Chapter Eighty-Two: Carol's POV

Chapter Eighty-Two: Carol's POV

I followed him to the vehicle, my mind spinning with everything I needed to say. When I bent to slide into the passenger seat, the leather was cool against my jeans, and the interior carried that familiar scent—cedar, rain, and Simon's own scent.


He climbed into the driver's seat with that fluid grace, and the engine purred to life with a low rumble that I felt in my chest.


We pulled away from the curb. I assumed he was taking us back to Twilight Manor, but after a few minutes, I realized we were heading in the wrong direction.


We were heading toward the waterfront instead of the residential area where the manor sat protected behind its wards.


I glanced at him, taking in the rigid set of his shoulders, the way the muscle was jumping beneath his skin.


Something cold began to creep down my spine.


"How did it go?" I ventured, trying to keep my voice casual. "On the East Coast? With the Andreas weapons line?"


His expression flickered with something unnatural.


"It's handled," he said. Brief, final, each word telling me—don't ask anymore.


But the tone was wrong.


Simon was never dismissive with me like this, never shut me out so completely even when pack business was involved.


He might tell me certain details were classified or too dangerous for me to know, but he'd never just brush me off with a two-word answer.


Something was very wrong.


The city streets gave way to the industrial waterfront, then to a stretch of rocky coastline where the buildings thinned out and disappeared entirely.


Simon pulled the car off onto a gravel turnout that overlooked the dark waters of Puget Sound.


He killed the ignition, and the engine fell silent.


He sat there for a long moment, staring out at the water. I waited, my heart hammering against my ribs hard enough that I was sure he could hear it.


When he finally turned to face me, I'd never seen that expression before, and the coldness in his eyes made my heart skip a beat.


"Carol," he began, and even his voice sounded different. "You're human. You don't belong in the wolf world."


The words hit me like a punch, stealing the air from my lungs.


I stared at him, blinking, trying to process what I'd just heard.


"What are you talking about?" My voice came out smaller than I'd intended. "Simon, I know I haven't shifted yet, but you said—"


We'd been through so much, and that kiss had felt like a promise. Why would he say something like this now?


"You don't have a wolf," he interrupted, his tone flat enough to send chills down my spine.


"You never will. You're human, Carol. Humans have no place in a pack. They're weak. Vulnerable. Liabilities that put everyone else at risk."


I felt something crack inside my chest, something I'd been carefully protecting for eight years, all my efforts to prove I wasn't worthless.


"I'm not weak," I started to protest, but my eyes were already stinging with tears. "When you were unconscious, when the pack was falling apart, I held it together. I uncovered the smuggling operation, I stabilized the Elder Council, I—"


"You think those elders actually respect you?" The laugh that escaped him was harsh and ugly, nothing like him at all.


"They tolerate you, Carol. They tolerate you because I ordered them to, because I'm the Alpha and they have no choice. But the moment I'm gone, the moment I can't protect you anymore, they'll tear you apart. You're human. You're nothing to them but a pet I've taken an inexplicable interest in."


My eyes immediately burned.


I bit my lip hard, refusing to let the tears fall. Then I looked up at him.


"You told me I did well," I said brokenly. "You said I proved myself during that crisis. You said—"


"I lied. I told you what you wanted to hear, just to keep you in line and stop you from causing more trouble. The truth is, you're a burden, Carol. You've always been a burden. Do you have any idea how many pack resources I've had to divert to cleaning up your messes? How many times Leon, Marcus, and Jack have had to drop everything to pull you out of situations you never should have been in?"


Each name felt like a knife sliding between my ribs. I wrapped my arms around myself as if I could physically block those words.


"That's not fair," I whispered, but even I could hear the doubt in my voice.


All those coincidental appearances now became evidence of his accusations. "I never asked for any of that. I never asked you to—"


"No, you never asked," he agreed. "But did I have a choice? I made a promise to Osmon. I promised him I'd look after his daughter, protect her, keep her safe. I've kept that promise, even though it's cost me more than you can possibly imagine. But even I have my limits, Carol. There's a limit to how much the pack can sacrifice for someone who contributes nothing in return."


The mention of my father made my chest tighten painfully. The tears I'd been holding back finally spilled over, unstoppable.


"My father—" I started, but he cut me off again.


"Your father is dead," he said, and the bluntness was like a slap across the face.


"He's been dead for years. You know what? Maybe it would have been better for everyone if you'd died with him. At least then he wouldn't have to see what a disappointment you turned out to be. At least then I wouldn't be bound by a promise to a ghost, wasting pack resources on someone who will never be anything more than a liability."


The words were so far beyond cruel that they crossed into something I couldn't recognize at all.


My body started to shake, and I pressed my back against the passenger door, my mind reeling, trying to reconcile the man in front of me with the Simon I'd known for eight years.


"You don't mean that," I managed to get out. "Simon, please, you don't—"


"I mean every word." He met my gaze, and his eyes were cold and empty in a way I'd never seen before.


"You're Osmon's daughter. I promised to look after you. But that was before I realized just how much trouble you'd be, how many problems you'd cause. Maybe the kindest thing I could do for everyone—for you, for the pack, for myself—would be to end this charade. Maybe it would be better if you just..."


He paused, and the next words came out soft and terrible. "...stopped existing."


My breath caught, my whole body going cold as ice.


He wasn't just saying I was a burden anymore. He was suggesting that I should die.


The man who'd saved me from that casino eight years ago, who'd given me a home and protection and more chances than I probably deserved, was now telling me I should kill myself.


My heart hurt so much I could barely remember how to breathe.


"That kiss," I heard myself choke out, tears streaming down my face. "In your study. If this is how you really feel, why did you kiss me?"