Chapter 133: The Name Between Us

Seraphine's POV

I wrote fast. Messy. The pen scratched across paper like it was trying to tear through.

"January 15, 2025. Today I got captured by Damien's wolves. They beat me. Broke my leg. Draged me bleeding on the floor like trash.

Then he came.

Kaelen. The bastard who put me in a cage. The petty asshole I'm supposed to hate.

He tore through them. Killed for me. Carried me home.

And for the first time since Lyralei disappeared, I didn't feel alone."

My hand trembled. The last sentence blurred.

Fuck. This was too much. Too honest.

But I kept writing.

"This doesn't mean I forgive him. Doesn't mean I've forgotten what he did. I still hate him. Still want to leave.

But maybe... maybe I can hate him a little less. Just for tonight."

I set the pen down. Stared at the words.

They felt like a confession. Like admitting something I wasn't ready to admit.

Behind me, Kaelen stood so close I could feel his body heat. His hands rested on my shoulders, light as breath. Not possessive. Just... there.

"This is our story," he said quietly. His voice was rough, raw. "Only ours. No one else's."

I turned in the chair. Too fast. Pain shot through my leg and I hissed.

He steadied me immediately, hands on my arms. We were close. Too close. His face inches from mine, those four eyes searching my expression.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," I warned, even as my heart hammered. "I wrote one entry. That's it."

"I know."

"This doesn't mean I forgive you."

"I know."

"I still hate you."

His smile was small. Genuine. The kind that made him look almost... human.

"I know," he said again. "And that's okay."

The smile got to me. Made something in my chest squeeze tight.

I looked away first. Focused on the notebook cover instead. The gold vines caught moonlight, intricate patterns swirling across green leather.

"Isolde." The name tasted bitter on my tongue. "That name. I've heard it before."

Kaelen went still. His hands dropped from my shoulders like I'd burned him. The warmth disappeared, replaced by arctic cold.

When I looked up, his face had transformed. The gentle expression gone. The mask back in place. Cold. Distant. The Alpha who felt nothing.

"What about her?" His voice was flat. Dead.

"You know what." I forced myself to hold his gaze. "Her photos. The book upstairs. The sketches. The handwriting that looked just like the notebook you gave me."

He turned away. Walked to the window with measured steps. His spine rigid. Shoulders tense.

"That was a long time ago." Each word came out clipped. Controlled. "It doesn't matter anymore."

Bullshit. It mattered. I could see it in every line of his body.

I pushed myself up from the chair, ignoring the screaming protest from my leg. Hopped toward him, using furniture for balance.

"If you want our story," I said, stopping behind him, "then I need to know hers."

His reflection in the window was carved from ice. Four eyes staring out at nothing.

"I need to know why you became this," I continued. "Why you're so fucked up you locked me in a cage. Why you can't trust anyone. Why you push everyone away."

His hands clenched into fists. Knuckles white. Tendons standing out like cables.

"Leave it alone, Seraphine."

"No."

I reached out. Hesitated. Then placed my hand on his back.

His muscles jumped under my palm. He sucked in a sharp breath.

This was the first time I'd touched him. Really touched him. On purpose. Not because I was injured or needed help. Just... because.

The bond hummed between us. Recognition. Connection.

"Tell me the truth, Kaelen." My voice came out softer than I intended. "All of it."

He stared at the darkness outside. At his own reflection. At nothing and everything.

The silence stretched. Pulled taut.

Then he turned. Looked down at me with those four eyes that had terrified me once. Now they just looked... tired. Old.

"Wait here," he said finally. His voice was rough, barely above a whisper. "I need to get something."

He walked past me. Out the door. His footsteps echoed down the hall, then up the stairs.

I stood alone in the bedroom. Moonlight painted everything silver. My heart was racing, palms sweaty.

Above me, I heard drawers opening. Closing. The creak of old wood.

What was he getting? The book? Something else?

My leg throbbed. I hobbled back to the chair, sank into it. Waited.

The minutes crawled.

Finally, footsteps on the stairs. Coming back down. Getting closer.

The door opened.

Kaelen stood in the doorway, holding that book against his chest. The moonlight caught gold edges. Soft leather.

He crossed the room in silence. Sat on the edge of the bed, setting the book on his lap with careful reverence. Like it might shatter.

When he looked up at me, something in his expression had changed. The mask was cracking. The ice melting at the edges.

"You read it," he said. Not a question. "When you were locked upstairs."

Heat flooded my face. Guilt and defiance warring in my chest.

"I wasn't snooping," I said quickly. "Not really. I was just... looking around. Kicked a cabinet and this thing fell on my head."

The corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Almost.

"Maybe this is better. At least you already know part of it."

He opened the cover. Pulled out something tucked inside. A photograph, edges worn from handling.

The sketch beneath showed two figures by a stream. A man. A woman. Both smiling.

"Eight years ago," he said quietly. "Summer 2017. I met her at the border stream. I was twenty-five. Had been Alpha for two years."

I sat forward, gripping the chair arms. My chest tight.

"Her name was Isolde." His voice softened, the ice melting completely now. "She was gathering herbs. Humming to herself. Completely unaware she'd crossed into my territory."

His finger traced the woman's face in the sketch. Gentle. Reverent.

"I should have been angry. Should have run her off. But..." He paused. Swallowed hard. "She looked at me. At my eyes. And she didn't flinch. Didn't look away. Just smiled and said 'It's like seeing double souls.'"

Something twisted in my gut. Jealousy. Sharp and unwelcome.

She wasn't afraid of him. I'd been terrified.

"We met again the next day," he continued, turning pages. Each one showed more sketches. More moments. "And the day after. We started making this together. She'd draw. I'd write. Every page a memory."

The sketches showed them laughing. Touching. Close.

"I fell in love with her," he said simply. "Completely. Stupidly. I thought..." His jaw clenched. "I thought she felt the same."

I wanted to ask. Wanted to know what happened. But something in his expression stopped me.

"I announced it to the pack," he said. "Told them I was going to publicly mark her. Make her my Luna."

The words hit like a punch. Luna. Official. Forever.

My hands tightened on the chair until my nails dug into the wood.

"That was October 2017," he continued. "We planned everything. The ceremony. Decorations. She had a white dress. The elders gave their blessing."

Past tense. Everything past tense.

"What happened?" I asked, even though I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

His fists clenched again. Knuckles white. Veins bulging in his forearms.

"Three days before the ceremony," he said, voice dropping to a growl, "someone went to the council. Said they had proof Isolde was meeting wolves from other territories. Passing them information. Secrets about our defenses. Our patrols."

The words hung in the air. Heavy. Poisonous.

"They called her a traitor."

My breath caught. Traitor. The worst thing you could call a wolf.

"That's insane," I said. "If she loved you—"

"That's what I said." His laugh was bitter. Broken. "I defended her. Swore they were wrong. That she would never—"

He stopped. Closed his eyes.

"But they had evidence."