Lennox’s POV
Olivia shook her head so fast it looked like she was trying to shake the pain out of her body. Then she suddenly dropped to her knees.
"No," she cried, her voice trembling. "No, Lennox... I didn’t move on..."
Her hands pressed against her chest as tears poured down her cheeks.
"The marks... they were because I had a complicated delivery," she whispered shakily. "The healers said I needed the father’s mark to stay alive... and to keep the babies alive. I didn’t move on. I never moved on from you."
My chest tightened. Complicated delivery? She almost died—and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t beside her. I wasn’t holding her hand. I wasn’t protecting her. I wasn’t comforting her. Pain hit my heart so fast I didn’t know how to breathe.
I stared down at her—this woman kneeling in front of , shaking, crying, trying to explain sothing she should never have had to explain this way—and sothing inside cracked.
I was supposed to hate her. I wanted to hate her. I had every reason to hate her. But even with all my anger... even with all my pain... even after four years of hell... I couldn’t.
Because the truth punched straight in the chest: I was dood. I was dood to love Olivia from the very first day I t her. Even without my wolf... even without my strength... even with broken legs... even with the betrayal choking ... my love for this woman never reduced. Not one bit. It stayed inside like a fire I could never put out.
Seeing her now—crying, shaking, begging—hurt more than anything I’d felt in years.
I hadn’t seen her in four years, and those years changed her. She wasn’t the young, stubborn girl I rembered. She was a woman now. Her face was a little slimr, but still so beautiful it made my chest ache. Her hair was longer and fell over her shoulders in soft waves that made want to touch it. Her eyes... God... her eyes looked older. Not aged, but filled with stories and pain and love and fear. So much fear.
Her body had changed too—softer in so places, stronger in others. She looked richer, fuller, more mature, more womanly. She was a mother now. And sohow that made her even more beautiful.
Her lips trembled in a way that used to drive crazy, and it still did.
She whispered again, her voice breaking, "I didn’t move on, Lennox. I didn’t... I couldn’t."
I swallowed hard. My heart pounded painfully in my chest.
Why did this hurt? Why did I feel sick? Why did I feel like dragging her into my arms? Why did I still miss her? Why, after everything, did I still crave her?
I closed my eyes for a mont, trying to shut the feeling down, but it only grew stronger.
I missed her. I missed her voice. I missed her scent. I missed her touch. I missed her stubborn mouth and her angry eyes. I missed her laugh. I missed her tease. I missed her warmth beside at night. I missed every damn thing.
Four years had passed.
But my love for this woman?
Still there.
And that scared . I was broken. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t trust her. I didn’t know how to forgive. But a bigger part of —a part I didn’t want to admit—wanted to grab her, pull her into my chest, bury my face in her neck, and confess everything I had held inside.
God, I had missed her. Everything about her.
Olivia slowly moved closer on her knees.
Not standing.
Not walking.
Just dragging herself toward like she was afraid I would push her again.
Her face was wet with tears.
Her breath shaky.
Her hands trembling.
She reached out... very slowly... her fingers only inches from my knee.
And I glared at her.
A hard, sharp glare.
Her hand froze.
Her lips parted.
Her eyes widened with fear and pain.
Then she whispered, "I’m sorry... I’m so sorry, Lennox. I abandoned you. I know. I know I did. I should have done more. I should have fought harder. I should have found you."
Her voice broke.
"I should never have stopped trying."
My frown deepened as I glared at her.
"Levi refused to tell where you were," she cried. "He kept saying you were in a place where I couldn’t disturb your healing. He kept making excuses, and I believed him. I was weak. I should have searched for you myself. I should have tried. I should have—"
I cut her off sharply.
"And for four years," I growled, "you couldn’t search for ?"
She stopped breathing.
Her lips trembled.
My voice dropped lower, harsher, dripping with every wound inside .
"Look for another lie to tell ."
Her eyes widened like I slapped her.
Her hand dropped from the air to the floor.
Her shoulders shook.
"No..." she whispered. "It’s not a lie. Lennox, I swear—"
I leaned forward slightly in the bed, my anger-filled eyes fixed on her.
"You didn’t co," I said coldly. "You didn’t look. You didn’t fight. You didn’t tear the world apart for ."
She flinched with guilt.
"You accepted it," I spat. "You accepted my disappearance. You accepted not seeing . You accepted being kept away."
Her tears fell faster.
"That’s not true," she cried softly. "I thought about you every day—"
"And did that help ?" I demanded. "Did your thoughts pull out of that hell?"
She sobbed, covering her mouth.
"What did your thinking do for ?" I asked again, louder. "Tell . What did it save? What did it fix? What did it change?"
She froze.
Silent.
Unable to speak.
My breath shook with anger and pain I had held for too long.
"You left ," I whispered. "Just like everyone else."
Olivia shook her head violently. "No—no, Lennox, please—"
"You left ," I repeated, slower this ti, like the truth itself was heavy on my tongue. "And you are only here now because I woke up."
Her face collapsed completely.
She fell forward, her forehead touching the floor, her shoulders shaking so hard she could barely breathe.
"I’m sorry..." she whispered into the floor. "I’m so, so sorry..."
Her apology stabbed into again.
I wanted to lift her.
I wanted to tell her to stop crying.
I wanted to pull her into my lap.
I wanted to wipe her tears with my thumb the way I used to.
But I stayed still.
My fists were tight under the blanket. My heart was beating too fast. My stomach twisted with guilt and anger and everything I didn’t want to deal with.
Why did she still affect like this?
Why did her tears feel like knives?
Why, after everything, did I still love her?
She whispered again, her voice tiny. "I’m sorry..."
My throat tightened. I hated that sound. I hated that she was on the floor. I hated that I wanted to comfort her. I hated myself for wanting her so much after everything.
Before I could say anything—
The door burst open.
Levi stord in, his face full of anger and shock.
"What the hell are you doing, Lennox?" he snapped. "You’re making her cry? You’re making her kneel to you?!"
Olivia gasped and quickly wiped her face, embarrassed, trying to sit up straight. She covered her swollen eyes with her hands.
I slowly turned my head toward Levi.
Slowly.
Coldly.
Angrily.
"Get out," I ordered.
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