Chapter 13

Killian pov

Weeks later

I shifted uncomfortably as Zane's fingers dug into my thigh, and I let out a sharp wince, the sudden pain snapping me out of my thoughts. Her gaze was teasing, but there was an underlying seriousness behind it.

"What was that for?" I hissed, shooting her an irritated look.

Zane didn’t seem to care much, her lips curving into a playful smirk. "You weren’t listening to me," she replied, her tone light and carefree, though I could hear a hint of concern buried in it. She tilted her head back, eyes searching the sky above us.

I grunted, rubbing my thigh absently. "What were you saying again?"

Her expression softened as she settled back into a more comfortable position on my legs. “I asked if you’ve settled your issues with Feya. Both of you are siblings, you don’t have to keep dancing around each other like this."

I sighed, the weight of her words sinking deeper into my chest. The truth was, I hadn't settled anything. I hadn’t even been able to look her in the eyes today, not since breakfast. "I don’t know, Zane. Feya's been... avoiding me." The words tasted bitter in my mouth, heavier than I cared to admit.

Zane lifted her gaze back to meet mine, her eyebrows furrowing with concern. "Avoiding you?" She didn’t wait for my response before continuing. "How so?"

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. "At breakfast, I tried to serve her like I always do, but she didn’t even acknowledge me. She looked right through me, Zane." The pain of it hit me again, like a dull ache that wouldn’t fade. "I... tried talking to her, but she kept pulling away. It's like I don’t even know her anymore."

Zane’s posture relaxed slightly, her legs stretching out across the bench, but she didn’t look away from me. There was a heaviness in the air now, and it was hard to shake the feeling that something much deeper was lurking just beneath the surface of my relationship with Feya. Zane reached over and placed a hand on mine, a small gesture that felt grounding in the moment.

"Maybe she’s just going through something. You know how she is," Zane said gently. Her tone was soft, but there was a quiet strength in her words that felt comforting. "Feya doesn't always deal with things the way other people do."

I nodded slowly, trying to convince myself that it wasn’t as serious as it felt. But the gnawing uncertainty wouldn't let me off the hook. Something in me—something deeper than the surface of our sibling bond—was tugging at me. The thought of Feya, pulling away, made something in my chest twist painfully.

"I don't know, Zane. It feels different this time. Like she’s shutting me out for good," I admitted, voice quiet. I hated the vulnerability of it, but it was out now.

Zane leaned back, her gaze drifting over the horizon, as if thinking through the words carefully before speaking again. "You’ve been through worse. Whatever it is, I’m sure you two will work it out. You’ve always found your way back to each other."

But I wasn’t so sure.

I closed my eyes for a moment, allowing the breeze to wash over me, trying to push the gnawing ache away. Yet, no matter how much I tried to ignore it, a pull—a quiet ache that whispered in the back of my mind—remained. A feeling that something wasn’t just wrong with Feya but that something was missing from me.

I shifted uncomfortably on the bench, suddenly too aware of the space between me and Zane. It was like a magnet, this thing I felt stirring deep inside, and I couldn’t help but feel it again now. My pulse quickened, my senses sharpening.

"I don’t know, Zane..." I began, my voice shaking slightly. "It's like something’s... something's pulling at me, and I can’t figure out what it is."

Zane, ever the skeptic, chuckled softly, but there was no bite in it. "Maybe you’re just imagining things. You’ve been through a lot lately."

I stared at her, trying to push away the feeling that tightened around my chest. "No... it’s not that. I can feel it, Zane. Like... she’s close. Feya, I mean. It’s like I’m being pulled toward her, like she’s right there but just out of reach. And I don’t know why."

Zane sat up straighter, an amused smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Are you sure you’re not just being dramatic? I mean, you’re always overthinking."

But as she spoke, the tension in my chest only grew. I couldn’t ignore it. I couldn’t shake the sensation that my mate, my connection, was nearby but distant at the same time. It was maddening.

"Why do I feel like this?" I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to her.

Zane eyed me carefully, her face shifting from playful to thoughtful. "It’s not something you can control, Killian. But, if it’s real, you’ll figure it out. Maybe your mind is just working overtime."

But I wasn’t convinced. I was starting to think it was more than just my mind. It was a deep, almost primal feeling—like the universe was telling me something I couldn’t ignore.

And that something was pulling me toward Feya.

I let out a long breath, closing my eyes again and letting the breeze wash over me, hoping it might calm the storm inside. But, all I could hear in the distance was the faint whisper of something I couldn't yet grasp. The sound of her presence was there, just beyond my reach.

"Maybe I’m just losing my mind," I muttered, half laughing at myself, trying to downplay it.

Zane snorted. "Maybe. Or maybe you're just as ridiculous as you always are." But I could see the flicker of something more in her eyes—a hint of understanding I didn’t expect from her.

We stayed in silence for a moment, both of us caught in our own thoughts. The breeze swept past us again, making the air feel colder, but I could still feel that pull. That ache.

Finally, Zane broke the quiet. "Listen," she said softly, "whatever this is, whatever you’re feeling, you need to talk to Feya. You can’t keep running away from this. She’s your sister. And if something more is happening, you both need to face it head-on."

I nodded slowly, her words settling deep within me. I knew she was right. But still, that strange sensation gnawed at me, that feeling of something unfinished, a thread hanging just out of reach.

Maybe Zane was right. Maybe I was just overthinking it. But a part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t just that.