Eleanor’s POV
I woke up with a strange, uncomfortable feeling sitting heavy in my chest, a sense of dread I couldn’t quite place.
It was like a gray cloud had settled over as I opened my eyes. Trying to shake it off, I ssaged Roxy and Mira in our group chat, letting them know I’d et them in the afternoon.
Roxy imdiately asked, ’What are you doing till then?’
My answer is simple: staying indoors, reading, avoiding any possible complications.
The thought of accidentally crossing paths with the Vexxon triplets was enough to make my palms sweat. They were just so... intense. So I typed back a quick, ’Just staying in.’
But then a knock ca at my door. It was Sir Alfred, and he looked... worried. That was unusual enough to make my own anxiety spike.
"Miss Eleanor," he said, his voice low and earnest. "I need your help."
The request was so unexpected, I didn’t hesitate. "Of course," I said automatically, the people-pleaser in overriding my nerves.
He turned and moved down the hall with a pace that was just shy of a run.
My heart hamred as I hurried after him, my mind racing. What could he possibly need my help with that the triplets couldn’t handle themselves? They were the most capable people I knew.
The fact that we were practically jogging down the grand, double staircase and through the long hallway made it clear this was serious.
My silent questions were cut short when Alfred stopped in front of a door. He turned to , his expression grave. "Just... try," he said softly, before opening the door and gently guiding inside.
My breath caught. There, hunched in a small, low mattress placed directly on the floor, was one of the Vexxon triplets. Sir Kieran. His head was bowed, but the sound of the door made him turn.
For a single, terrifying slip of a second, I thought his face was completely different. But he looked away quickly, dropping his gaze back to the floor before I could even process what I thought I saw. I blinked, my mind recoiling. It must be a trick of the light, my own nervousness playing havoc with my eyesight. I looked at his downturned profile. It’s definitely Kieran.
Why am i here.
He had drawn his knees up, his arms wrapped around them as if trying to make himself as small as possible.
It reminded instantly of the ti I saw Kayden, when he got into the restroom i was in, not aware that i was in the wrong restroom. His entire body radiated a frustrated, agitated energy I never thought I’d witness. And Kieran is showing off that sa energy.
Why would Alfred think that I could help him?
Maybe you can help him,Beatrice replied. Like you helped Kayden.
But I didn’t do anything for Kayden. He just... pulled into a hug. I didn’t know what to do. And then... and then...
I had felt a wave of pain and self-loathing pouring from him. Is that what’s drowning Kieran now? This sa terrible feeling?
I don’t know. But maybe... maybe I can just ask. Or try to.
Taking a hesitant step forward, I walked toward the hunched figure on the mattress. Before I could speak, his voice, rough and broken, cut through the silence. "Get out." His face was still hidden, turned away from . "Why are you here?"
I said in a low tone. "Sir Alfred... he called for . I don’t know why."
He let out a shaky breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob. A man like him, crying? What kind of pain could reduce soone so powerful to this?
"I don’t know why he brought you here," he said, the words thick with emotion. "Maybe you heard wrong. Just leave. Now."
Yes, leave. His pain isn’t your business. You’ll only make it worse. I turned and walked to the door, my hand closing around the cool tal of the handle.
But I paused. Why was I thinking like that? I heard a faint sniffle from behind .
I looked back at him, curled into a ball of misery. It was a mirror of my old life. A life where I endured mistreatnt, believing that if I just obeyed, just pleased everyone, they would finally see my worth.
My family never did. My kindness was always taken advantage of. I spent so many nights crying alone, wishing just once that soone would notice, that soone would offer a word of comfort.
I never got it. Not until Mira. But even with her, I was always so afraid to be vulnerable, terrified she’d see the real, broken and walk away.
She never did.
And now, Kieran is pushing away, just like I used to push people away. He needs comfort, even if he’s too proud to ask for it. And by walking out, I was acting exactly like all the people who ever turned their back on .
No. I’m not leaving.
I let go of the handle and walked back, my heart pounding. I slowly sat on the floor a few feet from him, tucking my legs beneath .
He tensed. "Are you deaf? I told you to get out."
I took a slow, quiet breath, steadying my voice. "I heard you," I said, my tone soft but clearer than I expected. "But I’m done listening to orders."
"Is there sothing wrong with your head?" he muttered, his voice ragged.
"Definitely,"
He shifted further away, a deliberate retreat. "You should just go. Please. You won’t... you won’t like what you see."
But his plea only solidified my resolve. That deep, instinctual need to soothe him, the sa one I’d felt with Kayden, grew stronger. "I’m going to stay," I said, my voice a little firr. "I understand you’re going through sothing personal. And I... I’m going to do what I would have wanted soone to do for . I’m going to stay right here."
A bitter, wet sniffle ca from his direction. "You can never understand how I’m feeling."
"You’re right, I might not," I conceded softly. "But I will still be here."
Silence fell between us, thick and heavy. After a long mont, he spoke again, his tone laced with a weary cynicism. "You’re just talking. You don’t an it."
I didn’t argue. I just sat there, quietly sharing the space with his pain. As the monts stretched, a thought occurred to . Was this persistence because of the mate bond? And that heavy, bad feeling I’d woken up with... it was gone. The mont I’d stepped into this room, it had vanished. Was my instinct trying to tell it was connected to him all along?
Slowly, I got up. My eyes scanned the room and landed on a soft, clean cloth folded on a small table. I picked it up and brought it back to my spot on the floor. Deliberately, I turned my body so my back was to him, giving him the privacy he so desperately needed.
"I know you don’t want to see you in this state," I said, my voice gentle as I stared at the opposite wall. "But I thought you might want this to clean your face. When you’re done, of course." I reached my arm back, offering the cloth blindly into the space between us.
I waited, holding my breath. After a few seconds, I felt the soft brush of his fingers as he took the cloth from my hand. The sound of him using it, the soft rustle and his shaky exhale, filled the quiet room.
Then, a new weight, gentle and tentative, rested against my back. It was his head. The simple act of contact sent a wave of warmth through .
His voice was muffled against my back. "Do you think I’m ugly?"
The question was so unexpected. "No,"
"I am," he insisted, his voice cracking. "I’m fucking ugly. That’s how I’ve felt all these years. That I’m useless. Cheap. And used. Living with the reality that you have no self-worth... it’s not easy."
My heart ached. "That isn’t true," I said softly, my own past echoing in his words. "You are not cheap, or useless. I don’t know what you’ve gone through, but you should never bla yourself for it. You shouldn’t feel useless because of the way you were treated. That isn’t your fault. That’s what others want you to think." I felt like I was talking to my younger self, saying all the things I had desperately needed to hear. "The only person who can truly know your worth is you. And for what it’s worth... I think you’re very handso. Just like your brothers."
I heard him inhale slowly, a ragged, shaky breath.
"Do you want to know the truth about sothing?" I asked into the quiet.
"What is it?"
"When I first found out about this world, about being a werewolf, and that I would have a mate... I never thought the Moon Goddess would give soone like you. Soone so... handso. It was unbelievable." I took a deep breath, pouring every ounce of my conviction into my words.
"Sir Kieran, you are not defined by what happened to you. The things you went through may have tried to diminish you, but they failed. You have navigated incredible pain and you are still here. That takes a monuntal amount of strength and resilience. The sha, the guilt, the feeling of being ’dirty’... that belongs only to the people who caused you harm. Not to you. You are a survivor. Even if you don’t feel it right now."
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