Chapter 14 Oakley #2
"Will you... be nearby? While I make the calls?" Her voice is small. Uncertain. "Not listening, just... in case."
The request surprises me. "Yeah. Of course."
She slides off the stool. Pauses at the kitchen entrance.
"Oakley?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For the bandage." She looks down at her wrapped hand. "And for not lying to me just now. I don't forgive you. Don't think I can. But I appreciate the honesty."
Then she's gone, bare feet padding up the stairs.
I stay in the kitchen. Make more coffee I don't want. Try to process what just happened.
She doesn't forgive me.
She probably never will.
And somehow, her honesty about that hurts more than if she'd screamed at me. Because it means she sees me clearly now too. Not the gentle alpha who's different from the others. Not the healer who can make this better.
Just another guy who helped ruin her life because biology told him he could.
An hour later, I'm sitting outside her door when I hear her crying.
Not the angry sobs from before. This is worse. This is grief. The sound of someone who's had to explain to people who love her why she can't come home. Why she has to stay with the people who took her.
I knock softly. "Vespera?"
"Yeah?" Her voice is wrecked.
"Can I come in?"
Silence. Then: "Okay."
She's on the bed, phone clutched in her hand, face streaked with tears. She looks destroyed.
"Bad?" I ask quietly.
"Yeah."
I sit on the edge of the bed, not touching her but close enough. "You talked to your dad?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
"And I told him the truth. About the fated bond. About the rejection killing me. About why I can't leave."
I go very still. "What did he say?"
"That he wants to burn your world down. But he'll wait. Let me figure this out. Because taking me away will kill me faster than staying here."
"He's right." My voice is rough. "About all of it."
"I know."
We sit in silence. Her phone buzzes—probably her dad checking in already.
"I talked to Ben too," she says. "The Beta from the program. He thought I was dead. They all did. They canceled the final performance because I never showed up."
My jaw tightens but I nod. "I'm sorry."
"Are you?"
The question isn't accusing. Just... curious. Like she genuinely wants to know if I'm capable of remorse for destroying something that meant so much to her.
"Yeah. I'm sorry you had to make those calls. I'm sorry we put you in a position where you had to choose between dying and staying with us. I'm sorry for all of it."
"But you'd do it again."
Would I? A week ago, the answer would have been immediate. Of course. To save her life, I'd do anything.
But now...
"To save your life? Yeah. I would." I look at her. "But I'd do it differently. I'd give you choices. I'd treat you like a person, not a possession. I'd—" I stop. Shake my head. "It doesn't matter. We can't go back."
"Does that make you a monster?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Probably." I meet her eyes. "But at least I'm an honest monster now."
"Is that better or worse?"
"I don't know that either."
Her phone buzzes again. She looks down, reads something. Shows me.
Dad: Called the police. Told them you're safe, with friends, that it was a misunderstanding.
They weren't happy but they've called off the search.
Marcus from the program called too. I told him you're dealing with a family medical emergency.
He understood. Said your spot is open if you want to come back.
Dad: I don't like this, Vespera. But I trust you. You're your mother's daughter—stubborn and smart and too brave for your own good. Just please be careful. And call me tomorrow morning. I need to hear your voice.
Stephanie: Your dad told me you're okay. Thank god. I'm still in Columbus. Still here if you need anything. I know you don't want to talk to me but I'm not leaving until I know you're really safe.
I read them. Watch guilt flash across my face in ways I can't hide anymore.
"They love you," I say quietly. "A lot of people love you."
"I know."
"And we took you away from them."
"Yeah."
The weight of that sits between us. All those people who care about her, who are worried sick, who had to be told lies to keep them from tearing the world apart looking for her.
"I don't know how to make that right," I admit.
"You can't." She takes the phone back. "But you can try not to make it worse. You can keep giving me space. Keep the cameras off. Keep trying to be better than what you were."
"And if it's not enough?"
"Then I'll die hating you. But at least I'll know you tried."
I flinch. Stand. Head for the door because I can't keep looking at her tear-stained face knowing I helped put her in this position.
"Oakley?"
I turn.
"Thank you," she says. "For sitting with me. Even though I still hate you."
"I know." I almost smile. "I hate me too."
Then I'm gone, closing the door softly behind me.
In the hallway, I lean against the wall. Close my eyes.
She doesn't forgive me. She hates me. She might die hating me.
And the worst part is, I can't even blame her for it.
Because she's right. We are monsters. Just ones who are finally starting to see what we've become.
Whether that's better or worse than staying blind, I honestly don't know.