The chamber felt emptier after Alexander and Maximilian left—too vast, too quiet, as if the walls themselves were waiting for something to unfold.
Or to break.
I didn't move. Didn't trust myself to. Because the moment I did—
I felt it.
That pull.
Stronger now. Closer.
"Princess…"
His voice was softer this time. Not just respectful. Not just formal.
It carried something deeper—something that slipped past every defense I had and wrapped itself around my senses before I could stop it.
I turned.
And everything inside me… stilled.
Michelle stood there—but not as the Beta of Varkos. Not as a warrior. Not as a leader.
Just a man standing on the edge of something fragile—
something he didn't yet know would shatter.
Nyra surged forward instantly.
Mine…
My breath caught.
Because I felt it too.
God—I felt it. That connection. That warmth.
That terrifying, undeniable sense of belonging that sank into my bones like it had always been there.
Michelle took a slow step closer, like he was afraid I might disappear if he moved too fast.
"I should have come sooner," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Maybe then I wouldn't feel like I'm already too late."
My heart clenched.
Don't say that.
Don't make this harder.
"I'm Michelle," he continued, voice steadier now—but his eyes… his eyes never left mine. "Beta of Varkos."
A pause.
Then softer—
more vulnerable than anything he had shown before—
"But that's not what matters right now."
My heart stuttered.
Because I knew.
I knew what he was about to say.
And I didn't know if I was strong enough to hear it.
His gaze softened—not weak, not unsure—
just… certain.
"You feel this," he said quietly.
Not a question.
A truth.
"Yes."
The word betrayed me.
And I watched it happen.
Hope.
It lit his face instantly—soft, unguarded, real. His shoulders eased, just slightly, like something inside him had finally found its place.
And it hurt.
Because I could feel it—
how much that one word meant to him.
He stepped closer, no hesitation now, drawn by something neither of us could fight.
I forced myself back a step.
The reaction was instant. Confusion first—sharp and genuine. Then something deeper.
"Why are you pulling away?" he asked, quieter now—but there was weight behind it.
"When everything in you is leaning toward me?"
"It doesn't change anything," I said.
This time—he didn't immediately argue.
He just looked at me.
Really looked. As if trying to understand something that didn't fit.
His breath hitched.
Barely.
But I saw it.
"That's not possible," he said quietly, shaking his head. "You just said you feel it."
"I do."
"Then how—" he stopped, dragging in a breath, trying to steady something slipping. "How does that mean nothing to you?"
I didn't answer.
Because I couldn't.
Because if I did—
I would break first.
""This—whatever this is—it doesn't mean anything."
That one went deeper.
I saw it in the way his shoulders stiffened.
The way his eyes dimmed—just slightly.
"Eleanor…" he stepped closer again, slower now, careful. "You don't believe that."
He wasn't arguing anymore. He was trying.
Trying to reach me. And that—
That hurt the most.
"I can't do this."
He went still.
"…can't?"
A disbelieving breath left him, sharp and unsteady. He shook his head once.
"No… no, that's not how this works." His voice was controlled—but beneath it, something was beginning to fray. "Eleanor, you feel this. I feel this. This changes everything."
"It doesn't."
"Then explain it to me," he said, stepping closer again—not forceful, just desperate now. "Because right now, you're saying something I cannot make sense of."
Nyra pressed against me, restless, aching.
"Stop. You're hurting him."
I swallowed hard.
"You can't do this."
He tried reaching for me again, hurt evident in his eyes. I stepped back instinctively.
Don't," he said, voice lower now.
Not loud.
Controlled.
"Don't step away from me like I'm something you need to escape."
My breath faltered.
"It doesn't change anything," I forced out.
A humorless exhale left him.
"Say that again," he murmured, stepping closer—closing the distance I had just created.
"It doesn't—"
"You feel me," he said, voice dropping.
"Don't stand there and tell me this is nothing when your own wolf is reaching for mine."
Nyra surged painfully at that.
He's right—
"I can't do this."
That stopped him.
For half a second.
Then—
"…can't?" he repeated, quieter now. Dangerous in a different way. "Or you won't?"
That stopped him.
Completely.
The hope in his eyes flickered—but it didn't die. Not yet.
God
Why couldn't he make this easy?
Why couldn't he just be angry?
Why did he have to look at me like I mattered?
"I am already in a relationship."
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Crushing.
This time—there was no confusion.
Only impact.
His entire body stilled.
"…say that again," he said, quieter now.
"I have been for over a year."
Each word landed.
And with each one—
I saw it.
The way his jaw tightened.
The way his throat moved as he swallowed.
The way his eyes flickered—just once—before locking back onto mine, refusing to look away even if it hurt.
Nyra winced.
"Stop… please…"
"Who is he?" Michelle asked.
Too controlled.
"He is the right choice."
"That's not what I asked."
A flicker of frustration—gone as quickly as it came. Replaced by something quieter. Something far more dangerous.
"It's the only answer that matters."
He exhaled slowly, like he was holding himself together piece by piece.
"And what makes him right?"
I forced the words out.
"Status. Power. Wealth. Alignment between families."
I watched him break—slowly, painfully—with every word.
"He is the perfect match for me."
His gaze dropped. Just for a second.
But that second—that was everything.
This time—
He didn't freeze. He moved. Fast enough that the distance between us vanished completely.
"Doesn't matter."
The words were low. Immediate.
Certain.
My breath caught.
"You don't even know —"
"I don't need to," he cut in, voice sharper now. "Because I know this."
His hand lifted—stopping just short of my arm.
Not touching.
But close enough that I felt the heat of it.
The restraint in that single inch—
terrifying.
"This doesn't happen twice," he continued, quieter now—but the intensity hadn't dropped. "You don't belong to him if you can feel this with me."
"I chose him."
"And you're wrong."
The words hit hard.
Not cruel.
Not mocking.
Certain.
Like truth.
My chest tightened.
"You don't understand—"
"No," he said, stepping even closer, his voice dropping to something rougher now, "you're the one refusing to understand."
That hit deeper than anything else.
This is the Moon Goddess."
The words weren't soft this time.
They were heavy.
Final.
"You think she binds you to someone else while you stand here feeling this with me?"
Nyra pushed forward, restless, desperate.
"Don't fight it—"
When he looked back at me, something had changed.
Still standing.
Still controlled.
But cracking.
"And you love him?" he asked.
That question—
That was the cruelest one.
Because he wasn't challenging me.
He was hoping.
Nyra went completely still.
Waiting.
I didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
And that—
That shattered him.
Not loudly.
Not visibly.
But in the way his breath caught—this time, unmistakable.
In the way his eyes dimmed—just a fraction.
Like something inside him had been struck.
"And he gives you what I can't?" he asked, voice lower now.
"He fits into my world."
A pause.
"And I don't," he finished.
Not a question.
"No."
That word hurt him more than anything else.
I saw it in the way his shoulders straightened—like he was bracing now. Protecting what was left.
"You're choosing him," he said.
"Yes."
The word tasted like ash.
Silence stretched between us.
Thick.
Unbearable.
Then—
"And this…" his gaze flickered between us, the bond thrumming painfully alive, "…this means nothing to you?"
My heart pounded.
Nyra cried from the inside
"You belong to this."
To him.
The words hung unspoken—but they were there.
I stepped back again.
And this time—
That hurt him.
More than anything else had.
I saw it clearly.
The flicker. The crack. The moment it slipped through his control.
"No," I said. "I belong to the life I've already chosen."
Silence.
Heavy.
Final.
He stared at me for a long moment.
And slowly—
Something in him changed.
Not shattered.
Not completely.
But something… gave way.
His gaze dropped briefly—longer this time.
When he looked back up—
The fight was still there.
But quieter.
"The Moon Goddess doesn't make mistakes," he said again.
But this time—
It wasn't persuasion.
It was something he was holding onto so he wouldn't fall apart.
"But maybe…" his voice dipped, barely controlled, "…we do."
That broke something in me.
"I won't stand in your way."
And I felt that.
Because it cost him everything.
He stepped back.
Creating distance.
Not just physical—
Something deeper.
Something final.
He inclined his head. Formal now. Distant.
But his eyes lingered—just for a second longer.
And in that second—
I saw it all.
The hope he had tried to hold onto.
The belief he had fought for.
The way I had torn through both.
Then he turned.
And walked away.
And I stood there—
Feeling the bond stretch painfully between us.
Unbroken.
Unforgiving.
Nyra was silent.
And I realized—With something heavy settling deep in my chest—I hadn't just rejected him. I had let him believe in something sacred… And still chose
to be the one who destroyed it.