Chapter 147 Setting You Free

Chapter 147 Setting You Free
[Cedric]

Pain dragged me back to consciousness, every muscle in my body screaming in protest. I didn't open my eyes immediately, trying to piece together what had happened. The last thing I remembered was collapsing at the dining table, my stomach distended and aching as Lana forced me to eat far beyond what even my werewolf body could handle.

Now I felt clean sheets beneath me, and my clothes had been changed. The sharp smell of soap lingered on my skin. Someone—Lana—had cleaned me up while I was unconscious. The thought sent a fresh wave of humiliation through me.

I forced my eyes open, wincing at the effort. My throat felt like sandpaper, and my head pounded with each heartbeat. Dim morning light filtered through the curtains, casting the bedroom in soft shadows.

Lana sat in a chair beside the bed, watching me with an unreadable expression. Her eyes were red-rimmed, dark circles beneath them. She'd been crying. Her face, usually so composed, showed a complex mix of emotions I couldn't fully decipher.

Neither of us spoke. The silence stretched between us, broken only by the steady ticking of the clock on the nightstand.

I tried to sit up, but pain shot through my abdomen. A small groan escaped my lips before I could stop it.

Lana immediately reached for a glass of water on the nightstand. She held it out to me, her eyes never leaving mine. I hesitated, staring at the glass. After yesterday, how could I trust anything she offered?

But thirst won out. I took the water, our fingers brushing momentarily. I drank slowly, the cool liquid soothing my parched throat.

The silence returned, heavier this time. I could feel Lana's emotions through our bond—a tangled mess of regret, fear, and something darker that pulsed beneath the surface.

"Are you afraid of me?" she finally asked, her voice hoarse.

I considered lying, but what was the point? The bond between us would reveal any deception. I met her gaze directly.

"Sometimes," I admitted.

Something flickered in her eyes—pain, maybe. She looked down at her hands.

"If I let you go," she said quietly, "would you leave?" She paused, vulnerability creeping into her voice. "Would you come back?"

Through our bond, I felt her fear of my answer, the desperate hope that I might say what she wanted to hear. But I couldn't lie, not now.

"I would leave immediately," I said, my voice steady despite the ache in my throat. "And I would never come back."

The temperature in the room plummeted instantly. Frost crept across the windows, and the water in my glass began to crystallize. Lana's eyes darkened from their usual blue to solid black, like pools of ink spreading across her irises.

Dark energy began to seep from her skin, coiling around her like smoke, filling the room with its oppressive presence. The furniture trembled, and the light bulb in the bedside lamp flickered before shattering with a pop.

I felt her rage through our bond—hot and cold at once, a storm of emotions that threatened to consume everything in its path. But beneath the fury was fear—bone-deep and primal.

I didn't retreat. Despite the pain wracking my body, I forced myself to sit upright, facing the darkness head-on.

The black energy swirled around Lana like a tornado, lifting her hair as if caught in an invisible wind. Her face was a mask of fury, but her eyes—those bottomless black eyes—held something else. Something lost.

With effort, I stood on shaking legs. My body protested every movement, but I made myself stand before her and her darkness.

"You and those hunters," I said, my voice low but clear, "what's the difference between you?"

Her darkness faltered for just a moment, confusion flickering across her face.

"No," I continued, my voice gaining strength even as it trembled with emotion. "You're worse than they are."

The darkness around her rippled, responding to her shock.

"They only kill strangers," I said, each word deliberate. "But you... you hurt the people you love."

The words hit her like a physical blow. Her expression transformed from rage to stunned disbelief. The swirling darkness around her froze in midair, suspended like a photograph of a storm.

Objects that had been floating around the room crashed to the floor. The temperature began to rise, the frost on the windows melting into droplets that ran down the glass like tears.

Lana's darkness receded, pulling back into her body. Her eyes slowly returned to their normal deep blue. A single tear slid down her pale cheek—the first I'd ever seen her shed.

The room felt suddenly warmer, the oppressive atmosphere lifting. For a long moment, we simply looked at each other across the wreckage of the room, the truth of my words hanging between us.

"Go," she whispered, then her voice cracked. "I'm setting you free. God, I want to tell you to stay. I want to lock you up, keep you safe, keep you mine."

Her hands clenched into fists. "But I can't. I can't keep hurting you and calling it love."

I stared at her, remembering my own words from before. I had said I would leave, that I would walk away. But now, seeing her like this... "I changed my mind. I can't just abandon you like this."

"No." She backed away, panic flashing in her eyes. "Don't make this harder. I'm barely holding on here. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to chain you to this bed, to never let you see sunlight again."

"Lana—"

"You don't understand!" Her voice broke. "Part of me still thinks that would be love. Part of me wants to hurt you just to keep you close. I'm setting you free because it's the only way I can love you right."

I reached for her. "We can work through this—"

"No, we can't. If you stay, I'll destroy you. And I'll convince myself it's for your own good."

Before I could protest again, she vanished in black smoke.

The bond between us went strangely quiet—not broken, but muted, as if she'd deliberately withdrawn herself from it.