Parting words

Parting words
 The Lycan King’s parting words echo in your mind as you stride toward Davide. The pull toward him is magnetic, a force you can no longer resist. Whatever doubts linger are silenced by the undeniable connection you feel—a bond that has been simmering beneath the surface, waiting for this moment to ignite.

You stop in front of him, your heart pounding in your chest. His piercing gaze meets yours, and for a fleeting second, you think you see hesitation in his eyes. But you can’t stop now. With quiet resolve, you reach for him, leaning in to press your lips to his.

The moment your skin touches his, a surge of heat and energy courses through you, raw and primal. Something deep within you clicks into place, a bond snapping tight, sealing your fate. For a brief, infinite moment, the world fades away. There is only him.

But the moment is shattered.

The door bursts open, slamming against the wall with enough force to make you flinch. A figure steps into the room, his presence like a thunderstorm, commanding and overwhelming. His sharp features are cast in shadow, but his crimson eyes burn with an intensity that roots you to the spot. Something about him feels familiar—achingly so. A fragment of a memory, a name lingering just out of reach.

The room stills as his gaze sweeps across it, landing on you and Davide. His expression twists, his lips pulling back in a snarl that radiates pain and fury.

"Claiming him," the man growls, his voice low and venomous. "Of course, you’d choose him."

His words hit you like a blow, but it’s his eyes that unnerve you the most. They are filled with something you can’t place—a mix of betrayal, grief, and anger. You feel the weight of it, though you don’t understand why.

"Do I know you?" you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them. The moment you speak, his expression falters, his fury giving way to something raw and wounded.

Davide steps forward, his body shifting protectively in front of you. "Back off," he says, his voice cold and steady. "Whatever you think this is, it’s not your concern anymore."

Michael—the name comes to you unbidden, a whisper in the back of your mind—laughs, the sound brittle and sharp. "Not my concern?" His gaze snaps to you, his eyes boring into yours. "You really don’t remember me, do you?"

You hesitate, confusion swirling in your mind. His presence feels like a shadow of something important, something you’ve lost. But try as you might, the memories remain locked away, out of reach.

"I don’t know you," you admit, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.
Michael’s jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "You don’t know me," he echoes, his voice trembling with barely restrained emotion. "Two decades of loving you, and it’s gone in an instant because of him." His gaze flicks to Davide, full of venom. "You’ve claimed her, but you don’t understand what you’ve taken."

"She chose," Davide says evenly, his tone a challenge. "Get over it."

Michael moves so quickly it’s almost imperceptible, standing mere inches from Davide in the blink of an eye. The tension between them is suffocating, their fury vibrating in the air like a taut wire.

"Stop," you say, your voice rising to cut through the chaos. "Whatever this is, it’s over. I made my choice."

Michael’s gaze snaps to you, and for a moment, his mask of anger slips, revealing the depth of his hurt. "You don’t even know what you’ve done," he says softly, his voice breaking. Then, without another word, he turns and vanishes into the shadows, leaving behind a silence that feels deafening.

You exhale shakily, your hands trembling at your sides. Davide places a hand on your shoulder, grounding you, but the hollow ache in your chest refuses to fade. You don’t know why the man’s pain feels like a weight pressing down on your heart, but you push the thought aside. There’s no going back now.

The silence following Michael’s departure is short-lived. The Lycan King steps forward, his towering frame commanding the room’s attention. His gaze settles on Michael, sharp and unyielding.

"Stand down," the King growls, his voice low but laced with authority. "If you value her at all, you’ll leave this be."

Michael turns slowly, his crimson eyes narrowing at the King. The air between them crackles with tension, but Michael’s anger doesn’t fully mask the pain etched across his face. He opens his mouth, no doubt to argue, but the sound of soft, deliberate footsteps interrupts him.

Wynn enters the room, his presence a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere. There is no grand display of dominance, no raised voice or pointed glare—only a calm, measured stillness that shifts the energy entirely.

"Michael," Wynn says in a low, steady tone, his voice carrying an undeniable weight. "Come with me."

Michael freezes, his head snapping toward Wynn. His lips part as though to protest, but no words come. The tension in his shoulders doesn’t relax, but his movements are no longer his own as he takes an involuntary step back.

"Did you—" Michael’s voice is tight, his fists clenching at his sides. "What did you do to me?"
Wynn tilts his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "I’m guiding you," he replies simply, his tone giving nothing away.

Michael’s jaw tightens, his crimson eyes flickering with defiance. "An obedience spell? Is that how you’re controlling me?" His voice is filled with fury, though a hint of uncertainty seeps through.

Wynn’s gaze sharpens, the faintest smile playing at the corners of his lips. "If that’s what you choose to believe," he says softly, his words carrying a gravity that seems to weigh on the entire room.
Michael’s eyes dart to you briefly, and something in them twists—a mix of anger, regret, and something deeper that you can’t quite place. But before he can act on it, Wynn steps closer, his mere presence enough to guide Michael toward the door.

"You’ll want to leave now," Wynn murmurs, his voice so quiet it’s almost lost in the room. "This isn’t your fight anymore."