Chapter 158: Her Voice

Connor’s POV

I took a deep breath, trying to steady the chaos inside me. The wind carried her scent, soft and sharp all at once, teasing the edges of memory, memory I had no right to hold onto. My wolf stirred restlessly within me, a low hum vibrating in my chest, but I forced myself to listen, to reason.

For her. Not for you.

I nodded to myself. That was why I was here. Not to claim, not to fight, not to argue… but to see her safe. To let her know, finally, that despite everything, she had someone in her corner. As a friend.

I walked up the stone steps, each one deliberate, steady, though my legs trembled beneath the weight of everything I’d bottled inside. My hand hovered over the doorbell. For a moment, I swore I could feel my wolf holding its breath. I pressed it. The chime echoed through the house.

The door opened almost immediately, and I was met with the quiet politeness of a maid. She gestured for me to follow her and I did. She nodded toward the living room. “Mr Blackwood will be with you, shortly,” she said before disappearing upstairs.

I exhaled, heavy and slow, as if releasing the last of the tension in my shoulders. I stepped inside, scanning the room, taking it all in…the warmth, the muted colors, the life that I was supposed to love which had grown here while I had been… elsewhere.

My eyes drifted to the wall lined with framed pictures.

I paused.

There she was…adorable, triumphant, glowing with achievement in each frame. Her first medal, her graduation, her prom. Memories I had missed, milestones that I had been too blind, too foolish, too consumed by my own stupidity to witness. In every picture, she looked… happy. Not just content. Radiant. Free. A life I hadn’t been capable of giving her, but one Richard had.

And I felt it…the sting of shame, the hollow ache of regret. How had I let her suffer when she could have had this with me? This laughter, this love, this joy?

“Mr. Connor?” Richard’s voice drew me out of my reverie. I turned, nodding toward him, forcing a small, embarrassed smile. “Sorry. I… got distracted by the pictures.”

He didn’t press. Just gestured toward a chair. “Sorry if I kept you waiting. Ivy’s… becoming a handful since her first transformation.”

I blinked, disbelief cracking into genuine excitement. “She… she finally transformed?!”

Richard’s tired smile was almost paternal, the exhaustion of someone who had been there, who had guided and protected her through storms I had once been responsible for fixing. “Yes! She sneaked out last night to bond with her wolf. Daniel had to bring her back before I called a full search party to go into the woods.”

I laughed, unguarded, relief flooding me. The thought of her wild, uncontainable spirit was… perfect. Precious. Finally hers.

“First transformations always come like that,” I said, more to myself than him. “You can’t restrict her. She has to explore it… to understand it… to become who she’s meant to be.”

Richard groaned. “Oh no… she gave us the silent treatment this morning because I told her she couldn’t leave without Daniel. And she… hasn’t started talking yet. Silent daughter giving silent treatment.”

I laughed again, the sound hollow but warm, echoing across the living room. “Isn’t that grand?”

“Yes! And there were reports this morning of… men tied to various things, badly beaten, who described… her. My precious Ivy. Police dismissed it as drunken confessions. Can you imagine?”

I shook my head, a grin forming despite myself. “She’s fine, Richard. She’s thriving. You’ve done well. She’s… happy.”

And hearing him talk about her, all the mischief, all the little acts of defiance, the moments she had forced her way into life and joy…it broke something open in me. The pure, unadulterated joy in his voice warmed my chest in ways I hadn’t felt in years.

“May I… see her? One last time?” I asked cautiously.

Richard paused, searching my face. “Last time? You’re leaving?”

I laughed softly, the humor bitter. “Closure. Forgiveness. That’s all.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Connor. For bringing my daughter back. You’re always welcome here. Always.”

I nodded but said nothing.

While I waited, I moved toward the window, peering down at the garden. Daffodils swayed in the breeze, yellow and bright, like little beacons of the life she had been given.

I smelled her before I saw her…my wolf didn’t stir, didn’t growl, didn’t even acknowledge her. Quiet. Observant. Detached.

Then she appeared. Hoodie, short, long socks, tablet in hand, eyes fiery, wolf in full control. She caught my gaze, held it, and typed:

“The brother?”

I forced a smile. “No. I’m not your brother. I had to lie to bring you home.”

Her eyes narrowed, typing again:

“Do we know each other personally? Were we a couple?”

“No. Nothing like that,” I said softly. I couldn’t explain the truth…the fated mate thing, the betrayal, the manipulation, the pack politics, the accusations. I couldn’t. I sank to my knees before her, silent, humbled.

“I… I am sorry,” I began, voice breaking, raw. “For not being a proper human being. For failing you when I should have protected you. For the pain I let you go through under my watch. For… everything I couldn’t do. I am terribly sorry.”

Her hand reached for me, dropped gently onto my shoulders. I looked up. Her eyes were golden, wolf-light shimmering within. She typed:

“Whatever you did, I forgive you. Because you brought me home to my father. Thank you.”

I swallowed, blinked tears away. “If the goddess grants my wish and we could go back in time, I promise to be your protector, your mate… your everything. But for now, Aria… I am letting go. You deserve to be happy. Without any of us in it.”

“Aria?” she typed, confused.

I laughed softly, bitter-sweet. “When your memory returns, you’ll understand fully. Thank you for being alive, Ivy. Thank you for surviving. And now, I reject you, Aria Carrington, as my mate and Luna.”

She stared, confused but unafraid.

“You have to say it back, Ivy,” I said firmly, my voice rougher than I intended. “That’s the only way I can move on.”

Her fingers twitched as she reached for her tablet, the familiar escape, but I caught the movement and let out a low chuckle…more broken than amused.

“You don’t type rejections,” I told her. “You have to say it. Out loud. Nature has to hear you.” I leaned closer, desperate, pleading. “I need to hear you one last time,” I added, hoping that I could at least get her to speak before leaving.

Her lips parted, then closed again. Silence. Her throat worked, but no sound came. The glow of her wolf shimmered faintly beneath her skin, pushing, urging her. She tried once. Twice. Nothing but strained air.

“Ivy,” I pressed, softer this time, though my chest ached with every word. “Say it. Say the words: ‘I, Aria Carrington, reject you, Connor Hendrix, as my mate and Alpha.’ Say it, Ivy. Please.”

Her eyes burned with frustration, with conflict. I could see the war raging inside her…the urge to obey her instincts, to release me, against the invisible wall that held her voice hostage. Her mouth opened again. Still silence.

I sighed, my resolve faltering, ready to tell her it was enough, that she didn’t need to force herself……when the air suddenly fractured.

A croaked, breathless sound clawed its way out of her throat, trembling and raw.

“I… Aria Carrington… re…reject you… Connor Hendrix… as my mate…”

Relief crashed into me so hard my knees nearly buckled. My chest burned, not with pain this time, but with a flood of wild, unexpected joy.

Tears blurred my vision as I stared at her.

She had rejected me.

And yet…I was smiling, because she had spoken. Because Ivy’s voice had finally broken free.