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He was so devastatingly beautiful. Those dark lashes, that slight lift in his nose, the crooked lilt of his smile as he dreamed. All of him. Every dip, curve, and line that made up Killian head-to-toe was mesmerizing. His dark hair, his beard, his tattoos—all rugged and artfully him.
Any woman would’ve been thrilled to have him. To be picked by him. Cherished, loved, and wanted by him.
Why couldn’t I?
I hugged my knees to my chest as I watched him sleep. My wolf nudged deep inside, stroking at the already doubtful thoughts I had.
I loved him. I really did.
I always would.
But one thing was painfully clear. I couldn’t go back to him. I had too many things behind locked doors with keys I’d long since thrown away that I couldn’t bear to deal with again. Letting Killian back in would mean obliterating those doors. I’d never survive.
And for as much as I loved him, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t face them again.
Using him had been foolish. Giving him false hope had been cruel.
Running away… running away would break him. I knew it.
But staying… staying would break me.
I slipped out while he slept. I couldn’t face him. I wanted to say I was strong enough—I desperately wanted to—but I wasn’t.
Instead, I closed that door and made a plan as I tiptoed through the house. Most of the pack had gone to bed or slept on the lawn. The less people I woke up, the better. I wanted to leave quietly—unnoticed and uninterrupted. It was better this way.
I made my way around the porch to a quiet place alone. When I was sure no one could see me, I stripped and shoved my clothes in a cubby before shifting. I shook out my fur and tipped my snout back into the night breeze.
That smell. The forest filled my lungs, offering a comfort I wished I could lean into. I hurried across the lawn in silence, only stopping at the tree line. A great sadness filled my heart as I stared back at the pack house.
Killian belonged here. His place was here, leading and caring for the pack with his brothers. The pack needed them. This place was theirs.
But it wasn’t mine. It couldn’t be.
Wherever Killian went, memories followed him. He deserved someone who could give him everything—a home, a family, a future.
That person wasn’t me.
Chapter 48
Killian
The bang of a door sent me reeling out of bed and reaching for my gun— which wasn’t on my nightstand. Fuck.
“Get dressed,” Declan snapped. What the fuck was up his ass? I glared at him. Disgruntled and disheveled with a heavy dose of pissed-the-fuck-off was what he was. He tossed my clothes from my cubby on the bed. “We need to go take care of something.”
“What the fuck happened?” I demanded.
“We’re not talking about it here.”
“What the fuck does—”
“It means get your fucking clothes on and meet me at my truck,” he interrupted. “Now.”
Without another word, he stormed out. Shit. Declan was never the pissed-off one. He was the reasonably mad one of us. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I scrubbed my hands over my face, attempting to get my bearings. The room was dark in the early hour.
Genevieve.
