Chapter 78: Shadow Between the Breaths
The darkness stretched endlessly in every direction—thick, suffocating, heavy. It wasn’t the kind of darkness that came with nightfall. No stars. No sky. Just a weight pressing down on Luther’s chest, stealing his breath and numbing his limbs. His lungs felt as though they were filled with smoke, every breath a battle against an invisible fire. His skin prickled with heat, like his blood had turned into molten metal, coursing through him in scorching waves. Muscles twitched in spasms beneath his fevered skin, and every joint throbbed with the familiar ache of decay the disease brought.
He didn’t have to be awake to know what was happening to his body. He had seen the effects of the disease before, running through the bodies of his packmates until it eventually took their lives.
He knew that death was coming for him soon, just like he knew there was nothing that he could do to keep it away. The only thing left for him to do was to live through the pain until it was no more.
But it wasn’t the physical pain that hollowed him out the most—it was the echoing guilt that bounced through the vast void around him.
Charlie.
Her name was a whisper inside his mind, too sacred to be spoken aloud even in death.
He had failed her. He failed her too many times to count, and more times than what was forgivable.
He had failed her as a protector, as an Alpha, and worst of all—as her mate.
The image of her flashed through the darkness like a painful memory—the day she stumbled into their territory as a child, bruised and broken and alone. He had done nothing. Stood idle while she endured punishment, abuse, neglect. Every cruel word she suffered from the pack… every moment she spent starving, sleeping in closets, being treated like a slave—it all played over and over in his mind, each repetition more agonizing than the last.
The constant reminder of just how much he failed his mate, even back then, was like a stab to his erratically beating heart.
His fists clenched in the void, or at least he imagined they did.
He deserved this. The pain. The fire. The slow suffocation of his body giving up with each dying breath that he took.
Maybe this was the Moon Goddess’s punishment—not the disease, but watching her be taken from them and being unable to do anything about it, much like how they didn’t do anything to save her back then.
The Goddess had given them a second chance, and they had squandered it with their fear, their failure to mark her, to bind her fully to them.
Maybe this was the price they had to pay.
His heart clenched—not from the illness this time, but from the pain of regret. So many moments lost. So many words unspoken. So many nights he could have held her and didn’t.
And now it was too late.
She was gone, and he…he was dying.
The Grim Reaper was coming for his soul. He could feel it now, closer than ever, brushing against the edges of his soul like a cold draft. He didn’t see a light. No tunnel. Just more blackness, and the slow unraveling of his mind.
But then…
A whisper in the dark.
Familiar.
A scent so potent it cut through the fire and fog like a blade of moonlight.
Jasmine and honey.
Charlie.
Luther gasped without meaning to, the pain in his lungs flaring sharply at the motion. Was it real? Could his soul summon her even now, in the final moment before death?
Then—contact.
The warm, trembling caress of her fingers brushing against his fevered cheek.
A sound—soft, mournful, filled with longing and heartbreak. Her voice. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to end,” she whispered.
The words pierced the fog. They cleaved straight through his suffering, forcing his consciousness to surface. He dragged open his eyes, though it felt like lifting mountains. Blurred vision gave way to a single image—her face hovering above his, beautiful and fierce even through her tears.
“Charlie…” he rasped, his throat so dry it tore on the word. He could barely move his head, but his soul reached for her with everything he had. “I’m… glad… you’re safe.”
The effort of speaking drained him, but the relief—the overwhelming, body-numbing, heart-splitting relief—eclipsed the pain.
He hadn’t dreamed her. She was real. She was here.
“Missed… you.”
When she echoed the words back to him, cradling him closer like he was precious rather than broken, he allowed his eyes to flutter shut again. If this was his end, at least he would pass with her scent filling his lungs, and her body pressed next to his one last time.
But he wasn’t done.
“Only… regret… not finishing… the bond,” he whispered, wanting her to know how much he knows his failures when it came to her.
He felt her freeze beside him, her breath hitching.
His soul trembled. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Maybe she wasn’t ready. But now… now he needed her like he needed air.
The fever returned in waves, dragging his consciousness back under. Darkness surged again, but before it could claim him entirely, searing pain exploded in his neck. His body tensed instinctively beneath the strong hold that was wrapped around him, before settling back on the bed with a relieved sigh.
The sound of machines beeping in the distance barely registered in his fever fogged brain.
For a terrifying second, he thought the disease had finally broken him, taking away the last little bit of life that he had been clinging to for days.
But then the bond snapped into place.
Like a bolt of lightning ripping through his chest, it hit him—every emotion, every thought, every feeling that made up Charlie. Her strength. Her stubbornness. Her self-doubt. Her love.
His heart thudded hard. Then again.
He wasn’t dying.
He was alive.
His eyes peeled open once more, this time clearer than before. The fire still raged inside him, but the storm had quieted. The air in his lungs wasn’t thick and poisonous anymore—it hurt, but it was air.
And she was still there, bent over him, tears slipping down her cheeks.
“Now… I’m whole,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but sure.
Then, with the bond anchoring him to life, Luther finally let the darkness take him again—not to death this time, but to rest.
Wrapped in the arms of his mate.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, he dreamed not of loss or pain…
But of hope.
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