CHAPTER FIVE

Her body was pressed against his, arms looped around his neck like she belonged there. Her lips moved on his with slow, like she knew exactly how to kiss him. Like she’d done it before.

And he didn’t stop her.

He didn’t shove her off. Didn’t pull away. His hands were at her waist, firm, possessive. His head tilted slightly, leaning into it, like she was the one his wolf answered to.

I froze, breath caught in my throat. It burned.

Maybe he didn’t know I was there. Maybe that was the only reason.

But then… he opened his eyes.

And he saw me.

And still, he didn’t move.

That was the moment something inside me cracked.

I stepped forward, rage and betrayal bubbling under my skin until it spilled from my mouth.

“Get away from him!”

She tore her lips from his and blinked at me like I’d just spit in her drink. Her body stiffened as she turned, one hand still resting on his chest.

“What did you just say to me?”

I kept walking close enough now to feel the heat of him. My hands shook. My voice trembled, but I forced it out.

“I said step away from him. You have no right to kiss him.”

She let out a sharp, mocking laugh, her hand dropping from Draven’s chest.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” I snapped, my voice cracking. “I’m his mate.”

For a beat, silence.

Then laughter again and it is louder this time, crueler, soaked in venom. She turned her head toward Draven, like she needed confirmation that this wasn’t some joke.

“Draven,” she said, biting her lip with amusement, “is this your maid? Or did the stray just learn how to talk?”

I flinched, but didn’t back down.

“I’m not a maid,” I said, my voice low. “I’m his mate.”

She scoffed. “Oh, you poor thing. You really believe that, don’t you? That just because some ancient force shoved you together, it actually means something? How cute.”

Her heels clicked as she stepped closer, nose wrinkling in disgust.

“Look at you. You’re nothing. You don’t belong here. You look like you sleep in a basement, and you’re standing there claiming him?”

I clenched my fists.

“Because it’s the truth.”

“You’re nothing but a burden,” she hissed. “And clearly, not even a good one. If you were really his mate, he wouldn’t be with me.”

I turned to Draven again, tears burning behind my eyes.

“Tell her. Tell her the truth. That I’m not just some….”

“Don’t provoke me to hurt you again,” Draven growled, his voice slicing through me.

My breath hitched.

“I didn’t do anything wrong. You kissed her. You looked me in the eye and still…”

“I chose her,” he snapped, stepping closer, eyes blazing. “Because unlike you, she’s not Alaric Hale’s daughter.”

His words hit harder than any blow.

“You think I could ever want someone who carries his blood?” he sneered. “Every time I look at you, I see him. The man who betrayed my mother. The man who ruined my life.”

She slid up beside him, smug and unbothered.

“A mistake,” she said sweetly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s the only thing we agree on.”

My knees nearly gave out.

Tears blurred my vision. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came.

There was nothing left to defend.

Nothing he hadn’t already shattered.

“Draven,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

He didn’t answer.

He turned to her instead, brushing hair from her shoulder with a tenderness I had never seen from him.

“Let’s go.”

She shot me one last smirk.

“You should go clean something, sweetheart.”

Then she climbed onto the back of his motorcycle.

He didn’t glance at me.

Didn’t say goodbye.

Didn’t say sorry.

He rode off with her like I was already gone.

Like I never mattered.

The roar of his engine faded into the trees, but the weight in my chest only grew heavier. My knees locked. I stood there long after they were gone, the tears falling freely now.

And just when I thought I couldn’t sink any lower, a voice behind me spoke.

“You shouldn’t cry over men who don’t bleed for you.”

I startled, turning to find a hand extended toward me, holding a white handkerchief. Clean. Pressed. Embroidered in silver.

I looked up at him.

He was tall like over six feet with broad shoulders and a lean frame dressed in a black button-down that fit too perfectly to be casual. His skin was pale, his lips full, unsmiling, but not cruel.

My throat tightened as I took the handkerchief with trembling fingers.

He tilted his head slightly, studying me.

“I saw what happened,” he said quietly. “He hated you the most, Liora.”

I blinked at him, my heart pounding. I clutched the handkerchief tighter, fingers curling around the soft fabric. “Who are you?”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. The wind ruffled his shirt slightly, but he stood as still as a statue.

“And how do you know that?” My voice cracked at the end. “How do you know he… hates me?”

Then, finally, he spoke. “My name is Lucas,” he said simply. “Draven’s first cousin. On his mother’s side.”

The air shifted. My breath caught in my throat. The way he said it was calm, measured and heavy with something unspoken.

“I know the story,” he added, voice lowering.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. His gaze flicked toward the trees, like he was seeing something far off. Or maybe remembering.

“His mother,” he said after a pause, “died because of Alaric Hale.”

My entire body went still.

“I can’t believe my father was a murderer,” I whispered, shaking my head.

“Maybe he’s not,” Lucas said. “I was there. I was a kid, but I remember how Aunt Leonora suffered.”

A cold shiver slid down my spine.

“Draven was twenty,” he continued. “I was eighteen. We both watched her die. Not from sickness. Not from age. But from betrayal by the man she loved the most.”

I swallowed hard, throat raw. “What happened?”