Page 61 of The Alpha's Pretend Mate

I should have kept my mouth shut.

How could she have been so reckless? Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away, biting the inside of her cheek until the metallic taste of blood grounded her. Cassius was now walking into the jaws of death because of her loose tongue.

This is all my fault.

Her stomach twisted painfully, and she forced a breath into her lungs. If only she'd kept her mouth shut around Marcus. Now, Cassius would pay the price for her loose tongue.

Alysa replayed that night in her mind over and over. She had been drunk, yes, but not blind to what she was doing. She knew Marcus’s feelings for her—how he hovered at the edge of her life, waiting for a chance.

And I gave it to him on a silver platter.

She paced the room, her steps quick and unsteady. Her mind raced, replaying every moment, every choice that had led them here: if she hadn't agreed to be Aurora's nanny, if she hadn't let herself hope, even for a moment, that Cassius could care for her.

The weight of responsibility pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe. She'd set this in motion. Her actions, her words, had brought them to this precipice.

If he dies because of me…

The thought was too horrific to complete. Alysa's eyes stung with unshed tears. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back.

Hope warred with fear in her chest, leaving her dizzy and off-balance. If Cassius was willing to risk everything, did that mean his feelings were genuine? The possibility sent a thrill through her, quickly followed by a wave of self-loathing.

How can I even think about that when his life is at stake?

She knew the consequences of a broken witch oath. Death. Swift and merciless. The magic would consume him, leaving nothing but ashes. Alysa shuddered, the image too vivid in her mind. The fear coiled tighter around her chest, squeezing the breath from her lungs.

Yet a small, traitorous part of her clung to hope. If Cassius truly loved her, the oath would prove it beyond any doubt. No more uncertainty, no more questioning his motives.

But at what cost?

Alysa's thoughts spiraled, torn between desperately wanting to believe in Cassius's love and terrified of the price he might pay for it.

The sound of a car pulling up snapped Alysa out of her tumultuous thoughts. Her heart raced as she peered out the window, confirming her suspicion.

Cassius was home.

She moved toward the door, her steps hesitant. What could she say? How could she even begin to apologize for the mess she'd created?

The front door opened, and Cassius stepped inside. His face was drawn, tension evident in the set of his shoulders. When his eyes met hers, Alysa's carefully prepared words evaporated.

"Cassius, I'm so sorry," she blurted out, her voice thick with emotion. "This is all my fault. I was drunk and stupid. I never should have—”

"Alysa." Cassius's voice was gentle but firm as he cut her off. "You have nothing to apologize for." His eyes focused intensely on her, but there was no anger, no frustration. "Don't concern yourself with that, Alysa. What's done is done."

She shook her head, frustration building. "But if I hadn't told Marcus—”

"This isn't about what you said to Marcus." Cassius moved closer, his blue eyes intense. "This is about proving the truth. To everyone."

Alysa's breath caught in her throat. There was something in his gaze, a determination that both thrilled and terrified her.

"You shouldn't worry about me," Cassius continued, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "I'm not scared."

Alysa's brow furrowed. "How can you not be? Cassius, if the oath… if you're…" She couldn't bring herself to say the words.

Cassius reached out, his hand warm on her arm. "I'll come through this, Alysa. The witch oath will prove what I've been too stubborn to admit, even to myself." His voice softened. "I truly love you."

Alysa’s throat tightened, and she blinked, her vision blurring. The words hit her like a physical blow. She stared at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt or deception. But all she saw was unwavering certainty.

He can't mean it. Can he?

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