Chapter 153: Empty Pages

Seraphine's POV

I crossed to the desk and grabbed the notebook, leather worn smooth under my fingers. Kaelen stood by the door, scanning the room with that calculating look he got when assessing danger.

"This place isn't safe anymore." His voice carried that Alpha edge. "The window's compromised. Anyone could breach it."

I looked at the boarded-up glass, the crooked furniture, blood still staining the floorboards. He was right. Damien had destroyed my sanctuary.

"It needs reinforcing," Kaelen continued. "New locks. Better security. Or..." He paused, four eyes locking onto mine. "Come back to the main house. Write there. It's safer."

My instinct screamed to argue. This cottage was mine. My space. But looking at the damage, feeling cold air through those gaps—I couldn't deny reality.

I clutched the notebook tighter. "Okay."

Surprise flickered across his face. He'd expected a fight.

"Just like that?"

"You're right. It's not safe." I glanced at the broken window one last time. "I can write in your room."

Relief crossed his expression. He moved closer, hand finding my back.

"Thank you."

We left the cottage behind. The walk back felt different—less tense, more settled. Kaelen's fingers traced circles against my spine. The notebook felt solid in my hands.

When we reached his room, he pulled out supplies from the dresser. Charcoal pencils, colored pencils, a small watercolor set.

"In case you want options," he said.

I sat on the bed, notebook balanced on my knees. The mattress still smelled like us. Like sex and claiming. Heat crept up my neck.

Kaelen settled into the chair by the window, giving me space but staying close. Watching.

I opened the notebook to my last entry.

I still hate him. Still want to leave.

The words stared back at me. I'd written them after Kaelen saved me from Damien's enforcers. When I'd been certain hatred was all I had left.

Now? I didn't know what the hell I felt.

I picked up a pencil and turned to a fresh page. My hand hesitated over blank space.

Start with truth.

I pressed pencil to paper.

Last night Damien broke into my room.

The words came faster. My handwriting got messy as I tried to get it all down.

He grabbed me. Held a blade against my ribs. Said he'd carve me up piece by piece. I thought I was going to die. Thought he'd finish what he started three months ago.

My hand shook remembering that cold knife.

Then Kaelen came.

How to describe what happened next? The fury in his eyes. The way he'd moved—brutal and absolute.

He tore through that door like a hurricane. Didn't hesitate. Killed Damien. For me.

The pencil pressed harder.

I should have felt happy watching Damien die. Should have felt victorious. Three months I've wanted this.

The words blurred. I blinked hard.

But I didn't feel happy. I felt empty. Like someone carved out my insides.

Truth. Raw and uncomfortable.

Revenge was supposed to fix things. Make me whole. Instead it just left me hollow.

I turned the page. My wolf stirred restlessly.

And then we...

Heat flooded my face. I glanced at Kaelen. He stared out the window, pretending not to watch.

I kept writing.

Then we fucked. Everywhere. Over and over until I couldn't think. My wolf took over and I just let go.

My thighs clenched at the memory. His hands. His mouth. The claiming marks.

I've never lost control like that. Never let anyone have that much of me.

The admission felt dangerous.

Damien's dead now. I should feel free.

Should. That word carried weight.

But I don't want to leave.

There it was. The terrifying realization.

I don't want to leave Kaelen.

My hand cramped. I flexed my fingers and continued.

I'm starting to depend on him. On his protection. His presence. The way he makes me feel safe.

This isn't me. I don't need anyone.

The pencil dug into paper.

But maybe I've been alone so long I forgot what it's like to have someone give a shit.

I glanced at Kaelen again. He'd shifted forward, elbows on knees. Four eyes locked on mine.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah. Just processing."

He nodded. Didn't push. Gave me space.

I returned to the page.

I still hate what he did. The cage. The imprisonment.

Truth.

But when he holds me, I feel safe. When he touches me, I feel alive. And that scares the shit out of me.

My wolf purred approval.

Maybe hate and want aren't opposites. Maybe they exist together, twisted and impossible to untangle.

I pressed my hands against my eyes. God, this was exhausting.

The bed dipped. Kaelen settled behind me. His hands came to my shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles into tense muscles.

"Talk to me," he said. Not demanding. Inviting.

I let my head fall back against his chest. "I don't know what I'm feeling."

"That's okay."

"Is it? Because it feels messy and confusing—"

"Human," he interrupted. "It feels human."

A bitter laugh bubbled up. "I'm not human."

"You know what I mean." His fingers laced with mine. "You're allowed to be confused. To feel multiple things at once."

I turned to look at him. This close, I could see gold flecks in his black eyes.

"What if I can't figure it out?" I asked. "What if I'm stuck forever—half hating you, half wanting you?"

A smile tugged his mouth. "Then I'll take what you're willing to give. Even if it's just half."

Something cracked in my chest. Not breaking. Opening.

"You're annoyingly patient."

"I've been told."

I leaned into him, feeling solid strength against me. His arms wrapped around my waist.

The notebook lay open on my lap, pages filled with confession and brutal honesty. Maybe that was enough for now.

"Thank you," I said quietly. "For everything. Last night. This morning. Giving me space to figure my shit out."

His lips brushed my temple. "Always."

We sat tangled together, spring sun streaming through the window. The notebook balanced between us like a bridge. His hands warm against my skin. My wolf settled and content.