Chapter 112
Elara's POV
The streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement as I walked home. My footsteps echoed too loud in the quiet residential area. Each step felt heavier than the last.
Cole's words kept circling in my head. "Maybe you should tell them the truth."
I wanted to. God, I wanted to.
But how could I explain that their daughter's soul was trapped in someone else's body? That she was being hunted across Canada by professional killers who thought she was me? That I needed to leave for weeks, maybe months, to save her?
They'd think I was insane.
Or worse—they'd believe me, and it would destroy them.
I kicked at a loose pebble on the sidewalk. It skittered across the concrete and disappeared into the darkness.
The real problem was I didn't even know how they felt about Lynette. In all the weeks I'd been living as Elara, not once had Marcus, Emily, or Ethan mentioned her name. Not a single time.
Did they even know Lynette existed?
The thought made my chest tight. Maybe they'd given her up at birth and never looked back. Maybe they didn't care what happened to her.
But that didn't make sense either. If they truly didn't care, why would the blood bond have been strong enough to pull my soul here? Why would Elara's memories be filled with so much love for this family?
I rubbed my temples. My head hurt from thinking in circles.
Maybe they did know about Lynette but had reasons not to talk about her. Reasons they couldn't share with "Elara." Some kind of pack secret or family shame.
Either way, I couldn't tell them the truth. Not yet. Not until I had my sister back safe.
The Grey house came into view up ahead. Warm yellow light glowed through the living room windows. I could see Mom moving around inside, probably cleaning up after dinner.
My throat felt tight.
These people had given me everything. A home. A family. Safety. Love.
And I was about to repay them with lies.
I stopped at the bottom of the front steps. My hand reached for the doorknob, then hesitated.
Just go in. Act normal. Figure out the cover story tomorrow.
I took a deep breath and pushed the door—
"Elara? What are you doing?"
I froze.
That voice. I knew that voice.
I turned around slowly.
Kael stood in his own front yard next door, car keys dangling from his hand. He must have just gotten home. The porch light illuminated his face—those sharp features, that intense amber gaze fixed directly on me.
Oh no. Not now. Not him.
Heat flooded my face instantly. My body remembered before my brain could stop it.
His hands gripping my waist. His mouth hot against mine. The weight of his body pressing me into the mattress. The way he'd looked at me afterward, all that careful control completely shattered—
Stop. Stop thinking about it.
But I couldn't. The memories played like a film reel I couldn't turn off. Every touch. Every kiss. Every breathless moment when we'd completely lost ourselves in each other.
And the worst part? We hadn't talked since. Not a single text. Not a phone call. Nothing.
I'd woken up the next morning with his card in my hand and him already gone. Then the bus ride back to school where I'd pretended everything was fine while my body ached in places I didn't want to think about.
Now here he was, standing ten feet away, watching me with those unreadable eyes.
My face burned hotter. I was definitely blushing. Could he see it in the dim light? Please let it be too dark for him to notice.
Kael walked toward me. Slow, measured steps. Like he was approaching something fragile that might bolt at any sudden movement.
"About last night," he started.
My heart hammered against my ribs. No. We were not doing this. Not here. Not now.
"It's not what you think," I blurted out.
The words came out too fast, too defensive. But I couldn't take them back now.
I needed him to understand—I hadn't slept with him to get that stupid card. It wasn't a transaction. It wasn't me using my body to pass some test.
I'd wanted him. Even without the drug, even without the mission, I would have wanted him.
But I couldn't say that out loud. Couldn't admit that part.
Something shifted in Kael's expression. His jaw tightened. The warmth in his eyes cooled to something distant.
"I see," he said quietly.
Wait. That wasn't the right response.
I'd expected him to look relieved. Maybe even agree that we should forget the whole thing happened. Keep it professional. Move on.
Instead, he looked... hurt?
No. That couldn't be right. Kael Harrington didn't get hurt over casual sex. He'd probably had dozens of girls throw themselves at him. This was nothing to him.
So why did his voice sound so flat? Why did his shoulders tense like I'd just delivered a physical blow?
"I mean—" I started.
"You don't need to explain." He cut me off. "I understand."
But he didn't. I could see it in his face. He thought I was rejecting him. Rejecting whatever had started between us in that bedroom.
I wanted to explain. Needed to make him understand that I wasn't dismissing what happened. I just couldn't let him think I'd traded my body for a piece of cardboard with a letter K on it.
But how could I say that without admitting the rest? Without confessing that I'd thought about that night every spare moment since? That my body still remembered the exact shape of his hands? That some traitorous part of me wanted to do it again, wanted him to kiss me right here on this stupid doorstep?
The words stuck in my throat.
I stood there like an idiot, mouth half-open, unable to form a coherent sentence.
Kael waited. His eyes searched my face, looking for something. An explanation. A denial. Anything.
I gave him nothing but silence and a face that probably looked as panicked as I felt.
The moment stretched between us. Awkward. Painful. Heavy with everything we weren't saying.