SHANE BLACKTHORN

"You're still hung up on that?" I say, watching her closely. Her expression screaming, yes.

Was I misreading her? She should be grateful. Grateful that I kept her alive. Grateful for the end Esme met.

If I had brought her back to Lupinmere, she would have faced our laws and be sentenced to Russification.

Russification—that's what awaited her. Plotting against an Alpha and using dark magic? No one escapes that. Her first offense had led to banishment. The second? Well, there was no excuse, it was either Russification or death by maiming.

Russification isn't quick. It's torture—high-intensity magic shot at a person with their core suppressed, overloading it until the core explodes and their soul disintegrates.

Esme would have begged for death. But I had spared her. Because of Millie.

I'd granted mercy—because of the memories. Millie, walking through her neighborhood to get her steps in, completely oblivious to me walking by her side. The quiet visits to our favorite coffee shop. The naps I watched her take, completely unaware. She never knew how close I was.

Even now, I'm giving her mercy by not ending her.

I had allowed myself to become infatuated. And even though Esme had probably used Millie as a conduit for the spell, I had extended her grace.

Why did she care so much about Leah? Leah was alive and didn't care about her. She was too busy preparing to be crowned Luna.

This is why I hated humans—they made no sense.

"Did you really just say that to me?" Her voice is sharp, fury blazing in her eyes.

Did I mess up again? I only wanted her to try my coffee. To see that same expression she wore when she first tasted that awful barista's brew at Macy's. Was it so out of line to want that?

"I don't understand why you're so mad. I believe I've been more than merciful."

"Merciful?" she repeats, her eyes widening in disbelief.

Every word I said seemed to fuel her rage, so I stop. I just watch her, hoping for a way out of this.

"You think you've been merciful? Should I thank you for that?" Her voice breaks with anger. "My mum is dead. I can't close my eyes without seeing her bloodied body. I've been riddled with guilt, blaming myself every day for Leah's fate, maybe if I wasn't so fucked up and called the cops on you the moment I noticed, maybe, just maybe" she says her voice breaking.

"I saw you take Leah, saw you slash her throat and drag her through the portal. What even was that? My life was perfect before you. Now, I'm a fugitive, an orphan, with no home. My mind—" Her voice cracks. "I'm losing it. And you call that mercy?" Her scream echoes through the room, each word heavy with pain.

Her anger crashes over me like a wave. I feel it—everything. Her fear, her heartbreak, the gnawing anxiety that threatens to swallow her whole. Kygara whines in the back of my mind, the intensity of her emotions shaking us both.

"Millie," I murmur, sensing something deeper unraveling inside her.

Her eyes are bloodshot, tears spilling down her cheeks as her breathing quickens, her chest heaving as if the air's being stolen from her. Her hands tremble, clutching the counter for support. She's spiraling.

"Millie!" I move toward her, but she pulls away, retreating from my touch. The rejection is like a knife to my gut, a pain so sharp it nearly brings me to my knees. This reaction— I heard this was only possible with a mate bond.

I can't stand it. I can't watch her suffer like this. She's gasping, hands shaking, her whole body trembling as she breaks down, crouched on the floor, barely holding herself together.

I pull her into my arms despite her resistance. The pain inside me is unbearable, and Kygara is on the verge of losing control. His instinct is to protect our mate, to destroy whatever caused this agony.

But the threat—the thing causing this pain—was me.

How do I console her? I don't know. Wolves aren't exactly the best when it comes to emotions. We deal with things physically, decisively. But this? This was a different kind of hurt. I feel her anguish as though it's pouring directly into me, like some twisted bond I can't shake. My instinct is to do something, anything, to make it stop—to ease her pain, my pain.

When was the last time I felt this restless?

Right—when Millie fell sick. That night haunts me. Her fever was brutal, and she was burning up, delirious. Leah was supposed to stay and take care of her, but she had to leave for some retreat out of state.

Millie was alone. Her mother wasn't there, and I—I couldn't stand the thought of her suffering by herself, helpless. So, I did something reckless, something forbidden. I allowed a witch family to stay in Lupinmere in exchange for a favor: a spell that would make me look like Leah in the eyes of humans.

It was dangerous. The real Leah could've come back at any moment, ruining everything. And if the council ever found out that I'd made a deal with witches—using dark arts, no less—it would be over. They already doubted my fitness as Alpha. I was just a child when my parents died, and they'd only reluctantly accepted me as their leader.

But I didn't care. All that mattered was Millie. I remember sitting by her bed, reading through medical pamphlets and scrolling through endless articles, trying to figure out how to take care of her. Trying to save her.

And now, she's here, crumbling in my arms. Her tears soak through my shirt, and the weight of her sorrow presses down on me like a boulder. It's crushing.

I push through the haze of my own pain, focusing on her. She's trembling against me, her breathing rapid and shallow.

A panic attack—I remember reading about that. It has to be. She's been through so much, it's no wonder her body is shutting down like this.

What was the advice on that pamphlet? Counting backward? No, she's too far gone for that. Think, Shane, think.

And then, the wildest thought strikes me.

I've imagined this moment more times than I care to admit, but not like this. Not out of necessity.

I look down at her, her lips quivering, parted slightly as she struggles for breath.

I'm doing this to help her, I tell myself. I have to. It's the only way I can reach her. The only way I can stop this spiral.

I gently lift her arms, draping them around my shoulders, pulling her up against me. Her warmth presses into me, and I close the distance between us. My heart races as I lower my head and claim her lips in a fierce, desperate kiss.

It's raw, unrestrained—full of everything I've ever felt for her but never said. I'm pouring my very soul into that kiss, hoping it will be enough to break through the storm inside her. Hoping it will be enough to save her.

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Guys I've been waiting to write this chapter for so long and it's finally done. My babies finally shared their first kiss..... yay..... stay tuned Millie's POV will be posted later this evening.