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Chapter 45

Loco didn’t speak a word as he passed the others. He didn’t notice the whispers or the pitied looks. He didn’t even register Baron calling after him. His feet moved like they weren’t his own—like his body had gone hollow, his soul left back under that moonlight.

The door slammed shut behind him with a sharp, final crack.

He stood in the center of the room for a moment, staring blankly. The room was still decorated—faintly—by the dim glow of moonlight spilling through the window, brushing over the carefully folded clothes on the edge of his bed. He’d picked them hours ago, thinking about tonight. Thinking about her.

His hands went to the collar of his shirt. Then froze. And with a sudden snarl of anguish, he ripped it open, buttons flying. The fabric tore, scraping against his skin, but he didn’t stop.

He yanked the ring box from his pocket—the same velvet-wrapped promise he had clutched with shaking hands earlier, heart hammering with hope. Now it felt like poison in his palm.

“Stupid...” he whispered.

He hurled it. The small box flew across the room and slammed into the wall with a dull thud, bouncing to the floor. It popped open from the force. The ring—silver and simple, engraved with tiny symbols only they would understand—rolled out and spun once before falling still.

Loco dropped to his knees, breathing hard. His eyes found the mirror across the room. And he hated it.

The reflection stared back at him—shirtless, bare, vulnerable. A shadow of the confident, mischievous boy he used to be. His eyes were red. His jaw clenched. His chest rose and fell in ragged beats.

“What else do I have to be?” he said aloud, voice cracking.

He dragged himself closer to the mirror until he was face to face with the image, then slammed a fist against the glass. It didn’t shatter, just rattled. A crack split down the center.

“Why wasn’t I enough?” he asked the broken reflection. “Why wasn’t I the home she needed?”

He collapsed onto the floor beside the ring. One hand reached out—hesitating—before pulling it into his palm. He closed his fingers around it like it was the last piece of her he could still hold.

Tears came then. Hot, angry, desperate.

Not loud nor explosive. Just quiet, soul-deep trembling. The kind of tears you only shed when no one’s watching. When there’s nothing left to protect. When all the masks fall.

He pressed the ring to his forehead, body shaking. “I would’ve given you everything...”

The moonlight moved slowly across the floor as time passed in silence. Only his breath. Only the soft creak of his heart splitting wide.

Loco felt small, empty, worthless.

Just a boy in love with a girl who couldn’t love him back the way he needed. And that truth hurt heavier than any wound he'd ever taken.

***

The celebration was still faintly echoing behind her—the music, the laughter, the gasps—but it all faded into static as Bavanda ran.

Branches clawed at her arms. Thorns snagged her dress. She didn’t care.

She ran like something was chasing her.

She didn’t know how long she'd been running until her knees buckled beneath her. Her breath caught in her throat as she fell forward, hitting the forest floor hard, the air knocked from her lungs. For a moment she just lay there, cheek pressed against the cold earth, heart hammering like a drum in her chest.

Then she screamed.

Not a loud, echoing cry—but a raw, aching sound that tore out of her like a secret too long buried.

She clawed at the dirt beneath her fingertips, nails scraping moss and stone. Tears fell freely now, hot and fast, soaking into the ground. Her chest heaved, her throat raw, her body trembling with the weight of everything she couldn’t say in front of him.

“Why couldn’t I do it?” she gasped, voice breaking.
“Why couldn’t I say yes?”
“Why can’t I love him the way he deserves?”

She slammed a fist into the ground, then another, until her knuckles stung and her arms gave out. She curled into herself, pressing her forehead to the dirt like it could swallow her whole.

The memories came then—uninvited and relentless.

The taste of ash in her mouth after the final battle. Loco’s hands shaking as he held her that night she collapsed from the curse. The darkness that had lived inside her far too long. The voice that sometimes whispered that she would only ever bring pain to those she loved.

“You’re broken,” it said. “You’re a storm. And he’s sunshine. What do you think happens when the storm stays too long?”

She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest, body rocking.

The moonlight filtered through the leaves above, silver and soft—but to her it felt like a spotlight, a reminder of everything she’d just shattered.

She looked up, eyes swollen with tears, and whispered shakily. “Please. Moon Goddess... I don’t know what to do.”

Silence.

There was only the wind through the trees, the rustle of night creatures, and the lonely beat of her heart.

She closed her eyes tightly, hoping for a voice, a sign—anything. But the silence stayed.

Bavanda curled tighter into herself, choking on the truth that cut deeper than anything else.

She had just broken the heart of the one person who had always chosen her—without hesitation, without fear.

Would he ever choose her again? Would anyone?

The forest was quiet, touched by the gentle light of early dawn. Mist clung to the earth like a breath held too long, and the trees stood tall in witness to the night’s grief. Somewhere beyond the stillness, birds began to stir, their distant songs too soft to break the silence that hung between the branches.

Avynna walked slowly, her eyes scanning the shadows until she found her.

Bavanda was curled near the base of a thick-rooted tree, her back against the bark, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Her head rested on them, and though her eyes were open, they looked glassy—empty.

Avynna didn’t speak right away. She just sat down beside her daughter, her presence calm and steady like the sunrise itself. She didn’t reach out. She just sat there.

Minutes passed.

Then, without lifting her head, Bavanda whispered, “You saw it, didn’t you?”

Avynna nodded softly. “I did.”

Bavanda’s voice trembled. “I wanted to say yes. I swear I did. I even imagined it—what it would feel like to take his hand, to smile, to say those words. But when the moment came, something in me screamed not to.”

Her lips quivered. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I love him. I do. But I’m scared, Mom. Scared I’ll ruin him. Scared I’ll turn into something he’ll hate... something I can’t stop.”

She finally looked up, eyes red and rimmed with tears. “There’s something broken in me. I feel it. This darkness—this fear—it’s always been there. I try to ignore it, but it grows louder every time I let myself be happy.”

Avynna reached for her hand then, fingers wrapping around hers with quiet strength.

Her voice was soft, but every word struck true.

“You don’t ruin, Bavanda. You protect. You’ve fought harder than anyone your age should’ve had to. You’ve carried this pack, bled for it, stood tall when everyone else would’ve crumbled. But baby... maybe it’s time you let someone carry you too.”

Bavanda's breath hitched.

“I don’t know how,” she admitted. “How do I stop being afraid?”

Avynna smiled gently. “By trusting someone who’s proven again and again that he’d never run from your shadows. You don’t need to be fearless. You just need to be honest.”

Bavanda leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder, tears slipping down her cheeks in silence.

They sat like that as the dawn deepened, the sky warming with gold and pale pink. The forest seemed to exhale.

After a while, Avynna spoke again, her tone lighter. “You know, I was terrified when your father asked me, too.”

Bavanda blinked. “You were?”

Avynna chuckled. “I almost punched him.”

That earned a laugh—wet and broken, but real.

“Come on,” Avynna said, rising and offering her hand. “Let’s go home.”

The walk back was quiet but peaceful. The pack was stirring as they emerged from the woods, whispers already trailing in the air. Faces turned. Eyes followed. Bavanda didn’t look at them. Her pace quickened.

She didn’t stop until she reached the chamber they shared. She held the door knob, heart pounding. Hope rising. She needed to see him, needed to say something—anything. Her mother’s words still echoed in her chest.

She threw open the door to their room, halting as her eyes scanned the room.

It was empty.

The bed was untouched. The clothes from last night were gone. The air felt... vacant.

“Loco?” she called, stepping inside.

Nothing.

Her throat tightened. She turned slowly, eyes scanning for anything—a note, a scent, a trace.

But there was only silence.

Bavanda buried her lips in between the folds of her teeth, as a huge realization dawned on her.

Was he gone?