“These are from the first year,” I say, pointing to older, faded marks on my ribs. “They used silver-tipped whips. Broke my bones over and over, let them heal wrong, then broke them again to reset them.”
I turn so she can see my back. “Wolfsbane burns. They’d chain me up and pour it directly on my open wounds. My wolf would try to heal me, but the poison fought back. It felt like my skin was being torn apart from the inside.”
Facing her again, I take her hands in mine. We are both shaking.
“For ten years, they wore me down. And I wasn’t the only one. They had a whole program designed to strip away everything that made us who we were and rebuild us into weapons.”
“Kain—”
“They made us believe we’d been abandoned,” I continue, the words pouring out of me now. “Showed us forged documents.Made us repeat what I now know were lies over and over until we believed them. ‘My pack sold me. No one looked for me. I’m worthless.’”
I meet her eyes, needing her to understand.
“But through all of it, I held on to the memory of you. You were the only thing that kept me alive.”
My hand unconsciously goes to my pocket where the ring sits, but I stop myself. Not now. Not like this. That moment needs to be…different. Better than this desperate confession in the middle of the night.
“I had something that I kept hidden,” I say instead. “Something I bought before I was taken. I’d bring it out every night and hold it, trying to remember your face. Your smile. The sound of your laugh.”
I trace one of the scars on my forearm, a particularly vicious burn mark.
“There were days I couldn’t remember what color your eyes were. Days I forgot your name and had to force myself to recall it. But I always remembered that you were important. That loving you was the reason I had to survive.”
“Then why?” Her voice is barely audible. “Why did you come back and deceive me? If I was so important, why did you hurt me like that?”
“Because I was conditioned not to doubt their lies.” I close my eyes against the shame. “Ten years of training, Anne. They beat it into us that the mission was everything. ‘Complete the objective. Don’t deviate. Don’t question.’”
I show her my wrists, where the newest scars from the silver chains are still raw.
“They poison us before every mission. We need an antidote every four months or we die. It’s how they guarantee we’ll come back. How they make sure we’ll complete the mission, no matter what.”
Anne’s hand flies to her mouth.
“I knew I was dying when I talked to my handler that day, when you heard me on the phone,” I continue. “The symptoms had started. I needed the antidote. He refused unless I delivered Violet.”
Silence stretches between us. I can see her processing, trying to reconcile everything I’ve told her with what I did.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” I say quietly. “I know what I did is unforgivable. But I need you to know that seeing you again saved me. Helped me break through the conditioning. Made me remember who I was before they turned me into this.”
She’s crying silently, and I reach up to wipe away her tears.
“Every moment with you made it harder to complete the mission. Every smile, every laugh, every time you looked at me like I was still the person you loved—it chipped away at their programming.”
I cup her face gently, thumbs brushing across her cheekbones.
“You saved me, Anne. Just by being you. By refusing to give up on me even when everyone else said you should.”
“Kain...” Her voice breaks on my name.
“I’m so messed up,” I continue. “Broken in ways I don’t know how to fix. But I’m still your mate. Still the person who loved you enough to survive ten years of hell because my heart wouldn’t let me forget you.”
She looks up at me, tears streaming down her face, and I see what is happening behind her eyes. Love and anger and grief, all tangled together.
For a moment, I think she might forgive me. Might let herself believe we can work through this.
“Please leave.” Her voice is quiet but firm.
“Anne—”
