Cassian resisted by raising a shielding arm. He would pivot it accordingly to keep her back. Only when she backed away would he lower it. There was caution in his gaze.

Instead of speaking, he let his eyes wander from Regan and to the scene around them, trying to determine the next step. How did they get back from here?

Cassian’s gaze fell on the waiting shed with its blessed door and he immediately stood and began towards it. It seemed clear enough that he had no intention to talk to Regan about what had happened, to tell her it was okay, or to even look at her.

Cassian used the key to return them to his study. It was always his study. Stepping into the familiar space, however, he didn’t feel the usual sense of familiarity. The king persona and disposition didn’t flood back into his person, chasing away the wolf and its adventures. No, he found himself caught, no doubt by the pulsing pain in his chest. He felt himself disoriented and…he couldn’t put his finger on it. Anxious? Angry? Betrayed? Afraid?

He was crossing towards his desk as she spoke, and he found in himself the urge to spin around, perhaps to shift again.

“Just—” the word left the king’s lips uncharacteristically fast, as if he hadn’t given the response thought; he hesitated, however, reaching his desk and moving behind it, now facing Regan—“go.” It could have been said harsher, but somehow it came out rather gently. Or was it only quiet yet still steely and hard?

Regan could feel it, though she too didn’t know just what it was. It was a frenetic, unstable energy that rolled off Cassian in waves. Her heart pounded in her chest. The room felt like it was spinning. And then...he turned. Go. The word struck Regan like an arrow. After the slight flinch, shutters closed behind Regan’s eyes. She disappeared, dissociating like a turtle retracting into its shell.

"No other sacrifice would have meant as much," Regan whispered, though her voice no longer wavered, "It's an ugly thing, and—and you can be angry, but when things fall apart, what matters is I get you home. Nothing's gonna keep me from that." Regan lingered for only a moment, eyes flickering to the cut on Cassian’s chest, before she dipped her head in a slight bow and turned to leave.

Cassian expected her to go in silence. He wanted her to. He wanted it because he didn’t want to face the trembling inside himself, nor accept what that would mean for them. Simultaneously, however, he longed for her to fight him. To challenge him. To show the same strength she had against Alys, that same assertion.

She spoke. Cassian’s anger spiked. He already knew what she was going to say because he knew why she had hurt him. Of course he knew. It was something he had compartmentalized and conveniently dismissed, but now, here, with his chest throbbing and his heart pounding, it was something that could no longer be ignored.

He was her alpha. And now she was his alpha female.

“Get,” spittle flew from his mouth, the rage in his face nothing short of wolfish, “out.”

The bow never came. Cassian's rage cut through Regan’s former closed-off calm. Her eyes flew into a deeper charcoal hue while he spat. Her body tensed, hackles raising, and there would be a moment of suspension as a fleeting battle that played out across her features. The wolf flashed with inspecific hunger: for him, for violence, hunger for whatever it was in Cassian's voice that was mirrored in her but she'd never seen in him so starkly. Chaos. Unrest. Lack of control. The wolf was drawn to it, freezing her on the spot as her chest rose and fell rapidly.

To resist temptation, Regan whirled around and pushed through the door, Cassian's blood still on her hands. She'd move as swiftly as her feet could carry her, not looking anyone in the eye, retreating straight back to her room where she no longer hand to swallow the growl in her throat.