Chapter 8

I unfold the couch in my office, pulling the mattress into place under Lucian’s watchful eye.

“See?” I say softly. “I’ll be just as comfortable here as I was in my room.”

He frowns, arms crossed.

“You’d be entitled to fight this, you know?”

I tilt my head to the side, only half pretending. What is it with Lucian lately? It’s like he’s rewriting the script of our past—not enough to change the ending, but enough to throw me off balance.

“I don’t intend to fight fate,” I answer, voice even. “After all, you wouldn’t ask if it weren’t absolutely necessary.”

He nods.

And I hold back a sigh.

Necessary. Yes. I wonder how he’s convinced himself of that. That this is the only path forward. That asking me to give up everything is somehow merciful.

If I hadn’t already lived through this once, I’d be heartbroken. But hindsight gives me clarity, if not peace. Inside me, Corneille is dulled to a faint hum—a distant ache I have to focus to hear. And every time I do, the pain is so sharp, so raw, I shove her back down again.

She’s trapped between love and betrayal, longing and despair, over and over. I can’t help her. And I won’t let her break me—not again.

“I was thinking,” Lucian says gently, “about the Eclipse Celebration. Maybe we could make it a date. Just the three of us?”

My chest tightens.

The Eclipse Celebration. The gathering of the most powerful packs in the country. The one event where I might still have a chance—where, if I’m careful, if I’m lucky, I could find an Alpha strong enough to shield me from the Moonlit clan.

But if Lucian is offering me proximity, visibility, favor, I have to take it. I have to hold onto any piece of influence I still have.

“That would be lovely,” I say with a smile that almost feels genuine. “I was planning to start organizing it next week, but I’ll begin tomorrow. I want everything to be perfect. We’ll have a wonderful time.”

Lucian’s smile warms, and he steps closer.

Suddenly I’m wrapped in him. His arms. His scent. His sheer presence. Towering and golden. His breath fans against my cheek as I tilt my head up to meet his eyes.

And there it is—love. Or something close enough to mimic it perfectly.

“Everyone will see we’re strong,” he murmurs. “That this mate situation is just a bump in the road. That the Moonlit leadership is intact.”

I force my lips to stay soft, understanding.

Of course. This was never about me.

“We can’t afford to look weak,” I echo.

He nods. “And by then… Rosalina might be strong enough to take the rejection.”

I can’t hide my surprise. In my first life, they never mentioned rejection unless I begged. Pleaded. Screamed. And here he is—bringing it up himself. Twice now.

Have I already altered the course of fate with nothing more than poise?

Lucian catches my expression and chuckles—low, rough, amused. He leans in, his smile bright with affection.

“I know you’re worried, Nara. But you have to trust us. We’ll hold our end of the promise.”

Then he kisses me.

And gods, it’s everything.

It’s adoration and possession and memory all tangled into one, and I melt into it—melt into him. My hands fist his shirt, pull him closer, my lips part beneath his. I moan into the kiss as his hands close around my ass, rough and hungry, grounding me in the now.

He lifts me like I weigh nothing. Lays me down carefully on the bed we just made. And for one moment, I allow myself to want it—to want him—even knowing how it ends.

“Lucian…” I gasp, reaching for him, silently begging for more. For all of him.

He catches my hand, kisses the inside of my wrist, his breath hot against my skin. His eyes hold mine as he leans closer—

Then a cry.

Choked. Distant.

Rosalina.

Lucian is on his feet before I can even process it. No hesitation. No parting words. Just gone. The door slams shut behind him, and I’m left staring at the space he occupied seconds ago.

Alone. Again.

I don’t give Corneille a single second. I slam the door shut on her grief, bury her deep in the pit of my mind where her howls can’t reach me. Because if I let her surface—if I let her claw her way up—I’ll break. I’ll fall to my knees and beg like I did in my past life. And I swore I’d never do that again.

I won’t cry. I won’t beg.

I won’t spend another three years dying by inches.

I want to be free.