Chapter 45: FORTY-FIVE

D O M I N I C

Every day without her felt like a year. I had tried to respect her wishes. I had left her apartment, I had left the city, I had put hundreds of miles between us. But I couldn't stay away. Not when I knew Saffra was out there. Not when I knew she was in danger.

But I still kept my distance. Trusting that she would call me if she notices anything out of the ordinary. Trusting that she is safe.

I downed the bottle of scotch in one go, the liquid burning a path down my throat. It did nothing to dull the ache in my chest, the hollow, gaping void where her presence used to be. I had to find a way to get her back. A way to make her see that I was the only one who could protect her.

My heart, one I thought I didn’t have, was aching. Aching from not inhaling her beautiful scent, from not being able to touch her smooth and silky skin, from not being able to hear her maginificent laugh.

I threw the bottle across the room, the shattering glass a satisfying explosion of violence and frustration. I was a mess. A lovesick, pathetic mess of a monster. I was a fool to think I could just walk away from her. She was mine. She would always be mine.

My phone buzzed on the table, a welcome distraction from my self pity. I picked it up, my heart pounding.

It was a text from Tristin.

'Bro, where are you? We are all waiting for you.'

I had forgotten about the meeting. Forgotten about the pack. I had been so consumed by my own misery, I had neglected my duties as their Alpha.

But I didn’t care one bit. I choose to be selfish, choose to not pretend that I’m not broken on the inside, that I’m okay. I typed a quick reply. 'Can't make it. Something's come up.'

Tristin's reply was immediate. 'Is it about Jade?'

I immediately turned my phone off, not wanting to listen to one of his lectures or how I have to move on, and how I couldn’t keep chasing after someone who doesn't want me. It was never ending.

The pack was a second family. And like a family, we had our ups and downs, but the one thing that remained constant was the unconditional love and support we gave each other.

And for the first time in centuries, I didn't know if that love would be enough.

I walked over to the bar, pouring myself another drink. I stared out the window, the city lights blurring in my vision, the alcohol buzzing in my system. It was a beautiful, chaotic view. But it wasn't as beautiful as her.

I finished the drink, letting the numbness wash over me. But even the alcohol couldn't dull the ache, the loneliness.

I knew I was being pathetic. I knew I was letting her win. But I couldn't help it. She had crawled her way under my skin, into my very being. I was consumed by her, by her scent, by her memory.

I slammed the empty glass down, my fists clenching. I had to do something. I couldn't just sit here and wallow in self pity. I had to go see her. I had to talk to her. I had to make her understand.

Before I could change my mind, I grabbed my coat and just as I was about to leave the house, Tristin walked inside. He immediately caught on to what I was about to do as soon as he saw me.

"Don't," he said, his voice firm, his eyes flashing with an intensity I rarely saw. "If you go to her now, you'll only make things worse. You need to give her time."

"She had enough time!" I roared, the pain and frustration spilling out. "She doesn't understand what's going on, what she is up against. She doesn't believe me!

"Then make her believe you."

I clenched my jaw, the muscles ticking. He didn't understand. She wasn't like the other girls, the ones I had seduced and played with. She wasn't weak and easily

manipulated. She was strong and stubborn.

"This isn't going to work," he said, his voice low. "I miss her so much. So fucking much. Do you know how hard it is for me not to just show up at her doorstep and beg her to take me back? To let me prove my love to her?"

"You have to respect her decision, Markov. If you truly love her, you have to let her go. Even if it means breaking your own heart in the process."

His words cut deeper than any knife, but he was right. I had to let her go. Even if it meant ripping out my own heart in the process.

I slumped onto the couch, the weight of his words heavy on my shoulders. He was right. I knew he was right. But it didn't make it any easier.

"I'm sorry, man," he said, his voice softer now, his expression full of empathy and understanding. "I know how much she means to you. And I know how hard it is to let go. But this is the best thing you can do for her. She needs to be free, to make her own choices. To be her own person."

"I know," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "But it doesn't make it any less painful."

We sat in silence for a while, the weight of our shared pain heavy in the air.

Finally, I spoke, my voice hoarse with emotion. "I don't know if I can do this."

He sighed, a weary, resigned sound. "You have to try. For her sake."

For her sake. For her sake. For her sake.

That phrase echoed in my mind.

I was her mate. It was my duty to protect her. To keep her safe.

Even if it meant sacrificing my own happiness.

Even if it meant walking away from the only thing that made me feel alive.

Even if it meant letting her go.

But I knew it would haunt me for the rest of my life.

The image of her, the sound of her voice, the taste of her lips. All of it would be etched into my memory forever, a bittersweet reminder of what I had lost.

But if it meant her safety, her happiness, her freedom, then it was a price I was willing to pay.

"You're a better man than you give yourself credit for, Markov," Tristin said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry, man. Truly. Hopefully one day, she would see you for who you truly are."

I swallowed, the lump in my throat growing bigger.

"One day," I said, the words like lead on my tongue.

I would never give up hope. Never. But for now, all I could do was wait.