Chapter 52- Cole POV

Cole sat on the edge of the bed, the apple in his hand slick with sweat from his palm. He’d meant it as a gesture—small, thoughtful, something that might lighten the heaviness hanging between them—but the fruit felt ridiculous now. A piece of produce wasn’t going to erase the truth: Ella was carrying his child, and he was still sneaking away to Sasha like a coward.

Ella’s voice echoed in his memory, soft but certain: “I’m pregnant.”

The words had knocked the air from his lungs. He’d been Alpha-trained for battles, for pack decisions that could cost lives, but nothing could have prepare me for the words that came out from his mouth. He should have felt pride in himself but instead all I felt was guilt because when she told him the news the first thing he thought about wasn’t joy but was Sasha.

He set the apple on the nightstand, running a hand through his hair. Across the room, Ella slept curled on her side, her sketchbook open beside her. A half-drawn wildflower stretched across the page, its lines trailing off where her hand must have grown too heavy with exhaustion. Even in sleep, she looked tired. Her skin had gotten paler, l her breaths uneven, and he hated the facts that he hadn’t noticed these changes only because he’d been too busy losing himself in Sasha’s lies.

He whispered into the dark, voice cracking: “What am I doing to you?”

Ella stirred but didn’t wake. Cole swallowed hard, forcing his thoughts back into silence.

The next morning, he tried again. This time he came into the kitchen with two apples this time, it was polished till the skins shone. Ella sat at the table, her head resting in her palm. Marcus was also present, he was leaning against the counter, his arms crossed as his sharp eyes tracked Cole’s every move.

“Eat,” Cole said, placing an apple in front of Ella like it was a command. It came out harsher than he intended it to.

Ella blinked up at him, her lips tugging into the smallest smile. “You must really mean this apple thing.”

Marcus arched a brow, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth. “Those are just Alpha instincts,” he muttered, though the weight in his tone made Cole shift uncomfortably.

Cole sat across from Ella, staring at her instead of the apple between them. She lifted it, took a small bite, then set it back down. For a moment, the act felt intimate, in his eyes it was as if she they were the only one present. But guilt slashed through him again, reminding him where his thought always lingered to.

Soon after, Marcus left, but not before resting a hand on Ella’s shoulder. The gesture was warm, paternal, and protective. Cole felt a sharp jolt of jealousy, he as jealous of Marcus, of Jasper. He was also jealous of anyone who seemed to give Ella what he failed to.

By midday, he just couldn’t keep still. Ella had gone to rest again, and Cole paced the cabin, each step pounding against his skull. He told himself he was restless because of Alpha duties that were waiting for him to attend to, territory reports, border scouts but he knew it was all a lie. The pull that Sasha held over him was back.

He tried fighting it, he clenched his fists until his nails bit into his palms, but his mind kept replaying her words: “She will never be able to understand you the way I do. She’s just a mere human. She’s weak. You’re chained by a bond that isn’t even real.”

Every time Sasha said those words, a part of him recoiled but another part is forced to listened to the words she spoke. Because wasn’t she right? Ella’s eyes were wide with trust, her heart open in a way that scared him. She had no claws, no wolf, no defenses. How could she ever survive in his world?

Yet when he thought about leaving Sasha behind, he felt the ground tilt beneath him. Sasha was a storm he’d been caught in long before Ella. And storms, even when destructive, were still familiar.

That evening, Jasper arrived with a basket of herbs, saying it would help with Ella’s nausea. Cole caught sight of Ella smiling gratefully at him from the porch. Something inside Cole snapped.

“Why is he always here?” Cole barked later, once Jasper had gone.

Ella blinked at him, startled. “He’s just trying to help. He’s my friend, Cole. You don’t have to—”

“I don’t need him hovering over my mate,” Cole snapped, louder than he intended.

Ella flinched, pressing a hand protectively over her stomach, and the sight gutted him. He wished he could take back the hands of time and take the words he had spoken back, he wished to be able to gather her into his arms and promise he’d never let her feel threatened. Instead, he stormed outside, his fists shaking.

He knew that he was failing her again.

That night he hadn’t planned on going to see Sasha. But before his mind could catch up with him, his feet had already carried him to see Sasha. She was waiting, like she always did, her lips curved in that knowing smile, as if she had could feel the turmoil within him from miles away.

“You look tired, Cole,” she purred, stepping close enough that her perfume drowned out his guilt. “She’s already beginning to drain you, isn’t she? Just imagine how it’s going to b like in a year or in five years time.”

He should have left. He should have just turned his back and took to his heels, but instead, he allowed Sasha press her hand against his chest, her nails grazing his shirt as if claiming him. His body betrayed him, leaning toward her even as his heart screamed no.

The guilt came later, crashing over him in waves. Always later.

When Cole returned to the cabin, dawn light was creeping across the horizon. Ella was still awake, sitting in the chair by the window with her sketchbook balanced on her knees. She looked up, her eyes searching his face.

“You’re back late,” she said softly.

Cole froze, he couldn’t think of any excuse every excuse he’d ever used tangled on his tongue. She didn’t ask where he’d been. She didn’t make any accusations towards him. She just looked at him, her expression unreadable, and that silence was worse than anger.

He went to her, crouched beside the chair, and pressed his forehead against her knee. “I’m here,” he whispered, because it was all he could give. He couldn’t give the truth all he could give is just this fragile promise that sounded empty even to his own ears.

Ella’s hand slid into his hair, gentle, even forgiving. At that moment he almost broke then, almost confessed everything. But her touch was soft, trusting and he just couldn’t bear to destroy that.

So he stayed quiet.

And the guilt kept growing within him.