Not even after we go far, I hear his voice from inside... clear, composed, and impossibly calm, "Please, excuse me for a second," he says.
And then, within the beat of a breath, I hear it.. the hurried, deliberate rhythm of his footsteps echoing against the corridor floor, growing closer with a speed that doesn't allow me to brace myself. My blood turns cold. My spine stiffens.
My heart has never raced like it does in this moment. I feel it slam against my ribs, a desperate, erratic thump that drowns out everything else.
Without thinking, I walk faster, urgency turning my steps into something just shy of a jog.
I don't care where I'm going, I just need to put distance between us. I need to be gone. Even if he's just passing by. Even if he doesn't say a word to me. I can't see him. I can't look into his eyes right now and pretend I'm not completely unraveling inside.
But the moment I hear his voice again, sharp and clear behind us, my breath catches mid-inhale and my spirit... whatever fragile shred of it is still holding on leaves my body entirely.
"Excuse me!" he calls out, and there's no mistaking the command in his voice. It slices through the air like a blade, firm and absolute, laced with that distinct authority only an Alpha can summon.
The sound alone is enough to make the four walking beside me stop instantly in their tracks.
I feel their bodies shift, their postures stiffen as instinct takes over. Without hesitation, they all bow slightly, startled and submissive.
I don't need to see their faces to know what's written on them.. tight mouths, wary eyes, the stiff readiness for reprimand or instruction.
And me? I stop too, though my back is still to him. I can feel the weight of his eyes settle on me. It digs into my skin like pressure from an unseen hand.
I don't turn around right away, biting down on every instinct that tells me to go away. But eventually, I turn. My muscles are stiff and reluctant, like they belong to someone else entirely.
"Alpha Hillary..." my colleagues murmur in unison, their voices overlapping and uneasy.
He doesn't acknowledge the tension in the air, or maybe he doesn't care. His voice is perfectly composed when he speaks again. "I want to send one of you," he says, tone neutral and unreadable. "The rest can leave."
Even though he doesn't say my name, I know... I know that it's me he wants to stay. I feel it in the way his gaze doesn't leave me. I feel it in the silence that follows, a tension pulling tight in the space between us like a cord stretched to its breaking point.
But I turn around to leave pretending I didn't understand. Pretending I didn't hear the emphasis in his voice. My steps are measured, but my limbs feel hollow, like I'm floating just above the floor.
But then he speaks again, and this time his voice lands like a stone in my chest.
"The one in a hurry to leave should be the one to stay," he says flatly.
The words stop me mid-step, cutting through the haze of numbness and dropping me hard into my own body again. I freeze, pulse ringing in my ears.
I can't help the anger that flares up so suddenly, so violently, it leaves me breathless.
Even after all I've told myself. Even after repeating again and again that this is my fault, that I can't blame him.
But that? That digs deep.
I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms. I want to scream at him. I want to turn around and demand how he has the audacity to act like this now. But I won't..
Because the truth is I don't have the energy to fight him. My head is too clouded to think straight, and my chest feels like it's imploding in on itself.
All I want is to be away from him. To put walls, doors, miles between us. Because even now a part of me is still hoping that none of this is real. That somehow, there's a mistake. That he didn't know. That I'm not the one being left behind.
"Can we talk, in my room?" he asks suddenly.
His voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts, and only then do I realize the others are already gone, dismissed and vanished without me noticing.
I don't turn around. My voice is flat when I speak. "I have duties right now," I say. It's a weak excuse, and we both know it.
There's a pause.
"Why won't you look at me?" he asks, voice low. "I haven't said that we're going to break up. Nor have I said I'm going to choose her over you. So why are..."
"You knew it."
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. My voice cuts across his mid-sentence, hoarse and trembling.
And I didn't know how much I've been holding in.. how much I needed to say this until I finally said it.
"You knew it," I repeat, the words breaking as they pass through my throat. "Even when I told you I was ready to go that far with you. Even when I gave you everything. Even when you marked me, you know the consequences when we can't be together with this mark and you still did it! You knew it, and you didn't stop me. You didn't tell me you actually have a mate. You knew it!
You knew there was no chance that we will be together when you actually have a mate but you didn't care much to tell me!"
My voice cracks. Shatters. I can't hold myself together anymore, and suddenly I feel like I'm breaking down once again.
I don't want to show him how much he's destroyed me, but I can't help it either. I blink rapidly, trying to stop the tears, but they come anyway. I can't stop them.
I turn, desperate to leave, to walk away, but he grabs my hand. His grip is gentle but firm. And I flinch.
"Hillary?"
The voice that calls from behind us doesn't belong to me or him.
Alpha Renon.
The sound jolts us both. Hillary lets go of my hand instantly, like he's been burned. He turns sharply toward his father, shoulders pulled taut, his whole body tense with guilt and caution.
"I'm just sending for something, father," Hillary says quickly. His voice is tight, cautious. Like he's testing how much his father saw, how much he suspects. "I'll be in there in a second."
My heart has plummeted to my stomach.
I wipe away my tears as fast as I can, my hand trembling.
Alpha Renon nods slowly, then speaks again, clearly in a hurry himself. "Okay. Hurry up. Don't keep her waiting this much," he says, before turning and walking off back into the council room that he just came out of.
Hillary turns back to me.
And I don't know why I'm still standing here. I don't know why my feet haven't moved. Maybe I'm waiting for closure. Maybe I'm still waiting for him to say something that will make this pain make sense. I don't know.
"Come into my room," he says, quietly. "Just...right now. Please."
And then, without waiting for my answer, he turns and walks away, back toward the council room.