“I understand,” I say. Voice gone flat. Cold. “Thank you for clarifying.”
Something flashes in her eyes. Gone instantly. Pain, maybe. Or regret. Or just fluorescent reflection.
I want it to be real. Want it to mean she’s lying. But she’s already turning toward the door.
“Nadia—”
She stops. Doesn’t look back. “We both needed something last night. We took it. Now it’s done. That’s all there is.” Then she’s opening the door and walking out. Straight-backed. Controlled. Professional composure.
I stand in the empty office and watch her go down the corridor. She doesn’t look back. Doesn’t hesitate. Just walks away like the last few days never happened.
Like last night never happened.
Like I never happened.
My dragon is snarling. Furious. Demanding I follow. Demanding I fight. But I’ve been in enough battles to recognize when retreat is the only logical option.
She disappears around the corner. Gone.
The freedom Viktor promised feels meaningless. Standard quarters. Full access. Trust earned. None of it matters if I can’t reach her.
I lean against the doorframe. Try to process what just happened.
She said she doesn’t need me. Said it was just a heat cycle. Just biology. Just sex.
She’s lying. Has to be lying.
Except I saw her face. Heard her voice. Cold. Certain. Maybe she believes it. Maybe for her, that’s the truth.
Maybe I’m the one who’s wrong. The one who felt something she didn’t. The one whose dragon recognized our mate, whileher wolf just wanted relief from biological necessity. Wanted to scratch an itch.
I close my eyes. Breathe through the chaos in my mind.
I came to Aurora for sanctuary. Got it. Came with intelligence that will save lives. Delivered it. Earned freedom. That should be enough.
It’s not.
Because somewhere in those days of survival and one night of desperate connection, I stopped wanting just sanctuary.
I wanted her.
Still want her.
Even knowing she doesn’t want me back.
Chapter 23
Nadia
I make it to the end of the corridor before my legs start shaking. Not fear. Not weakness. Just the physical cost of walking away from something my body is demanding. Every step away from that office feels like moving against a current trying to drag me back.
I don’t go back.
Can’t.
My hands clench into fists. When I look down, my nails have lengthened into sharp points. Not fully claws, but threatening. I force them back with effort that makes my jaw ache.
The stairs. I take them instead of the lift. Need the physical exertion. Need to burn off the energy crawling beneath my skin like insects.
