Chapter 63
Elena's POV
"He... he was just giving me a ride," I stammered.
"I see." Randy's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes sharpened. "Walk with me, Elena. I'd like a word."
I fell into step beside him, my suitcase wheels scraping against the stone path as morning mist curled around our ankles. The silence stretched between us, heavy and expectant, until finally he spoke.
"You should probably keep your distance from him going forward," Randy said, his tone mild but leaving no room for argument. "From Caleb, I mean. You and Damon have an arrangement, after all. You're going to be bonded eventually. It's best to avoid... complications."
My chest tightened. The wolf inside me, the one that had been stirring more and more lately, let out a low whine of protest that only I could hear.
"Maybe Damon should have a say in that," I managed, keeping my voice carefully neutral. "He's the one who—"
"He's young," Randy interrupted smoothly. "Hot-headed. Distracted by that woman, yes, but he'll come around. Boys his age often get... confused about what they want. But he'll understand eventually. His wolf knows where he belongs, even if his human side is being stubborn about it."
I wanted to argue, wanted to say that Damon had made his choice very clear when he threw my suitcase on the ground and told me to leave. But the words stuck in my throat.
Randy continued as if I hadn't tried to speak at all. "You're the one I've chosen for Damon, Elena. For the Vance family's future Luna. Your healing pheromones, that calming influence you have—it's exactly what he needs. What our pack needs. This isn't just about romance or personal preference. It's about responsibility. Your gift, your ability to soothe an agitated Alpha, that's your purpose. Don't waste it."
My purpose. The words echoed in my head, bitter and familiar. Everyone always seemed to know what I was for, what I should do, who I should be. No one ever asked what I wanted.
"I don't know if I can really influence him the way you think," I said quietly. "Damon doesn't listen to me. He never has."
"He does more than you realize." Randy's voice took on a reminiscent quality. "Do you remember his senior year of high school? When those rival boys came onto our territory, mocking him, saying the Vance family was all money and no substance?"
I remembered. Damon had been furious, his eyes flickering gold, his shoulders hunched like he was about to shift right there.
"He was on the edge of losing control," Randy continued. "One more word and he would have transformed in front of humans. But then you showed up. You talked to him, calmed him down. His wolf settled because of you."
"That was just—" I started.
"That was exactly what I'm talking about." Randy stopped walking, turning to face me fully. "You have power over him, whether you acknowledge it or not. He needs you. The family needs you in that role. So please, Elena, take this seriously."
Then his expression shifted, becoming stern in a way that made my blood run cold.
"As for Caleb," he said, and the temperature in the air seemed to drop several degrees, "stay away from him. Completely."
My heart plummeted. It was a physical sensation, like my chest cavity had suddenly become a void and my heart was falling, falling, falling into darkness.
"He's unstable," Randy continued, his tone matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing the weather. "His wolf is erratic, unpredictable. A defect in the bloodline. You getting too close to him, letting your scents mingle—it sends the wrong message. To Damon. To the pack. An unmated female with mixed pheromones clinging to her is a serious mark against her reputation."
I wanted to scream. Wanted to tell him that Caleb wasn't defective, wasn't unstable, that he was the only person who'd treated me like I mattered for more than what I could do for someone else. But my throat had closed up, the words dying before they could form.
Randy's hand landed on my shoulder, a gesture that probably looked paternal to anyone watching but felt like a weight pressing me down.
"You're a smart girl, Elena," he said gently. "I trust you know what the right choice is. Go home. Get some rest. And think carefully about where your loyalties should lie."
He gave my shoulder a final pat and walked away, his cane tapping against the stone with each measured step.
I stood there in the lightening dawn, my suitcase handle digging into my palm, my heart somewhere far below where it should be.
And I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do anything but feel the walls closing in.
---
The stone path beneath my feet felt endless. Each step sent vibrations through my suitcase wheels, the scraping sound harsh in the morning silence. Randy's words clung to my skin like ice: Stay away from him. Completely.
I stopped about ten feet from the front door, staring at the pale gray walls of Cross Manor. The house looked smaller than I remembered. Colder. Like it had been holding its breath all these years, waiting for someone to finally exhale.
Lila's voice echoed in my head. Vances treated Caleb like shit his whole life. You at least owe him fairness.
My fingers tightened around the suitcase handle. Metal bit into my palm, keeping me grounded. I took a breath, then another, feeling the cold air sting my lungs.
Is there really such a thing as fairness in this world? The thought was bitter. If there isn't, why the hell am I still keeping his secrets?
The decision settled in my chest like a stone dropping into deep water. No more lies. No more covering for Damon and Scarlett. No more pretending this arrangement hadn't hollowed me out from the inside.
I pulled the jacket tighter—Caleb's birthday gift to me, still carrying traces of cedar and frost—felt a moment of calm, then panic surged again. I pushed it down. Pushed open the door.
Donald and Vivian were sitting side by side on the sofa. They both looked up as I entered.
The air went still.