His eyes softened, but only with pity. That made it worse.
“You deserve better than me,” he said quietly. “Someone who won’t hurt you the way I have.”
“For gods’ sake, stop acting like you’re doing this for me!” My voice cracked. “This isn’t noble, Kieran. It’s cruel.”
He didn’t flinch. He just looked at me, silent, steady, resolute-the same way he’d looked at me when he’d walked away after the Trials.
Was this how he had divorced Sera? Cold and unfeeling?
“Call me whatever you want,” he said calmly, like he was discussing lunch plans instead of ending our fucking relationship.
“Ill take responsibility for everything. I’ll handle the press, any rumors that may arise-everything. I’ll even make sure you’re compensated for the time and effort you’ve put into-“
“Compensated?” I cut him off, my voice sharp enough to draw blood. “Like this is a business deal that fell through?”
“I know you have your heart set on it, but there won’t be an engagement ceremony,” he continued, tone clipped. “Our relationship has to end here.”
The finality in his tone made something inside me shatter.
That festering hate that had been growing exploded like a ripe pimple.
My palm struck his cheek with a sharp crack that echoed through the empty restaurant.
“How dare you?” My breaths came ragged. “You think I care about your money, your stupid offers of compensation? I don’t want any of that, Kieran-I want you!”
Tears spilled down, hot and traitorous, streaking my perfectly painted face.
“You think some press statement can fix this? That some fucking cheque that I don’t need can erase the fact that I loved you more than my own blood?”
His face had snapped to the side at my strike, and he sat frozen, his eyes locked on something in the distance.
“Look at me!” I shouted. “You were mine before Sera ever came into the picture. And yet, I bore the shame of being the woman who stole her sister’s husband when it was the other way around. You owe me, Kieran. You owe me!”
His eyes flickered-pain, guilt. But still…determination. “I can’t marry you, Celeste. Not when I don’t love you the way you deserve. I refuse to make the same mistake a second time. You deserve to be with someone who truly, truly loves you.”
My nails bit into my palms as his words struck my heart, and I fought the scream building up in my throat.
The tattoo on my arm burned like a fresh scar.
I’d done that already-been with someone who loved me. And I’d deserted that person for Kieran. I’d suppressed my wolf for Kieran.
I would not let all my sacrifices be in vain. No fucking way.
So I swallowed the scream, straightened my shoulders, and wiped my tears away with the back of my hand. “I don’t accept this. None of it.”
He frowned.
“You can hate me,” he said, standing slowly. “I’ll take the blame, I’ll handle the fallout, but this ends here. There will be no engagement, no marriage. You will not be my Luna, Celeste. I’m sorry.”
Fuck that.
I rose too, every inch of me trembling. “You’ll regret this.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t think I will.”
“I’ll send out the invitations for our engagement party,” I replied coolly. “You’ll receive one soon. And you’ll show up. And when you see me standing there, looking stunning, wearing the dress meant for your wife, your Luna, you’ll come to your senses.”
“Celeste-“
I didn’t let him finish.
My heels clicked sharply across the marble as I turned and walked out, head high, throat tight.
The air outside was cold, biting, too bright against the dizziness spinning in my skull. I slid into my car and gripped the wheel until my knuckles ached.
I laughed through tears, disbelief swirling in my chest. “Break up,” I whispered. The words stuck, raw, surreal.
My foot hit the accelerator before reason could catch up. The city blurred around me-ribbons of traffic, sun glare, and the white blur of my reflection in the windshield.
I didn’t remember the decision to drive to the mall, but the feel of Kieran’s black card in my hand filled me with relish. I would have much preferred to claw his face off.
But this would have to do for now.
By the time I was done, Kieran’s account had taken a beating-designer coats, diamond earrings, a new clutch I didn’t need, and several pairs of heels I’d probably never wear.
The clerks, of course, were delighted. They fluttered around me like ants to sugar, their voices syrupy with compliments.
“Oh, Miss Lockwood, that shade is divine on you.”
“Would you like us to box up the entire collection?”
I let them. I let their flattery wash over me like a balm, numbing the hollow ache Kieran’s words had carved out of me.
Every swipe of his black card was another attempt to erase the sting, to buy back the illusion of control. Silk, cashmere, gold-things that used to make me feel powerful, untouchable. But today, it barely scratched the surface.
No matter how many glossy bags filled the backseat of my car, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was trying to fill an emptiness that had
Kieran’s name carved into it.
When I pulled up to the manor again, I couldn’t believe it was just late afternoon. It felt like I’d lived in three consecutive days.
I stepped inside, exhausted, heels clicking against marble, and called out, “Mother? I’m home.”
No answer.
I sighed, setting my bags on the sideboard in the foyer. “You will not believe what happened, Mom. Honestly, I could use one of your soups right now-“
Then I froze.
At the far end of the hall, near the foot of the stairs, a small figure stood waiting with a tray in his hands, the scent of sugar and butter weaving through the air.
Daniel
Anger consumed me in a blistering wave as I slammed the door shut.
DANIEL’S POV
The cookies smelled like sunshine and vanilla and everything good in the world.
Grandma said it was because I didn’t stir too much. “Gentle hands make soft cookies,” she’d said, tapping my nose lightly with a gentle smile.
I liked it when she smiled like that. It made her eyes crinkle; it made her look less sad.
I wished Mom could have joined us to bake, but she’d gone outside for a while, saying she wanted some air.
I knew what that meant-“air” meant thinking, and that meant something heavy sitting on her chest.
Hopefully, she’d feel better if she came back to the smell of cookies.
I arranged them on the tray carefully-chocolate chip, some a little burnt at the edges, but Grandma said that made them taste like caramel. I specially set aside the one with extra chips for Mom.
“Be careful, darling,” Grandma said as I balanced the tray in my hands, which were covered by oven mitts. “They’re still hot.”
“I got it,” I said proudly. “I’ll take them out to Mom. Maybe they’ll make her smile.”
Grandma’s face softened in that way that Mom’s did when she was happy-sad. “Actually, love, I think I saw your mother go upstairs earlier. I’ll go fetch her, okay?”
“Oh.” I nodded. I could tell Grandma wanted alone time with Mom. Probably to say grown-up things they didn’t want me to hear. “Okay.”
The tray was warm, and the cookies made my stomach growl a little. But I waited patiently at the foot of the stairs for them to come back down. I wanted Mom to have the first taste.
Then the front door slammed.
The sound was sharp and angry, echoing down the hall so loud that I jumped. One of the cookies rolled right off the tray and hit the carpet.
More Kickass Werewolf Reads
Dive into our collection of free werewolf romance novels—where fierce Alphas, daring heroines, and heart-stopping twists await. Every story burns with forbidden desire, loyalty, and destiny. Don’t wait—here’s a world where love bites hard and nothing is stronger than the call of the mate.
Leave a Reply