Something prickled at the back of my mind. “Lockwood blood?”
He nodded. “You keep fighting as if you’re an outsider who has to learn from scratch. But that instinct-you already have it. You’re resisting your own nature.”
I snorted. “You’re joking, right?”
No way my brother was suggesting I had some innate fighting instinct when I didn’t even have a wolf.
Maya crossed her arms. “You mean…she’s making it harder by not trusting herself?” She cocked her head and shot me a knowing look. “She’s thinking too fucking much?”
I rolled my eyes as Ethan continued.
“Exactly.” His expression was unsettlingly earnest. “You already feel it before you move, Sera. That’s what tripped me up when I was younger-I didn’t trust the flicker, thought it was just a reflex. But it’s instinct.
Lockwood instinct. And you obviously have it in droves, seeing how far you’ve progressed in such a short amount of time.”
I crossed my arms. “So now you’re attributing my hard work and determination to what, genes?”
Surprisingly, he smiled. “You’re stronger than I was. It took me quite a while to figure out that father wasn’t trying to drill something foreign into me. He was just trying to teach me how to stop ignoring what was already there. He would have been proud of your progress.”
The mention of my father seemed to poison the air. The reminder that he’d never seen it fit to train me.
Celeste hadn’t cared to train properly, and he’d respected her wishes.
But I’d wanted to. And he shunned me, threw a dumbbell at the door the day I peeked in to watch one of his private sessions with Ethan.
The thought of him being proud of me would have been laughable if I wasn’t too busy trying to breathe through the sudden pain in my chest.
I turned my back on Ethan and Maya, busying myself with picking up my water bottle.
I heard Ethan sigh. “Sera…”
I shoved my towel into my bag without answering. The scrape of the zipper was too loud.
“Seraphina,” he said again, the apology thick in his tone. “He was wrong. We were all wrong. I’m so sorry.”
I stilled. Hearing it from him, unprompted, made my throat constrict. But the memory of years wasted, of pain I had carried alone, rose like a tide.
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t.
Maya shifted uncomfortably, then clapped her hands. “Okay, this is depressing. How about dinner? My shift was long, training was longer, and I refuse to go home hungry.”
Ethan hesitated, eyes flicking to me warily, no doubt recalling the hot mess that was the last time we’d dined together. “If she doesn’t want-“
“I’ll come,” I cut in, slinging my bag over my shoulder. His brows shot up. I couldn’t blame him; I was surprised at myself.
“You will?”
I forced a small smile. “Consider it payment for the lesson.”
The relieved, grateful smile on his face blasted away any reservations that this was a bad idea.
***
The restaurant Maya chose was a cozy one on the edge of the district, low lights and polished wood, the air fragrant with herbs and sizzling butter.
The kind of place that made you forget the world outside for a while.
We found a booth near the window. Maya immediately ordered a plate of garlic bread with too much cheese, grinning widely and chattering animatedly as if determined to keep the mood light by sheer willpower.
When the bread arrived, steaming, Maya dove in first. Ethan leaned back against the booth, watching me with a quiet expression I didn’t know how to interpret.
“You’ve changed,” he said after a moment.
If I had a penny for every time I’d heard that phrase.
“Meaning?” I arched a brow.
“You’re not…brittle anymore. Or maybe I’m just noticing too late.”
Maya shot him a warning look, but he didn’t back down. His words weren’t cruel-just contemplative. I could sense he was being careful with me tonight.
I broke off a piece of bread, shrugging. “You’re late to many things, Ethan.”
That earned a huff of a laugh from Maya. Even Ethan smiled ruefully. “Fair enough.”
For a while, the conversation drifted to lighter ground.
Maya recounted a disastrous sparring session involving an old trainee, too much bravado, and a window.
Ethan countered with hilarious tales of his early training days and the countless bruises he gave himself, and
I actually found myself laughing, genuinely, the tension loosening like knots slowly untying.
Maybe this was what it felt like to breathe among family, without the poison of old grievances constantly choking the air.
But then the restaurant door opened.
The chime above it was delicate, almost lost in the chatter, but I felt the shift before I even looked up.
When I did, I almost honest-to-goodness burst into laughter.
Because someone was definitely playing games with my life-and they’d run out of original moves, so they just kept repeating the same old bullshit over and over again.
Hence, there they were, like a fucking rash that just wouldn’t clear up.
Celeste and Kieran.
CELESTE’S POV
I had been in a good mood all day.
For once, I wasn’t sharing Kieran with a hundred pack members, or having to stand aside while he catered to his nine-year-old brat two thousand miles away.
I hadn’t spent one second wasting my energy worrying over Sera’s tedious, self-serving schemes.
Tonight was supposed to be ours, just like he’d promised-a private dinner at my favorite restaurant chain, a little wine, and maybe I could actually draw laughter out of him. Maybe I could nurse out traces of the Kieran who had adored me before Sera came into the picture.
And then, when everything went on spectacularly, I would do what I needed to do to secure my place once and for all.
Mark or no mark, nothing tied a man more firmly than a bed. And I was determined to get Kieran into mine tonight.
I had dressed specifically for it, too.
A soft pink dress that skimmed over my hips and hugged my curves delicately, loose curls falling down my back, perfume just strong enough to pervade all his senses.
I smiled softly when he opened the door of the restaurant for me, eyes flicking low, and then gently led me in, his hand at the small of my back.
But fate, as always, is a sick fucking bitch and needs to find another hobby other than throwing me into situations that make me want to claw my skin off.
Because when we walked into that restaurant, the first thing I saw wasn’t a candlelit booth waiting for us. It was her.
Sera-fucking-phina.
And worse, Ethan was sitting at her side-his stupid fucking mate beside him-angled toward her in an intimacy that knifed through me instantly.
His hand rested on the table close to hers, his head tilted as if he were actually listening, actually interested in whatever the fuck she had to say.
My smile evaporated.
“What is this?” I snapped before I could stop myself. My voice carried, too sharp, too loud.
Kieran’s hand brushed my elbow, and his voice was a low, warning murmur, “Let it go, Celeste. Maybe we should leave-“
But I shook him off, marching right across the restaurant to their booth. “Ethan, what the fuck?”
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