EIGHTY SEVEN

EIGHTY SEVEN
SPECIAL CHAPTER FIVE: OPHELIA COTTONWOOD

I had heard a car pull up to the front of my house. The familiar weak mana signature was no longer an ember. It was now a flickering fire. Whatever Abigail was intent on doing with Camille, it was working.

I stared at my phone—so many missed calls: a voicemail and a text message.

It was cruel what I was doing. But did I have a choice? Following some righteous compass was going to cost me something great. I loved Camille. But did I love her that much? At the end of the day, I was just a simple witch—a simple witch who just wanted a simple life with her companion.

I deserved that. Goddess knows.

Tears blinded my vision, hearing the shuffle of footsteps approach my door. It would only be time before the bitter truth was forced down Camille's throat.

My betrayal would shatter her.

I looked at the candle before me—the black one with all sorts of runes imprinted on its flesh.

They glowed in unison for what was to come. Camille tried to pass the wards, and the sigils burned in response, activating its purpose.

The slamming of her body against concrete was hard to stomach. My body became a wretched thing. I felt bile rise to my throat. But I forced the sour and bitter taste back.

"Camille," I heard a man address her. "Are you alright?"

It was probably her mate—the Lycan king. I didn't make any wards for the man, so there was nothing stopping him from going past the barrier and knocking on my door.

Unable to imagine a scenario where I had to face Camille and tell the cruel truth to her face, I forced my feet to work. I staggered to the door and clamped the entire set of locks shut. I even cast a simple spell on the door to prevent a grieving father from ripping the door off its hinges.

"What...what happened?" I heard Camille whisper, confused.

"It was probably a ward," the man murmured.

Curious, I looked into the peephole and saw him extend a hand to help her up.

"But...it didn't affect me." He continued.

A tear dropped down my cheek when he said that. The realization would soon dawn on Camille, and she was going to realize that she never had a friend. Most of the people she had known for her life were liars. Even if they had good intentions.

"I'm confused. A ward?" Camille was choosing ignorance when the truth had already burned into her mind.

She was willing to give me that—the benefit of the doubt.

"Yes," The Lycan king replied, staring at my door. For a split second, it felt like he could see me peeping.

"I thought you said Ophelia was your friend."

"Of course she is," Camille's voice faltered.

"Then why is she trying to keep you out?" The Lycan king asked.

Camille pushed past him and attempted to walk into my house again as if to prove Dimitri Galdina wrong. Watching her approach the house with the conviction that nothing was wrong broke my heart to a million pieces.

My empathy found me in that cold, dark place and bid me to be a kinder person. But I knew what that was going to cost me.

So I stayed in the dark. A second tear trickled down my cheek. The ward activated again, and Camille flew back. This time, however, Dimitri caught her midair.

"I don't understand," Camille stammered. "Why would this be happening? Why would Ophelia not want me in? She always... She always wants me in."

As if convinced that the wards hadn't repelled her twice now, Camille walked towards my home again.

Dimitri, however, refused to let her go this time around. "The wards won't just magically vanish. Wards are specific. It isn't keeping me out. So the ward was made specifically for you."

Dimitri's words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the intentional nature of the ward. Camille's face paled as the realization she had shoved away began to sink in forcefully.

She shook her head in disbelief and hurt.

"But why?" Camille whispered, her voice trembling.

"I don't know," Dimitri admitted, his gaze shifting from the door to Camille's troubled eyes. "But we need to consider the possibility that Ophelia doesn't want to see you."

The weight of the situation settled on them both, the silence between them thick with unspoken questions and fears. I watched from behind the door, my heart aching with so much guilt and regret.

But guilt and regret were just emotions that ate at the soul and the heart. My flesh would remain intact. I had to be strong. This wasn't the first time I had betrayed Bo's daughter for matters of my own heart. I could do it again.

When I focused through the peephole again, I saw Camille on her knees.

"Ophelia," she began. "I do not know if you can hear me. But please, I don't care what I have done to anger you. But take it out on me later. Collins needs my help. Collins needs your help. That psycho took my baby from me, and I need your help."

Empathy forced the curtains open and ate away the darkness. My body shook violently as I remembered Collins, the boy I practically raised.

I was there when he took his first breath. I had been the first person Camille had called when the twins took their first steps and called her mama.

I was a monster for doing this. But admitting that wasn't enough to make me break. I had to be strong. For Alaric's sake.

I was no saint after all. My morality had always been gray. I had manipulated and spied on the girl for ages because of what I stood to gain. What changed now?

"A child." That voice in the back of my head whispered. "A child you care about is in mortal danger."

But I couldn't choose. Choosing Camille and her children would strip me of my happiness.

The internal struggle was tearing me apart. Every memory of Collins, every shared moment with Camille, they echoed in my mind, amplifying my guilt. I had always been a master at rationalizing my actions, bending my morality to fit my needs. But this was different.

The thought of Collins, alone and in danger, was a relentless weight on my conscience. A child's life hung in the balance, and I found myself at a crossroads, torn between my own desires and the greater good.

I paced around my living room, the flickering candle casting eerie shadows on the walls. The room felt suffocating. Each breath I took labored with indecision and guilt.

Finally, I stopped, my eyes drawn once again to the candle. Its flame danced and swayed as if beckoning me to make a choice. A choice that could change everything.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and focused on Alaric. I focused on the love and trust he had always shown me. And then I thought of Camille, her unwavering faith in me, her friendship that had been a constant in my life.

With a heavy heart, I made my decision.

I reached for my phone with trembling fingers and dialed Camille's number.

"Camille," I spoke when she answered, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes?"

"Please, leave." I pleaded. "I cannot help you. It costs too much."

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. I could almost feel Camille's shock, her confusion, her heartbreak seeping through the phone.

"Why?" Her voice trembled, a mixture of disbelief and hurt. "I thought you were my friend, Ophelia."

"I am," I choked out, tears streaming down my face. "But I can't explain, not now. Just know that I'm doing this to protect something dear to me. I'm so sorry, Camille."

"You're sorry?" Her voice rose, anger flaring amidst the hurt. "You're sorry for abandoning us when we need you the most?"

I had no words to offer, no justification that could ease the pain I was causing her. The truth was cruel, and I was the villain in her story.

"Burn in hell, Ophelia," Camille said, her voice steadying with resolve. "This was a mistake. Meeting you was a mistake."

The line went dead, leaving me alone in the silence of my betrayal. My hands were shaking, my heart pounding with guilt and regret. But I had made my bed. It was up to me to lie in it.

Sliding down the door to the floor, I couldn't hold back the flood of tears any longer.

I sat there, consumed by my own selfishness. I knew that I had lost something irreplaceable. A friendship that had once meant the world to me was now shattered, broken beyond repair.

I remained there while Camille cried and still waited. I watched Dimitri convince her, that staying here was pointless.

Eventually, she caved, and they left, leaving me to ponder on my sins. I chuckled a bit, realizing this was probably all part of Abigail's big plan. She succeeded in making me an enemy of Camille.

I remained by the door until nightfall.

Upon realizing how dark it had become, I stood up. I brushed the tears from my face and made my way to the kitchen, determined to keep myself busy. Cooking had always been a source of comfort for me, a way to nurture and provide for those I cared about.

As I gathered the ingredients for a simple soup that Alaric could easily swallow, I began dicing some peppers. The rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the cutting board was almost therapeutic, allowing my mind to escape the storm that were my thoughts momentarily.

Suddenly, I sensed a presence behind me, and I turned to see Alaric standing in the doorway. He was covered in bandages dipped in a healing solution from head to toe to stop his skin from necrotizing.

Concern washed over my face, seeing him exert so much strength.

"Alaric, you shouldn't be up and about in your condition," I said, my voice tinged with worry. "You need to conserve your strength."

His expression was somber as he regarded me. "I heard everything that happened outside," he said quietly.

I turned back to the cutting board, my movements becoming more forceful as I continued dicing the peppers. "Don't worry about it," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "It's nothing I can't handle."

But Alaric wasn't convinced. He took a step closer, his eyes filled with concern. "How can I not worry?" he asked. "Camille was your friend, and now she hates you because of me."

I paused, the knife hovering over the cutting board. Closing my eyes briefly, I took a deep breath before responding. "It's not your fault, Alaric. I made my choices, and I have to live with the consequences." I opened my eyes and looked at him, my gaze unwavering. "I won't regret protecting you, even if it means losing everything else."

"But you will regret betraying yourself." Alaric retorted.

I turned to face him. "What?"

"I hear you on some nights. Crying and cursing yourself out for the things you have to do just to make sure I stay alive. You have already sacrificed so much already. A companion who should be dead is no companion."

"What are you trying to say?" I demanded.

"You've been torturing yourself, Ophelia," he continued, his eyes piercing into mine. "Every spell you cast, every sacrifice you make, it's all taking a piece of you. How long can you keep doing this?"

"I'm doing what's necessary to protect you, to protect everyone I care about," I replied defensively, but the doubt was already creeping in.

"You're only protecting me, Ophelia. But for how long? At what cost?" Alaric's voice grew more insistent. "You've lost friends, and betrayed those who trusted you, all for the sake of keeping me alive. But have you ever considered that maybe it's time to let me go?"

His words felt like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of me. I stared at him, disbelief and pain warring in my eyes.

"Let you go?" I whispered, the words barely audible. "I can't... I won't..."

"Think about it, Ophelia," Alaric interrupted gently. "If my life is costing you your soul, your conscience, is it worth it? Maybe it's time for you to prioritize yourself for once."

Tears welled up in my eyes as the weight of his words sank in. He might be right. But I refused this.

"I can't lose you," I choked out, my voice breaking.

"You won't lose me," Alaric reassured me softly, closing the space between us. "I'll always be in your heart and in your thoughts."

Why did he sound like that? Like he had given up? I swallowed.

"Alaric, you should go rest. Let us talk about it while we eat."

He nodded and started to walk away. When I turned to resume cutting, I realized that the knife was no longer on the chopping board.

Panic surged through me as I scanned the kitchen, my eyes landing on the knife in Alaric's hand, now poised at his throat.

"I refuse to let you let a child die just so you can ensure I live. I understand if you don't want to make that choice. I won't make you choose."

"Alaric! Stop!" I immediately channeled my magic.

But I was too slow. Before my magic could explode to life, Alaric drew the knife across his throat, severing skin, flesh, tissue, and bone.


AUTHOR NOTE: Hi everyone,
I wanted to let you know that there’s currently an issue between me and the platform regarding this book. The contract that this book is under on other platforms states that it cannot be offered for free elsewhere. I would have had no problem if it had been placed under ads or a subscription model—which is usually a grey area—but that didn’t happen.

I didn’t want to leave readers of The Lycan King's Affection in the dark because you deserve to know the truth and I value your support deeply. Until the platform listens and adjusts this issue, I may not be able to continue publishing the book here.

The good news is that the book is still available for free on Kindle for those with an active subscription, and also on several other platforms. For readers who prefer not to use coin systems, you can find it on Inkitt, which offers an affordable subscription tier.

Thank you for your patience and understanding. I hope we can resolve this soon so I can continue sharing this story with you here.

— Samuel Ade