Chapter 119

Dante’s POV

Elora seemed like she was in another place when she was really just in front of me.

We were in the healer’s quarters. Patients everywhere, cots crammed together, the whole room smelled of herbs and sweat. I watched her move from one person to another, but honestly, she wasn’t really with us. Her eyes kept drifting off, and her voice sounded like she was reading a book, not actually talking to people. It was like she was acting out her duty, not living it.

I leaned against the doorway, crossing my arms, just watching. The Luna who used to light up every room? Now she looked faded, like someone had turned the brightness way, way down. Hollowed out, you know?

“Elora,” I called, real quiet, waiting until there was a gap in the chaos.

She flicked her eyes up, barely. “Yes?”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she shot back, way too fast. Her hands kept fussing with some poultices, refusing to meet my gaze.

I walked over, gently took the poultices from her hands. “You keep saying that. For days now.”

“I’ve been busy. There’s work. The healers need supplies. Kids need medicine...” she said, shrugging, still not looking at me.

“Elora,” I said again, firmly.

She froze. For a second I thought, maybe, she’d actually look at me like she used to. Like I was something safe. Instead, she just let out this tired sigh, reaching for another vial.

“I can’t stop, Dante. They need me. All of them.”

Her voice was polite but cold, almost like I was a stranger.

I nodded, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. “Just... meet me later? In the garden. Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”

She hesitated, then gave this tiny nod. “All right.”

She showed up right before sunset. The garden was quiet. There were no guards around and definitely no patients.

Even in exhaustion, she was beautiful. A few loose strands of hair framed her face. She was always so beautiful even if she didn't try.

“You wanted to talk?” she said, stopping just out of reach.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “You’ve been… different.”

“I’m just tired.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t lie.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m not lying.”

“Elora,” I said, stepping in, closing the gap. “You barely eat, you don’t sleep, and when I talk to you, it’s like you don't even see me. Did I screw up? Did something happen?”

She wouldn’t look at me. “Nothing happened.”

“Come on,” I said, softer. “Something’s going on. I can feel it. You’re pushing me away.”

She opened her mouth, but said nothing.

I reached for her hand, pressed it against my chest, my heart pounding so hard.

“This,” I said. “This thing between us. It’s real. You feel it too, right?”

Her fingers trembled. “I do.”

“Then why are you running?”

She didn’t answer.

I brushed my thumb against her cheek, just once. “After everything... the war, the scars, the nights I thought you were gone, you’re still the only thing that makes sense.”

For a second, I thought she would finally break, that she’d say what I needed so desperately to hear.

Nope.

She pulled her hand slowly. Her eyes were shiny but steady, which almost made it worse.

“Dante…” her voice cracked, “you mean so much to me.”

“That’s not what I asked,” I whispered.

She blinked and a tear slipped out.

“I know.”

The space between us? Might as well have been the whole battlefield all over again.

“Elora,” I tried one last time, voice barely there. “Say it.”

She closed her eyes. “Please don’t make me.”

“Say you love me.”

Nothing. Only that awful, crushing silence. I just stared at her, feeling my chest run wild.

This wasn’t guilt. Not even fear. Nah, this was worse.

She wasn’t mine anymore, not really. Not in the way that mattered.

I stepped back, my throat burning. “I should go.”

“Dante...”

“Don’t,” I said, voice barely hanging on. “Not tonight.”

She let me leave.

No footsteps trailing after me, no one calling my name. That old spark between us used to be a wildfire, now just a single fraying thread about to snap.

And in that emptiness, it hit me hard, right in the gut... whatever mark she left on me? Maybe that'll fade. The one he put on her? That’s forever.

I just stood there, watching her turn away.

“Elora,” I tried again, my voice breaking.

She stopped but didn’t look at me. “Please, Dante,” she said. “Not now.”

I took a step closer. “You can’t just leave this hanging. Leave us like this.”

She finally turned, torchlight catching in her eyes, face impossible to read. “I’m not leaving us,” she said. “I’m doing what I have to do. People are counting on me. Kids, families, healers who haven’t slept in days. I can’t just let what I feel make me forget who I am and the people counting on me.”

My laugh came out rough, bitter. “You think this is about luxury? It’s about surviving. About holding onto us before it all falls apart again.”

Her jaw went tight, eyes hard. “Maybe focus on your job, then. You’re the Beta, aren’t you? I'm sure you’ve got more to worry about than how I feel about you.”

Yeah, that one hurt. Deeper than I wanted to admit.

I tried again, softer. “Elora…”

But she was already leaving, back straight, steps solid, Luna, through and through.

“Don’t follow me, Dante,” she tossed over her shoulder. “The pack needs me. You... go back to your warriors. I’ll be fine.”

I stood there till she vanished behind the stone arch, chest aching, burning with a kind of pain I couldn’t smother.

The garden felt colder. And for the first time, I realize peace isn't comfort.

Sometimes, it’s just standing there, watching the person you love walk away, and knowing you can’t go after them.