Chapter 134

Lila

The sun hadn’t risen fully yet, but I was already dressed. Wrapped in a soft shawl, standing at the edge of the window, I watched the world blur into golden light.

I could see the garden path from here—the one where Damon first asked me to trust him. It felt like a lifetime ago.

My fingers tightened around the sill. I didn’t want to leave. Not really. But staying here, pretending nothing was broken, pretending I wasn’t unraveling—was worse.

The door creaked open behind me.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Damon said, voice low, hesitant.

I turned, slowly. “I need to go.”

He stilled. “Go where?”

“Just… out. Away from all of this. Just for a day.” I met his eyes. “Please.”

He frowned, and I could see the resistance building behind his expression. His body was tense, jaw locked like he was biting back words. “Lila—”

“I’m not running,” I said, stepping forward. “But I’m not okay. And I can’t keep pretending I am just to make everyone else more comfortable.”

His mouth opened, closed again. That muscle in his jaw ticked once. “You think I don’t see it?”

“You see parts,” I said. “But I feel… caged, Damon. I need a breather.”

The silence between us pulsed like a second heartbeat—mine ragged and unsure, his unpredictable.

We stood less than a foot apart, and yet the space between us was miles of miscommunication.

He closed the space between us, cupping my face gently, his thumb brushing the curve of my cheek. “You don’t have to pretend for me.”

“That’s not true.” My voice cracked. “You don’t see how much I’m still holding in. Every time I walk through those halls, I feel like I’m being dissected. Judged. Rewritten.”

He swallowed hard. “You want space.”

“I need it.”

His other hand hovered near my waist like he wanted to pull me closer, like he wanted to hold me until the ache inside me quieted. But he didn’t. He didn’t move at all.

His hands dropped from my face. “Ronan goes with you.”

I nodded. “That’s fair.”

His gaze searched mine. “Just one day?”

“Just one.”

He exhaled through his nose, the sound clipped. “You’ll let him report back to me.”

I hesitated. “If I collapse in a field, I give you full permission to come running.”

That earned the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile. But it was something.

The hesitation lingered in his eyes, but he stepped back. “Tell him where you’re going. Take someone who can track you.”

I managed a faint smile. “Always the Alpha.”

He didn’t smile back. Just looked at me like he was trying to memorize everything—my voice, my posture, the tired look in my eyes. Like he wasn’t sure I’d come back.

Something heavy passed between us, something unspoken and raw. Not goodbye, not quite.

I crossed the room, brushing his arm lightly as I passed. “I’ll come back.”

He caught my wrist. “Don’t push yourself.”

I hesitated, then stretch up on my toes and placed a soft kiss to his lips before pulling free. “I’ll try.”

As I left the room, I could feel his stare like heat against my spine. Still worried.

But he let me go. And that was the hardest part. He let me go.

The morning air was cool and sweet, threaded with the scent of damp earth and distant pine. I walked slower than I used to—each step deliberate, every breath testing the limits of my recovery.

Ronan trailed a few paces behind me, arms crossed, expression unreadable beneath the gentle rise of sunlight on his face.

“I’m not going to disappear,” I called over my shoulder.

“I know,” he said, without missing a beat. “Still keeping count of how many times you’ve almost died these months, though.”

I huffed a breath that was almost a laugh. “I’m not planning to add another.”

The trail curved along the edge of the estate, away from the palace, and the path opened into a wild thicket of ivy.

It wasn’t far, but it felt like another world—a place untouched by gossip or judgment. My hands brushed over the tall grass. Dew clung to my fingertips like cool silver.

“I used to run through woods like this,” I murmured. “Before everything. When my wolf was stronger.”

Ronan didn’t answer, but I heard him pause, giving me space without leaving me alone.

I kept walking.

My lungs started to protest first—just a shallow ache in my chest, the kind that used to fade if I pushed through. But now, it clawed deeper. My legs began to tremble, subtle at first. Then more pronounced. I ignored it.

I needed this. Just a little more air. A little more quiet.

A few steps later, the world tilted.

It wasn’t dramatic. No sudden scream, no crashing fall. Just a slow dimming around the edges of my vision, a staggered breath that never made it to my lungs.

I reached for the nearest tree, missed, and the ground rushed up to meet me like it had been waiting.

Ronan was at my side instantly.

“Lila!” His voice sliced through the haze, sharp and low.

I blinked up at him, my body shivering despite the warmth of the sun. “Sorry,” I whispered. “I just needed—”

“You don’t have to explain.” His arms slid beneath me, lifting me as easily as if I weighed nothing. His chest was solid and steady, but I could feel the tension in it—muscles coiled too tight.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” I murmured, my head falling against his shoulder.

“You didn’t,” he lied, breath tight. “But I’m still carrying you back.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t have the strength. My body felt wrung out, hollowed from the inside.

The walk back was a blur of motion and hard, warm muscle. I must have drifted because the next thing I remembered was the cool touch of silk sheets and the muffled sound of someone shouting.

I opened my eyes to candlelight and Damon was kneeling beside me.

He didn’t speak at first. Just crouched at the edge of the bed, one hand on the blanket near mine, not quite touching. His eyes flicked to my face, searching, checking.

“I’m okay,” I rasped, though my voice made it sound like a lie.

His jaw was tight. “You scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” He exhaled, and his hand finally closed over mine, warm and firm.

“I just needed space.”

“You needed rest,” he corrected gently. “You’re still recovering.”

I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t. Even through the guilt and weariness, his touch anchored me.

“I’ll make it official,” he said after a moment, voice quiet. “The Luna ceremony. When you’re ready.”

I blinked, unsure I’d heard him correctly.

“You don’t have to prove anything else to them,” he continued. “To anyone. Let them see what I already know.”

My heart stuttered.

He leaned forward and kissed my knuckles, not with passion, but with reverence. “We’ll do it on your terms.”

The words didn’t fix everything. But they felt like a promise I could hold onto. A reason to stay. To fight. To try again.

I just didn’t know if I was ready, or ever would be.