Chapter 83 Chapter Thirty (Final chapter 1)

Chapter 83 Chapter Thirty (Final chapter 1)
The cemetery was quiet, too quiet, the kind of silence that pressed against your chest and made breathing optional.
I stepped over roots and uneven stone, clutching a single white lily. White. Clean. Pure.

When I saw the headstone, my fingers trembled slightly. Maria Voss. My mother. The woman I’d rewritten in my mind a dozen times, turned into someone cruel just so I could justify the obsession that lived under my skin.

I knelt, brushing away fallen leaves. The stone was cold, solid.

“I should’ve come sooner,” I murmured, placing the flower gently at the base. My voice turned hoarse. Was it from grief? Yes and maybe, no. Guilt? I think so.

“I lied,” I said softly. “About you. About everything. About me.”

A bitter laugh slipped out, a whisper of the girl who had been nine, scared, hidden behind a mother’s skirts, trapped in her obsession with a man who didn’t see her. “I made you into someone I could hate… so I could want him.”

My throat tightened. I pressed my forehead briefly against the cold marble, imagining her eyes — judging, forgiving, maybe both — though I didn’t care. I needed this confession.

“I replaced the real you,” I whispered. “The woman who could’ve been kind, loving, messy, human… with someone evil. Cruel. Hateful. Someone I could blame for every thought I had about him.”

The wind moved through the bare branches above, brushing my hair against my face, a quiet whisper that sounded almost like laughter. Or maybe hate. I didn’t flinch. I took it.

“And now,” I continued, voice steadier, “I’ve done everything I said I would. I’m here. I’m grown. I’m in his house. I’m the one who walks through those halls. I’ve taken it all.”

My fingers traced the letters of her name, lingering on the ‘M’ like it was a memory I could rewrite one last time. “I wanted him, Mom. Not you. Not your approval. Not even your forgiveness. I wanted him.”

I let the words hang in the air, tasting them. Sweet, bitter, dangerous.

I leaned back slightly, brushing dirt from my knees. My eyes wandered across the empty rows of graves. That’s when I noticed him. Not fully, not close enough to see every detail, but enough to sense it. His shadow near the far edge, tall, still, almost a part of the cemetery itself.

Lucian Vale.

I didn’t startle. I didn’t look at him. I did feel the heat coil low in my stomach, a familiar tightness that always followed him like smoke. He was here, but not close. Giving me space. Observing. Waiting. Watching without interfering.

“I should apologize,” I said softly, almost whispering to the wind. “For twisting everything you were… for making you someone you weren’t, for replacing the woman you were in my memories with someone I needed you to be. Someone who justified me wanting him. Someone who… made it easier for me to do what I’ve done.”

The white lily trembled in my grip as I set it perfectly against the stone. Perfect, like I always did.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said again, quieter this time. “Sorry for everything I’ve done. Sorry for making your memory a lie. I hope you'll forgive me.”

I sat quietly at the grave, my voice barely above a whisper.


Far away, Valen watched her, his voice threading through Lucian’s consciousness like smoke.
“I hope she’s not regretting or apologizing for what she did in the past—especially with all that memory distortion,” he murmured, tone laced with amusement and something crueler beneath.

Lucian’s jaw flexed. “Maybe she is. She’s human, Valen. Guilt’s an instinct they can’t shake.”

A dark chuckle rippled through the link. “I hope she isn’t,” Valen said. “Because, honestly, I wouldn’t mind fucking her right here. In this cemetery. At this grave. To remind her who she belongs to. To make her feel it—every reason, every sin that got us here.”

Lucian’s lips curved into a thin, knowing smirk. “Quite the sex addict,” he said under his breath. “This is a public setting. Control yourself.”

Valen’s laughter echoed inside him, rich and dangerous. “That’s the thrill of it, isn’t it? The risk. The surrender. It’s not about where or when, Lucian—it’s about control. About ownership. And she’ll learn that soon enough.”

Lucian’s gaze darkened, fixed on her form near the grave. Beneath his calm veneer, something hot and possessive coiled tight. Valen hummed, pleased. They weren’t opposites; they were two sides of the same sin—reason and ruin, both wanting the same trembling soul caught between them.

Lucian’s eyes lingered on her silhouette by the grave. Beneath his calm façade, a pulse of heat throbbed. He could feel Valen smiling from the inside.

Then, Valen whispered, almost playfully, “Oh… she’s coming.”

The words coiled through Lucian’s skull, electric, hungry.

“How about we make a deal,” Valen continued, voice thick with anticipation. “It’s been weeks since the Bone Orchard. Weeks since I’ve touched anyone, since I’ve had anyone. You’ve kept me caged long enough. Let me take her—just once. No interruptions. No merging. Just me. My control. My rules.”

Lucian’s answer came sharp and immediate. “No.”

Valen’s growl reverberated like thunder under his skin. “Don’t be selfish, Lucian. You’ve had your turns. I can feel your restraint choking us both.”

“She’s not yours to take,” Lucian said, voice low and steady. “Not that way. Not without me.”

Valen’s laugh was dark, unhinged, filled with teeth. “Then we’ll see which of us she begs for first.”

Lucian’s hand flexed at his side, the faintest tremor betraying the storm brewing beneath.
She was walking closer now—unaware of the war behind his eyes, unaware that two monsters waited for her in the same body, one chained by discipline, the other starving for release.

Salem's POV

After a few hours, I returned home and shut the door behind me.

No.
The door shut itself.

Hard.

The lock clicked with a slow, sliding finality that made my breath catch halfway out of my throat.

I turned.

Valen stood there in Lucian’s body—shoulders broader than the doorway behind him, head slightly dipped, eyes glowing faintly like embers seeing their first oxygen in weeks. His expression wasn’t stillness. It was hunger stretched across bone.

And the smile…

God.

That was Valen.

He moved without a sound, a slow prowl, each step pulling the air tighter around us until breathing felt optional again—like the cemetery, but darker. Wetter. Charged.

“Home,” he murmured, voice lower than Lucian’s, a rumble felt more than heard. “And finally… alone.”

My heartbeat stuttered.

“Valen,” I whispered, though it sounded more like admission than a greeting.

He tilted his head, eyes dragging over me like hands—slow, decadent, proprietary.

Valen watched like a man starved.

“Why?” My voice shook, traitorous. I knew it wasn't the right word to say, especially in this situation. I also knew this was the worst possible time to feel it, but my body betrayed me anyway—throbbing, tightening, slicking with heat I should've been ashamed of. Should've. Wasnt.

He stepped closer.
Then closer again.
My back hit the wall before I realized I was retreating.

Valen braced one hand beside my head, leaning in until his breath hit my cheek—hot, wicked, smelling faintly like smoke and sin.

“Because you were sad,” he whispered, lips near my ear, “and I hate it when you’re sad. How about we do something that will undoubtedly lift your mood?”

His fingers brushed a piece of hair behind my ear—gentle, almost tender—then his touch shifted, sliding down my neck, slow enough to make my knees weaken.

“And because every time you cry…”
He inhaled me, long and shuddering.
“…you smell like you want to be ruined. You should've wiped your tears back there, sweet one. I only want you crying and screaming with my cock buried balls deep in.”

The heat hit so fast I almost gasped.

He chuckled softly, pleased.

“You don’t have to pretend with me. I heard your heartbeat the entire walk home. You knew I was waiting.” His thumb brushed my lower lip, pressing lightly, testing how soft I’d go. “And you still came inside.”

“Valen—”

He cut off the name with a quiet, dangerous hum that vibrated against my ribs.

“I asked him,” Valen murmured, tracing the shape of my mouth. “I asked Lucian to let me have you. Just once. Alone”

My throat tightened.

“And he refused me.”

He leaned his forehead against mine, his voice dropping to a sinful, intimate growl.

“So now we’re going to find out,” he whispered, “who you want more.”

The lights flickered once—just once—and the temperature in the room jumped, the air thickening to steam, electricity humming along my skin like fingertips.

Valen’s lips brushed my jaw.

Not a kiss—

A promise.

A warning.

A claim held on a leash that was fraying fast.

“Tell me to stop,” he said softly. “Go on. Try.”

I didn’t.
I couldn’t.

My breath hitched, my body arching just the slightest bit toward him.

Valen’s smile sharpened.

“That’s what I thought.”

His other hand slid slowly down my side, deliberate, unhurried, like he had all night to unwrap me.

“Now,” he whispered, voice a velvet blade against my throat, “I’m going to show you exactly what weeks of restraint feel like.”