She drew a shuddering breath, her eyes avoiding mine. Her mental voice was a mere whisper, silencing the raging thoughts.“You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just…complicated.”
The weight in my chest grew heavier.“Please,”I implored, my fingers grazing her ankle in a gentle plea.“Don’t push me away. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t want to lose what we have.”
She exhaled, her gaze lifting, meeting mine, her blue eyes filled with a storm of emotions. The walls she’d erected around her heart had replaced the warmth from before with guarded caution.“I don’t fault you, Ky’rn. But I need some time, too. To understand. To process.”
The weight of her words, the shift in our dynamic, bore down on me. I could see her defenses rising, her once open heart now walled off by doubt and fear.“I will respect your needs. But please don’t push me away. Not now. Our time is limited already.”
Her fingers trailed over the fading mark, her touch almost reverent.“It’s not you. I’m not afraid of you, Ky’rn,”she admitted, her voice thick with emotion.“But you represent something I can’t have: Freedom. I’m afraid of getting too attached to you, only to be left with this mark as a reminder of what might have been.”
My heart thudded painfully.“Isla, you can have freedom, too. With me. If you truly wanted it. All you have to do is—”
She shook her head, a pained smile curving her lips.“It’s not that simple. And soon…it won’t matter.”
The sinking feeling in my stomach grew more profound, and a rush of emotions washed over me. I could taste her despair, her frustration, her resignation through our new connection. It made my insides coil with dread. I couldn’t fathom what she was going through, but I yearned to ease her pain.
“What do you mean, it won’t matter?”My voice came out as more of a growl, the urgency palpable, but she was already pulling away.
She faced the door, her gaze distant.“I’ve been here too long. I need to go.”The resolve in her voice was absolute, and it shattered me.
My gut twisted, and I watched in mounting panic as she began to distance herself from me.
She was leaving.
Retreating from whatever bond was beginning to form between us. The distance between us grew with every step she took away from the tank. My instincts raged. The predator within me roared in protest, desperate to reach out and pull her back.
Every fiber of my being screamed at me to climb out of the tank, to pull her into an embrace, to reassure her, to make her stay. But I knew I couldn’t. Our worlds, our lives, our circumstances were complicated. And perhaps my recent actions had only made things worse.
My gaze followed her, taking in the way her wet hair clung to her shoulders, how she methodically packed her belongings with a kind of finality that gnawed at my insides.
Each step she took was a dagger to my heart. As she descended the steps, my desperation grew. My heart constricted painfully.
Isla, don’t go.
Racing along the tank’s edge, I placed a palm flat against the glass, willing her to look back, to see my regret and desperation.
Isla!
She paused, and then turned, her gaze meeting mine. Her hand lifted, fingers splayed against the glass, mirroring mine.
It was a fleeting touch, a silent goodbye, and it tore at my soul.
But as quickly as it came, the moment was gone. Isla withdrew, her expression unreadable, and moved towards the door.
Her next steps seemed more determined as she disengaged some device, pausing briefly to stow the box securely in her pouch.
The door slid open, revealing the corridor beyond, and without a backward glance, she stepped across the threshold, disappearing from sight.
The door closed with a soft hiss, leaving me with a haunting void and an ache deep within.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
ISLA
The instant I emerged from the chamber, Dr. Violet’s piercing eyes locked onto mine. Her features, sharp and intelligent, softened with a wash of concern. She dashed over, her lab coat billowing behind her, abandoning her post without hesitation.
“Isla!” Her fingers wrapped around my wrists, the touch clinical but underscored with genuine concern. “Are you all right?”
The walls I’d built around my emotions threatened to crumble.
