Chapter 254
Elowen's POV
I needed air. Space. Anything to escape the suffocating weight of what I'd just heard.
Kade's voice still echoed in my mind—calm, measured, telling me everything was fine while my heart screamed that nothing was fine. That phone call had ripped open wounds I'd been trying so hard to stitch closed. Cassian's voice. That desperate, broken tone when he'd asked about me and the babies.
Stop, Juno whispered in my mind, her presence a warm weight. You're spiraling.
I pushed through the heavy oak doors of the Ashborne Pack house, my swollen belly making the movement awkward. Six months pregnant with twins, and I still wasn't used to this body—this constant reminder of what I'd lost, what I'd been forced to give up.
The garden stretched before me, a sprawling masterpiece of green and gold. I stumbled toward the wrought-iron furniture tucked beneath an ancient oak tree, lowering myself carefully onto the cushioned bench. My hand automatically went to my stomach, feeling the gentle kicks that had become my only comfort.
Casper and Cassian had chosen her. They'd chosen Sarah. They'd looked me in the eyes and—
No. I squeezed my eyes shut. Don't go there. Not again.
"You don't have to carry this alone, you know."
Alaric's voice came from behind me, soft and warm like honey. I didn't turn around. Couldn't. If I looked at his kind face right now, I'd shatter completely.
"I know, Alaric," I managed, my voice rough. "But I need to find my own path. Figure out who I am now."
His footsteps crunched on the gravel path as he moved closer, but he respected my space, staying just behind my bench. "When you're ready," he said quietly, "we'll be here. All of us."
I nodded, still not trusting myself to look at him. After a moment, I heard him walk away, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the babies doing gymnastics in my womb.
The view from here was breathtaking. The Ashborne Pack lands rolled out before me in endless waves of forest and meadow, the late afternoon sun painting everything in shades of amber and gold. In the distance, I could see the mountains rising like ancient guardians, their peaks still capped with snow despite the approaching summer.
It was peaceful. Beautiful. Everything Thornwood Pack had been, but... different. Bigger. More majestic. Less complicated.
Liar, Juno snorted. Everything's complicated now.
Movement caught my eye to the right. The training grounds. Warriors moved in synchronized formations, their bodies a blur of controlled violence. Sweat gleamed on muscled shoulders as they sparred, the sharp crack of practice weapons echoing across the lawn. Their movements were precise, deadly—years of training evident in every strike and parry.
Shouts of encouragement rang out. "Again! Faster!" "Watch your left flank!" The energy was infectious, purposeful. They were preparing for something. War? Threats? I didn't know enough about the political landscape here yet.
You could ask, Juno suggested. Instead of isolating yourself.
I ignored her, my gaze drifting left instead.
A group of young wolves—my age, maybe younger—lounged on the grass near a fountain. Their laughter floated across the garden, carefree and bright. They sprawled on blankets, sharing snacks and drinks, their phones out, probably gossiping about pack drama or whoever they were dating.
Not a single one of them was pregnant. Not one carried the weight of shattered mate bonds and impossible choices.
My hand pressed harder against my belly. One of the twins—I was pretty sure it was the girl—kicked sharply, as if reminding me she was there. That she mattered.
"I know, baby girl," I whispered. "I know you're here."
But God, what would my life have been like if I'd grown up here? If Jessica hadn't stolen me away, if my real parents hadn't been murdered, if—
If, if, if. The word became a mantra in my head, each repetition another knife twist.
If Casper and Cassian hadn't chosen Sarah.
If Drake hadn't manipulated me for years.
If my mother—no, Jessica, not my mother—hadn't sold me like property.
If the Moon Goddess hadn't given me an impossible choice.
The thoughts spiraled, dragging me down into that familiar darkness. My chest tightened. The garden blurred as tears welled up, hot and angry and so, so tired.
Then the bench shifted. Weight settled beside me, warm and solid.
An arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me gently against a broad chest. I knew that scent. Ronan.
He didn't say anything. Didn't try to fix it or tell me it would be okay. He just... held me.
And the dam broke.
Six months of holding it together—of pretending I was strong enough, brave enough, fine enough—shattered. I sobbed into my brother's chest, ugly crying like I hadn't allowed myself since the day I'd walked away from Thornwood Pack with my heart in pieces.
Ronan's hand moved in slow circles on my back. His other arm tightened around me, anchoring me as I fell apart.
"I loved them," I choked out between sobs. "I loved them, Ronan. And they—they just—"
"I know." His voice rumbled through his chest. "I know, little sister."
The endearment made me cry harder. I had a brother. A real blood brother who actually gave a damn about me. Not because of some mate bond or pack politics, but because we shared DNA. Because I was his family.
"I keep thinking about all the what-ifs," I gasped. "What if Mom—my real mom—hadn't died? What if Dad hadn't been killed? What if I'd grown up here instead of being raised by that bitch who never wanted me? What if Casper and Cassian had never—"
My voice broke completely.
Ronan let me cry it out, patient and steady. When the sobs finally subsided to hiccups, he spoke again, and there was a dark edge to his voice I'd never heard before.
"You know," he said casually, "if you wanted, I could kill her."
I pulled back, blinking at him through tear-swollen eyes. "What?"
"Sarah. I could make it look like an accident. Very tragic. No one would ever know."