Page 83 of Fate Awakened

ThelookonBri’sface the moment she remembered everything that happened over the last few days will be seared into my memory until the end of time. The overwhelming fear that crossed her face as she mentally put together that she was in a room surrounded by shifters caused me physical pain. She looked at me like I was a monster.

I am a monster.

It was one of the only times I didn’t need to fight my wolf. He allowed us to leave the moment he realized her anguish was our doing.

We hurt her. We scared her.

Dr. Radolf informed me it would be hours until she’d be awake. He’d given her a sedative and anxiety medicine to help combat her panic. She’d wake up relaxed and hopefully willing to talk to me.

I need to explain. I need her to know the truth.

Three hours I’ve spent staring at the camera feed to her room. It’s just after nine at night, and I can see her starting to stir. I have to fight every instinct to go to her, comfort her, and hold her in my arms. Instead, I wait, allowing her the time she needs to process.

I can’t imagine how many questions she must have. How scared she must be. How confused.

She just found out that her whole world is a lie. Everything she believed about fiction and reality now blurred—her entire existence in question.

I try to gauge her understanding as Helen, Andre’s wife, helps her get settled.

She stares off the wall for a while, not looking at anything in particular; the wheels turning in her mind are so clear I can see them from here.

After a time, she smiles. It’s small, almost thoughtful, as if reliving a memory she’s fond of. But almost in slow motion before my eyes, I see her eyebrows drop, concern etched in her expression a moment before the realization hits her.

Everything was a lie.

Pure agony emanates from her as she plays through my betrayal; picking apart every moment we spent together; discovering the subtle lies, unanswered questions, and irrefutable truth that our relationship was a lie. And not a small lie, not one we could laugh about later. One so big, it would change everything.

My entire existence in her life from the moment we met was orchestrated.

It was this truth which was the biggest lie.

Not a single moment of our time together was fake to me.

Fate brought her and I together. Fate knew she was my other half, my perfect match. Fate made sure I found her.

And I let it all slip through my fingers because I was too scared.

My heart shreds as I watch the tears fall from her porcelain cheeks. Her body shudders as it fights through the emotions. She crumbles into herself, wrapping her body with her arms as if they’re her armor, shielding her from the world while holding her together. Folding in on herself, she turns to her side, tucking her legs to her chest and making herself so fucking small.

I want to hold her.

The need to comfort her is overwhelming. It feels like a weight on my chest. I lean back in my chair, absently wiping at the moisture on my face.

It takes all of my willpower to stay in my office chair. To let her have this moment, knowing my presence would do more harm than good. Even as she splits me open with every gutwrenching wail, I refuse to tear my eyes from the screen. Torturing myself as I watch her completely fall apart. I need to memorize this moment. Burn it into my very being and relive this feeling as punishment for my failures. To endure the helplessness of knowing I caused every second of her pain.

After what feels like an eternity, her tears stop, her body stills, and her sniffling ceases. She lays there quietly, not sleeping but rather with her eyes vacant and her face expressionless. She’s lost her spark. The fire that lives in her dulled because of my actions. At that moment, I know with soul-crushing clarity that I’ve lost her.

She’s no longer my Firefly.

Chapter 29

Bri

WhenIfinallyhitthe bottom of my well of emotions, melancholy slides over me. The dull ache of sadness remains coating my insides as I sit myself up, determined to get my life back on track.

After eating the now-cold chicken soup the nurse brought me earlier, I ask her for a notepad and a pen to get my thoughts onto paper. I hate the pity I see in her eyes when she returns with them. I don’t want to be pitied. Years of my life were spent with adults giving me precisely that expression once they found out I was in foster care, that my mom was an addict, or that my brother had died.

I don’t need your pity.

---