Chapter 88: His Final Plea

Chapter 88: His Final Plea
Scarlett

I was at the railing of the balcony, the wind pulling at the stray tendrils of my hair. The valley stretched out below me, shining under a cover of moonlight, silver and mysterious. The silence was misleading—calm on the surface, but beneath, I sensed the thrum of discontent stirring in the world. Vampires and humans both were calling my name now. Scarlett, the woman who defied a prince, outlived exile, and now carried a child in her womb was said to be the bridge between worlds.
But none of that power, none of that legacy, had prepared me for the beat of his footsteps behind me.
I didn't look back. I didn't need to. My body responded before my mind registered—my heart rate accelerated, my breathing skipped a beat, and that old pain, the one he etched into my soul, pulsed to life.
Kael, the shadow prince. The man who had branded my body and soul with love, betrayal, and a connection so profound, I didn't know where he began and I ended.
"Scarlett," he said my name on a prayer breath—tattered, awed.
I didn't turn though. I had nothing to offer him anymore. Not after it all.
"You don't belong here," I whispered, my gaze on the horizon where the stars caressed the earth.
"I needed to come," he said. "Please. just hear me out."
I finally turned to him.
He seemed… different. Not only tired, though there were dark smudges under his eyes. Not older, though something in his face had weathered, hardened with regret. He seemed bare, unmasked—like all the trappings of power, of pride and princely arrogance, had been stripped away until nothing but the man behind was left.
Kael, the man who once held me as if I were all he had in a falling world. The man who released me.
"What could you possibly say now?" I demanded, my voice trembling despite my determination. "You left. Once more. You always do."
I know," he told me, taking a step closer. "And I can't undo it. I made decisions… terrible ones. I thought I was keeping you safe. I thought that if I kept away from you, you'd be safer, and stronger I thought."
"That I'd never be strong if I was with you?" I snapped. "That I'd have to lose you in order to live?"
"No," he said with intense fervor, his voice cracking. "I thought I didn't deserve you.
That brought me up short.
His eyes—those storm-dark eyes that haunted every one of my dreams—were brimming. I'd never seen him cry. Ever, but tonight tears welled at the edges, sparkling in moonlight.
"I ruined everything that was good in my life," he breathed, "I lost control. I hurt you. And each and every day since I left, I've been tormented by that guilt."
My chest hurt. Gods, I wanted to remain angry. I wanted to remember the nights curled around the pain in my stomach, alone, singing lullabies to a child who had needed so much more than the turmoil of our love.
But damn him, he looked so human now.
"And now what?" I demanded. "You're here for forgiveness?"
He shook his head slowly. "No, I'm here for truth."
Silence hung between us, edgy as a knife.
"I love you, Scarlett," he said. "I never stopped. Even when I convinced myself I had to let you go. Even when I attempted to sever the connection between us—"
"You did more than attempt," I spat. "You almost killed us both when you cut it."
He winced. "I know, and when I saw it unraveling. I thought I was dying. You were always my anchor. The only thing that was ever perfect about me."
I gulped hard. There were tears searing at the fringes of my eyes now, too.
"I'm not asking you to return out of pity," he said. "I'm not asking you to forgive me because of the past. I'm asking—pleading—you to look at me now. As a man. Not as your captor. Not as your bondmate. But as someone who is finally willing to stand beside you, not above you."
I looked away again, not because I didn't care to see him—but because I didn't care for him to witness how much his words got to me.
"I've worked on something here," I told him. "I've crawled back from nothing. I've fought for every step of respect, for my baby's safety, for my sanity. You don't just get to saunter back in with some words and a bleeding heart."
"I know," he repeated, and gods help me, I had believed him.
He moved closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Let me win it. Let me be here—not for your prince. Not for your history. But for someone who is willing to fight with you for this future… for your child."
My breath hitched.
"For our child," he said, his voice cracking.
I turned back to him at last, and saw the agony scored into his face. No longer a legend creature, of order and destruction—he was just a man in love, terrified he'd lost the one thing he could not live without.
"You told me you didn't deserve me," I whispered, shaking. "Perhaps you were correct."  
His mouth opened, but I stopped him with a raised hand.
"But neither of us are the same people we were. And I'm not the girl who needed saving anymore."
There was a beat. Then another.
He nodded. "I know."
The wind rose, churning around us. In the distance, a wolf was howling. The world seemed to stand on the precipice of something war, peace, love, and ruin.
"Stay the night," I said quietly. "Not with me. Just… here. With the guards. With the others."
He seemed to want to protest, to demand more. But he didn't. He merely bent his head.
"As you bid, my queen."
My pulse fluttered. The title wasn't in jest. It was respect. And for the first time, I was aware of the weight of it.
I turned and went away—in, back toward the safety of my chambers, my child, my mission. I did not glance back.
But gods, I wished I could.
Because perhaps… perhaps… love might be born again not in bondage, but in liberty.