Chapter 112

Ava

I awoke the next morning to the sound of rain and the bustling city below. Rolling over in my large hotel bed, I saw the long streaks of fat raindrops running down the window panes in a silent race.

Normally, I loved when it rained—especially in Moonstone, where the air smelled like fresh earth and the rain brought a cool breeze along with it. But today, the sight of the gray sky and the thick clouds just made me groan and hide my face beneath my pillow.

My eyes still burned from crying all night, my cheeks sore from sobbing into my blanket. I had hardly slept, and I was downright exhausted.

For a moment, I wished that I would see Chris laying beside me when I rolled over. Truly, I did. I allowed myself to shut my tired eyes and picture him there, imagining the sensation of his warm arms snaking around me.

But when I reached out, my fingers splayed across nothing but cool sheets.

What I had done last night felt like it had created a physical, gaping hole in my chest where my heart belonged. Not even divorcing Ethan had felt like this. I hadn’t felt so much pain since my father had passed away.

A part of me kept repeating the same words: it was necessary. Necessary, necessary, necessary. Personal pain and heartbreak for the good of the pack.

That was all that mattered, right? The good of the pack?

Technically, I hadn’t said the words to Chris that I should have—that I was officially ending things. Technically, I had just told him to consider it, and goodnight.

But that was just wishful thinking, and I knew that. It was over now. Truly over. And perhaps it was for the best.

By the time I emerged from my hotel room with my bag in hand after taking a hot shower and getting dressed, Chris had already left his own room. I checked my phone to see a single text from him: “Lobby.”

Sighing, I headed downstairs and there he was: standing by the front doors, his bag sitting on the floor by his feet. He glanced up as I approached, and for a moment, his face softened before quickly hardening again.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. I’m starving, though.”

“We’ll grab something on the way to the ferry. Let’s go.”

Without another word, we headed out. We silently stopped at a nearby cafe and picked up some coffee and breakfast before making our way to the ferry, where we ate in even more silence while we waited for the boat to leave the port.

The whole time, Chris didn’t meet my eyes again; almost as though he knew that if he did, he would soften once more. And we couldn’t have that, now, could we?

But watching the outline of his clenched jaw made my heart twist in my chest. I hated this—I hated everything about it. The distance between us was unbearable, and the ferry ride felt longer than it had been even when I had returned to Moonstone after finding Ethan in bed with Olivia.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the ferry began to dock.

And finally, I couldn’t bear it anymore. I couldn’t stand the idea of stepping off the boat to Moonstone and returning to our normal lives like two strangers who hated each other.

As the ferry slowly docked, I suddenly turned to Chris and gripped his arm. “Chris. Look at me.”

He paused for a moment, clearly weighing how important it would be if he ignored me, before he seemed to decide against it. Finally, he turned to face me, although his eyes seemed to look right through me rather than at me.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Please don’t be angry with me,” I said softly. “Please. Let’s just talk about this.”

“Are you saying you take back everything you said last night, then?” he asked.

I furrowed my brow and recoiled a bit. “No, but—”

“Then there’s nothing to talk about,” he said. “It’s over between us.”

“Yes, but…” I frowned, still gripping his arm. I stared down at where my fingers connected with the sleeve of his jacket and tried not to think about how warm he felt even through the fabric. “We don’t need to hate each other,” I finally said. “We can still be friends.”

Chris let out the tiniest of scoffs. “I never said I hated you.”

“Yes, well, I don’t hate you either,” I assured him. “So let’s not act like it.”

He opened his mouth, likely to bite out a retort, but then shut it again. I thought I felt his muscles relax ever so slightly beneath my touch, but I couldn’t quite tell if it was simply wishful thinking on my part or not.

Finally, I continued as the boat docked and the crowd of passengers began to mill around. Chris and I remained seated, at least for the time being.

“Look,” I said softly. “All I meant last night was that we need to be wise about our decisions—for the good of the—”

“I know. For the good of the pack,” he said simply, finally snapping his gaze onto mine. “You kept saying that last night. I don’t see how this is wise, though.”

I sighed. “Can we at least talk later?” I whispered.

Chris paused for a moment, and I felt my heart tighten in my chest as I wondered what he might say. But rather than responding, he simply reached over with his free hand and pulled my fingers away from his arm—gently, but still with the firmness of someone who was hurt and angry. And I couldn’t blame him, not really.

Still without answering my question, he stood and picked up both of our bags, ignoring me as I tried to take mine from him. “Let’s go. We’ve got to meet with the Elders soon.”

I felt my shoulders slump as I watched him go, but I supposed that there was no use arguing about it now. So, with a huff, I stood and gathered my purse before following him.

As we stepped off of the ferry and I showed my tattoo to the attendant, that familiar scent of fresh earth and cool air met my nostrils, instantly helping me to relax. It seemed it had rained here, too, although it had stopped by now. And it was a relief to see that Moonstone was still in one piece—the blight hadn’t destroyed our land just yet. That was one good thing, right?

However, as Chris and I began crossing the square toward the Packhouse, I couldn’t help but notice quite a few sets of eyes on us. Gaggles of teenagers whispered amongst themselves, women outside the cafe lifted their heads as we approached, elderly couples stared at us with pursed lips and folded arms.

“What are they staring at?” I murmured to Chris, nudging him with my elbow. “It seems like…”

My voice trailed off, then, as I saw a familiar tall form striding toward us. Up ahead was Leonard, walking toward us with purpose, his salt-and-pepper hair a bit disheveled and his eyes wide. It caused both Chris and me to stop in surprise.

“Leonard,” Chris said. “Is everything alright? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

The frazzled older Beta stopped a few paces away, his eyes flickering back and forth between us for a few moments. Then, without a word, he was tapping on his phone screen and thrusting it toward us.

“Look,” he breathed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

Chris and I leaned forward in unison, and there it was: the picture of us from yesterday.

The one of us kissing outside the hotel.