Leila’s POV:
He just stared at , like I was so alien from another dinsion, his eyes cold and distant. I had laid my soul bare, told him everything—things I never wanted to speak of again, things that haunted every ti I closed my eyes. And yet, he said nothing.
I had hoped—no, prayed—that by telling him the truth, he would see differently. That he would lessen his vendetta against and realize I was just as much a victim as he was. I had suffered at their hands, too. I never asked to be born to those monsters. My life had been filled with pain, manipulation, and cruelty. Surely, he could understand that. Surely, he could see that we were on the sa side.
But the silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating, and with each passing second, my hope withered. He wasn’t seeing as his mate right now. He wasn’t seeing as the woman who loved him. He was seeing the blood of his parents’ killers flowing through my veins, a curse I couldn’t escape no matter how hard I tried.
"Say sothing," I whispered, my voice barely audible. My throat burned from holding back the flood of emotions threatening to break free.
Drake’s face remained unreadable, his jaw clenched tight as if he was battling so inner turmoil I couldn’t see. His hands, once so gentle with , were now rigid, gripping the arms of the couch with enough force that his knuckles turned white.
"I’m not them," I added, desperation creeping into my voice. "I never was. I never will be. I’ve spent my whole life trying to escape them, trying to survive. Please, don’t hold accountable for their sins."
He flinched slightly at my words, but his expression didn’t change. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, the weight of his silence pressing down on , suffocating .
"I support you, Drake," I continued, trying to reach him, trying to break through the wall he had built between us. "I want revenge as much as you do. They treated like a mistake, sothing to be discarded. I was nothing to them. After the Blood Moon Pack, they were next. I never considered them my family. We’re on the sa side. We can fight them together."
I could feel the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I wouldn’t break down in front of him, not again. Not now. Not after everything.
He finally shifted, his gaze flickering from to the floor, as if he couldn’t bear to look at any longer. I waited, my heart in my throat, for him to say sothing—anything—that would give a shred of hope. But all he did was stand up and walk to the window, his back to .
"I don’t know if I can," he muttered, barely loud enough for to hear.
The words hit like a punch to the gut.
I stared at his back, my chest tightening with every second of silence that followed. I had done everything I could to show him that I wasn’t the enemy. I had laid everything out for him, every painful, agonizing detail of my past. And still, it wasn’t enough.
I wasn’t enough.
"Please..." I whispered, not even sure what I was begging for anymore. His forgiveness? His love? Just for him to look at the way he used to, before all of this shattered everything between us?
But Drake didn’t move. He stood there, staring out into the night, as if I wasn’t even in the room anymore.
And that’s when I realized—he wasn’t just battling with his anger at . He was battling with himself. Fighting the pull of the mate bond, fighting the mories of his parents, fighting the desire to love despite the blood that tied to the people who had ruined his life.
I had co here hoping to bridge the distance between us. But now, standing here in the silence, I realized that I might never be able to.
And the worst part?
I wasn’t sure if he even wanted to.
Drake POV:
It hurt to see her like this, hurting because of . Her eyes held that raw pain, the kind I never wanted to see in her, yet here we were. The mate bond tugged at my heart, urging to reach out, to hold her, but my anger, my betrayal kept rooted in place. I clenched my fists, trying to control the conflicting emotions swirling within .
She had laid bare the story of her life, her suffering, and everything she endured. A part of wanted to understand, to forgive her because she had been just as much of a victim as I was. But another part, the part that had sworn revenge on the people responsible for my parents’ deaths, refused to yield. How could I reconcile that?
"I was a victim, Drake," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Just like you."
I hated how much I wanted to believe her. I hated how her words twisted sothing deep inside of , sothing that I’d tried so hard to ignore.
"You were a victim, yes," I said, my voice strained. "But their blood still runs through your veins. How do I look my parents’ mory in the eye and accept that the daughter of their killers is my mate?"
Leila flinched at my words, and I imdiately felt a stab of guilt. But I couldn’t take it back. I couldn’t undo the war raging inside .
"I am not them," she said firmly, raising her chin, her eyes now glistening with determination. "I am not the ones who hurt your family. I despise them as much as you do, Drake. I’ve suffered at their hands, too."
I took a step closer, feeling the heat between us. "How am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to just... forget?"
Leila shook her head, taking a deep breath. "I’m not asking you to forget, or even to forgive them. But we are stronger together, Drake. Our pain... our loss... it’s the sa."
Her words cut deep, but it didn’t stop the bitterness from rising up again. "You want to turn my back on the promise I made to my parents? I vowed to destroy everyone responsible for their deaths. How can I do that when the person I vowed to protect is their bloodline?"
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. "Drake, if you can’t see past this, if you can’t see that I’m on your side... then maybe we were never ant to be."
The air between us grew thick with tension. The mate bond pulsed, but the weight of the truth crushed . Could I really destroy the one thing that kept tethered to sanity? Could I really reject my mate, my other half, because of a bloodline she never chose?
But then, the thought that haunted crept in. What if this bond didn’t matter anymore? What if knowing she was the child of my parents’ murderers made it impossible to truly be with her?
As I stared at her, the answer to that question seed too terrifying to confront.
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