68

Selene stood at the edge of the training grounds, gripping the worn leather handle of her sword. The weight of the steel was familiar in her hand, grounding her as she forced her breath to steady. She needed to focus. She needed to push everything else out of her mind—the whispers in the halls, the tension in Lucian’s gaze, and most of all, the echo of Kieran’s voice that refused to fade.

But no matter how many times she swung her blade, no matter how hard she forced her muscles to burn, she couldn’t escape herself.

A sharp voice yanked her from her thoughts.

“Your stance is off.”

Selene turned, scowling as Elias strode toward her, arms crossed. His sharp silver eyes missed nothing.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, adjusting her grip.

Elias scoffed. “No, you’re distracted. And when you’re distracted, you’re sloppy.”

Selene clenched her jaw. She knew he was right, but she wasn’t in the mood to admit it.

Elias sighed, stepping closer. “Is this about Kieran?”

Her entire body stiffened.

Elias studied her reaction and sighed. “Right. Of course, it is.”

Selene exhaled through her nose. “It doesn’t matter.”

Elias gave her a pointed look. “If it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t be out here beating the hell out of a training dummy like it owes you something.”

Selene turned away. “Drop it, Elias.”

But he didn’t. Because of course, he didn’t.

“You need to figure out where you stand, Selene,” he said, softer this time. “Lucian’s patience isn’t endless. And neither is Kieran’s.”

Selene’s grip tightened on the hilt of her sword.

She knew that.

She knew that far too well.

Later that evening, she found herself pacing in her room, fingers digging into her arms.

She was unraveling.

She hated it.

A knock at her door made her pause.

She turned, expecting Elias or maybe Lucian. But when she opened it—

Her breath caught.

Kieran.

He stood in the dim candlelight, broad shoulders tense, his blue eyes searching hers.

Selene swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he just looked at her, his gaze heavier than she could bear.

Then, finally—“We need to talk.”

Selene exhaled sharply. “There’s nothing left to say.”

Kieran’s jaw tightened. “That’s a lie, and you know it.”

Selene clenched her fists. “Go back to Bloodmoon, Kieran.”

A bitter laugh left his lips. “You think I care about Bloodmoon right now?”

Selene’s heart pounded. “You should.”

Kieran took a slow, deliberate step forward. “And what about you, Selene? What do you care about?”

Selene’s breath hitched.

She hated him for asking.

Hated him for making her feel.

Kieran exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” His voice was hoarse, almost raw. “No matter how much I try.”

Selene’s throat tightened.

She couldn’t hear this.

She couldn’t.

“You don’t get to say that to me.”

Kieran stepped even closer, his presence overwhelming. “And why not?”

Selene lifted her chin. “Because it’s too damn late.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Then, Kieran whispered, “Is it?”

Selene’s entire body ached with the weight of everything unsaid.

For a moment, just a moment, she let herself imagine a different ending.

One where things hadn’t fallen apart.

One where he hadn’t let her go.

But reality was cruel.

So she forced herself to meet his gaze and said the only thing that could keep her standing.

“Yes.”

Kieran’s expression flickered, something breaking behind his eyes.

But then, just as quickly, his jaw hardened.

“Fine,” he murmured.

And without another word, he turned and walked away.

Selene stood there, frozen, as the door clicked shut behind him.

And when she finally collapsed onto the bed, her hands trembled.

Because she had just told the biggest lie of her life.