# Chapter 151

# Chapter 151
Rocco's POV

I stood frozen at the balcony door, a cup of hot tea in one hand, two sleeping pills in the other. The night air carried Kira's scent to me, that familiar mix of vanilla and something uniquely her that even her illness couldn't erase. I'd thought she might have trouble sleeping after today's confrontation with her mother. I wanted to... help? Make amends? I wasn't even sure anymore.

Then I saw them.

Under the silvery moonlight, Andy leaned in, and Kira—my Kira—tilted her face up to meet his lips. Their silhouettes merged into one against the backdrop of stars. Time slowed to a painful crawl.

My wolf howled inside me, a primal rage coursing through my veins. Mine. The word pounded in my head like a war drum. My fingers tightened around the mug until I heard the ceramic crack. Hot liquid spilled over my hand, but I barely felt it.

My first instinct was to charge forward, to tear them apart, to remind them both who Kira belonged to. The Alpha in me demanded action, retribution for this trespass on what was mine.

But I had no right. The truth hit me like a physical blow. I had no claim to her anymore. I'd forfeited that right the moment I chose revenge over her. I'd been the first to betray our bond, to lie, to manipulate. And now, watching her with someone else, I was reaping exactly what I'd sown.

"I don't have the right to feel betrayed. I betrayed her first," I thought bitterly, the realization cutting deeper than any wound could.

I felt something unfamiliar sting my eyes. Tears? When was the last time I'd cried? Not since Lyra died—or so I thought. The tea cup slipped from my fingers, shattering on the floor with a crash that finally alerted them to my presence.

They pulled apart, turning toward the sound. Kira's eyes met mine, and for a moment, I searched for guilt, for regret, for anything that might indicate she still cared. But there was only a calm resolution in her gaze, a certainty I hadn't seen in years.

I couldn't bear it. Couldn't stand there and watch her choose someone else. I turned and walked away, my footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if my body understood I was walking away from the one thing I truly wanted.

The walls of the mansion closed in around me. I couldn't breathe. The air was too thick, too still. My chest felt like it was being crushed in a vise. I needed out. Needed space. Needed to run until my lungs burned and my muscles screamed—anything to drown out the image seared into my brain.

I burst through the front doors, not bothering to close them behind me. The night air hit me like a slap, cold and clarifying. I made it to the tree line before the change took me, my emotions too volatile to maintain human form.

I tore at my clothes, ripping my jacket off and shredding my shirt in my haste. My skin burned, bones cracking and reforming as my wolf clawed its way to the surface. The physical pain was a welcome distraction from the ache in my chest.

The transformation was violent, fueled by rage and grief. When it was complete, I stood on four legs, my black fur ruffled by the night breeze. I tilted my head back and howled—a sound of pure anguish that echoed through the trees.

Then I ran.

I ran as I hadn't run in years, pushing my body to its limits. Branches whipped past, scratching at my face and sides, but I welcomed the sting. Fallen logs and streams became mere obstacles to leap over without breaking stride. The forest blurred around me, my vision tunneled to the path ahead.

But no matter how fast I ran, I couldn't outpace the truth. The image of Kira in Andy's arms followed me, branded into my mind like a hot iron. The way she'd looked at him, the gentleness of their touch—it was everything I'd once had with her, everything I'd thrown away.

I don't know how long I ran or how far. Time lost meaning in the rhythm of paws striking earth. Eventually, my legs gave out, and I collapsed at the edge of a familiar clearing. My breath came in ragged pants, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The lake. Of course my instincts would bring me here.

I shifted back to human form, the change slower, less violent than before. The moon reflected on the still water, just as it had the night Kira and I first met. I walked to the water's edge, naked and vulnerable in a way that went beyond the physical.

"I never thought I'd lose you like this," I whispered to the empty air, as if Kira could somehow hear me across the distance.

The memory of that night washed over me. Her laughter as she'd splashed water at me. The way moonlight had caught in her wet hair. How she'd asked me, lying here on this very shore afterward, "When did you know you loved me?"

"When I first saw you standing on your own, not needing anyone," I'd told her then, tracing patterns on her bare shoulder. "Everyone else was trying to get something from me. You just... were."

Now, standing alone by the lake, I added bitterly, "And I became the one thing you needed protection from."

I sank down onto a boulder, forced to face myself without distraction. Had I ever truly loved her? Or had she just been a means to an end, a path to revenge against her father? I'd convinced myself that my feelings were real, but I'd still used her, manipulated her, hurt her repeatedly.

"Did I ever really love you, Kira?" I asked the silent lake. "Or was it all just part of the plan?"

The worst part was seeing her with Andy. Not because he'd touched her, but because of how he'd touched her—with reverence, with respect. He'd asked permission. He'd given her choice. All the things I should have done but didn't.

Why could Andy give her what I never could? The answer was simple and devastating: because he saw her as an equal, not a possession. Not a tool for revenge.

"He treats her like a partner," I realized. "I treated her like... like something I owned."

My stomach churned as another realization hit me. I'd become exactly what I despised—my mother. The same controlling nature, the same cold calculations, the same willingness to sacrifice others for my goals. I'd sworn I would never be like her, yet here I was, having caused the same kind of pain she had.

"Fuck," I muttered, running my hands through my hair. "I'm just like her. Just like my mother."

I remembered how she'd treated Lyra, how she'd crushed her spirit day by day. How I'd hated her for it, sworn I'd never become that person. Yet I'd done the same to Kira—smothered her independence, her light, all in the name of what I wanted.

I thought of Lyra's offer to erase Kira's memories, to make her love me again. The temptation was still there, whispering that I could have her back, that we could start over.

"She'd love me again," I whispered. "She wouldn't remember the pain."