“I won’t,” I lied. “Not anymore.”
His eyes lingered on mine, like he was trying to read the truth under my skin. But pain was dragging him back under. He didn’t have the strength to argue.
“Good,” he breathed, and let go of my wrist, eyes fluttering shut again.
His breathing evened out, chest rising and falling in soft, slow waves. He’d drifted back to sleep, and I sat there, still and quiet, watching the man I loved slip back into unconsciousness.
And I made a decision. I would end this. I couldn’t watch someone else get dragged into the fire because of me. Not Callum. Not Beau. Not Rafael. I wouldn’t survive it.
He thought I was reckless before? He hadn’t seen anything yet.
They came for Rafael because they knew it would get to me. Because I was their weak link. They thought they could bleed him and scare me into submission.
But all they did was show me how far I was willing to go.
I’d played nice long enough. Paid my dues. Tried to keep the peace. No more.I looked at Rafael one more time, sleeping beneath layers of bandages and pain. My throat burned.
He told me not to be reckless. And maybe I’d regret that promise.
But if it meant keeping him safe? If it meant no one else would bleed for my mistakes? I’d break that promise a hundred times over.
* * *
RAFAEL
Three days. That’s how long it’d been since the attack behind the alley. Since I felt James trembling beneath my hands, his voice cracking as he begged me to hold on.
I lived. Barely.
I was up now, stitched together by Cass and patched with wolf healing salves that smelled like peppermint and burned like hell. My ribs still ached when I breathed too deep.
My shoulder twinged with every movement. But none of it hurt as much as the way James looked at me now.
He stood by the window in Beau’s spare room, arms folded tight like he was holding himself together with sheer will alone.
Morning sun washed across his face, catching the bruised shadows under his eyes. He hadn’t slept. Not much. I knew because I hadn’t either.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said finally.
That sent a chill down my spine.
James thinking usually led to something harmless. Some harebrained idea to feed everyone cupcakes or reorganize the spice rack alphabetically.
But this wasn’t that voice. This was cold. Careful. Like he’d already made a decision and was trying to soften the blow.
I sat a little straighter despite the ache in my ribs. My fingers dug into the blanket pooled over my lap. James still didn’t look at me.
“I’ve been going over everything,” he said quietly. “What happened. What it means. And I think I have to step back. From… from us.”
I stopped breathing.
The air in the room stilled. Even the hum of the fan above seemed to fade into the background.
My heart kicked once, hard, like it was trying to restart itself.
“I don’t—” I cleared my throat, pain flaring in my chest. “You want to end this?”
“No,” he said quickly, but not reassuringly. “Not end. Just pause. Or… I don’t know. I need time.”
