The Matchmaker - The Arrax Saga Book 1 Chapter 163

Saphira burst through the doors of the pack house, boots striking the floor in rapid succession, her breath ragged from the sprint. Nikolas was right behind her, his hand brushing her back as they tore down the corridor. The scent hit her first, antiseptic, blood, and the faint metallic tang of magic. It clung to the air like fog, thick and suffocating.

The dining room had been transformed into a triage centre. Tables were pushed aside, cots lined the walls, and every surface was occupied, by the wounded, by healers, by warriors trying to help. Low murmurs filled the space, punctuated by the rustle of bandages, the clink of vials, and the occasional groan of pain.

Saphira’s eyes scanned the room, her heart hammering against her ribs. *Where is she...*

*There. Asher.*

He stood near the far wall, unmoving, his posture rigid. Around him, healers moved in a blur, their hands glowing with magic, their faces drawn with fatigue. Saphira’s gaze darted past him, trying to see through the crowd gathered around a low table. All she could see was a limp body, arms draping off the side of the table.

*Anastasia.*

Saphira’s breath caught. She pushed forward, weaving between chairs and bodies, her voice breaking through the noise. “Asher...”

He turned at once, his face pale, eyes rimmed red. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back,” he said quickly, guilt thick in his voice. “I couldn’t leave her. It didn’t feel right.”

Nikolas stepped up beside her, placing a steadying hand on Asher’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said, voice low. “You did the right thing.”

Saphira nodded, her voice softer now, but tight with worry. “It’s okay. How is she?”

Asher shook his head, his jaw clenched. “I don’t know. No one’s told me anything since I brought her in. But…” He glanced toward the table. “It doesn’t look good.”

Saphira reached out and grabbed his hand, supporting him, and herself. Her other hand trembled at her side. *Please, please let her be okay.*

Nikolas’s voice cut through the room, calm but commanding. “I need an update. Now.”

A young doctor turned immediately, her sleeves stained with blood, magic still glowing faintly at her fingertips. “She’s in critical condition,” she said, stepping forward. “Whatever was on that blade, it was designed to take down a dragon. Fast-acting, corrosive. Her only saving grace was that it hit her wing and not her core. But even so, it’s not easy pulling her back from the edge.”

Nikolas’s jaw tightened. “Do you have the dagger?”

“Yes,” the doctor replied. “Our team is analysing it now. We’re trying to identify the poison and counteract it.”

Saphira nodded quickly, her voice catching. “Thank you.”

Nikolas echoed her. “Please, do everything you can.”

The doctor gave a tight nod. “I have to get back to her.” She turned, her hands already glowing brighter as she returned to the table.

Saphira stared at the space where Anastasia lay, her throat tight, her chest aching. “She’s got to be okay.”

Nikolas placed a hand gently on her back, his voice low and steady. “She will be. She’s strong. Like you.”

Saphira’s eyes flicked around the room, scanning the faces of her pack. Then she spotted Amara sitting beside Finn, who was propped up on a bench, a thick bandage wrapped around his shoulder and chest. His skin was pale, but his eyes were alert.

She turned to Asher. “I’ll be right back.”

Nikolas followed her as she crossed the room. Finn looked up as they approached, offering a crooked smile that didn’t quite hide the pain.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said, wincing slightly. “Already starting to heal. Perks of being me.”

Saphira gave a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “How are you really?”

Finn shrugged, then winced again. “Sore. But alive. What about you? What happened after I left?”

Saphira’s expression darkened. Her voice dropped. “Cassandra. After Lupus told the pack to stand down, she overrode him. Ordered them to kill me.”

Finn’s eyes flared, his body tensing. “I swear, if I could’ve...” He clenched his good hand into a fist. “I would’ve killed her myself.”

Saphira met his gaze, steady and quiet. “About that…”

He blinked. “Wait. You...?”

“I did,” she said softly. “She’s gone. Lupus and the rest of the Silvermoon survivors are in the cells. I’m sorry.”

Finn stared at her for a long moment, then slowly shook his head. “Don’t be. I’m glad you did it. After everything she’s done… she deserved worse.”

Saphira exhaled, her voice barely above a whisper. “I did it for both of us.”

Finn’s expression softened, his anger giving way to something quieter. “I know.”

Nikolas stood beside her, silent but steady. Saphira leaned into it, just for a moment. And for the first time since the battle ended, she allowed herself to breathe.

Nikolas’s hand rested gently on Saphira’s shoulder, his voice low but firm. “You need to rest. There’s nothing more you can do here.”

Saphira didn’t move. Her eyes remained locked on the table where Anastasia lay, surrounded by healers and glowing hands. “I’m not leaving,” she said quietly. “Not until I know she’s okay.”

Nikolas studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

Saphira turned to Finn, Amara beside him. “I’ll be just over there,” she said, gesturing toward Anastasia. “If you need anything…”

Finn gave her a tired smile. “If you need anything, you let me know. I mean it.”

Saphira’s throat tightened. “Thank you.”

She and Nikolas made their way back to Asher, who hadn’t moved from his spot beside Anastasia. His hands were clasped tightly in his lap, his eyes fixed on her unmoving form. Saphira lowered herself beside him, her knees aching, her body heavy with exhaustion.

Nikolas crouched beside her briefly, brushing her hair back from her face. “I’m going to do a sweep of the room,” he said. “Check on everyone. I’ll be back soon.”

Saphira nodded, her gaze never leaving Anastasia. “Okay.”

Nikolas stood and moved off, his presence already missed.

Saphira sat in silence beside Asher, the two of them waiting. The room buzzed around them, healers murmuring, magic humming, the occasional clatter of supplies. But it all felt distant, muffled beneath the weight of dread.

Then suddenly, a flat tone pierced the air.

Saphira’s head snapped up. Asher bolted to his feet beside her.

“Mum,” Saphira whispered, already rising.

The healers sprang into motion. One of them shouted for adrenaline. Another climbed onto the table and began chest compressions, her hands glowing with frantic magic. The others moved with practiced urgency, but their faces betrayed the panic.

Saphira’s heart pounded. *No. Not now. Not after everything.*