s, and this feeling of emptiness in its heart. But it was not the void of loneliness. It was not a space left by the loss.

ak. The images always came back to his mind, lively and cruel. Valeria's face, her late companion, smiling under the glow of dawn. Her golden hair floating in the win

l noise of a fight. Valeria's vision, who fell on his knees, l

This pain he thought he had mastered for months returned to each sunset. He couldn't flee her, not even

stuffy, more threatening as the darkness stretched around it. He passed a hand in his hair, forcing him

an answer to his torment. But the stars never responded. They were simply there, silent and indifferent. He gave his teet

ve away, this sweet light of hope. He had observed the pain turning into resignation. Rage resignation. And finally, the rage in ... what?

s wolf instinct on alert. His gaze sought the silhouette in the darkness of the door. And there he lives it. M

She was real. Alive. She didn't have the air of Valeria. She did not have this fragrance of fragility that h

his gaze, Caleb also saw a glimmer of understanding, something he would never have thought of seeing in an omega. She knew, in one way or another, what he was going through. And he h

et, fell a path through silence

his sufferings to him. He didn't want her to see the breach in her armor. But she persisted

cold, almost mechanical voic

ble space around him, a space that he had not yet allowed anyone to cross. But she stopped right in f

d calmly. "And you know it

at he had no more room for pain, that everything he had known had become a porridge of regrets, anger and resignation? How to sa

ss, it is ... it is like a poison. She eats away from the inside. You think you ca

lost in an endless remorse labyrinth. But she says nothing. She did not offer him hollow words, of dummy comf

ter a long silence. "I'm here, even when you

lling on his cheek. He was not alone

ffocating. The nightmares had become its night reality. Visions of her former Alpha haunted her tirelessly. She saw her gaze distorted by hatred, her sharp claws falling on her like a storm, and the violence of her orders. He had never considered it something other than possession. A weak

ar, had become invisible companions. Mia had no room for sweetness, for hope. She had learned to live

te of the furniture drawn by the light of the moon. A sigh escaped his lips. The external calm contrasts so mu

ne. There were things that he would not understand, invisible scars that no one could heal in his place. But the fact that he was there, present, somewhere in this large house, offered a form of silent comfort. There was a reminder that there wer

y of his pack. But each meeting with her, every moment he met his gaze, woke up something in him that he had not planned. It was not pity, or even a feeling of duty. It was deeper. A c

t too much importance. His injuries were still cool, too recent. The loss of Valeria had deeply marked him, and he was not ready to relive this suffering. Mia, too, had her own scars. He could see him in her

them. Mia had not asked to be what it was, any more than him. They were both marked, both eaten away by events that they had not bee

mething he still did not know. He felt ... vulnerable. He, the Alpha who had always known where he was going, who had ordered battles, directed his pack w

this connection. That he could not ignore what was obvious between them. His feelings, as confusing as they are, were there. And it doesn't matter how much he

aleb could not flee this connection. He could try to ignore it, but he could never erase it. No more than she could erase her past. And while she was preparing to face another night of nightmares, a thought crosse

ite all their efforts to escape from t