Instead, a dark shadow appeared on the floor.
Just inches from the ground, a hand shot out and caught the burning lighter.
“Who are you?!” Cira’s face twisted in shock.
The figure rose smoothly from the shadows, ignoring her question. Seeing her plan unraveling, Cira lunged toward me with terrifying speed. She grabbed a knife from the coffee table and drove it down toward my crumpled form on the floor…
Celina
A sharp, piercing scream shattered the stillness of the night-an anguished, female cry that sent a chill through the air. Moments later, a heavy thud echoed as a body collapsed onto the floor.
For a heartbeat, confusion clouded my mind. Then, a large presence suddenly loomed over me, partially shielding me from view. My face brushed against the smooth texture of fine fabric, and an unmistakable aroma enveloped me: sandalwood intertwined with crisp mountain pine. It was a scent that, strangely, had become a source of comfort in recent days.
“Alpha Sebastian?” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.
He flinched slightly but kept his tone calm. “Release your grip,” he said softly.
Only then did I realize my fingers were clenched tightly around his shirt, my palm pressed firmly against the taut muscles of his abdomen beneath the fabric. Embarrassment flushed through me, but the dimness and the swelling on my face thankfully concealed it.
Without hesitation, I loosened my hold.
Alpha Sebastian pushed himself upward and swiftly untied the restraints binding me. I caught sight of him wincing, one hand pressed against his lower back as he moved to restrain Cira, wrapping her wrists with the same rough cords that had held me captive.
In no time, the house was swarming with people-police officers, Harlow, and finally Xavien, who arrived last.
Everyone froze, stunned by the scene before them.
I struggled to explain the chaos, my thoughts muddled and blurred from the drugs coursing through my veins. Alpha Sebastian handed the lighter over to the police, his voice taut with frustration as he spoke.
“Unfortunately, I grabbed the lighter with my bare hands,” he said grimly. “My fingerprints are all over it now, but the knife”-he gestured toward the blade lying on the floor, its edge gleaming under the harsh overhead lights-“that should still provide usable evidence.”
Harlow’s voice cracked with fury as she shouted, “Cira, you were seriously going to burn Celina alive?”
Her face was flushed with anger, her hands clenched tightly at her sides.
“You’re completely insane!”
Cira’s head whipped toward Xavien the moment she saw him. The confident, arrogant mask she had worn moments before crumbled instantly. Her eyes widened, lips trembling as if she were about to cry.
“Xavien,” she whimpered, her voice shrinking into a small, tearful plea. “It’s not what you think! I’m the victim here! I’m being framed!”
Xavien stood frozen, as though the air had been knocked from his lungs. His gaze darted over the wreckage-the torn remnants of my clothing, the gasoline staining the floor around me, the drying blood on my skin, the knife, the lighter, the lingering scent of smoke and fear.
His face went pale, his jaw slackened. His hands hung limply by his sides, fingers twitching but unable to move.
Finally, the full weight of the truth hit him.
He saw everything now.
The terrible price of his silence, his cowardice, his repeated refusal to protect me.
This was the bitter fruit of his betrayal.
I had warned him once before, my voice trembling with pain and honesty:
You didn’t kill me with your own hands, but if I die because of you, it makes no difference.
No difference at all.
And now… he understood.
Some wounds run too deep to heal. Some mistakes can never be undone.
“Celina…” he whispered at last, his voice barely audible.
His feet shifted slowly, heavily, as if shackled to the ground. He tried to move toward me.
I met his gaze, unflinching, my eyes as cold and still as a stagnant pool.
We held that silent stare for what felt like an eternity.
But in the end, neither of us spoke a word.
Alpha Sebastian and I were rushed to the hospital.
Cira was taken into police custody, though she loudly claimed Sebastian had broken her ribs and demanded medical attention. The officers, seeing through her performance, dismissed her cries.
This was her second serious offense-first, hiring thugs to attack me, and now, attempted murder.
My injuries were mostly surface-level bruises, though the drugs in my system required careful monitoring.
Alpha Sebastian, however, had suffered a deep stab wound in his lower back from Cira’s knife. Thankfully, no organs were damaged, but the cut was severe enough to need multiple stitches, rest, and regular dressing changes.
A complicated mix of gratitude and guilt swirled inside me.
By now, the night had deepened.
We were placed in separate hospital rooms. Xavien sat silently beside my bed, while Harlow rested on the couch just outside.
Since arriving at the hospital, Xavien had been eerily quiet. The man who was usually fiery and tempestuous had become withdrawn, somber, almost broken.
I didn’t have the strength to hate him anymore. All the feelings I once harbored had drained away, leaving behind only a pale, hollow numbness.
“You should go home,” I finally said, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the room for what felt like hours.
It was the first time I had spoken to him since everything happened.
My voice was flat, polite-almost cold-as if I were addressing a distant neighbor rather than the man I once imagined spending my life with.
“Harlow can stay with me,” I added without meeting his eyes.
Xavien lowered his gaze, his voice rough with exhaustion and something like regret.
“I’d rather stay,” he said quietly. “There’s nothing for me at home anyway. And someone needs to watch your IV.”
I glanced at him briefly. He looked ruined-dark circles shadowed his eyes, his shoulders sagged, and the proud posture I remembered was now folded in on itself.
But I felt nothing. No pity. No anger. Just an empty stillness, like standing in the eye of a storm long passed, with nothing left but wreckage.
I said nothing more. I closed my eyes and turned my face slightly away.
Time slipped by in fragments-the soft beeping of machines, the low hum of the air conditioning, the distant murmur of nurses outside the door.
At one point, I sensed him shift closer.
He gently rested his forehead near the hollow of my neck, his breath warm against my skin.
Then I felt it-a single, soft tear, almost weightless, soaking into my hair. Another followed. And another.
Silent. Heavy. Too late.
I remained still, breathing evenly, pretending to sleep.
Pretending not to notice the slight tremble in his shoulders.
This is over, I told myself.
No matter how many tears he sheds now.
No matter how sorry he seems.
It’s over. Truly over.
Celina
The night seemed to stretch endlessly, wrapped in a heavy silence that felt both suffocating and haunting. Memories of everything we’d been through hovered in the stillness like restless shadows. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know that Xavien hadn’t found any rest. The weight of his unspoken thoughts pressed down on the quiet room, thick and uneasy.
Through my closed eyelids, the faint glow of dawn began to filter in, pale light slipping cautiously through the blinds. It was the kind of morning that felt both hopeful and heavy all at once.
After a long while, Xavien finally rose from the bed. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if each step toward the door was a choice he was reluctant to make. The soft sound of his footsteps echoed inside me like the tolling of a distant bell, signaling an end I wasn’t ready to face.
When the door clicked softly behind him, I finally opened my eyes. The scene was painfully familiar-just like that night years ago when he had stepped onto the balcony to take Cira’s call. I watched his back as he walked away, feeling the fragile thread of hope snap in my chest once more.
But tonight was different. Tonight, that moment didn’t just break hope-it closed the entire chapter of our eight-year story. We had reached the end, the final page. There were no more debates about right or wrong, no more wrestling with love versus betrayal. None of it held any meaning anymore.
We were simply finished.
The future stretched ahead, but his path and mine were no longer connected.
Later that morning, Harlow stepped back into my hospital room with a bright smile. “Your discharge papers are ready,” she said cheerfully. “Ready to get out of here?”
I nodded, gathering the few personal belongings she had brought me the day before. “Absolutely. I’m more than ready.”
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