But then, he spoke. The words were strained. “She…rejected me.”
I frowned. “Rejected you? What the hell did you say to her?”
He didn’t look up. His fingers flexed and released. “That I was sorry. That I wanted her back.”
“You fucking-“
This time, I bit my tongue hard enough to taste blood.
His shoulders vibrated with a bitter, humorless laugh. “Go on. Say it. I’m a fucking idiot.”
“Put yourself in her shoes,” I said softly. “You spent a decade of marriage loving her sister. Divorced her as soon as said sister came back. When that fell apart, you ran back to the woman you’d broken-just as she was starting to move on with her life. What did you expect, Kieran? A welcome banner?”
He didn’t answer, but his silence said everything. The great Alpha of Nightfang bowed under the weight of his own remorse.
“I fucked up,” he declared stiffly.
No argument there.
“What do I do, Gavin?” His voice cracked-barely, but enough that it made my chest tighten.
His eyes found mine, hollow with pain that looked centuries old.
I’d known him since we were pups. I’d seen him take blades to the chest, arrows through the ribs, and still stand tall-but this was different. This was the kind of wound no healer could stitch shut.
Kieran Blackthorne was the strongest Alpha I’d ever known. But he absolutely, utterly sucked when it came to matters of the heart.
It was humbling.
I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “What is this really about?” I asked carefully. “Why the sudden change of heart toward her?”
His jaw tightened, the muscle twitching. “She might be my mate.”
My eyes widened. Oh. Shit.
“How-are you sure?”
He hissed through his teeth, turning away. “It doesn’t even matter. She doesn’t give a fuck. She wouldn’t even hear me out.”
“She doesn’t owe you anything,” I said gently. “Not belief. Not forgiveness. Not even a conversation.”
“I know.” His voice cracked. “But how can she ignore it, Gav? I feel it. It’s not just attraction-it’s something deeper. Right now, it’s unsteady, but it’s there. It’s undeniable. How can she pretend she doesn’t feel it too?”
I gave a humorless smile. “Fun fact: before Lydia, I met my fated mate.”
His head whipped toward me. “What?”
I nodded. “Yeah. We felt the spark, the pull, the whole divine setup. But there was a catch-she was married. With two kids.”
He blinked, stunned. “You never told me that.”
“There wasn’t much to tell.” I shrugged. “I could’ve marked her anyway, claimed what the Moon Goddess had given me. But what would that have made me? Some entitled bastard who thought fate excused cruelty? I couldn’t do that to her. She was happy with her family. So I walked away, severed the bond. It almost killed me.”
I paused, letting the quiet settle. “But then I met Lydia. She didn’t care that we weren’t fated. She chose me, Kieran. That’s worth more than any Goddess-given bond.”
He was silent, his face unreadable. Finally: “What are you saying? I should give up?”
“I’m saying,” I replied softly, “you need to figure out whether you want Sera because she’s your mate, or because she’s Sera.”
He frowned. “What’s the difference?”
“One’s love,” I said simply. “The other’s duty dressed as destiny.”
For a second, he said nothing.
I continued, “You keep talking about regret, fate, bonds-but none of that matters until you decide what you want. Do you want Sera back because you feel guilty that you may have mismanaged your mate, or because you genuinely miss and want her?
“I-” A shudder ran through him. “Fuck, I miss her so much.” His hand came up, pressing against his chest as if trying to dig out a thorn lodged there.
“The aroma of her cooking, the scent of her perfume lingering after she leaves a room. The way she hums when she thinks I can’t hear from my office. The way she laughs when she’s with Daniel. It’s-” His voice cracked, raw. “It’s a physical fucking ache.” Grief etched his features as he confessed, the pain undiluted and new.
Despite everything, I smiled faintly. “Good.”
He shot me a disbelieving look. “Good?”
“At least now you know,” I said. “For ten years, you’ve lived in confusion-wanting what you didn’t have, dismissing what you did. It’s late, but clarity’s better than cowardice.”
He huffed a bitter laugh. “A lot of good that’s doing me now.”
“First things first,” I said. “Stop taking your anger out on the ground-and your very loyal, very amazing Beta.”
He snorted, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth.
“Thank you,” he said softly, “for coming.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“And…” He slanted a heavy look at me. “About earlier…you know I would never-“
I nodded firmly. “I know.”
He exhaled in relief.
“You’re bleeding for all the wrong reasons,” I added.
He laughed again, but it was a broken, glass-sharp sound. “I’m bleeding because I deserve to.”
I shook my head. “No, you’re bleeding because you’re trying to undo ten years in one night. And that’s not how healing works. You can’t brute-force redemption.”
Kieran’s shoulders slumped, every ounce of fight draining from him. His voice came out small-foreign, almost. “So what do I do?”
I reached out and clasped his shoulder, firm and steady. “You fight. But not yourself this time. You fight for her. You pick up the pieces with the same hands that broke them, and you do your best to put them all back together. Not through punishment, but through patience.”
He swallowed hard. “And if that doesn’t work?”
“Then you respect her choice,” I said quietly. “And you learn to live with what’s left. Otherwise, the cycle of hurt will never end. Celeste, Sera, Daniel, yourself-you’ll leave only anguish in your wake.”
For a long while, neither of us spoke. The wind rustled the leaves; the moon hung low, pale and indifferent.
Then Kieran let out a ragged breath, barely more than a whisper. “Fuck.”
I huffed out something between a sigh and a laugh. “Yeah,” I murmured. “That about sums it up.”
And for once, the Alpha of Nightfang didn’t argue. He just sat there-head bowed, heart cracked open beneath the moonlight.
CELESTE’S POV
The whiskey burned down my throat like liquid fire.
I slammed the glass onto the counter and motioned for another. The bartender hesitated-probably because I’d already had too many-but one glare from me and he poured anyway.
Bass thumped through Luna Noire’s overhead speakers, vibrating against the wood and metal like a pulse I couldn’t silence.
Around me, laughter and wolf-scent mingled thickly with alcohol and desperation.
I hated it. I hated all of it. The stench of weak wolves pretending to matter. The way they looked at me now-like I was just another pretty mess, not the Lockwood princess I was. Not the Blackthorne Queen I was supposed to be.
My reflection in the mirror behind the bar looked like a stranger-smudged lipstick, dark-ringed eyes too bright, too sharp, too furious. I barely recognized myself.
My mother’s words still rang in my ears, louder than the music.
‘You’ve done enough damage, Celeste,’ she’d said, her hands shaking as she gathered up the cookie mess her graceless grandson had made.
‘I’m your daughter!’ I had screamed. ‘You never said that to Sera when she ruined everything!’
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