Page 64 of Fated (The Bonded Legacy #1)
Ava was still asleep, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The machines monitoring her vitals beeped softly, the sound a faint backdrop to the hospital’s stillness. Kai removed his shoes and sweatshirt, movements slow and careful as he climbed into the narrow bed beside her.
He pulled her onto his chest, arms wrapping around her slender frame. She murmured something unintelligible in her sleep, head nuzzling against his shoulder. As he focused on the velvety hum of her soft snores, Kai made a silent vow to be there for Ava, to support her through the dark days ahead.
He knew it wouldn’t be easy. The road to healing would be long and arduous, but he would coax her into this new reality where their relationship had shifted.
He would still be her rock, her confidant, but only her friend.
The familiarity of their past providing a comforting foundation as they navigated the uncertain future.
With a deep breath, Kai let his eyes drift closed, and for the first time that day, a sliver of comfort crept into his chest, though it was fleeting and hollow.
Cranberries and rosemary—faint but unmistakable—pulled Kai from the depths of dreamless sleep.
Orion responded before consciousness fully returned, pupils dilating behind closed lids, heart rate quickening, skin warming.
The subtle rustle of movement drew his attention.
His eyes blinked open to the morning light streaming through the window and drifted toward the source of the sound.
Lena.
She stood by the nightstand, fingers tracing the petals of flowers as she carefully set down a vase beside Ava’s bed.
There was a quiet sadness about her, a sense of empathy that only deepened his turmoil.
His hands fisted the sheets as conflicting instincts warred beneath his skin—reach for her, push her away.
The vibrant flowers stood defiant against the backdrop of destruction visible through the window. Beauty mocking devastation—yet offering a reminder of what remained worth fighting for. Kai watched as Lena’s fingers lingered on the edge of the vase as though ensuring it was perfectly placed.
She straightened and turned to leave, footsteps faltering when she caught him watching her. She startled, irises darkening like honey in shadow, and a soft gasp escaped her lips.
“Goddess, Kai...” The words came out in a breath. “I didn’t realize you were awake.”
He said nothing, gaze darting from the flowers back to her face, taking in the softness of her expression.
Something flickered there—empathy? Concern, perhaps—in the way her brows knitted.
He felt like he was drowning in the depths of his own silence, unspoken words and unresolved emotions pulling him under.
Lena broke the silence first, voice tentative but steady.
“I… I was ordering the floral arrangements for the funerals,” she explained, gesturing toward the vase.
“I saw these and thought Ava might like them. Something beautiful to wake up to instead of…” She trailed off, eyes darting to the window and the fractured, scorched packlands beyond.
Muscles bunched along Kai’s jawline, words lodging in his throat as renewed guilt flooded him. He was still failing everyone—Lena, Ava, himself. He glanced toward the window, the devastation outside as raw and jarring as the night before.
His attention drifted back to the flowers, their delicate petals swaying in the draft from the vent. They truly were breathtaking, and Ava would love them. Yet, they felt out of place—like a mockery of everything his pack had endured.
Lena’s eyes traced his features, seeming to search for a glimmer of connection, a hint of the intimacy they once shared, but his silence stretched, cold and unyielding—a brittle shield protecting him from the vulnerability he couldn’t afford to show.
Not now, when everything felt so fragile and uncertain.
Her gaze shifted lower, stilling as she took in the full scene—his arms wrapped around Ava’s bandaged form as she slept soundly on his chest. Lena’s composed facade cracked for a moment, revealing a glimpse of hurt and concern.
The subtle shift in her posture made him want to disappear into the bed.
It’s not what it looks like, he willed himself to say, but the words died in his throat.
She recovered, composure slipping back into place as she moved toward the door.
“Do you need anything, Kai?” she asked softly, voice laced with that same quiet longing marked so many of their first interactions.
She stared at him intently, waiting for acknowledgement, as if pleading for a hint that he still needed her.
He blinked, the recognition of his name on her lips cutting through the haze in his mind.
“Kai,” not “mate.”
The absence of that word carved something vital out of him.
When did she stop claiming me?
He shook his head. “No.”
“Kai...” she breathed. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
She doesn’t understand. How could she?
His expression remained stone, silence his only answer.
She nodded once, chin lifting—that subtle gesture of pride he’d come to recognize when she was holding herself together.
“Alright,” she murmured, voice steady despite the slight catch in her breath.
She held his gaze as though waiting for something.
An apology, an explanation perhaps? The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips, a nervous habit she only displayed when truly uncertain.
A faint sheen of moisture lingered on her lashes as she gripped the doorknob tighter.
If she found anything in his expression, she didn’t show it.
Will I be able to fix this? Or has this tragedy that shattered our bliss damaged us beyond repair?
Without another word, Lena turned and left the room. The click of the door closing echoed in his ears, amplified by the sudden absence of her heartbeat, leaving only the mechanical beep of monitors and the rasp of his own shallow breaths.
Kai’s gaze returned to the flowers, their delicate petals taunting him.
He looked down at Ava’s sleeping form curled against him, her face peaceful despite the bandages and bruises marring her delicate features.
His fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket covering her, and he shifted, pulling her closer as though holding her tighter, making her better, might make everything else fade away.
But the ghost of Lena’s presence lingered in the room, a haunting reminder of what he risked losing if he couldn’t piece his fractured world back together.
I don’t deserve her. His teeth ground together as the emotions he’d fought to suppress spilled over.
Tears fell as guilt twisted in his chest, sharp and suffocating—for the pain in Lena’s eyes, for the quiet tension in her voice, for the truths he was too cowardly to speak.
Kai closed his eyes, willing himself back to sleep, but the emptiness in his chest only grew.