Chapter 105
Elena's POV
No. The one beneath my skin protested. No, he wouldn't—
Mom's fingers found mine again, and this time her touch was gentle.
"Elena, I don't even care about saving this house anymore. I just want you to be happy."
Her eyes glistened. "I don't want you running from Damon straight into something worse. A deeper pit you can't climb out of."
She drew a shaky breath. "If you stay with Caleb, you'll face the entire pack's judgment. And you know how rumors work in our world—they're always harsher on women." Her voice dropped. "They'll call you a traitor to the blood pact. Say you seduced the bastard. Brand you as the Cross family's shame."
The room seemed to tilt.
I could picture it so clearly—the whispers following me everywhere, my father's rage, the pack's contempt. Being cast out, losing even the scraps of dignity I still possessed.
"Is it worth it?" Mom asked quietly. "Is he worth all that?"
My chest felt like it was caving in. "I don't... I can't..."
Because part of me wanted to scream yes. Yes, he was worth it. Yes, I'd burn every bridge for him.
But another part—the part that had been trained since childhood to be good, obedient, useful—whispered that I was being selfish. Reckless. That I was throwing away my family's last chance at survival for a man who might be using me for revenge.
"If you must choose someone," Mom said, her voice taking on a dreamy, distant quality, "find someone normal. Someone who grew up with love, who knows how to be... kind." She laughed, but it sounded broken. "Someone who won't destroy you from the inside out."
I looked at her—really looked. Saw the hollow places where hope used to live. Saw how defeat had carved lines into her face.
This is what choosing the wrong person does, I thought with sick clarity. It kills you slowly. Piece by piece.
And I knew, with absolute certainty, that I didn't want to become that. Didn't want to look in the mirror twenty years from now and see that same emptiness staring back.
---
If I gave in—if I married Damon, played my part—maybe the Cross family could survive.
My wolf snarled at the thought, clawing at my insides. No. Not him. Never him.
But what if Mom was right about Caleb? What if his kindness was calculated, his protection just a long game of revenge? What if I was nothing but a pawn in some scheme I couldn't see?
Then why does it feel real? some desperate part of me whispered. Why does his touch feel like coming home?
I thought of the way Caleb looked at me when he thought I wasn't watching. The gentleness in his hands when he'd tended my injuries. Those unguarded moments when his wolf had surfaced and I'd seen something achingly vulnerable beneath the ice.
That couldn't all be fake.
Could it?
My heart felt like it was being torn in half, each piece screaming for a different future.
---
The soft beep of the IV machine broke through my spiraling thoughts.
A nurse entered, professional smile in place as she checked Mom's vitals and removed the needle from her arm. "You're all set, Mrs. Cross. Just remember—plenty of rest, take the full course of antibiotics."
Mom nodded, already shifting to sit up properly.
"Mom, don't go home."
"No." Despite her weakness, her voice was firm.
"You can't go back there. Not after—" I looked helplessly at her battered face. "He'll do it again."
"If I leave too, it'll only make things more complicated."
"Elena." Mom's hand landed on my shoulder, her grip surprisingly strong. "You need to handle your own situation. I'll be fine."
"But—"
"I've survived this long, haven't I?" Her smile was sad but resolute. "Besides, if you show up with me, it'll only make things worse."
The truth of it hit like a physical blow. Everything I did now would be weaponized, twisted into ammunition for the next battle.
We made our way to the door together, her hand light on my arm.
When I pulled it open, I froze.
Damon stood in the hallway.
He wasn't pacing or checking his phone. He was just... standing there. Waiting. His eyes met mine, and I knew immediately—from the tension in his shoulders, the carefully blank expression—that he'd been there for a while.
Mom stiffened beside me, her protective instincts flaring even in her weakened state.
Damon's gaze shifted to her face, taking in the bruises with an expression I couldn't quite read. When he spoke, his voice was lower than usual.
"Could I speak with Elena? Alone?"
Vivian's eyes were full of wariness, her grip on my arm tightening slightly.
"Mom. It's okay, you should go back."
I called a taxi for her and watched it disappear into the gray afternoon before turning to face him.
Damon stood by the curb, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets. His eyes swept over my face with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
"You've been crying again," he said. Not a question.
I pulled my coat tighter against the wind. "What do you want, Damon?"
"To talk." He gestured toward the small green space across from the hospital entrance, away from the flow of people. "Five minutes."
We walked to the greenery in silence. The winter-bare hedges offered little privacy, but at least we were away from the hospital's main entrance. I stopped beside a concrete planter and waited.
Damon took a breath. "You should be able to guess that your parents are fighting because you're running from the blood pact."
Straight to it, then. No pretense of checking on my mother's condition, no small talk. Just the accusation, delivered with surgical precision.
"I'm not running from anything," I said, keeping my voice level. "I'm making a choice."
"A choice." He laughed, bitter and sharp. "Elena, the Vance family is already planning the engagement ceremony. My father is pushing for it to happen before spring. They're booking venues, sending out feeler invitations to allied packs. This isn't hypothetical anymore."
The ground seemed to shift beneath my feet. "They can't do that without—"
"Without what? Your consent?" His eyes were hard. "You think they care? Your father already agreed."
My hands clenched inside my coat pockets. I knew the pressure was building.
"You forgot one thing," I said quietly. "You already have a girlfriend. The whole pack knows about Scarlett."
"Which is exactly why they want this done quickly." Damon moved closer, not touching but near enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "They see it as correcting a mistake. Getting me back in line."
I thought of my mother's bruised face, the injuries my father had given her when the engagement plan fell apart.
If I refused now, openly, what would he do to her next time?