emotion. No argument. Simply law.

Then he tossed the weapon onto the back seat without a single glance in my direction.

A moment later, he slid into the driver’s seat. The engine growled to life, low and angry, and the car surged forward once more, swallowed by the road’s endless ribbon of darkness. Elijah was no longer enraged. He was cold. Controlled. Focused. A hunting wolf with no pack, no throne, no limits—and I was locked in the cage beside him.

I pressed myself as far toward the car door as possible. The metal felt icy under my palm, a small relief compared to the burning in my arm. Slowly, carefully, I raised my hand and rubbed the skin above my elbow. Beneath the surface, my bones throbbed with the dull ache of impact. I could already feel the bruises forming—small, purple-red crescents where his fingers had dug into my human flesh. Marks that would linger long after the pain faded.

“Why are you looking at it?” Elijah asked suddenly, his voice low, calm, infuriatingly composed. He didn’t take his eyes off the road.

“You grabbed me hard enough to leave bruises,” I answered, tension threading my voice even though I spoke quietly. “By tomorrow it’ll be a deep purple. Maybe a trophy—something to remind me you’re just a beast who can’t control himself.”

A faint smile touched his lips—cold, sharp, disturbingly satisfied.

“Sometimes the beast is sharper than the Sovereign,” he murmured. “And as for you, Hunter… be grateful my loss of power manifested only as a few bruises. If not for this… peculiar alliance between us, I’d be treading on your soul already.”

The way he said peculiar alliance tasted like venom coming off his tongue. I turned my gaze away, retreating into my thoughts where his voice couldn’t reach. My red hair fell over my arm, hiding the darkening mark on my skin. But the ache in my hip, the burnt-in memory of his grip, and the adrenaline still roaring through my blood remained.

My body’s reaction was unmistakable. Hatred pushed me toward danger. Fury kept me awake. But beneath the pain, beneath the bruises and the sharp sting of humiliation… something else flickered. Something I wished I could crush as easily as he crushed bone.

A forbidden spark glowed deep beneath the sea of rage.

Silence stretched between us, long and heavy. I rubbed my bruises. Elijah gripped the wheel, his knuckles pale against the leather, eyes fixed on the endless dark road ahead. He wasn’t resting. Sovereigns never rested. Failure, betrayal, and my immunity—all those truths gnawed at him like relentless wolves. These three were the weights that dragged him from a throne and thrust him back into the skin of a hunter.

“Where are we going?” I finally asked. Ignorance was worse than anger. Worse than fear.

“To a place they can’t reach us,” he said, his tone smooth but carrying a faint tremor. The tiniest crack in his armor. “The High Council is hunting both of us now.” He exhaled slowly. “You said you didn’t want my order. Now you get chaos.”

I folded my arms across my chest. His fury was etched onto my skin like ink. His fall had shackled itself to my fate. And now the burden of a lifelong, unwanted alliance sat heavy on my soul. The air between us thickened—charged with something dangerous, magnetic, impossible to ignore. Hatred and attraction mingled bitterly in my mouth, like the taste of ash mixed with wine.

Elijah glanced at me—just once. Not to intimidate. Not to command. To observe. His gaze flicked to the bruises on my arm, but he said nothing. Guilt wasn’t in his vocabulary, yet something weighted his shoulders, pulling him down like gravity reclaiming a fallen star.

The journey ahead would not be safe.

It would not be peaceful.

It would not be simple.

The forced journey had begun.