⋆ Chapter 190

⋆ Chapter 190
I lay there in silence, my body sunken into the familiar mattress of my childhood bed, staring up at the ceiling like it might eventually tell me what to do next. The faint glow of the moonlight filtered in through the sheer curtains, throwing soft shadows over the pale blue walls and the faint floral pattern still clinging to the wallpaper from years ago.
It had been a month.
A full month since we buried Xavier.
I hadn’t spoken much to anyone since that day—not to my parents, not to Trish, not to Georgia or Ralph. Even Wanda had stopped trying after the second week. When I couldn’t avoid it, I said what little I had to and nothing more. Otherwise, I stayed in this room, shut off from everyone, barely leaving except when I absolutely had to.
I didn’t even recognize myself anymore.
I thought the funeral would be the hardest part. It had stretched on for an entire day, a long and heavy affair with every important Alpha, Beta, Luna, council member, and coven leader in attendance. The weight of the eyes on me as I stood there was suffocating, though I couldn’t remember much of what I said or did.
People spoke of Xavier in reverence, calling him a visionary, a protector, and a leader who didn’t shy from defiance when it was needed. I stood there quietly, nodding where it felt appropriate, my hands clenched so tightly in front of me.
Cillian didn’t show up, though. His coven members came in his place, standing like cold, polished statues near the back, offering nothing but curt nods and impassive stares when our eyes met.
Then a week later, they made me stand in front of the Silver Moon pack. Dozens of faces, some openly hopeful, others openly hostile. I told them, in a voice I barely recognized as my own, that Xavier’s vision for the pack—to make it less brutal, more accepting, and to cut away the rot of traditions that only bred cruelty—was something worth finishing.
A few scowled. But most… most nodded or even smiled faintly.
And then one Luna, from a pack whose name I don’t even remember, looked at me with something like pity and asked if I planned to choose a new Alpha soon.
I couldn’t even get a word out.
My blood boiled, and before I could snap back at her, Rafael stepped in, his voice steady and low. He told her it wasn’t her place to ask, and if there was ever a decision to be made about leadership, it wouldn’t be today, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be from her suggestion.
I didn’t even thank Rafael. I just stood there, numb, and let him finish.
When it was all over, I thought I could hold myself together. That I could be strong for him. But I couldn’t.
Not anymore.
Now all I felt was empty.
I let my fingers drift over the bracelet on my wrist, tracing it absentmindedly. It had almost become a nervous tic now, something to ground me when the hollow feeling in my chest got too heavy.
Finally, I reached for my phone on the nightstand, just to have something to look at. The screen glowed to life, blinding me for a moment.
11:02 PM, and I was still awake. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d fallen asleep before dawn.
Then I heard a knock. I really thought it was my mother again. She’d been coming to my door every morning, gentle knock, soft voice, asking if I felt like going down to the beach today, maybe collecting shells, maybe just letting the sun touch my face for once.
Maybe I’d say yes this time, I told myself.
"Come in,” I called out without much thought.
But when the door opened, my breath caught when I saw him standing there, tall and impossibly composed, filling the doorway in that way only he could. Cillian.
“Hello, Pet.” 
With everything that had happened, I’d somehow forgotten how unreasonably breathtaking he was—how his presence had a way of swallowing the entire room.
He didn’t speak again right away. He just stood there, his blue eyes settling on me like I was the only thing worth looking at.
I sat up straighter on the bed, trying, and failing, not to let my surprise show. “You’re here,” I said finally.
He inclined his head just slightly, and his lips curved into the faintest suggestion of a smile. “You’re here,” he echoed, his voice carrying a faint note of wryness.
“Yup, I’m here.”
His gaze lingered on me another moment before he stepped in and closed the door behind him. Then he moved closer, and for a second it almost felt like he was studying me.
“The Silver Moon pack hasn’t been treating you properly?” he asked at last, his tone more observation than question.
I huffed and looked away. “I tried and stayed there for a week. That place…” I trailed off and shook my head. “That place will drive me insane if I stay longer. I’m not… ready for it. Maybe I never will be,” I paused. “They have good wine, though.”
Cillian regarded me evenly. “It will take time,” he said. “And a degree of adjustment. Neither of which you seem inclined to grant yourself.”
I gave him a sidelong glance. “Well,” I said dryly, “you’re weirdly supportive all of a sudden.”
At that, he let out a faint breath of a laugh and shook his head just slightly, as though I amused him against his will. “Supportive? Not quite. Merely realistic. You’re a lycan now. You’ve left me no choice.”
“You are right,” I muttered, unable to help the smallest tug at the corner of my mouth. Then I eyed him properly for the first time since he walked in, taking in the immaculate suit, the perfect tie, and not a hair out of place. “Well, you look… fresh,” I said flatly. “So I assume you didn’t come here for my blood.”
His gaze softened, just enough to make me feel it. “No,” he replied simply. “I came to tell you that your hearing with the Grand Council has been scheduled. They expect you next week.”
I rolled my eyes, bitterness simmering in my chest as I leaned back against the headboard.
“Of course,” I muttered. “You came all the way from your palatial mansion just to tell me about my hearing. How… nice of you.” My eyes narrowed slightly. “And yet you couldn’t bother to come see your friend before we buried him?”
His expression didn’t flicker. He only met my gaze and said in that low, silk-threaded tone of his, “I came to his grave. After. When everyone had gone. When you had gone.”
That caught me off guard, though I didn’t want to show it. “Oh,” I said, forcing a little shrug I didn’t feel. “Well. I didn’t see you. Not since Grimshaft Mire. So where were you?”