Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King Chapter 115

Maximus's POV

The moment I heard the voice, my heart stopped.

"I... I think I can help him."

I turned so fast my neck almost snapped. And there she was.

Emilia.

Standing in the doorway, pale as moonlight, her hair messy, her skin still carrying the marks of her shift. She looked like she'd walked through hell and somehow crawled back out. Her eyes were empty, exhausted, as if her soul had been dragged across the earth.

But she wasn't looking at me.

Her eyes were locked on Damien. Only him.

Rose's gasp echoed behind me. "Miss... you... you've shifted back."

Emilia didn't answer. She just stepped inside slowly, like her body weighed a hundred pounds. She gave the smallest, weakest smile—directed at Rose...at anyone but me.

Not even a single glance my way.

My chest tightened so hard I almost stopped breathing.

The room felt smaller. Tighter. Colder.

The doctor straightened when she approached. "Miss, what do you mean you can help?"

Emilia didn't look at him either. Her gaze was fixed on Damien's pale face. When she spoke, her voice was soft but steady.

"I've been hurt several times," she said quietly, "but I heal... even when I didn't have my wolf. I've even faced death and didn't die." She swallowed, her eyes flicking down to Damien's weak body. "It's crazy, but... I think my blood can heal him."

My heart lurched.

Her blood?

Before I could say anything, Emilia stepped to the small bedside table. Her fingers closed around the dagger lying there, the one coated with Damien's dried blood.

"Emilia—" I started sharply, stepping forward.

She didn't even turn toward me.

It was like I wasn't there at all.

She knelt beside Damien, her movements slow but sure, her fingers shaking slightly. Then, without hesitation, she dragged the blade across her palm.

"Emilia!" I barked, my voice deeper, raw.

Rose let out a loud gasp and covered her mouth with both hands. The doctor stumbled backward in shock.

Blood rushed from Emilia's hand—bright, alive, warm. She lifted Damien's head gently with her other arm and tilted it enough for the blood to reach his mouth.

Her blood.

Her life.

She let it spill into him while her face twisted in pain.

I moved, frozen between anger and fear. I wanted to grab her. I wanted to stop her. I wanted to scream at her. But I couldn't move. My feet were glued to the floor. My breath stuck in my throat.

She didn't even flinch.

She didn't hesitate.

She just kept letting her blood drip into my brother's mouth while she whispered under her breath, "Come on... come on, Damien... wake up."

No one breathed.

Not Rose.

Not the doctor.

Not me.

The air in the room grew thick—so heavy it felt like walls were closing in around us.

Nothing happened.

Damien's body stayed pale. His chest rose and fell weakly. His eyes remained shut.

And slowly, Emilia's shoulders sagged. Her hand trembled as the blood stopped flowing and the wound began to close. Her face—Goddess, her face—looked so disappointed it felt like someone had stabbed me straight through the ribs.

She tried again, leaning closer, touching his cold hand.

"Please..." she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please wake up..."

Still nothing.

I could feel my pulse hammering in my ears. My body was on edge. Every instinct told me to reach for her, to touch her, to pull her away from this pain—but I stayed still, watching the woman I loved bleed for my brother.

Then it happened.

Damien's body jerked.

Just a small twitch at first. Barely noticeable. But Emilia saw it—and she froze.

His chest rose deeper. A faint warmth returned to his skin.

The doctor gasped loudly, stumbling forward. "My King..." he whispered, staring at Damien with wide eyes. "How... how is this possible?"

Color rushed back into Damien's face—fast. Too fast.

And then Damien gasped, like someone had dragged him up from deep underwater. His eyes cracked open weakly, only for a second.

Emilia's face lit up, her smile bright and relieved despite her exhaustion.

"Damien," she whispered, brushing her fingers across his cheek. "You're awake..."

He didn't answer. He couldn't. His eyes fluttered closed again as his breathing deepened into something steady—something safe.

The doctor rushed to check him, hands trembling. He checked Damien's pulse, his temperature, his wounds—everything.

Then he looked at me, stunned. "He's fine," he whispered. "Everything is perfect...like...like nothing even happened."

I stared at him.

Then at Damien.

Then at Emilia.

And for the first time in hours—no—for the first time in my life, I didn't know what to say.

The doctor kept staring at Emilia with a furrowed brow, but he didn't dare voice his thoughts. Instead, he bowed slightly.

"He only needs rest now, Your Majesty. He will recover fully."

Rose stepped forward, tears flooding her eyes. She grabbed Emilia's hand, squeezing it tightly. "Thank you," she whispered, voice shaking. "Thank you so much for saving my master."

Emilia gave her a faint smile—a real one. Soft. Gentle.

"He's my mate, Rose," she said quietly. "Don't forget that."

The words stabbed me.

Deep. Sharp. Brutal.

Something inside my chest twisted so painfully I almost doubled over. She still wouldn't look at me. Not once. Not even a single glance.

And hearing her call Damien her mate...Hearing her say it like a declaration...Hearing her say it while refusing to even acknowledge me...It was too much.

"Rose," Emilia said softly, her voice steady now. "Please see the doctor out. I'll take care of Damien. He's still covered in blood."

Rose nodded. "Yes, miss." She bowed her head and guided the doctor out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Leaving the three of us inside. The silence that followed was brutal.

I could hear my own heartbeat. I could hear the soft, calm rhythm of Damien breathing. I could hear the faint echo of Emilia's heartbeat—steady, controlled, impossibly calm.

My fist clenched.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know where to start. I didn't know how to pull her eyes to mine.

I stepped forward. "Emilia..."

Nothing.

She didn't turn. She didn't pause. She didn't even stiffen. She simply wrung a cloth in a bowl of warm water and began wiping the blood from Damien's chest.

Her movements were slow, gentle, careful—like Damien was the only thing in the world that mattered.

My voice came out lower, strained. "Emilia... please."

Still nothing.

She wiped away another streak of blood, her jaw tight, her expression unreadable.

"Why won't you even look at me?" I whispered.

This time she stopped.

Not fully—just enough that I saw her shoulders rise and fall in one slow, controlled breath.

Then, finally, she turned.

And when her eyes met mine, the air left my lungs.

Cold.

Her gaze was so cold it felt like someone had pressed a blade against my throat. Empty. Hard. Filled with something I didn't want to name. Something sharp. Something I had never seen on her face before.

She stared at me like she didn't know me.

Like she didn't care to.

When she spoke, her voice was flat, polite, distant.

"With all due respect," she said quietly, "please leave."

My heart dropped straight into my stomach.

She turned back to Damien without waiting for my answer, without a flicker of hesitation, without the slightest crack in her voice.

"I want to take care of my mate."

The words echoed in my skull.

My mate.

My mate.

My mate.

And just like that—just like a blade sliding between the ribs—everything inside me tore open.

I stood there, feeling the world tilt beneath my feet, feeling something inside my chest snap cleanly in half.

Emilia didn't look back at me again.

She didn't say another word.

She just kept wiping Damien's blood with calm, steady hands while I stood there......silent......helpless......feeling like my heart had been ripped out of my body.