Chapter 252

Chapter 252
Isabella

I carefully weighed my words. "Yes, you did betray my trust, and that hurt is real, it still fucking hurts. But it's not irreparable." I watched his expression in the mirror as I spoke. "I've had a lot of time to think about all this. For days, I questioned every interaction between us, not knowing what was real and what wasn't."

Every touch, every kiss, every damn moment we shared—I analyzed it all, trying to figure out if I was just a game to you.

"Those moments were precious to all three of us," Michael said softly, his gaze intensifying in the mirror. "Believe me, every moment was genuine."

I nodded slowly. "After getting through the worst of it, I started to believe you. But then..."

"The stalker," Michael finished for me, his jaw tightening.

"Yes. Suddenly, my reasons for keeping distance had nothing to do with trust and everything to do with keeping you all safe."

Michael moved closer until he was standing right behind me. I could feel the heat radiating from his body. His hands found my hips, then wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him. The embrace wasn't sexual—just comforting, and maybe something else neither of us was ready to examine too closely.

God, his hands were large enough to nearly span my entire waist. Why did that make me feel so damn safe?

I took a deep breath, inhaling his scent—forest and a hint of old books, uniquely Michael. It calmed me in a way nothing else could.

"What are we doing here, Michael?" I asked quietly, still watching him through the mirror. "What exactly is this between us?"

His arms tightened slightly. "You seem worried about our arrangement ending."

"Not arrangement," I corrected. "I'm worried about what happens after all this is over. When the stalker is caught and I'm safe again."

When I'm no longer a problem to solve, will you still want me? When the chase is over and I'm just... me?

"You've misunderstood," Michael's voice suddenly became firm. "We're not worried about losing some arrangement, we're afraid of losing you."

I exhaled, my inner wolf rumbling with satisfaction.

Don't get your hopes up. They might just want to keep fucking you. But damn, the way he's holding me feels like more...

"I was furious at first," I admitted, staring at our reflection. "Hurt, betrayed, angry. I only agreed to see you all because it seemed like the mature thing to do. Julian probably had something to do with it too."

At the mention of my friend, Michael's lips quirked upward slightly.

"Honestly, what I really wanted to do was lie in bed for a week, watch mindless shows, and forget everything." I laughed shakily. "But I couldn't do that, could I? Because there's a fucking stalker leaving gifts and taking pictures of me while I sleep."

Nightmares, fear, constantly looking over my shoulder—like living in a horror movie where I'm the stupid girl who dies first.

Michael held me tighter, his chest pressed firmly against my back.

"Your anger was completely justified," he said. "Still is. Honestly, we should still be facing your wrath right now." He sighed, his warm breath caressing my neck. "If we had been honest from the beginning, none of this would have happened."

What ifs are useless, I remembered Julian teaching me recently. The past can't be changed.

"My mother used to say anger isn't a sustainable state," I said instead. "It's just self-protection. When the anger fades, all that's left is the hurt..."

Michael studied my face in the mirror carefully. "And you?" His voice dropped lower. "Has your hurt healed?"

My hands trembled slightly, uncomfortable with his direct question. I never liked diving deep into my own emotions.

Fuck, I hate this. Why can't we just pretend everything's fine like normal people? Why does he have to dig into the parts that are still raw?

Looking at him through the mirror, I finally answered: "What I'm trying to say is that I was more miserable without you all than I am with you. Does that answer satisfy you?"

"For now, I'll accept that answer, my mate," his voice was thick with emotion.

I fought against my instinct to flee this vulnerable moment. I wanted them to know all of me, to never leave.

Love? Where the fuck did that come from? Calm down, Isabella. You're just traumatized and clinging to safety.

Before I could examine that dangerous thought, Michael's expression shifted, concern replacing the intense emotion.

"You look exhausted," he observed, loosening his embrace slightly. "Did you rest at all while we were packing?"

"I did rest a bit," I admitted, suddenly aware of how heavy my limbs felt.

The truth was, I hadn't slept well for weeks. Between nightmares, fear of what I might find when I woke up, and constant vigilance, I couldn't remember the last time I truly felt rested. I was beginning to wonder if I ever would again.

Every creak, every shadow—they all became monsters in the dark. How can you sleep when you're afraid to close your eyes?

"It's still hours before dinner," Michael said. "Would you like to rest for a while?"

The idea of a nap was ridiculously appealing. "Will you stay with me?" I asked, then quickly added, "Just you?"

I wasn't sure why I asked. Maybe because I felt vulnerable and needed someone to help put me back together. Or maybe because I'd spent too many days alone and didn't want to be lonely anymore.

I sound so fucking needy. But I was too tired to be strong, too tired to be alone. Just this once, I wanted someone else to carry the burden.

Michael's expression softened. "Of course. I'll be here as long as you need me."

What if I need you forever? The thought flashed unbidden through my mind, but I quickly dismissed it. Too much to hope for an Omega from a low-ranking family like mine.

I turned to face him directly, no longer satisfied with interacting through the mirror. I wanted to feel his presence without that reflective barrier. On impulse, I rose to my tiptoes, my hand gently caressing his cheek.

"Sometimes I think I shouldn't forgive you all so easily," I said softly. "But I can't stay angry for long."

Michael's eyes glowed with tenderness and longing, his pupils shifting slightly to gold, as if waiting for some permission.

His fingers gently tilted my chin upward, the movement careful, as if handling something precious and fragile.

"We'll spend a lifetime proving ourselves worthy of your forgiveness," he whispered.

Finally, our lips met.

The kiss started feather-light, tentative and reverent, then deepened as if making up for lost time. A warmth both familiar and new spread through me, and in that moment, all doubts temporarily vanished.

Fuck, I missed this. Missed him. Missed all of them so much it hurt physically.

Michael's arms wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me against him until there was no space between us, our wolves howling excitedly within. I could feel every hard contour of his body against mine, his heat penetrating my clothes.

When we finally broke apart, I felt dizzy, both from lack of oxygen and from the sudden intimacy. I realized how much I had missed this connection, this feeling of belonging, of being cherished.

"I missed this," Michael breathed, his voice husky. "Missed you, more than I can express."

I smiled against his chest, allowing myself to believe, for the moment, that perhaps everything would be alright after all.