[Owen's POV – Downtown Café, Post-War Cooldown]
The gentle chi of the café door barely registered to . After weeks of bloodshed, war cries, and the roars of titans, the soft clinking of mugs and low chatter was almost alien.
I stepped inside, adjusting the collar of my coat, my beast instincts suppressing themselves beneath the hum of city life. The war was over—for now—and for the first ti in what felt like ages, I was just Owen Yates.
I spotted them imdiately.
Samuel Gebb sat with his legs casually crossed, stirring his coffee with an expression that scread he knew way too much. His obsidian-black jacket was unzipped, revealing a faded shirt with the words "Extinction Is Optional" printed across it.
Next to him, Henry Hans, ever the composed one, wore a sharp coat and round-rimd glasses. He was reading sothing on his holopad until he looked up and nodded.
"Took you long enough," Samuel said with a smirk, raising his mug slightly.
"Traffic," I replied dryly, sliding into the seat across from them. "And by traffic, I an an entire post-war beast procession I had to manage."
Henry chuckled. "You look... less like a walking apocalypse today."
"Let enjoy my civilian hours," I said, grabbing the nu. "I've earned a waffle."
"Just a waffle?" Samuel arched a brow. "You literally roared a storm into existence and ended a tyrant whose jaw could bite through a mountain."
"I'm watching carbs," I replied flatly.
That got a laugh from both of them.
A waitress ca by, blinking twice when she looked at us, probably sensing the overwhelming aura in the booth, but kept it together. I ordered a stack of waffles, extra syrup. Samuel went with an espresso shot, and Henry got sothing green and suspiciously healthy.
As we sipped in comfortable silence, Samuel leaned forward.
"So... Alpha and Oga, huh?"
I gave him a sideways glance. "Jealous?"
"Terrified," Henry deadpanned.
Samuel grinned. "No, seriously. The balance has shifted. The divine, the cursed, the awakened... they all feel it. The beast who bows to no one now commands armies."
I leaned back, exhaling. "And yet here I am... sipping diocre coffee with two legendary freaks in a café."
Henry nodded thoughtfully. "Sotis, being human for a while... is the most powerful choice."
I looked at both of them, then smiled faintly.
"Thanks. For staying out of it."
Samuel sipped his espresso. "We promised, didn't we? You were writing your Chapter. We were just the readers."
I raised my mug. "To Chapters well written..."
They both raised theirs.
"...and to the chaos yet to co."
Clink.
________________________________________
[Samuel's POV – Café Conversation, Unfiltered Reflections]
I stirred my espresso lazily, watching the steam rise like ghosts of the past we'd buried with our own hands. Owen looked calr than I'd seen him in ages, but the fire in his eyes hadn't dimd. Not even a little.
I leaned forward, resting my chin on one hand.
"So... how are you planning to end the story of your Novelline?"
Owen smirked at the term. "You an my little journey of rage, beasts, and betrayal?"
I gave him a look. "Don't dodge."
He exhaled through his nose, eyes narrowing just slightly. "Well... you both seriously made your cheating wives suffer more than I thought fiction could allow. Those bitches—Bardot and Katerina—got the kind of brutal poetic justice entire religions were built around."
I chuckled darkly, rembering the sheer chaos that followed. "What can I say? I hated Bardot. And Joshua? That spineless parasite? I made sure his na ended up written in blood and sha. I finished my story the only way it ever deserved to end—with my happiness, and their destruction."
Owen nodded slowly, then leaned back. His gaze shifted toward the window, distant.
"Well," he said after a pause, "Yvette Jennings... she's not a cheating bitch. She's prideful, sure. Stubborn to a fault. But even when Owen—original Owen—was a simple man, broken and naive... she never cheated on him."
That caught off guard a little.
"She waited?"
"She divorced him first," Owen replied. "Before chasing after her first love, Randall. Which... I can't respect entirely, but at least she didn't stab him while still wearing the ring."
He paused, then added with a tone colder than steel, "But Willam? That bastard. Him, his mistress, and that half-brother of his... they'll pay."
His voice echoed the finality of a divine sentence.
"For what they did to Owen... and especially to his mother."
I nodded in quiet understanding. I didn't need to ask more. We both knew that kind of pain, and we both knew what ca next.
"You're not done writing," I said softly.
Owen looked at , eyes sharp, voice low. "No. I'm just getting to the good part."
Reviews
All reviews (0)