Page 170 of Their Reckless Thief
DORIAN
Celeste turned to me,a huge smile on her face. She raised an eyebrow, passing the mirror to me. I didn’t hesitate to take it.
Its surface rippled as I looked into it, the dark glass shifting like a pebble skipped over water. I’d never been one for introspection—too much looking back and not enough looking forward was my motto. But something about the depth of the mirror’s reflection pulled me in. The shadows warped, and before I could brace myself, images of my past began to unfurl, scenes I’d buried beneath layers of charm and playfulness, memories I’d left to gather dust.
I saw my family—my father, fierce and unyielding, with his eyes like steel, expecting nothing less than perfection; my mother, her presence steady yet distant, warmth flaring only in rare moments when the weight of the pack’s expectations lifted. I watched myself as a young wolf shifter, trying to keep up with the demanding life that surrounded me, forcing laughter and quick wit into spaces meant for strength, hoping they’d make up for what I lacked.
A pang seared through my heart as I watched myself over the years, scenes shifting from one memory to the next, a series of attempts to be seen, to be wanted—not just as a memberof the pack but asme. I’d masked every disappointment, every fleeting rejection, with a joke or a flirtatious smile. Even when I found myself respected and desired, it was always for the image I projected, never for the person behind it.
The mirror shifted again, pulling me forward into something entirely new. The pack disappeared, replaced by a future that felt as solid as any memory, yet somehow untouchable. I saw myself surrounded with people who weren’t bound to me by blood, but by choice—a family of my own making. And there, at the center of it all, was Celeste.
She stood beside me, her eyes clear and unwavering, not demanding anything from me, not expecting me to put on a show to prove myself. Her presence was steady and sure, her gaze warm and knowing, as if she could see through every one of my layers and accept all of it—the good, the bad, and the ridiculousness I used to mask my doubts.
There was no need for charm, no fear of abandonment. In that vision, I was enough. Loved, not for what I could give or the power I wielded, but for every messy, flawed part of me. I saw myself laughing with her, feeling at ease in a way I’d never felt before, and in that simple joy was a profound sense of belonging. This was a family not born of dominance or control but of respect, of mutual care, of choice.
My throat tightened. All these years, I’d clung to the belief that affection was something to be used, a tool to win favor or control. The mirror’s vision unraveled that belief even further than Celeste had begun to, showing me that real love didn’t have to come with conditions or demands. It could be pure. It was worth the risk, worth the vulnerability. For the first time, I saw myself not as a player in some endless game for power and attention but as someone worthy of true connection, someone who didn’t need to perform or please to be wanted.
The vision faded, leaving only my reflection staring back at me, eyes wide, as if I were seeing myself for the first time. My heart thudded, exhilaration and fear coursing through me. The mirror had shown me a future I hadn’t dared to dream of, and now, there was no hiding from the truth it had revealed.
I exhaled, stepping back as I let the clarity settle in. Handing the mirror carefully to Vivian, I offered her a small smile. “Your turn,” I murmured, though my voice sounded rougher than I intended.
Vivian glanced at it, her expression unreadable, then shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m perfectly content with what I know here and now. No need to invite more chaos,” she said dryly, but I could see a hint of affection in her gaze, a glimmer of understanding.
The mirror had stirred something raw in me, but her words reminded me that this was where I wanted to be, no illusions or visions needed.
With a slow, steady breath, I let the revelations of the mirror settle over me and fill me with a sense of hope I hadn’t thought possible. For the first time, I felt like I could reach for something real, something lasting. And maybe, just maybe, I was ready to believe I deserved it.
Luca
The dark glassof the mirror pulled me in, its depth both endless and impenetrable, daring me to look into shadows I’d spent a lifetime trying to outrun. Every instinct urged me to pull back, to shield myself from whatever it would reveal. But something compelled me to face it. Maybe it was Celeste’s courage and the trust she’d placed in me, or perhaps I was finally ready to see the truth for myself.
I exhaled, steadying my breath, and lost myself in its depths.
The room faded into a familiar clearing bathed in twilight, one that existed only in memory. My heart clenched as I recognized the place. This was where I’d faced my brother, where everything had unraveled. He stood before me, just as he had that night, his posture calm yet somehow brimming with strength and the same easy confidence that had always marked him as my elder, the one everyone assumed would carry on our family’s legacy.
I knew what was coming. The argument, the sudden surge of anger. That one fatal miscalculation. Instead, the vision twisted, altering that moment, freezing me there, staring into his eyes. He was looking at me not with rage, but with an intensity I hadn’t noticed in those frantic seconds so many years ago. The scene slowed, and for the first time, I truly saw the compassion in his gaze.
“It wasn’t your fault, Luca.” His voice cut through the thick silence, startling me. “I knew you were different from the start, that you carried a power I could never wield.” He took a step closer, and his words, his forgiveness, crashed over me.
The world blurred, fragmented moments flashing before me… moments I hadn’t known he’d noticed: his faint smile as he watched me practicing with shadows long after everyone else had gone to sleep, his quiet pride as he’d let me take the lead on our first mission, his encouragement in small, silent gestures I’d always brushed aside, never understanding their meaning. My heart clenched painfully as I realized he’d seen more in me than I’d seen in myself.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered. I felt like I was seventeen again, standing in the shadow of his expectations and my own failure.
His expression softened, his gaze unwavering. “Because I wanted you to find it in yourself. Your path, your strength. Icouldn’t show it to you. You had to see it on your own.” He smiled and added, “And it’s a path that will protect those who matter to you, even if it’s not the way I would have done it.”
His face faded, and in his place, I saw the others. Vincenzo, Dorian, Celeste. They were there, not out of obligation or expectation, but because they chose to be. I saw myself standing beside them, not as an exile, not as a shadow, but as someone they trusted, someone with the power to protect them. I could protect them not because of my family’s name or the powers I wielded, but because of who I was. My family’s legacy wasn’t something to carry like a curse… it was a piece of me that could guide me, that I could honor, in my own way.
And then, as if in answer to my deepest fears, Celeste was at my side. There was no judgment, no fear in her gaze, only a quiet acceptance that struck deeper than any oath. She looked at me as if she could see every scar, every broken piece, and she loved me for it. Celeste laced her fingers through mine, her touch telling me that loyalty didn’t mean loss, that love didn’t have to end in tragedy.
The vision grew hazy, but her presence lingered, a promise that she would stand by me, that I would never be alone again.
It faded until I was left looking at the inky depths of the mirror once more. An unfamiliar warmth spread through me, but it was undeniably real. It was as if the mirror had taken the weight I’d carried for years and reshaped it, transforming it from a chain into something that could finally set me free.
I let out a slow breath, the remnants of the vision echoing in my mind. My brother’s words, Celeste’s unwavering gaze… they held a truth I’d refused to let myself see. I didn’t have to live in the shadows of guilt and regret. The people around me didn’t want me as a weapon or a servant bound by obligation. They wanted me. Just me, as broken and scarred as I was.
For the first time, I saw a future that wasn’t all duty and loss. A family built on choice, on strength, and on a love that didn’t have to be a weakness. As I absorbed that, I felt a strange, liberating certainty settle within me.
The Mirror had shown me the choice I hadn’t believed I had: to let go of the past and step fully into the present, into the future. One where I could embrace those who mattered to me, not as a burden or responsibility, but as a source of strength, of belonging.
