Chapter 257
Casper's POV
Leo's voice cut through my alcohol-soaked thoughts with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, dripping with contempt that I probably deserved but wasn't ready to accept. "Your new motto, 'I should care... I don't!' loser."
The words hit harder than they should have, maybe because somewhere deep down I knew he was right, or maybe because hearing my own wolf—my other half, the part of me that was supposed to be on my side—throw my failures in my face made everything feel infinitely worse. I wanted to argue, to defend myself, to explain that I did care, that I cared so fucking much it was tearing me apart from the inside out, but the words stuck in my throat like shards of broken glass.
"I wish I had a time machine," I muttered, more to myself than to Leo, though I knew he could hear every pathetic syllable. The thought consumed me—if I could go back, I'd do everything differently. I'd fight harder against Cassian's plan, I'd refuse to let her go, I'd find another way to keep her safe without ripping out my own heart and hers in the process.
Leo's response was swift and merciless, his presence retreating to the furthest corners of my consciousness with a parting shot that felt like abandonment. "Figure it out yourself, you created this mess."
And then he was gone, leaving me truly alone for the first time in my life, sitting in a crowded bar surrounded by supernatural beings who couldn't care less about my personal crisis, nursing a drink that had long since lost its ability to numb the pain. The silence in my head where Leo's constant commentary usually lived felt deafening, emphasizing just how thoroughly I'd fucked everything up.
"Casper?" Ronan's voice came through the phone, sharp with impatience, reminding me that I was still in the middle of a conversation I desperately needed to have. "Are you even listening?"
I gripped the phone tighter, trying to organize my thoughts through the whiskey fog that made everything feel distant and unreal, like I was watching my own life from underwater. "I tried to be there for her," I said, the words tumbling out in a rush of defensive justification that sounded weak even to my own ears. "After we erased her memories, I went to see her. I wanted to stay, to help her through it, but she told me to leave. She didn't want me there."
The laugh that came through the phone was bitter and cutting, laced with disappointment that made my stomach twist with fresh guilt. "And you just left? You just walked away because it was difficult? Because she pushed you away while dealing with the trauma you and your brother inflicted on her?"
"Ronan, I—" I started, but he cut me off with the precision of someone who'd been waiting to unleash this particular tirade.
"You're weak, Casper. You let Cassian manipulate you into this fucked-up situation, you let him convince you that erasing her memories was somehow for her own good, and then when she needed you most, you ran away at the first sign of resistance." Each accusation landed like a physical blow, methodical and devastating. "You didn't fight for her. You didn't fight for what you claimed to want. You just gave up and drowned yourself in alcohol like the coward you are."
The truth in his words cut deeper than any knife could, slicing through my defenses with brutal efficiency because I couldn't deny any of it, couldn't argue against the damning evidence of my own actions. "I thought... I thought it was better for her. Safer. If she didn't remember us, if she could move on—"
"Safer?" Ronan's voice rose with incredulity and rage. "You thought abandoning her while she was confused and hurting was safer? You thought letting her deal with the aftermath of your decision alone was somehow protecting her?"
I had no answer, nothing that would justify what we'd done, what I'd done, so I sat there in silence while the noise of the bar swelled around me, vampires arguing about blood rights, witches laughing at some private joke, the crack of pool balls breaking, all of it blending into a cacophony that matched the chaos in my head.
"She's in pain," Ronan said finally, his voice dropping to something quieter but no less cutting. "She's suffering because of what you did, and you're sitting in some bar trying to pick up random she-wolves to make yourself feel better."
The words should have made me feel terrible, should have filled me with nothing but shame and regret, but instead I felt something else stirring beneath the guilt—a twisted, horrible sense of hope that I immediately hated myself for feeling. If she was in pain, if she was suffering, didn't that mean she still felt something? Didn't that mean the bond wasn't completely severed, that some part of her remembered us even if her conscious mind didn't?
"Is that wrong?" I heard myself ask, my voice barely above a whisper, thick with self-loathing and desperate need. "Is it wrong that hearing she's in pain gives me hope? Because if she's hurting, it means she still cares, it means we still matter to her, it means there's still a chance—"
"You're a fucking monster," Ronan interrupted, his disgust palpable even through the phone line. "You and your brother destroyed her life, and now you're finding comfort in her suffering? You're celebrating her pain because it validates your own selfish need to be important to her?"
He was right. God, he was absolutely right, and the realization made bile rise in my throat, acidic and burning. What kind of person took comfort in someone else's anguish? What kind of mate found hope in his partner's trauma? I wanted to defend myself, to explain that it wasn't like that, that I just needed to know she still felt something, but the words wouldn't come because deep down I knew there was no defense for this particular brand of selfishness.
"I didn't know it would turn out like this," I said instead, the admission feeling inadequate even as it left my lips. "When we made the decision, I thought—"
"You didn't think," Ronan cut in sharply. "That's the problem. You didn't think about her, about what she needed, about what this would do to her. You just followed Cassian's lead like you always do, letting him make the decisions while you went along for the ride, and now you're surprised that it blew up in your faces?"