Chapter 30
Elena's POV
The words hung in the freezing air between us.
"What?" The word came out strangled.
He took another drag, smoke curling from his lips. His eyes stayed fixed on the city lights below, distant and unreachable.
I wanted to say something. Anything. But my mind caught on a memory I'd buried for years.
That night I was dragged to Blackwood Manor for some ceremony I didn't understand. While the adults drank and talked, I'd slipped away to the gardens.
That's when I saw him.
Caleb stood alone on the stone bridge over Moonlight Pool. His shoulders hunched like he was carrying something too heavy.
Then he jumped.
The splash echoed. Adults rushed past me, shouting. Someone dove in and pulled him out, coughing and shivering on the grass.
I'd hidden behind a tree, heart pounding, as Isabella dragged him away by the arm. Her voice was shrill with rage. "What were you thinking? Do you want to embarrass this family even more?"
He hadn't answered. Just let himself be pulled along, water dripping from his clothes.
I'd never asked him about it.
Now, standing here with smoke drifting between us, I understood what I'd witnessed that night.
His scent pulled me from the memory, reminding me I had something to return.
"That sweater you lent me." My voice came out too fast, desperate to fill the silence. "I washed it. I meant to bring it back, but—"
"Keep it."
"I should return it."
"No rush." He flicked ash over the railing.
I bit my lip, searching for something else to say.
"Do you... are you always this quiet with Hector?" The question sounded stupid the moment it left my mouth.
Something shifted in his expression. Almost like amusement. "He talks enough for both of us."
I blinked. Was that... a joke?
"So you just let him ramble?"
"Usually." His lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but close. "He doesn't need much encouragement."
It was the closest we'd come to a normal conversation. No tension. No careful distance. Just two people talking.
My chest ached with how much I wanted this. Wanted him to look at me without seeing someone who'd hurt him.
"About the other day." I forced myself to meet his eyes. "When you drove me back to campus. I got out so fast because I was afraid Damon would—"
"It's fine."
"It's not fine. You were trying to help and I just—"
"Elena." He cut me off, voice flat. "I'm used to it."
Four words. That's all it took to gut me.
Used to being hidden. Used to being the secret no one wanted to acknowledge.
"I didn't mean—"
"I know what you meant." He took another drag. "It's not about you. It's just how it is."
The resignation in his voice made me want to scream.
"If there's ever anything I can do to make up for it—" The words tumbled out before I could stop them. "Anything you need, you can ask me."
He turned then. Eyes locking onto mine.
The intensity of his stare froze me in place. It wasn't anger. It was something else.
"You sure about that?" His voice dropped lower.
I nodded, even though my heart was trying to break out of my chest.
He studied me for a long moment. Then he straightened, his professional mask sliding back into place.
"I'm rebuilding my team. AI language models focused on cross-cultural applications. I need someone with your background. Interested?"
My first reaction was excitement. Finally, something I was actually good at might matter. Then reality crashed in.
If I joined Caleb's team, Damon would lose his mind. My parents would—
"I need time to think about it."
"Of course." Sharp and humorless. "You're worried Damon will find out."
"I didn't—"
"Don't." He took a step closer. The scent of cedar and ice and cigarette smoke wrapped around me. "Let me ask you something, Elena."
Another step. We were less than three feet apart now.
"Every single time you have to choose between him and me—and you will have to choose—you pick him. Right?"
The question hit like a physical blow.
I wanted to say no. Wanted to prove him wrong. But he was right. Every time I'd been forced to choose, I'd chosen Damon. Chosen safety over honesty. Chosen the path of least resistance over doing what was right.
My silence was answer enough.
"Take your time thinking about it." He backed away, voice cooling to professional politeness. "No pressure."
The dismissal was worse than anger would have been.
"We should go back." I hated how weak my voice sounded. "Everyone's probably wondering—"
"You go. I'll be up in a minute."
"Caleb—"
"I'm not going to jump off the building, Elena." His tone softened slightly.
The reference to that night at the pool hung unspoken between us.
I turned to leave, then heard his voice behind me.
"Elena."
I looked back. He stood with his back to me, smoke curling around his shoulders.
"Whatever you choose—make sure it's worth it. That's all that matters."
He wasn't asking me to choose him. He was telling me not to choose anyone out of obligation. Not even him.
The respect he was showing for my autonomy—the complete opposite of Damon's suffocating possession—made my eyes burn with unshed tears.
---
Damon's POV
The aurora danced across the sky in ribbons of green and violet. Beautiful. Surreal.
I didn't give a shit.
I sat on the penthouse balcony, wine glass in hand, staring at nothing. Behind me, water ran in the bathroom where Scarlett was singing off-key in the shower. Shopping bags littered the living room—designer labels, jewelry boxes, shoes I'd paid for without blinking.
Eight hours of shopping.
I should've been happy about today. Instead, I just felt... tired.
My phone sat dark on the table. I'd called Elena earlier. Wished her happy birthday. Told her about the northern lights.
Her voice had been cold. Distant. Like she couldn't wait to hang up.
The shower cut off. Scarlett's humming grew louder as she padded out wrapped in a towel, skin flushed from the heat.
"Damon?" She slid into my lap, arms looping around my neck. "You've been quiet all day."
I made a noncommittal sound.
Her lips found mine, demanding attention. When she pulled back, her eyes were bright. "Thank you for today. For everything. I haven't been able to shop like that since..."
Since they were driven from the pack.
"Don't worry about it." I pulled her closer, tried to mean it. "I've got money to burn."
She kissed me again, deeper this time. Her fingers started working on my shirt buttons.
My body responded. Heat built. Her scent—cinnamon and citrus—filled my lungs.
Then my phone screen lit up with a notification.