The walk back to the car felt longer than it ever had before.
Each step away from the neutral grounds pulled at something inside me—tight, raw, unrelenting. The bond didn't snap. It didn't fade.
It stretched.
And I felt every inch of it.
Nyra was silent at first. Not calm—never calm. Just… quiet in a way that felt worse than any storm she could have unleashed.
After a long journey Aurelion's gates came into view, towering and familiar. Safe. Controlled. Predictable.
Everything I had told myself I needed. Everything I had chosen.
The guards bowed as I passed, their voices a distant blur of respect and protocol. I nodded, barely aware of my own movements, my body moving through habit while my mind—my soul—remained somewhere else.
Still in that chamber.
Still with him.
By the time I reached my quarters, the weight inside my chest had turned suffocating. The door shut behind me with a soft click. And that was it.
The silence broke.
I staggered a step forward, my composure slipping like shattered glass, fingers curling against the edge of the table as I steadied myself.
Nyra surged.
"Why did you do that?"
Her voice wasn't angry.
It was hurting.
That made it worse.
"I had to," I whispered, though the words felt weak even to me.
"You didn't have to break him."
My fingers curled tighter into the wood.
"I didn't—"
"You did."
My throat tightened.
I squeezed my eyes shut—and instantly regretted it.
Because the moment I did— I saw him. Not as the composed Beta of Varkos. Not as the controlled warrior. But as he had been in those moments.
Hope lighting his face when I said yes.
That quiet, fragile certainty when he said, you feel this.
The way his shoulders had eased—just slightly—like he had found something he didn't even know he was searching for.
And then—
Me.
Tearing through it.
"This doesn't mean anything."
Nyra flinched with the memory.
"So cruel…" she whispered inside me.
My fingers trembled.
"I didn't say it like that," I said hoarsely.
"You didn't need to."
That hit harder than anything else. Because she was right. I didn't have to say the exact words. I had implied them. With every step back. With every refusal to meet him halfway.
With every cold, calculated answer meant to push him away.
I forced in a breath—but it caught halfway.
His face flashed again. The way confusion had crept in first.Then disbelief. Then that quiet, controlled hurt he tried so hard to hide.
"Why are you pulling away?"
My chest tightened painfully.
"Stop…" I whispered.
But Nyra didn't.
The way his voice changed…
The way he tried again… and again…
He didn't fight you. He didn't force you.
He just… asked you to stay.
I pressed a hand against my chest as if I could physically hold myself together.
"And I didn't," I said.
The words felt like a confession.
Nyra's voice softened—but it only made the ache deepen.
"He is our mate."
The word echoed.
Heavy. Sacred.
Terrifying.
"I know."
"Then why—"
"Because I've already chosen a life," I snapped, sharper than I intended. My breath came uneven. "Because the plan is already in motion. Because alliances don't break just because—because—"
"Because your soul found him?"
Silence.
That was the truth, wasn't it?
And I hated it.
Nyra's pain seeped into me, quiet but constant.
"You felt it… the moment you turned."
My mind betrayed me again.
That pull.
That warmth.
That overwhelming sense of home.
"I did," I admitted, barely audible.
"And you still walked away."
A hollow laugh escaped me—bitter, broken.
"I didn't just walk away," I murmured. "I made sure he wouldn't follow."
Because I remembered that too.Every word.
Every calculated strike.Status. Power. Wealth. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter.
God—
The way his jaw had tightened.
The way he had swallowed like the words had physically hurt.
"He is the perfect match for me."
Nyra flinched hard at that memory.
"You didn't need to say it like that," she whispered.
"I needed him to believe it," I said.
And that was the truth.
Because if he didn't—
he wouldn't have walked away.
And I wouldn't have been strong enough to make him.
"You hurt him," she said again, softer now.
"I know."
And I did.
Not in some vague, distant way.
I remembered every single moment.
The way his hope had lit up when I admitted I felt it. The way it dimmed—piece by piece—as I tore it down. The way he had stepped closer, not to corner me—but to understand.
The restraint in him.
The control.
Even when I was pushing him away.
And then—
That question.
"And you love him?"
My breath hitched.
That moment.
That question.
God—
the way he had asked it.
Not demanding.
Not accusing.
Just… hoping.
As if that answer would decide whether he could survive what I was about to do.
My throat tightened.
"I had to say it," I whispered.
Nyra surged.
"No—you chose to."
Silence.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
Because she was right. I could have said something else. I could have deflected.
Avoided. Stayed silent. But I hadn't.
I had looked him in the eyes—
and given him the one answer that would hurt the most.
"I said yes," I murmured.
The word felt worse now.
Ugly.
Wrong.
And it wasn't true.
My chest constricted.
"The truth is .....No"
That single word broke something open.
Because it was the only truth I hadn't said out loud until now.
"I don't love him."
The room felt too quiet after that.
Too still.
Like even the walls had heard it.
Nyra didn't speak immediately.
When she did—
her voice was softer.
But heavier.
"Then why did you say it?"
I let out a slow, uneven breath.
"Because if I didn't…" my voice faltered slightly, "he wouldn't have let go."
And I knew that with terrifying certainty.
Michelle wasn't weak. He wasn't someone who would step back just because things were complicated. He would have fought.
Not recklessly. Not arrogantly. But relentlessly. For me. For us.
For something he believed was real.
My eyes shut briefly.
"He needed to believe I was already gone," I said quietly.
"So you made yourself unreachable."
"Yes."
Nyra's pain didn't ease.
If anything—
it deepened.
"You broke him with a lie."
My hands trembled slightly.
Because I remembered.
Every second of it.
The way hope had lit his face when I said I felt it. The way it shifted—slowly, painfully—as I pulled away.
The confusion.
The disbelief.
"I watched it happen," I whispered, voice cracking despite myself.
Nyra went still.
"The exact second it broke him."
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
But in the way his breath had caught.
In the way his eyes had dimmed—just slightly.
In the way he had straightened after, like he was holding himself together by force.
"I saw it," I said, quieter now. "And I still didn't take it back."
"Because you couldn't."
"Because I wouldn't," I corrected.
That distinction mattered.
It had to. Because if I admitted I couldn't—
then I would have to face what that meant.
Nyra's voice softened again, aching.
"He didn't deserve that."
"No," I whispered.
"He didn't."
Silence fell again.
But it wasn't empty. It was full of everything I was trying not to feel.
Guilt.
Regret.
And something far more dangerous—
the memory of what it had felt like to stand in front of him and belong.
I forced my eyes open, dragging myself out of it.
"I made the right choice," I said, more firmly now.
Nyra didn't argue this time.
But she didn't agree either.
"Then why does it feel like you destroyed something sacred?"
My chest tightened.
Because that was exactly what it felt like.
Not just a bond.
Not just a possibility.
Something… meant.
And I had ended it before it could even begin.
Silence fell between us.
Heavy.
Exhausted.
And then—
"Why does it hurt you too?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Because the truth was sitting right there.
Raw.
Unavoidable.
"Because it wasn't a lie," I said finally, my voice hollow.
Nyra stilled.
"And that's the worst part," I continued, staring at nothing. "Everything I said… every reason I gave… it's all real."
The alliances.
The expectations.
The life I had built.
James.
A slow breath left me.
"I didn't choose him today," I murmured. "I chose him a long time ago."
"But today… you chose against your mate."
That… that was different.
That choice had a cost.
And I was feeling every part of it.
Nyra shifted, quieter now—but no less present.
"He will not stop feeling this."
My chest tightened.
"I know."
"Neither will you."
I swallowed hard.
"I know."
Silence stretched again.
But this time—it wasn't just pain.
Something colder began to settle in.
Something sharper.
More controlled.
Because I couldn't stay here.
Not like this.
Not lost in something I had already decided to walk away from.
My fingers slowly uncurled from the table.
My spine straightened.
Focus.
I needed that.
Not this.
Not him.
Not the bond that refused to break.
James.
The thought anchored itself firmly this time.
Stable. Predictable. Strategic.
He was part of something bigger.
Something I needed to understand.
Something that mattered beyond… this.
Nyra stirred, uneasy.
"You're running."
"Maybe," I said quietly.
"But I'm also choosing."
And I had always known how to live with my choices.
Even the ones that hurt.
Especially those.
I moved toward the window, staring out into the darkness stretching over Aurelion.
Somewhere out there—
He existed.
That bond still connecting us.
Still alive.
Still waiting.
My chest tightened one last time.
Then I forced it down.
Locked it away.
Where it couldn't interfere.
Where it couldn't weaken me.
"Tomorrow," I whispered, more to myself than to Nyra, "I focus on James."
Nyra stirred uneasily.
And your mate?
My fingers curled slowly.
"He'll move on."
Even as I said it—
something inside me rejected the idea.
Because I had seen him.
Felt him.
Known, with terrifying certainty—
that this wasn't something he would just forget.
Just like I wouldn't.
I have to focus on James for Aurelion. That's what mattered now. That's what I would hold onto. Even if— deep down—something in me was still turning back.
Still reaching.
Still whispering a truth I refused to hear.
Mine…