Chapter Eighty-four

Chapter Eighty-four
Chapter 84

Edgar’s POV

The door closed behind Lia with a finality that cracked through my chest.

Her footsteps faded down the corridor, but her words lingered like an open wound: Love won’t be enough.

I stood there in the shadows of our chamber, fists clenched, jaw aching from holding back everything I wanted, to say. But how could I? How could I look into her eyes, those eyes that burned with faith and devotion, and tell her the truth that would unravel everything?

If she knew.

No. I couldn’t let her carry that burden. Not when her world was finally starting to settle after everything I had already dragged her through.

I pressed my palms against the table, leaning forward, chest heaving. The bond between us tugged mercilessly, her pain was my pain, her frustration bleeding into me like fire beneath the skin. And yet I kept myself silent.

Because silence was safer.

Or so I kept telling myself.

I stripped down and washed quickly, but my body felt like stone, my thoughts drowning me. Every instinct screamed to follow her, to beg her to come back, to hold her until the trembling stopped. But every rational part of me whispered the same warning: not yet. Not now.

I sat heavily on the edge of the bed. The mattress was still warm where she had lain earlier. My hand hovered over it, trembling, before pulling back.

I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t.

By morning, the fortress was alive with the hum of voices, footsteps, and distant clangs of steel. I threw myself into meetings, patrols, any duty that could keep me from thinking too much about the hollow ache in my chest.

But no matter what I did, my mind wandered back to Lia.

I saw her in the courtyard, speaking with Elena, her brow furrowed with determination. She didn’t look at me once. Not even when I lingered longer than I should have, silently begging for her to just acknowledge me.

I turned away before my wolf howled.

The day stretched endlessly.

Every step I took, every order I gave, felt heavier, slower, like walking with a boulder tied to my back. The elders noticed it too. Their eyes lingered longer than usual, some questioning, some calculating. I hated it. Hated how easily my weakness betrayed me.

When dusk fell, they summoned me.

Not Lia. Only me.

I should have refused, demanded she be included, but I didn’t. Part of me wanted to face them alone, to at least control one corner of this chaos.

The chamber was dim, lit only by torches along the walls. The elders stood in a half-circle, their gazes sharp, voices low as they welcomed me inside.

“Alpha,” one said, bowing slightly. “You look… strained.”

“I carry the weight of this pack,” I answered evenly, though my chest burned. “That is all.”

A lie, but a convincing one.

They spoke of threats beyond the borders, of trade routes that needed guarding, of alliances that required tending. I answered every question with the precision expected of me, even as my hands trembled beneath the table, hidden from their sight.

Then one elder, the oldest among them, leaned forward. His eyes gleamed like coals. “And your mate?”

The question pierced me deeper than any blade.

“She stands with me,” I replied carefully.

But the truth, that she was slipping away, that I was pushing her away, burned inside me like acid.

When I left that chamber, the weight on my shoulders had doubled.

Later that night, I found myself outside the fortress, wandering toward the forest where the moonlight cut silver paths through the trees. I didn’t know how long I walked, only that the silence of the woods was easier to bear than the silence of my mate.

I stopped near the old shrine stone, the one Lia often visited in prayer. The stone was cool beneath my hand, the air sharp in my lungs.

I dropped to my knees.

For the first time in years, I whispered to the goddess.

“Tell me what to do,” I begged. My voice cracked, raw with desperation. “She deserves the truth. She deserves all of me. But if I give it to her, if she sees what I’ve done, what I’ve hidden, will she still stay? Will she still look at me as her mate, or will she see a coward? A liar?”

The woods answered only with silence.

My breath shuddered. My fists clenched against the earth.

And still, I couldn’t tell her.

When I finally returned to our chamber, Lia was there. She sat by the window, moonlight softening the fierce angles of her face. She didn’t look up as I entered.

“Lia,” I began, but my voice was hoarse.

Still, she didn’t move.

I crossed the room, standing a few feet behind her. “I need you to trust me.”

Her head turned slightly, her eyes meeting mine at last. They weren’t angry now. They were tired. So very tired.

“Then give me a reason to,” she whispered.

The bond between us pulsed painfully, demanding, aching. My mouth opened, I wanted to tell her everything. The words swelled, burned, clawed their way up my throat

But a knock at the door shattered it all.

“Alpha,” a guard called from the other side. “Urgent news from the border.”

I closed my eyes. My chance slipped away, stolen again.

When I opened them, Lia was already rising, her face closing off, her walls rebuilding.

“I’m going to sleep,” she said quietly. “Do what you must.”

She disappeared into the bed, her back turned to me.

And I stood there, drowning in the silence I had created.