All Chapters of Goodbye, my mate: Chapter 241 - Chapter 246

Leah's POVNow, that hunger roared back, fueled by loss and longing. We gave in, tearing at each other, a storm of despair and need. His hands roamed my scarred flesh, rough and reverent, and I arched into him, swaying my hips, dragging it out like a ritual. Pain laced every touch, every thrust - his breath ragged, my moans breaking into sobs. We fucked like we were clawing our way out of graves, desperate to feel something beyond the wreckage of our lives.Inside, my wolf snarled, "This man is dangerous. He's lost everything for you. You're all he has. He shows up when the world burns - destiny or curse? Plus, he killed your child!"I answered her, fierce and silent, as Darren moved inside me, "This man bled for me, broke for me. He's my shield, my fate, my fucking heart. I've crawled through hell, and you never spoke to me. Why now?"My wolf went quiet, retreating, and I surrendered to him - to the ache, the heat, the ruin of us. We collapsed, spent, ta

Leah's POVThe sun bled out over the coastal city as Darren gunned the motorcycle through the weaving crowds, the traffic shuttling around us like a frantic pulse. I clung to him, my helmet pressing into his back, my arms locked tight around his waist, feeling the heat of his body sear through me. The sky was a mess of red and orange, spilling over the buildings like a wound, and the sea's salty stink mixed with the exhaust choking the air. Last night clawed at my mind—his hands, his mouth, his desperation sinking into me after years of waiting. We'd fucked all night, a brutal, beautiful collision that tore past every fantasy I'd nursed in the dark. It played over and over in my head, a sad, desperate reel I couldn't stop watching—every thrust, every whispered curse, every moment I'd surrendered to him. Thinking of it, I tightened my grip, my fingers digging into his leather jacket like I could claw the memory into permanence.He pulled the bike to a stop by the sea, t

Leah's POVThe neon sign above the night club buzzed like a dying wasp, its crimson glow pooling on the asphalt as I shoved through the club's sticky doors. Smoke clung to the air—cheap cigars and cheaper desperation - and there he was, slumped at the bar like a discarded marionette. Liam's fingers curled around a whiskey glass, his knuckles whitening with each swallow as if he could drown the words we'd never said.I slid onto the stool beside him, the leather sighing under my weight. "You look like someone pissed in your bourbon," I said, nodding at the bartender for my usual gin.Liam didn't turn. "Would've improved the taste." His voice was sandpaper rough, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Classic Liam - even half-drunk and brooding, he couldn't resist the bait.We drank in silence for three songs, the bass thumping like a defective heartbeat. When he finally spoke, it was to the smudged mirror behind the bar. "You shouldn't be here. You do