Kane POV
She slamd the door in my face.
And locked it.
I didn’t bla her.
I didn’t knock. I didn’t beg. I just stood there for a while, forehead pressed to the wood, listening to the sound of her body sliding down the other side.
Then the sobbing started again.
Not soft. Not muffled.
Raw.
Unfiltered agony.
She scread into the floor, into her arms, into her fists. Over and over again.
"Dean..."
My eyes burned. I clenched my jaw until it hurt. I wanted to break sothing. I wanted to break myself.
But all I did was sit down outside her door. Back to the wall. Knees bent. Hands dangling uselessly over them.
There was nothing else I could do.
She scread until her voice cracked, until it turned hoarse and broken.
And I stayed.
She whispered his na like a prayer, like a curse, like an apology that would never be heard. I could hear her pacing, hitting the wall, maybe throwing things—then collapsing again.
I couldn’t stand it.
But I wouldn’t leave.
I thought I heard her clawing at sothing at one point—maybe the bed fra. Maybe the floor. I heard her sobbing into a pillow until it muffled into silence, only to start all over again minutes later.
Ti stopped mattering.
An hour passed. Maybe two. Maybe five.
I didn’t move.
I could’ve forced the door open. I could’ve walked in, wrapped her in my arms, and taken the rage she wanted to throw. But I knew she didn’t want that.
She wanted him.
And all she had left was .
Eventually, the crying dulled to hiccups. Then to silence. I thought maybe she’d fallen asleep—finally—until I heard her voice.
A whisper.
A broken, barely-there thing.
"...He died alone."
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall.
I wanted to tell her he didn’t.
I wanted to say that even if she wasn’t there physically, he felt her in every breath. That his last thought was of her. That he made promise to protect her not just out of duty—but because he loved her.
But I couldn’t speak.
If I opened my mouth, I’d break apart too.
Instead, I sat there, silent. A sentinel to her pain.
Because that’s what Dean asked to do.
Protect her, Kane. Even if she hates you. Especially if she hates you.
And I would.
Even if she never looked at again.
Even if she never forgave .
Because she was our mate.
And he was gone.
*********
The tray rattled slightly in my hands as I pushed the door open.
"Elena?" I said gently, stepping into the dim room. She hadn’t turned on the lights. The curtains were drawn tight, casting everything in a cold, gray filter.
She sat curled on the edge of the bed, back to , her arms wrapped around her knees. Still in Dean’s hoodie. Still unmoving.
"I brought you sothing to eat," I tried.
No response.
I placed the tray on the table near the bed—fruit, bread, tea. She didn’t move an inch.
"Elena," I said again, softer this ti, "you have to eat sothing. It’s been over a day—"
"Take to him first," she whispered.
I froze.
"Elena..."
She turned, eyes hollow but fire smoldering beneath the surface. "Take. . To. Him."
My heart kicked painfully in my chest. "You can’t."
She stood abruptly, her face a twisted mask of pain and fury. "Why?! What the fuck are you hiding now, Kane? What more can you take from ?!"
My breath caught. I took a step forward. "You don’t understand. It’s not safe—"
"You think I care about safe?!" she scread, and in one sharp motion, she grabbed the teacup from the tray and hurled it at my head. I dodged it barely, and it shattered against the wall behind .
"I should’ve known!" she hissed, voice cracking. "Of course you’d keep locked away again! Of course you’d control this too! What next? You gonna decide when I’m allowed to grieve?!"
"That’s not what I’m doing," I said, breath shaking. "Elena—Dean is still not... fully gone. The darkness—it’s leaking out of him now. And it’s not in a vessel anymore. It’s looking for one."
That silenced her. But only for a second.
Her voice dropped into sothing colder. "So you think it’ll pick . Again."
"I don’t think. I know it will. It already did once."
She staggered a step back, as if I’d slapped her. Her mouth opened, then closed again. Her hands trembled at her sides.
"I know you’re hurting," I said carefully. "But I swore to him. I won’t let it take you again. Not when it almost killed you. Not when it killed him."
"I don’t care," she said, voice breaking. "Don’t you get it? I don’t fucking care if it takes . I want to see him, Kane. I need to see him. Please—"
Her legs gave out, and she dropped to her knees with a choked sob, clutching the blanket like a lifeline.
I knelt next to her, but she pulled away instantly.
"You don’t get to touch ," she whispered.
I sat back, throat burning.
We stayed like that, a foot apart but miles away. Her trembling. silent.
And the tray of untouched breakfast, growing cold between us.
Elena POV
He doesn’t get it. He just doesn’t fucking get it.
Kane stands there, hovering near the door like he’s afraid to co closer. Maybe he should be. Maybe I want him to be. Because if he touches right now, if his hand brushes mine or his voice softens the way it always does—I’ll cave.
And I don’t deserve that comfort. Not from him.
Not from anyone.
As much as Kane is my mate, Dean is, too. Equally. Fully. No less. I was bound to both of them—not just in magic, but in soul. In breath and bone.
So how am I supposed to stay here? How the hell am I supposed to sit in this room and breathe, knowing that one of them is gone? It feels like soone took a jagged blade and tore a piece of out.
And I feel it missing.
I don’t hate Kane. I can’t hate him, even now. Not with the bond threading tight between us. But I’m so mad at him I can barely see straight. Mad that he kept away. Mad that he didn’t fight harder to let say goodbye.
Mad that I was left screaming, clawing, while Dean was in the next room, dying—and I couldn’t even hold his hand.
Gods. It hurts so bad I think I might co apart.
And the worst part—the most gut-twisting, soul-breaking part—is that this? This is all my fucking fault.
If I had been stronger. If I hadn’t let the darkness consu . If I hadn’t let it twist inside until Dean had no other choice but to save .
To die for .
He absorbed it. All of it. Every ounce of that corrupt, toxic power that once lived inside . He took it willingly. Silently. Because he knew what it would do to if it stayed. Because he loved enough to burn himself alive from the inside out just to give another day of light.
And I let him.
I let him die for .
I buried my face into the hoodie that still slled like him—cedar and smoke and him. I could almost feel his arms around . Almost hear his low voice telling it would be okay.
But it won’t be okay.
Because I failed him.
Because I let the darkness in.
And now Dean’s gone.
Gone because of .
And no matter what Kane says—no matter how many fucking trays of food he brings, no matter how many tis he whispers "I’m sorry"—none of it matters.
Not when the man I love is dead.
And not when I’m the one who killed him.
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