Chapter 244
Cassian's POV
The cool evening air hits my face as I step out of Moonrise Den, but it does nothing to clear the fog in my head. Casper's still in there, drowning himself in whiskey and self-loathing. Part of me wants to drag him out, shake some sense into him. The other part—the part that's just as fucking broken—knows I'd be doing the exact same thing if I hadn't forced myself to keep moving.
This is all my fault.
The thought cuts through me like silver. I was the one who convinced him. I was the one who stood there and told him we had no other choice. I was the one who looked my twin brother in the eye and said, "We have to break her heart to save her life."
And I'd do it again.
God help me, I'd make the same choice. For her. For the cubs. For—
"Go get her."
Zero's command slams into my skull with the force of a freight train. My wolf's voice isn't a suggestion or a plea—it's an order, raw and desperate and completely unhinged.
I squeeze my eyes shut, one hand gripping the doorframe. "No."
"GO. GET. HER."
"We can't." The words taste like ash. "You know we can't."
My wolf snarls, pushing against my control. I can feel him clawing at the barriers I've built, trying to take over, trying to do what I'm too much of a fucking coward to do myself.
My hand's already moving toward my phone before I realize it.
Stop.
I force myself to breathe. To think. To remember why we're doing this.
One month ago.
"Mr. Thornwood. Mr. Thornwood."
The doctor's voice was ice. Elowen lay on the examination table, her shirt pushed up, gel smeared across her rounded belly. Casper stood on her left, gripping her hand like a lifeline. I stood on her right, my fingers laced through hers, both of us staring at the monitor.
The room felt hostile. Elowen's face was pale, her free hand resting protectively over her stomach. She'd called us in a panic two hours earlier—spotting, she'd said. Light bleeding. Terror in her voice.
We'd broken every speed limit getting there.
"The babies are fine," the doctor continued, not looking at us. Not looking at Elowen either, really. Just at the screen, professional and detached. "Heartbeats are strong. But the stress—" Her eyes finally cut to us, sharp with accusation. "—is not good for your patient or the pregnancy."
Your patient. Not "Miss Hartley." Not "the mother." Not even "her."
"We understand," I said, my voice tight.
"Do you?" The doctor's jaw clenched. "Because from where I'm standing, the two of you showing up here, after what you did, after how you betrayed her—"
"That's enough." Ronan's voice cut through from where he leaned against the wall. Protective. Possessive in a way that made Zero bare his teeth in my mind.
The doctor's mouth snapped shut. But the damage was done.
Elowen's hand had gone limp in mine. When I looked down, she was staring at the ceiling, tears sliding down her temples. Not crying. Just... leaking. Like she'd run out of the energy to actually sob.
"Elowen—" Casper started.
"Get out."
Her voice was barely a whisper. But it hit like a sledgehammer.
"Baby, please—"
"Get. Out."
That was the last time we saw her.
Now.
Every week, Kade or Alaric sends a text. Clinical updates. "She's eating well." "Blood pressure normal." "Babies are growing."
Never from her. Never a word directed at us.
Last week, the message was different: "She says this is too hard. She thinks it's better if you keep your distance."
We hate it. God, we fucking hate it. But we respect it. Because that's what you do when you love someone—you give them what they need, even when it destroys you.
Even when every fiber of your being screams to go to her.
The parking lot is nearly empty. My car sits under a flickering streetlight, looking as abandoned as I feel. I'd thought—stupidly, desperately—that maybe we could still see her. Secretly. Just to know she was okay. To see the bump growing with our children.
But they cut us off completely. Like excising a diseased limb.
And maybe that's what we are. A disease. An infection she needed to survive.
"Fuck!"
The word rips out of me before I can stop it. My boot connects with the asphalt, the impact jarring up my leg. The pain feels good. Real. Better than the numbness I've been carrying for six months.
The evening air is cool, crisp. It should help. Should clear my head.
It doesn't.
There's only one thing that's going to help right now.
I yank open the car door and drop into the driver's seat. My phone is already in my hand, fingers moving on autopilot to her contact.
Elowen.
The photo loads. It's one I took six months before everything went to hell. She's laughing at something Casper said, head thrown back, eyes bright and clear. No pain. No loss. No knowledge of what we were about to do to her.
She looks happy.
I did that. I took that from her.
"Do it," Zero purrs, dangerous and seductive. "Call her. Hear her voice. Just once."
My finger hovers over the call button.
One tap. That's all it would take. One tap and I'd hear her voice. Sweet. Maybe angry. Maybe she'd hang up immediately. But I'd hear her.
My thumb trembles.
I want to respect her boundaries. I do. But the need to hear her—to know she's real, that she's okay, that she doesn't hate us as much as she should—it's overwhelming. It's a physical ache in my chest, worse than any wound.
Just one call. What's the harm?
"Cassian, why isn't your brother answering me?"
Sarah's shrill voice explodes through the mind link, and I actually flinch.
Perfect fucking timing.
I let out a long breath and pull the car door shut. The urge to call Elowen drains away, replaced by the much more immediate need to figure out how to turn down the volume on this particular nightmare.
"He's probably busy, Sarah."
I set the phone in the cupholder, Elowen's face illuminating the screen. God, she's beautiful.
"Busy?" Sarah's voice hits that particular pitch that makes my teeth ache. "I'm his mate. He should make time for me."
I know exactly what she's doing right now. Pouting. Probably stomping her foot. So predictable it's almost boring.
"Unfortunate," Zero mutters in my head.
I can't help the small, mean smile that tugs at my lips. "Unfortunate that she's predictable... or unfortunate that she's our mate?"
"BOTH!" Zero roars, then retreats to his mental cage to sulk.
"I'll take you shopping," I say aloud, cutting her off before she can launch into another tirade about how being mates means she deserves our every waking moment and every ounce of sanity. "Meet me at the mall."
"I want to go with Casper, Cassian. I'm sick of this shit—"
"Yeah," I mutter, barely loud enough for her to hear through the link. "Me too."
But we both know we're sick of very different things.
Sarah's sick of not getting enough attention from the Alpha twins who "chose" her.
I'm sick of pretending. Sick of the lie. Sick of watching Elowen's face haunt my dreams and knowing I put that pain there.
Sick of the fact that keeping her safe means staying away.
I stare at Elowen's photo one more time before starting the engine.
I'm sorry, baby. I'm so fucking sorry.