Heather's POV
☆☆☆☆☆
The night air was thick with silence, heavy and watchful.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the shadows above me crawling like restless thoughts I couldn't quiet. The sheets tangled around my legs, warm despite the chill in the room. Sleep had danced just beyond reach all night, taunting me, slipping through my fingers like smoke every time I closed my eyes.
Then I heard it.
A sound-soft, distant, but distinct.
It wasn't the wind. It wasn't footsteps. It was... muffled. Rhythmic.
At first, I thought I was imagining things. This place was safe, I told myself. Safer than Marcus's territory. Darrian had made that clear.
But there it was again. A faint thump. Then another.
Followed by a soft, feminine gasp.
I sat up, heart beginning to race. My instincts prickled, wolf stirring uneasily beneath my skin. I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders and swung my legs off the bed.
Don't go looking for ghosts, I told myself.
But I had to know.
I stepped out into the hall, bare feet padding silently across the cool wood floor. The entire estate was quiet, bathed in silver moonlight streaming through tall windows. Most of the pack was likely asleep. Or patrolling.
The sounds led me down the corridor. Faint, scattered.
I followed them like breadcrumbs.
One hallway turned into another, and soon I found myself near the Alpha's wing. The walls here felt taller. The air, colder. I passed an open window and paused, glancing out across the grounds. Nothing but trees and shadows.
Another sound. A sharp exhale.
A woman's voice-low, breathless.
I froze.
Darrian's office was just ahead.
I hesitated. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
Maybe someone was hurt. Maybe-
A soft, unmistakable moan sliced through the quiet.
My breath caught.
I moved forward slowly, unsure if I wanted to hear more or run the other way. I stopped just short of the door. It was cracked open.
Light spilled out, faint and golden.
I didn't mean to look.
But I did.
Through the narrow slit, I caught a flash of movement. Pale skin. Long blond hair. A woman. Her arms wrapped around a muscular back that could only belong to one person.
Darrian.
I stepped back like I'd been burned.
A cold, hollow weight dropped into my stomach.
I turned, silent and shaky, and fled down the corridor, back to my room.
I didn't cry right away. I didn't even let myself think. I sat on the edge of the bed, hands clenched into fists in my lap, staring at nothing.
The woman I'd seen-Mikaela. I knew her from the dining hall. From the way she laughed too loudly and stared too long at the men. Especially Darrian.
I had heard whispers. That she made herself available. That she'd shared his bed before.
But I didn't think he still needed that.
Not with me here.
Not after everything.
I was his mate. We hadn't completed the bond. But he had brought me here. Given me sanctuary. Made me feel-safe. Like I mattered.
He'd bought me clothes that fit.
Books I hadn't seen in years.
A room tailored to my soul.
And now, the realization crept in like frostbite: it meant nothing.
It was all... empty.
I curled under the blanket, trying to push the image out of my head. I could still hear her. The way she sounded.
I hated how it echoed in my memory.
The next morning came like a punishment.
I didn't leave my bed.
At one point, someone knocked-soft, hesitant.
I didn't answer.
A tray was left outside. I could smell eggs, toast, fresh fruit. I ignored it.
The food stayed there, untouched, until the scent dulled and the hallway fell quiet again.
By noon, my stomach growled angrily, but I refused to give it what it wanted. I was too tired to move. Too heavy to think.
The worst part was the silence.
Darrian didn't come.
He didn't knock.
He didn't explain.
I thought-I hoped-he'd find a way to make it right. That he'd sit next to me and say something, anything. But there was nothing.
As if it had never happened.
As if I'd imagined it all.
Late afternoon drifted into evening. I sat by the window, knees hugged to my chest, staring out at the gardens. I saw him once. Darrian. His shirt off, sweat glistening on his back as he trained with Ronan. His movements were sharp, angry.
He never looked toward the window.
I watched until I couldn't anymore.
When the moon rose again, I finally stepped into the shower.
The hot water scalded my skin, but I needed it. I needed to feel something other than hollow. I scrubbed until my fingers wrinkled and my body trembled.
I stepped out, wrapped myself in a towel, and collapsed on the floor beside my bed, unable to climb in.
Every part of me ached.
Not from the bruises Marcus had left behind.
But from this.
From him.
Why did it hurt so much?
Why did it matter?
We were nothing. No promises. No claims. Just a bond the moon goddess carved into our bones.
But I wanted more.
I had hoped for more.
And that made me a fool.
I closed my eyes and whispered the words I swore I wouldn't believe again.
"I'll never be enough."
Hours passed.
The moon moved.
No one came.
The tray was removed and replaced.
Still, I didn't eat.
I thought of running again.
Of slipping out through the trees, beyond the border, where no one could hurt me anymore.
But my legs wouldn't move.
I was too tired.
Too broken.
Maybe this was my fate-forever chosen, never cherished.