22

POV: Jake

The gibbous moon shone low on the edge of the sky, bathing the garden in its cool white light. The peace was disturbed by the mellow, musical notes of crickets, and the serenity was shattered by the soft sighing of leaves as they danced in the wind. It was tranquility, perhaps even somewhat out of the ordinary, at a time when enough thoughts could fit in my brain—and there I was.

However, at least for this moment, I did not have the weight of it pressing down on me.

Because she was here.

Morticia was opposite me on the stone bench, her eyes gleaming with ironic disapproval, her lips curled just enough to hover on the cusp of a smile. Her blonde hair scattered the moonlight, appearing almost translucent. It is known up there that she walked in the night just like I do.

“You need to get better control of your guards,” she said, pointing an accusing finger at me. “They act like I’m some kind of intruder. I ask you, how many times did I get sent out this morning? Three times, Jake. Three, and all because I was looking for you!”

I scratched along the nape of my neck and did my best to suppress a smile. “They’re just doing their job.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Are they supposed to stop me from being in the house I'm in?“”

“However, in a sense it’s my house,” I replied, leaning against the wall with a grin.

“It’s just semantics,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “This house has longed to be my cage long before you even stepped into this place.”

That wiped the grin off my face.

It wasn't her intention to hurt me, yet her words touched a nerve. I could not forget how she had come to be here—betrothed to Jacob to unite political alliances. I hated it. She had opposed being exploited as a stepping stone for someone else's goals. However, I hated even more that I couldn't stop it.

I leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees, eyes fixed on her. “I’ll talk to them,” I promised. My voice was low but firm. “They won’t bother you again."

It actually looked as if her features relaxed; her arms fell gracefully apart like an exhale from her mouth. “Thank you.”

Silence stretched between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was that type of stillness where the lack of any kind of verbalization wasn’t felt; even the moon filled in for its presence. Its light caught in her gaze and that of a firefly flitting through her yard while I stared into her eyes—she into mine.

“You look tired,” she said suddenly, her voice gentle.

“Rogues don’t wait for me to rest,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “There’s been more activity near the borders lately. I’ve been dealing with it.”

Her stare lasted longer than what I expected to be acceptable for socializing. I knew that look—the way her brows pulled together in quiet concern. It gave me the feeling of being watched in a way I wasn't accustomed to.

“Have you eaten?” she asked.

I blinked at her, caught off guard by the question. “I’m not a child, Morticia.”

“Answer the question, Jake.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “I had something earlier.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “What did you eat?”

“Bread,” I said, running a hand over my face.

Her lips pressed into a tight line. “Bread? That’s it?” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe me. “You’re a dominant Alpha leading a whole pack, battling rogues, and living off crackers?”

“Just don’t start,” I said, but the peace in my chest betrayed me.

She huffed, unimpressed, and sat back on the bench. Her eye contact was fixed on me—intense, accusatory, and revealing—as if I was about to come up with an excuse that would not please her.

“Meals will be delivered to your doorstep every evening,” she stated while heading for the door and going through all the motions as if it were all a walk in the park.

“Is that an order, Lady Morticia?” I teased, moving closer to her and lowering my voice. Her cheeks reddened, but she didn’t back down.

“Yes,” she said defiantly, tilting her chin up. “And if you don’t listen, I’ll have the kitchen tell people you’re anorexic.”

I laughed—a real, full laugh that echoed through the garden and startled a couple of birds from their perches in the trees. This woman, I thought, shaking my head in disbelief. “Fine,” I said, grinning despite myself. “I’ll eat.”

“Good,” she replied with a small, satisfied smile. “Someone has to look after you, apparently.” Next, we readjusted ourselves into a state of silence and gazed upwards at the stars twinkling sequentially one after another. I hadn't given how much I missed it a second thought—not just the lack of noise for its own sake but also the absence of her presence. Morticia had a way of making things seem lighter—like I could breathe a little easier.

But something was off. With her tiptoes resting on her knee and staring still upwards—even though it was right in front of her eye—it wasn’t like her.

“What’s on your mind?” I asked.

Her tapping stopped instantly. She swiveled to face me with lips tight as if deciding whether to utter a word. I didn’t push; she’d tell me if she wanted to.

Eventually, she sighed. “It’s Jacob.”

My eyes flickered, but I kept my face neutral. “What about him?”

She hesitated, picking at the hem of her dress. “He’s dating somebody else,” she spoke softly—her voice barely above a whisper.

I sat up straighter and clenched my hands at my knees from where they rested on the floor but reached out as best as I could to stay still. “Are you sure?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

She nodded slowly. “Her name is Brianna.” She gave a bitter laugh that felt hollow as it escaped her lips. “My sister. Can you believe that?” Then she looked at me; her eyes showed so much pain that it felt like a punch to the abdomen. "I'm his fiancée and he's sneaking away to be with her."

“Morticia…” I reached out for her hand; however, she shook her head.

“I’m not asking you to be sympathetic,” she stated clearly. “I simply mention this as input to inform you what I am working on.” Her jaw tightened. “This marriage? It shouldn’t happen. I'm not after any man who doesn't want me—and neither will I let my sister be a puppet dragged along by it. I’ve been thinking about leaving.”

“Leaving?” My chest tightened at that thought. “And where would you go?” My voice came out sharper than intended.

Her eyes flicked to mine—cool and steady. “Anywhere but here.”

Silence hung heavy between us.

I stared at her; my heart thudded painfully in my chest at the idea that she'd be gone—it sat badly with me and took a leap of faith that felt impossible and unwanted.

‘You can't go,’ I wanted to say—but didn’t have any right to say it; she wasn’t mine.

I coughed slightly to dislodge my constricted throat and spoke continuously: "There's no reason to be anxious about Jacob," I told her as I leaned forward until we were face-to-face again. "I’ll talk to him."

Her eyes searched mine as if she didn’t believe me. "You’ll ‘talk’ to him?” she repeated incredulously with one brow raised.

I nodded firmly. "I’ll make him understand."

Her gaze softened; her shoulders relaxed just a bit as if I'd eased some burden from them. "Yeah," she said softly but skeptically as if wanting reassurance rather than belief itself; leaning back against the bench again while looking up at the sky—letting out a breath like she'd just set down a heavy bag she'd been carrying too long.

We sat there like that for a while—no more talking—just quietness enveloping us both like an old friend returning home after too long away from each other; comforting yet bittersweet all at once; reminding us how much we needed moments like these without realizing until now how desperately we craved them together amidst everything else swirling around us outside our little bubble here tonight under starlight above us both shining brightly overhead…

Stay—at least for now—I wished desperately inside myself—but those words wouldn’t come forth from my tongue no matter how hard they tried fighting their way free through silence surrounding us both instead… While observing each exhale escape from within Morticia's lungs quietly into night air around us both—I cued myself silently urging closure upon those eyelids resting gently shut above those beautiful irises hidden behind them below… She looked peaceful for what felt like forever now since days past…

Leaning back too—eyes fixed upon stars above twinkling brightly against backdrop darkened sky around us both…

Don’t leave…

I wouldn’t let her…

Not like this…

Not without a fight…