Chapter 133

Dante’s POV

The second I shoved the door open, my whole world just tilted. Like, actually spun sideways.

Elora’s laugh... God, that laugh floated out, soft and trembling and so alive it hurt. And there he was. Dominic. Planted right by her bed, holding her hand like it belonged there, her head tucked against his shoulder.

I just stood there, frozen. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t even remember how to breathe.

Wasn’t jealousy, not at first. No, it was heartbreak. The kind that gnaws at your ribs, turns your insides to sleet. I’ve stared down death, led packs into hell and back, but nothing, not a damn thing, ever bruised me like seeing her peaceful with someone else.

She looked up and saw me. Her eyes wide, her face went pale. “Dante,” she whispered, and there it was, guilt in her gaze.

I should’ve said something gentle. Should’ve been the guy she thought I was. But nah. My mouth just did its thing before my brain caught up.

“Comfort suits you,” I snapped, voice of all rough edges and splinters.

Dominic stood up slowly, eyes locked on mine. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh? Tell me, then,” I shot back, stepping closer. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re touching what isn’t yours.”

His jaw clenched. His chest heaved, but his stare didn’t shake. “She’s not a thing, Dante.”

That one cut. Like silver, straight through the bond between Elora and me, which honestly felt like it was barely alive. Flickering, fizzling out.

“She’s my mate,” I growled, those words tasting like blood.

“She’s our Luna.” He didn’t flinch. “And she’s dying. Every time you fight, every time you try to stake your claim, it just drains her. You’re too blind to see it.”

I just… stopped.

Elora stirred, voice shaking. “Stop. Please.”

But stopping? Not in my tool kit. My anger wasn’t even for him, it was all for me. For screwing up. For being too scared to let go. For realizing, way too late, that loving her wasn’t gonna be enough to save her.

I stepped forward. “If she dies,” I said slowly, “I’ll never forgive you.”

Dominic didn’t flinch, but just stood there, calm as winter, like he’d already taken the hit. Like nothing I could do would surprise him.

“And if she lives?” he murmured.

I swallowed hard. “If she lives and picks you… I’ll still never forgive you.”

Silence.

Dominic’s eyes turned softer. No pity. Something closer to understanding. Like he could see every crack in me, every ugly fear, every scar that loving her left behind.

“Then hate me, brother,” he said. “But let her live.”

Those words. They landed like a hammer, echoing in my heart.

I wanted to hate him. I really did. But when I looked at him, saw that desperate hope burning in him, the way his hand trembled as he glanced at her... yeah, I knew. He loved her too. Maybe not the same way. Maybe more. Maybe in a way I never managed.

I turned away, leaning against the doorframe. “You think I don’t want her to live?”

He shook his head, voice soft. “I think you want her to belong. And sometimes, those don’t go together.”

That one damn near gutted me.

When I looked back, Elora was awake again. Tears in her eyes. She reached out, mouth moving, but I couldn’t hear her.

Couldn’t go to her. Not yet. My legs were jelly, my chest caved in. I needed to breathe.

As I left, Dominic’s voice followed me... steady and gentle.

And it hit me.

Maybe the Moon didn’t give her to either of us. Maybe it was given to her. To love her, to save her, even if it meant losing everything else.

The air outside slapped me right in the face, cold as hell, and suddenly I felt like the whole universe was just pressing down on my shoulders.

I threw my head back, muttering, “Then let her live… even if it wrecks me.”

And yeah, for once, I wasn’t just talking out of my ass. I meant it.

Dominic edged closer, all serious and stubborn. “Dante, c’mon. I’m not here to take her from you. I’m just trying to help. You think I want this mess? You think it’s fun for me, watching her fade out while you and I go at each other’s throats?”

Dante’s hands balled up, knuckles white. His eyes? Not just pissed, hurt, like something inside him was cracking. “Then why do you always show up? Why does she run to you instead of me?”

Dominic just sighed, voice barely above a whisper. “Because you scare her when you lose it. Because she’s dying, and you make her feel trapped between feeling guilty and loving you. I don’t want her stuck in the middle, Dante... I just want her to live.”

Out of nowhere, Elora showed up, voice k. “Enough.”

Both of us spun around. She was looking at us, pale, shaking. “I haven’t picked either of you,” she said. “And I won’t. Not like this.”

Her gaze landed on me, eyes swimming with pain. “You think I don’t love you? Every night, every second we had, it mattered, all of it. But love’s not supposed to feel like a battlefield.”

My face kinda crumpled, like I was suddenly lost. “So what am I to you, Elora? Just another piece of the chaos?”

She reached for me, her hand soft but… yeah, there was a finality to it. “You’re the man I love. But I won’t let two brothers rip each other apart over me. I can’t be the reason either of you breaks.”

Dominic’s face turned softer, sadder. “She’s right,” he muttered. “We’re gonna lose her if we keep going like this.”

I just stood there, swallowing the hurt. All those late nights, all those promises whispered when the world was asleep suddenly they felt stupidly fragile.

I stepped back, voice rough and raw. “So what do I do, Elora? I don’t know how to love you without fighting for you.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. “Then don’t fight. Just… stay. Please.”

And then... nothing. Just silence.