My Convicted Wife is My Mate (Bella and Kane) novel Chapter 33

chapter 28
KANE’S POV

I woke up and realized I had slashed Bella with my claws. I did it unknowingly in my sleep.

Damn it. She was backing away from me.

“It’s okay,” Bella whispered. “Just breathe, Kane. There’s nothing here to hurt you.”

Nothing to hurt me.

I blinked. I was confused and angry at the same time. My claws were still out. But I wasn’t the one hurt. She was.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again. “I came here because I heard you making noises in your sleep. I tried to help-”

Why the hell was she apologizing? I was the one who hurt her yet she was saying sorry.

I forced my claws back. Her arm was bleeding. There were long, deep gashes across her forearm. Blood dripped all way down to her her wrist.

I felt anger at myself burning hotter than the nightmare that had woken me.

“It’s nothing,” she said softly when she saw my face.

Right. “Nothing.” Like the bruises still fading yellow along her jaw. The limp in her ankle. The small scars she tried to hide with long sleeves. Now my claws had added more to the collection.

Great.

“You’ll have scars,” I told her flatly.

She looked up at me. Her eyes were clear even through the pain. “It’s not your fault. You were dreaming. You sounded like you were in pain… I just wanted to check if you were alright.”

And when she had touched me. I had cut her. I hated people touching me, especially in my sleep.

“Bella…” I ran a hand through my hair. “You should’ve stayed in bed.”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t. You were growling, thrashing around. I thought-”

She stopped. Her words died in her throat when I took a step toward her.

I took my shirt off. My shirt was shredded as well. I must have done that in my sleep. As I walked closer to her, her eyes widened and she froze.

Son of a bitch. Now, she was scared of me.

She realized it too, and her face paled. She looked guilty. She opened her mouth and I was sure she was going to apologize again.

“No,” I told her before she could speak. “Don’t apologize.”

Her lips parted. “I wasn’t-”

“You should be afraid of me,” I cut in. “You’re right to be.”

I crossed to the bedside table and pulled on one of the shirts she had bought me. the fabric was cheap but it was clean. It was a gift she couldn’t afford but still gave. I dragged it over my head and it smelled a bit like her shampoo.

“Kane,” she said quietly, watching me button it up. “What are you doing?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” I grabbed my jacket from the chair. “I’m leaving.”

Her face fell. “You don’t have to. It was an accident. I have nightmares too”

I shook my head, already at the door. I couldn’t look at her arm again.

“Kane, are you coming back?” she asked quietly.

Her voice followed me into the cold night. I didn’t know.

“Maybe,” I said over my shoulder, and walked away.

-

The next day, I was back at my pack headquarters.

Gone were the street clothes. My hair was tied back neatly, and I was clean-shaven again. There was no trace of the man in cheap jeans and a secondhand jacket.

I sat behind the desk in my office, surrounded by monitors, reports, and silence.

This wasn’t some Clark Kent disguise - glasses on, glasses off. It was the same man, but the difference between poverty and power changed everything.

When I had been playing the part of a nobody, people had looked past me.

They had seen what they wanted to see - a man stripped of strength, shameful and exiled.

They had never seen the truth.

I had built Stonewood Pack into a powerhouse. We owned properties across the city, held shares in major corporations, controlled logistics routes and security firms. We had politicians on our side, even ties to the military. No pack on this coast dared challenge me.

But right then, all I could think about… was a woman with a wounded arm.

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