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Fresh tears pool at the corners of my eyes, their presence betrayed by the tremor in my voice as I reach out to hold her hand that isn’t mangled. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I am the one who needs to apologize. I was meant to protect you, and instead, I failed you.” Regret fills the air, mingling with the scent of despair and the impending shadow of death. “I should have realized that you were too good for me. I am a monster, leaving nothing but destruction in my wake.”
“No, Xavier. I chose this road willingly because I love you. Don’t you see? You are everything to me, and I would make the same choice again and again.”
“Lyra, I... I can’t bear to lose you,” I reply, my voice cracking with the weight of my emotions. “I’ve loved and lost so much in my life, but you... you are the light that has finally illuminated my existence. I can’t imagine life without you. My heart, once vibrant and pulsing, now lies as a lifeless organ, a blackened void of empty chambers and decayed veins, but you, little wolf, have replaced it, breathing life into the desolate wasteland within. You can’t leave because I would drive a stake through my own chest before I walked this earth without you.” I hold her gaze desperately, trying to convey the depth of my emotions as I whisper, “I can’t imagine life without you. Please, don’t make me watch you draw your last breath.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” she coughs, her fragile frame wracked with agony and gasping for each precious breath. “But it’s... it’s out of my hands. You... you can still find happiness.”
“No,” I cry, tears mixing with the crimson stains on our joined hands. “There is nothing, nothing at all, for me in this world if you aren’t in it. Happiness is an empty concept without you by my side. I love you, only you. I would give up everything, simply to prolong this moment.”
A faint smile graces her lips, a poignant mixture of love and acceptance. “It would have been one hell of a ride, wouldn’t it?” She trembles, but her eyes shine with a newfound resolve. She has come to terms with her fate; in her face, I see her love for me burning brighter.
My fingers tighten on her hand, cherishing the warmth that is slipping away. “Yes, it would have been the most extraordinary journey, filled with love, passion, and untold adventures.”
“Remember us, Xavier,” she whispers, her voice growing faint. “Carry us with you... and I will wait for you.”
With those final words, her eyes close with exhaustion and pain, pulling her towards the embrace of unconsciousness, her breaths growing shallow, her presence diminishing like a distant star.
“Little wolf,” I plead. “Stay with me. Please don’t close your eyes.”
My world crumbles around me, shattered by the cruel hands of fate as anguish intertwines with burning rage, fueling a desire for vengeance upon those who inflicted such cruelty upon her.
Pressing a tender kiss upon her fevered brow, I gather strength within, steeling my resolve as I stride towards the bathroom, the echoes of purpose resonating with each determined step. I clean myself up and change my clothes.
Before this day comes to an end, before Lyra slips into the ethereal unknown, I will kill every fucking werewolf on this earth, starting with Lucian. And when the last beast falls, I will end my own miserable existence and join Lyra in the afterlife.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Xavier
“Hasthemomentarisen?”Marcus asks.
He is sitting in the armchair that he tends to favor when visiting, while Alexander, dressed in travel-worn clothes, stands up from the velvet sofa upon noticing my approach.
“Not yet; she is resting,” I reply morbidly, as the thought of bidding farewell looms over me. My gaze briefly connects with Alexander’s. “You’ve returned, Alex.”
Alexander nods, his ever-present smile absent. “Marcus called and told me about what happened. I came here as soon as I could.”
I acknowledge their support. Marcus and Alexander have consistently been my loyal and trusted friends. However, gratitude is no longer within my reach.
Rage erupts within me, it coils around me, devouring me. The room trembles with the force of my unleashed emotions. The sound of shattering glass and splintering wood drowns out all other sounds. As my fists crash into the delicate furniture, the vibrations send ripples through my fingertips, a tactile reminder of the destruction I am wreaking. The velvet fabric of the sofa, once plush and inviting, tears beneath my furious assault. Its fibers cling to my hands like desperate pleas for mercy. The chandelier sways ominously, casting a shimmering dance of fractured light across the room before succumbing to gravity’s unyielding pull.
The room transforms into a battlefield of glass shards and splintered wood. Paintings, once carefully arranged, now lie discarded and askew, their vibrant hues marred by my anger. The air is thick with the scent of crushed flowers and the acrid tang of broken dreams. Every corner of the room seems to pulse with the aftermath of my destructive rage.
An unpleasant realization seeps into my consciousness, a painful reminder of the shallowness that once consumed me. All the time and effort I invested in amassing these worthless possessions now appears futile, a cruel twist of fate that mocks my current desolation. Amidst the ruins of my once-immaculate home, I confront the hollowness that permeates my being.
“I placed so much value in these meaningless fucking trinkets,” I seethe, my voice strained with bitterness. “I chased empty vanities while the truly important things slipped through my fingers.”
Marcus steps forward, his grasp firm and steady as he reaches out to me. “Xavier, I implore you to regain your composure. The destruction of your abode will not lead to the restoration of Lyra.”
His words penetrate the storm of my rage, momentarily quelling its intensity. No, destruction is not the answer. Vengeance, however, beckons like a siren’s call, promising justice for the one I love.
“I’m going to kill those fucking mangy wolves who did this to Lyra,” I vow.
“Alas, forsake your quest for vengeance, as it shall not serve to rescue Lyra. Instead, I beseech you to concentrate on what truly matters at this juncture.”
“There is nothing, nothing of greater importance!” I snarl, my fury reignited by the reminder of Lyra’s impending death. “Lyra is hours away from her last breath because of them.”
“I comprehend your concerns, and it is imperative that you dedicate these precious concluding hours in her company,” Marcus argues. “You cannot undertake the daunting task of confronting an entire pack of werewolves unaided; you are incapable of accomplishing this feat alone.”
