Chapter 31 Chapter 31

Chapter 31 Chapter 31
"Not well, at first," she admitted. "I tried to be perfect. To never give anyone a reason to criticise me. It was exhausting."

"And now?" I asked, genuinely curious despite myself.

"Now I remember that what others think of me is their business, not mine." Her eyes held mine steadily. "The people who matter know the truth."

I picked at a loose thread on the bedspread. "The difference is, your mate actually wanted you. He chose you."

"And you think my stepsons don't want you?" Elise raised an eyebrow. "Imogen, those boys have been in agony for years."

I scoffed. "Right. That's why they made my life hell."

"I'm not excusing what they did," she said firmly. "But I've watched them grow up hating themselves for hurting you, even before they understood why it bothered them so much."

The bond pulsed between us, carrying echoes of the Williams brothers' emotions, guilt, remorse, and longing so intense it made my chest ache. I pushed it away, unwilling to let it influence me.

"It doesn't change anything," I said, more to convince myself than her.

"Maybe not." Elise stood gracefully. "But perhaps it's worth considering that none of us are the same people we were six years ago."

I wanted to believe her. God, how desperately I wanted to believe that people could change, that the Williams brothers could somehow become worthy of the bond that tied us together. But six years of pain and humiliation weren't easily erased by pretty words and newfound attention.

"I should let you rest," Elise said, moving toward the door. "But Imogen? Whatever you decide about the boys, whatever you decide about your place in this pack...remember that you have power now. Real power. Don't let anyone, including yourself, convince you that you don't deserve to use it."

After she left, I stared at the closed door for a long time. Power. The word felt foreign on my tongue, like speaking a language I'd never learned. For six years, I'd been powerless, at the mercy of pack politics, cruel gossip, and the Williams brothers' whims. Now, apparently, I was the Goddess's chosen one, wielding magic that could break ancient blood contracts and make Alpha heirs tremble.

My stomach growled, reminding me that I'd barely touched the soup earlier. I picked at the food Elise had brought: sandwiches, fruit, and what looked like homemade cookies. Everything tasted like cardboard, but I forced myself to eat anyway. Whatever was coming next, I'd need my strength.

The sun was setting outside my window when another knock interrupted my brooding. This time, I recognised the emotional signature through our bond before the person even spoke.

"Imogen?" Kyle's voice was hesitant, uncertain in a way I'd never heard from him before. "Can I come in?"

Every instinct I had screamed at me to say no, to maintain the distance I'd fought so hard to create. But the bond between us pulled insistently, and beneath my anger and hurt, I was curious about what he wanted to say.

"Fine," I called, not bothering to move from where I sat curled up in the window seat.

He entered slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal that might bolt at any sudden movement. His amber eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, and I realised he probably hadn't slept since I'd collapsed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, remaining near the door.

"Like I've been hit by a supernatural freight train," I said honestly. "But I'll live."

He winced at my tone but didn't back down. "I wanted to apologise. For example, when you woke up. I should have realised you'd need space, need time to process everything that's happened."

I studied his face, looking for signs of deception or manipulation. All I found was genuine remorse and something that looked suspiciously like fear, not of me, but for me.

"You're apologising for caring?" I asked, confused despite myself.

"I'm apologising for assuming I knew what you needed without asking you first." He took a tentative step closer. "I'm apologising for six years of making terrible choices. For putting you in a position where you felt like you had to defend yourself to the entire pack."

His words hit me unexpectedly hard, and I had to look away before he could see the tears threatening to spill over. An apology. A real one, without excuses or justifications. It was more than I'd ever expected to receive from any of them.

"It doesn't fix anything," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I know." He moved closer, stopping just outside arm's reach. "But I needed you to know that I see it now. How badly we hurt you. How alone we made you feel." His voice cracked slightly. "How we took someone who was already grieving and made it so much worse."

I pressed my forehead against the cool window glass, watching the last rays of sunlight filter through the trees. "Why now, Kyle? Why do you suddenly care now?"

"Because I've always cared," he said simply. "I was just too much of a coward to admit it, even to myself. Too scared of what it meant, what people would think, what it would change."

I laughed bitterly. "So instead you decided to make me the villain in your story. The girl who was supposedly chasing after someone who could never want her back."

"God, Imogen." His voice was thick with self-loathing. "When I think about how that must have felt for you... A letter to your parents, and we turned it into..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

"Entertainment," I finished for him. "You turned my grief into entertainment for the whole pack."

The silence stretched between us, heavy with years of unspoken pain. Through our bond, I could feel his anguish, his desperate wish to somehow undo what had been done. But some wounds ran too deep for wishes.