Chapter 81

***Alpha Ethan***

I storm out of my bedroom because I am unable to be in the same room with her anymore. I need time to think. I need to decide what to do next. 
Yet another argument with Alicent, and now I’m heading to my office, where my parents are already waiting for me—no doubt ready to add to my stress with their nagging.
Fuck. Me.
It’s a Herculean effort to walk away from Little Dove. I don’t have to turn on quickly over my shoulder to confirm the sadness on her face. I feel it. I feel it like my own. She’s heartbroken.
‘Moon Goddess! Why are the humans so dumb?’ Kral growls in my mind, and I ignore him.
As soon as the door clicks shut behind me, Mom says, “Let me guess. You were with that human.” She sighed. Then she looks at my face, frowning. “Did you argue again?”
I growl, and Dad positions himself in front of my mom. “Stop, Ethan!”
Mom doesn’t care about my growl; she simply steps out from behind my dad. “Ethan, look at you. You’re wasting precious time that you should be down in the dungeons interrogating the prisoner to find out where the witch is. Instead, you’re up here playing house with some weak powerless human,” she sneers.
“Let me at least interrogate him for you, son,” Dad offers.
“It won’t work,” I angrily reply, walking towards my chair behind the desk. “He won’t talk. I texted Vi earlier, but she hasn’t answered back yet. I’m getting worried about her. I might have to go to Summerville. She is tracking down one of the prisoner’s partners.”
“I’ll go instead,” Mom says. “We just want to help you, son.”
“You don’t help me by pressuring me like this, Mom. Fuck! You’ve never acted this way, for Goddess’ sake!” I tell them both, leaning my head back against the headrest.
“But you’ve never acted like this with any female before, Ethan.” Mom answers, sitting on the sofa and crossing her legs. My father walks over to her and sits down next to her. She goes on, “The closest you’ve been to anyone in this pack was Kelly, but you never treated that she-wolf the way you treat Alicent. You’re too attached to her. That’s why you aren’t in such a hurry to break this damn curse.”
“Don’t mix things up!” I say, forcing myself to hold back my anger because I don’t want to unleash my fury on my mother. “This has nothing to do with her.”
“Ethan, you can’t deny your lack of commitment—”
My phone vibrates, and I immediately read Vi’s message. “Vi is bringing the other prisoner!” I say, reading her texts. “Fuck! Yeah!”
“Yes! Oh, Goddess Selena, thank you for guiding our daughter!” Mom prays excitedly. 
Dad asks, “When will she get here?” 
“Tonight,” I answer, seeing the message she informs that. “Let’s take the prisoner to another cell. I’ll call Christine to help. Josh isn’t in the pack, and Jordan is so fucking useless that I wouldn’t even consider calling him even if he were here. It’s time to rank Christine up. She’s shown herself to be an excellent warrior. She’s the one who’s been responsible for managing the security of the pack’s border.” 
“This. That’s the focus we want to see, son,” my father says, standing up and extending his hand for my mother to hold. 
“I can’t believe we’re so close to leaving all this nightmare behind!” Mom says, walking to the door. 
“I’ll be there for you when Vi gets here,” Dad says with a short nod before closing the door. 
I let out a long sigh.
I turned down her feelings. I’m losing my chance with Alicent. I’m too fucked-up over the shit this fucking curse has been putting me through to let myself at least pretend that I have her anymore. I almost can’t breathe.
I’m fucked up for wanting someone that isn’t mine to claim. I know I shattered her heart because I couldn’t give her what she so desperately wanted. 
I’d probably feel fucking helpless if my heart got broken, too. 
But what heart? I remind myself. 

🐺 🐺 🐺
***Alicent***

I know I look a mess. I’m not a pretty crier. After returning to my room, I pathetically put on Ethan’s hoodie. The evening is approaching, and a chill is settling in. 
His hoodie feels expensive. I can wrap it around myself twice or more because Ethan is ridiculously tall. And it smells faintly like him, which still weirdly makes me feel safe, even after everything he told me earlier. 
I feel like an idiot. What else did I expect? I pissed him off until he admitted that he would never ever love me. It’s my fault and only. I should have gotten a grip already. Ethan is a good and honest man. He made that clear to me from the first moment we decided to be together. He warned me that he could only protect me from the monsters that were after me and my son. He warned me that I would always be his second choice. I have nothing to complain about. I was aware of everything. I am just an idiot for believing that I could change his mind.
Oh, God. I hope he still wants me. I hope he doesn’t give up on what we have. Even if I can’t name what we have, I still want this. I want to be with him.
My heart hurts. Hearing him say that he can’t love me hurts so much. Much more than catching Logan cheating on me.
I lay down on the bed, tears starting to fall non-stop from my eyes.
I hear the bedroom door open, and when I look up to see who it is, I spot Az entering the room.
“Mom? What’s wrong?” He walks towards me. When he gets to the bed, he quickly climbs in. “Why are you crying?”
I wipe away the tears, sniffing. “It’ll pass, buddy.”
“Mom, what happened?” He sits next to me and holds my hand. 
I look at my little boy, and my heart swells with pride. He’s grown up so much. When we first arrived in Blackmoon, he was just this teeny little kid, but now? He’s nearly a preteen and so big he’s practically towering over me. It feels like just yesterday that he was so fragile. I can still picture those days before we moved in—how he’d always end up with little cuts from kitchen knives or anything sharp, his sensitive skin reacting to everything because of his allergies. But now, as I think about it, I can’t even remember the last time he got hurt, or that I saw him bleeding. There was the last time he had the anaphylactic shock, but even that day, he was so much stronger already then that he didn’t spend several days weak because of it like he used to. The last time my son faced any health problems, he had a kind of support here that he’s never had before—and that makes all the difference. This is really where we should stay. Not only is he more protected here, but he is also healthier.
“Mom? I’m talking to you.” Az frowns. “Are you crying because of Ethan?” 
“What?” My eyes instinctively widen a little, and his frown deepens. “I’ll be fine, buddy. Don’t worry about me.” 
He lies down on the bed silently and then hugs me. “I don’t like seeing you crying, Mom.” 
“It’s okay, I’ll stop now.” I put my hands on my face and cry a little more before wiping my tears, but God, they do insist on falling without my permission. 
It’s getting ridiculous. 
Az runs his hand down my back and then plants a kiss on the top of my head. I may have made a lot of mistakes in this life, I may not have helped my family in the last moments of their lives, but if there’s one thing I’m proud of, it’s who Az is as a person. And then I cry even more just because my little boy is comforting me in such a sweet way. 
He doesn’t say anything, and before I know it, I end up falling asleep.

🐺 🐺 🐺

I slowly wake up with a hollow ache in my chest. My face feels sticky, and my pillow is damp. Good Lord, I must’ve cried myself to sleep. Az still has his arm around me. I leave his embrace without much care because Az sleeps like the dead, no matter how much noise I make. 
The reason I cried myself out still lingers. My throat is dry, raw from all the sobbing, and my head pounds in protest as I drag myself upright.
I may not be who Ethan is meant for, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t something there. God knows I’ve had so little throughout my life after my family died that now I know better than to demand *all* or nothing. I really hope Ethan forgives me.
The room is pitch dark except for a sliver of pale light sneaking through the edge of the curtain. I sit there for a moment, dazed, trying to shake off the residue of the nightmare. It’s always the same. That night that I can avidly remember. I sniff and run a hand through my hair. I feel like I’ve been wrung out and left to dry. I glance at Az. He is sleeping peacefully. I need to be a better mother to him. I can’t let him see me like this ever again.
Stumbling out of bed, I pad barefoot to the bathroom, wincing as the cold tiles shock my skin. I splash water on my face, the icy sting jolting me slightly awake. Gazing into the mirror, I see a reflection of myself with eyes swollen and puffy, cheeks blotchy, and hair sticking out in wild directions. On my way back to bed, something pulls me toward the closed glass window. I don’t even know why. Maybe it’s the quiet pull of curiosity. Maybe I’m just stalling to avoid sleeping and having the same nightmare again. But I walk over anyway, my steps soft on the luxurious rug near the window. Then I pull the curtain aside just a fraction, letting the moonlight spill in.
The sky is strikingly clear tonight, the nearly full moon shining brightly overhead. A grid of parked cars almost fills the spaces in front of the mansion below. 
It’s quiet down there. Empty. I’m about to let the curtain fall back when movement catches my attention. I shuffle closer, tugging the fabric a little bit more aside, just enough to peek through.
There’s a tall man standing near one of the cars. 
He’s not alone. 
A woman steps into the light, her figure briefly illuminated. I squint, trying to make sense of it. My sleep-addled brain struggles to piece it together. 
Are they arguing? No, not quite. The woman is standing stiffly, almost unnaturally still. 
Her face is twisted with pure hatred as she glances downward, and as she does, her shadow disappears, allowing the moonlight to spill across the ground. It’s then that I notice someone kneeling before the tall man, their arms and legs bound in chains. Not just any tall man. Ethan.
And then it happens.
In one swift motion, Ethan leans down and, with both hands, twists the chained man’s neck, killing him instantly.
My breath catches, and for a second, I can’t move. 
I don’t realize I’m gripping the edge of the curtain until I feel the fabric digging into my palm. My heart is hammering against my ribs.
The poor chained man, who was kneeling just now, crumples to the ground. The sound of his fall is muffled through the glass but unmistakable. He’s dead. 
Suddenly, I recall what Ethan’s parents told me about him being after someone he loves. His parents said he’s doing *everything* he can to find her—apparently even *killing*.
Ethan killed that defenseless, chained man. Just like those monsters murdered my parents.