148
Loco sat alone on the edge of the cliffs, legs dangling over the drop as he tossed pebbles down into the wind. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and fresh earth. It used to be his favorite place to think—now it just echoed.
He didn’t hear footsteps, but he sensed her presence.
“You always pick the dramatic spots,” Selene’s voice drifted over to him, teasingly gentle.
He glanced over his shoulder. She was standing a few paces back, arms folded beneath a lightweight shawl. Her boots were dusty, like she'd been walking for a while.
“Guess I’ve got a flair for tragic scenery,” he muttered.
“Or you’re hiding,” she replied easily, then stepped closer. “Mind if I join you?”
He shrugged, motioning beside him. “Free country.”
Selene lowered herself next to him, her movements graceful and relaxed. They sat in silence for a moment, both gazing out at the endless stretch of forest.
“I used to come here with my mother,” Selene suddenly said, surprising even himself. “She said the wind carried your burdens if you were brave enough to let go.”
Loco turned her head to look at her. “Did it ever work?”
“Not really.” She huffed a laugh. “But I kept coming anyway until I had to leave.”
They sat a while longer. She didn’t ask questions. She didn’t offer empty comfort. She just listened.
“It still hurts?” she asked softly.
Loco nodded. “It’s like… I gave her everything. Every part of me. But in the end, it wasn’t enough.”
Selene tilted her head. “Maybe it wasn’t about you not being enough. Maybe she’s just not ready to receive that kind of love.”
He blinked. The words settled in his chest like warm tea after a cold night.
“What about you?” he asked, his voice low. “What do you come up here for?”
Selene smiled, faint and faraway. “To remember I’m alive.”
She glanced at him, eyes thoughtful. “You’re kind, Loco. And real. That’s rare.”
He looked away quickly, heart thudding. “Don’t say that.”
“Why?”
“Because I might believe it. And then I’ll forget I was supposed to stop falling.”
There was a long silence. The wind swept between them, cool and whispering.
Selene reached out and took his hand. Not romantically—not yet—but with quiet strength.
“Then don’t fall,” she said. “Just rest. Here. With me.”
His fingers curled around hers instinctively. And for the second time in two days, Loco didn’t feel so alone.
Bavanda hadn’t meant to follow him. She told herself she was just going for a walk, to clear her head, to feel the wind on her skin and stop thinking about that night—the ring, the silence, the look in his eyes.
But her steps led her toward the cliffs.
She slowed when she heard voices—low, familiar. One of them was his.
She stayed behind a tree, guilt gnawing at her—but curiosity and pain had already rooted her in place.
Through the branches, she saw them.
Loco and Selene. Sitting close, knees touching. Her hand was in his. He wasn’t pulling away.
Selene leaned into his shoulder, eyes closed like she belonged there. And Loco…
He wasn’t smiling. But his head rested gently against hers. Like it felt right.
Bavanda’s chest tightened. She couldn’t breathe for a moment—like the forest had stolen all the air.
He was healing… and it wasn’t with her.
She took a step back, a twig snapping beneath her boot. She flinched, heart racing, but neither of them noticed. They were lost in their silence.
In each other.
“She’s sweet,” Bavanda whispered to herself, voice cracking. “And whole.”
She turned and walked away, fast, not caring where she went—just needing to be far from what she saw.
From what she lost. From what she pushed away.
And now? Now it might be too late.
She slammed the door behind her, chest heaving like she had just escaped a warzone. Her legs barely carried her to the edge of the bed before they gave out completely.
The silence of the room clawed at her skin, mocking her.
She pressed her palms to her face, trying to hold herself together, but the tears came anyway—quiet and relentless. The kind that burned on the way down, the kind that came from realizing you’d handed away the one thing your soul didn’t know how to live without.
“I did this,” she whispered hoarsely.
The image of Selene’s hand in his. His head resting gently on hers.
It looped in her mind like a cruel lullaby.
“You let him slip away,” her own voice echoed inside her head. “You made him believe he wasn’t enough.”
She gripped the blanket in her fists, grounding herself in the fabric like it could pull her back from unraveling.
“He was always enough,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “I just didn’t believe I was.”
She looked at the window, the moonlight casting soft silver shapes on the wall. The Moon Goddess hadn’t answered her cries that night, but now, staring at the cold glow, something inside her stirred.
She wiped her face, sitting up with trembling hands and eyes still red.
“I need to talk to him,” she said aloud. “I need to tell him everything.”
Not just that she loved him. But why she hadn’t said yes. Why she hesitated. Why she still dreams of him every damn night.
Even if it was too late. Even if he’d already moved on. She couldn’t stay silent anymore.
He at least deserved the truth.
With a shaky breath, she stood and reached for the door. This time, she wouldn't run. She’d walk straight into the pain she caused—and pray it wasn’t already too far gone.
***
Hours later, Bavanda paced behind the barracks, fists clenched at her sides. Her pulse raced. She’d spent all evening rehearsing what she’d say. Every sentence carefully built from all the broken pieces of her heart.
She was ready. Finally.
She walked with purpose through the training field, scanning for him—ignoring the curious stares from other wolves. And there he was.
Loco.
He stood with his back to her, shirt half untucked from sparring, his arm slung casually around—
Selene.
Bavanda froze. Her mouth opened but no sound came.
Loco laughed softly at something Selene whispered. She beamed up at him, her hand brushing some dust off his shoulder like she had every right to touch him.
Then she leaned in and kissed his cheek.
Bavanda blinked. She swore the world tilted.
Loco turned—too late. She’d already stepped back.
His eyes met hers. And for a heartbeat, the air between them charged. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—surprise, conflict, maybe even regret.
But then Selene turned too, cheerful and unaware, her arm still looped through his.
“Hey Bavanda,” she said sweetly, smiling. “We were just heading to the river for a break. Want to join us?”
Silence.
Bavanda shook her head. Just once. “No. I was just passing through.”
She turned and walked away, heart pounding, throat burning.
She didn’t look back.
But Loco did. As he watched her leave, the hand Selene held suddenly felt heavy—like it didn’t belong to him at all.
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