And though I didn’t turn back, I could feel Kieran’s gaze burning into me until I stepped out of sight. n You’ve arrived at the latest chapter!
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KIERAN’S POV
I stood there like an idiot long after Sera was gone.
The background music continued, and the crowd was fizzling out into the late night; Byron had stepped off the stage and was busy thanking patrons.
But I couldn’t move.
The dance still lingered in my muscles, as if her body hadn’t truly left my arms. I could still feel the imprint she’d left: the dip of her waist, the silk of her hair, the curve of her hips.
Gods, had it always felt that way to hold Sera? So calming and peaceful and…right?
With the rogue issues and the LST and ruling my pack, my life over the past couple of weeks had been a frenzy of relentless motion.
And then, for three minutes, under dim bar lights, it had all just…stopped.
Nothing else existed for me except the echo of her laugh, the rhythm of her heart thudding against my chest, the lavender of her scent permeating my every pore.
And it had felt like…peace.
I didn’t even realize I was capable of feeling that kind of serenity until she gave it to me.
My hands twitched at my side, and I had to dig my heels into the ground to stop myself from racing out of the bar, finding Sera, wrapping her in my arms, and never letting go.
Ten years. I had her with me for ten years, and I never-
“So, what’s the story there?” Byron’s gruff voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. He was beside me again, eyes twinkling like the devil’s. “You two have the same last name. But siblings do not look at each other the way you two did.”
I opened my mouth, then shut it.
At this moment, the anonymity I cherished with Byron had turned into an adversary.
Because what was I supposed to say? That Sera had been my wife once? That I’d ruined us both? That divorcing her felt like the biggest mistake I’d ever made?
Byron noted my hesitation and nodded, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, I won’t pry.”
I exhaled and ran a hand through my hair. “It’s…complicated.”
I internally scoffed. That word didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of my relationship with Sera, but it was all I had right now.
“You like her,” Byron said simply, not as a question but as a fact.
I froze.
Like.
The word felt so…small. So trivial. It couldn’t capture the complexity of the feelings I had for Sera. Even I couldn’t put a name to it-it was all so complicated and overlapping and conflicting, and ‘like’ didn’t even come close.
Byron must have mistaken my silence for bashfulness.
“If you do,” he continued, “don’t waste time. Trust me on this, boy. I wasted plenty when I was falling for Lillian, thinking there would always be another day. And then one morning, she was gone.”
The light in his eyes died, and the grief that flashed there was so intense I had to look away. “Just…gone. Every day since, I’ve wished I’d said more. Done more. Loved her more.”
His hand landed heavily on my shoulder, grounding and crushing all at once. “Don’t repeat my mistake. I don’t know what the story is, but if she matters to you-and I highly suspect that she does-fight for her.”
I swallowed hard. My throat felt raw, scraped hollow.
How could I explain? That Sera did matter-more than I’d ever let myself fully acknowledge-but not in any way that could be salvaged.
That our bond had been poisoned by disregard and silence, shredded beyond repair. That she looked at me now like a wound that refused to close.
I couldn’t say any of that.
So I just clapped Byron’s shoulder back, forcing my voice steady. “You honored Lillian well tonight. She’d be proud.”
His eyes softened as some of the light returned, and he didn’t push further. “Go on. Get out of here before I rope you into singing karaoke.”
The image of myself butchering some off-key ballad was enough to propel me out the door.
The night air hit sharp against my skin, cooling sweat on the back of my neck. As I headed to my car, I resisted every urge and instinct that pulled me in the opposite direction-the direction Sera would have headed to get to her new home.
The moment in the bar had been exactly that-a moment.
The reality of my relationship with Sera was that there was no relationship. Nothing left to salvage. Nothing left to hold on to.
I kept telling myself throughout the drive home.
I had a big day ahead of me tomorrow, so I told myself I’d sleep tonight. That maybe the ghost of that dance would lull me into something resembling rest.
But the moment I stepped into my house, that illusion shattered.
Because Celeste was waiting.
She lounged in the foyer chair like she owned the place, legs crossed, a half-empty glass of wine-most likely not her first-dangling from her fingers. Her eyes gleamed in the dim light, sharp and smug.
“Late night, babe?” she purred.
Just like that, all the ire and angst I’d let myself forget about returned with a vengeance.
So much for peace.
My jaw clenched as I turned and slipped my jacket from my shoulders, draping it over the coat rack.
The scent of Byron’s bar still clung to me-oak casks, smoke, old whiskey-and, faintly, Sera. That trace alone had my chest tightening. I knew the moment Celeste caught it, a storm would break.
“Well?” she pressed.
I unclenched my jaw and forced a neutral smile. “I was at an old friend’s anniversary celebration.”
“Anniversary,” she repeated, as though it were a foreign word she was testing.
She slowly rose to her feet, tilting her head, lips curving into something between curiosity and accusation. “So important you couldn’t bring your fianc?e?”
The word landed heavily. Fianc?e.
We hadn’t even officially gotten engaged yet, and she was already throwing the title around. But it wasn’t even that word itself that irked me.
It was what came next.
Wife.
Luna.
I exhaled quietly, bracing myself.
“You know why I couldn’t bring you,” I said, keeping my tone even. “You signed up for the LST in secret while knowing that I have a role to play. The rules are strict, Celeste. You’ve already broken them by insisting on staying here instead of at your packhouse. If I’d paraded you around on my arm tonight, every other challenger would’ve cried favoritism. They would’ve used it to disqualify you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So instead you went alone? Left me here to twiddle my thumbs while you celebrated with strangers?”
“Not strangers,” I corrected, resisting the sigh building up. “I told you-Byron’s an old friend. Tonight was his thirtieth wedding anniversary. He and his late wife opened that bar together on the same day. I owed it to him to be there.”
Her expression softened, and she gave me a clipped nod. “Okay.”
I arched a brow, suspicion holding my relief at bay. “Okay?”
She smiled. “Good night, Kie.”
It felt a little too good to be true, but never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I walked past her further into the house.
I had one foot on the first step when her arctic voice froze me in my steps. “And what did you owe Sera?”
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