Chapter 154 Blood Roses
Wynter‘s POV
Captain Thorne's grunt of approval during this morning's combat session—"Better, Vaughn. You're finally thinking instead of just reacting"—was the closest thing to praise I'd gotten from him in weeks. The bruises were worth it.
As I headed to the dining hall for lunch, I spotted Rosalie at our usual table, picking at her food with the kind of mechanical precision that suggested her mind was elsewhere. I slid into the seat across from her, studying her face carefully.
She looked... calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that came after a storm, when everything had been destroyed and there was nothing left to fight for.
"Hey," I said gently. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm fine," she said, her voice flat and emotionless in a way that was completely unlike her usual warmth. "It's over. Connor and I—we're done. Really done this time."
I reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "Rosie, I'm so sorry. If you need to talk—"
"There's nothing to talk about," she interrupted, finally meeting my eyes. What I saw there made my chest ache. Like she'd cauterized the injury herself and was determined not to let it bleed again. "He made his choice. The Bond won. End of story."
"That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt," I said softly.
"It does hurt," she admitted, her voice cracking slightly before she forced it steady again. "But I'm not going to let it destroy me. I'm not going to spend the rest of my life crying over someone who couldn't choose me over biology."
The fierce determination in her voice made me proud and heartbroken in equal measure. "You deserve better than that."
"I know," she said, and there was steel beneath the words. "Which is why I ended it. Which is why I'm moving on."
Before I could respond, a commotion near the dining hall entrance made us both look up. Students were gathering, whispering and pointing, and through the crowd I caught a glimpse of vibrant red.
Red roses. A massive bouquet of them, so large it nearly obscured the person carrying them.
Connor.
He stood in the doorway, looking haggard and desperate, his clothes rumpled like he'd slept in them. The roses trembled slightly in his hands as his eyes scanned the dining hall, clearly searching for someone.
When his gaze landed on our table, on Rosalie, his whole face transformed with desperate hope.
"Oh no," Rosalie breathed, her knuckles going white as she gripped the edge of the table.
Connor started making his way through the dining hall, students parting before him, their whispers growing louder. I could hear fragments of their conversations:
"—third time this week—"
"—won't give up—"
"—the Mate Bond—"
He reached our table, and up close I could see the dark circles under his eyes, the way his hands shook slightly as he held out the roses toward Rosalie.
"Rosalie," he said, his voice rough and pleading. "Please. Just hear me out. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But I can't—" his voice broke, "—I can't live without you. The Bond with Evangeline, it's just biology. What I feel for you, that's real. That's choice. Please, give me another chance to prove it."
Rosalie sat frozen, staring at the roses like they were a poisonous snake. Around us, the entire dining hall had gone silent, everyone watching this drama unfold.
"Rosalie, please," Connor continued, his voice taking on an edge of desperation that made several students shift uncomfortably. "I know I don't deserve it. I know I've broken every promise I made. But I'm begging you—"
"No," Rosalie said quietly, and the single word cut through his pleading like a knife.
She stood, her movements deliberate and controlled, and I saw something shift in her expression. Not anger. Not sadness. Something colder and more final than either.
"Come with me," she said, her voice carrying across the silent dining hall. "If you want to talk, we'll talk. But not here."
Connor's face lit up with desperate hope, clearly interpreting this as a positive sign. "Yes. Yes, of course. Anywhere you want—"
"Good," Rosalie said, already moving toward the exit. "Follow me."
I stood immediately, my instincts screaming that something was about to happen. Something that Rosalie needed a witness for, or maybe just moral support. I caught her eye, and she gave me the smallest nod—permission to follow.
Connor trailed after Rosalie like a puppy, still clutching those ridiculous roses, talking the entire time in a stream of desperate promises and explanations.
"I know the Bond is strong, but I can fight it. I will fight it. For you, Rosalie. You're worth fighting for—"
"I tried to stay away from her, I really did, but every time I see her, it's like my body just—but that doesn't mean I don't love you. I do love you. More than anything—"
"Give me one more chance. Just one more. I'll prove to you that I can choose you over the Bond. I'll prove that what we have is stronger—"
Rosalie didn't respond, just kept walking with that same eerie calm, leading him through corridors that were growing increasingly familiar.
We were heading toward the academic wing. Toward the classrooms where upper-level students had their specialized courses.
Toward Evangeline's territory.
Understanding dawned with cold clarity. I quickened my pace slightly, positioning myself closer to Rosalie in case this went badly.
Connor was still talking, oblivious to where we were going, too caught up in his desperate monologue to notice the route.
"—and I know actions speak louder than words, so I'm going to show you. Every day, I'll show you that you're my choice. That you're the one I want—"
Rosalie stopped abruptly outside a classroom door. Through the small window, I could see Evangeline sitting with a group of students, laughing at something someone had said. She looked perfectly composed, perfectly confident, like she hadn't just destroyed someone's relationship and stolen their boyfriend.
Connor finally noticed where we were. "Rosalie, why are we—"
But Rosalie was already opening the door, stepping inside with that same deliberate calm. Connor and I followed, and I watched as every head in the classroom turned toward us.
Evangeline's laughter died. Her amber eyes widened slightly as she took in the scene—Rosalie, Connor with his roses, me standing as silent witness.
"Evangeline," Rosalie said, her voice carrying clearly across the suddenly silent classroom. "Could you come here for a moment? There's something Connor wants to give you."
Evangeline stood slowly, uncertainty flickering across her perfect features. "I don't understand—"
"It's simple," Rosalie said, and now I heard the edge beneath her calm. Not anger, but something harder. Something that had been forged in pain and tempered by betrayal. "Connor has been following me around all week with flowers and apologies, begging for another chance. Talking about how he can fight the Mate Bond, how he chooses me over biology."
She turned to Connor, who had gone pale, finally understanding what was about to happen.
"But here's the thing, Connor," Rosalie continued, her voice steady despite the tears I could see gathering in her eyes. "I don't want to be someone's choice when they have to fight their own nature to make it. I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering when the Bond will finally win, when you'll stop being able to resist her."
She took the roses from his unresisting hands and turned back to Evangeline, who was watching with an expression that mixed triumph with something that might have been guilt.
"So these are for you," Rosalie said, holding out the roses. Her voice didn't shake, didn't waver, even though I could see the effort it took to maintain that control. "Congratulations. You won. The Mate Bond is stronger than promises, stronger than history, stronger than love. You get Connor, and all the complications that come with him."
She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice dropped to something quieter but no less fierce.
"Manage your Mate, Evangeline. Keep him away from me. Because I'm done being the girl who waits around hoping her boyfriend can resist the biological imperative to fuck someone else."