Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Raven
“Raven,” he said, his voice low, controlled, but laced with a steel that made my heart lurch. “What the hell did you do?”
I opened my mouth, words tumbling over each other, desperate to explain. “She… she took everything, Damien. My nest, your things, she… ” My voice cracked, my hands gesturing to the barren room, the sterile air where his scent should have been.
“She taunted me. I didn’t mean to. ” I stopped, my breath hitching, the memory of Rielle’s smug smile, her sunflower scent choking me, fueling the fire that had driven my hand.
Rielle’s sob sharpened, her body trembling as she pointed a trembling finger at me. “I was trying to be kind!” she wailed, her voice breaking, tears glistening like polished gems. “I came to talk, to welcome her, and she attacked me!”
Her hand fluttered to her cheek, then lower, to her side, where a faint red stain bloomed through her silk dress, a wound that made me wonder for a second if I had done more than just slap her, but then I saw her fingers slick with blood.
Just as I realized that this bitch had actually just broken her own skin to play up her act, she gasped, her eyes rolling back, and she collapsed, her body limp against the pillows.
What a fucking pathetic liar! But while I could see right through her performance, Damien seemed to have bought it, hook, line, and sinker.
Damien’s growl rumbled, his eyes narrowing as he stepped to her side, his fingers brushing her wrist, checking her pulse.
My stomach twisted, jealousy and betrayal coiling like snakes, hissing within me.
He was touching her, tending to her, while I stood there, trembling, my hand still tingling from the slap, my belly heavy with our child…his child.
“She’s hurt,” he said, his voice tight, his gaze flicking to me, hard and unyielding. “You lost your temper, Raven.”
Something in the way he said it, so measured and so calm, lit a fuse in me. It was like he’d detonated a bomb in my head.
I lost my temper?
“You weren’t here!” I snapped, my voice rising, sharp with disbelief. “You don’t know what she said to me. I just told you, she cleared out my nest!”
My anger crackled in the air between us, and I didn’t care that it showed. Damien’s response came quickly. Too quickly. His tone was still calm, but now it had an edge to it. One that cut.
“It’s not about what she said,” he replied. “You shouldn’t have done that, and I’m not just talking about her. I’m talking about you.”
My breath caught, my fury flaring hotter.
“What the hell do you mean?”
I could feel the red rising behind my eyes, in my chest, everywhere. I was boiling.
“You’re pregnant,” he said, the words clipped. “What if she fought back? You can’t take any risks right now. You can’t recklessly endanger yourself like that.”
Something cracked in me then. I was the one who walked into my room and found it stripped bare. I was the one whose space, my privacy, and my sanctuary had been violated. But somehow, I was the danger? I was the one being called reckless?
I sucked in a breath, trying to keep the heat from spilling over, but it was too late.
“Endanger?” I said, voice trembling not with fear, but with rage. “She violated my space, Damien. My room. My nest. The one I built because of the child I’m carrying.”
I stepped forward, my voice low and unyielding.
“And you’re defending her. You’re actually standing here telling me this is my fault.”
His jaw tightened, a muscle ticking, his eyes flashing with frustration.
“I’m not defending her,” he snapped, standing fully.
“I expected you to be smarter, Raven. You’re pregnant, vulnerable, and you’re getting into fights?
What if she’d struck back? What if you’d been hurt? You can’t shift into your wolf.”
The words flew from his mouth like an accusation. All sharp, thoughtless, and cruel.
He knew why I couldn’t shift into my wolf.
I had told him about that traumatic night in the woods, the night my parents were murdered, a night that left me scarred so badly it made me shiftless.
And yet, the way he said it, like my inability was a flaw I had chosen, something I had done to myself, struck like a slap across the face.
And then it hit me—a quiet, devastating realization. It was already happening. All the whispers I had been hearing were playing out before my very eyes: He was choosing her. It didn’t matter who was right or wrong. She was his fated mate. He would defend her.
Something in me cracked wide open, and all the pain, rage, and sorrow twisted together until I could barely breathe through it.
“This has nothing to do with me or my wolf,” I said, my voice cold and trembling. “She’s your mate. I get it. You’ll defend her no matter what.”
“What the hell are you talking about? This has nothing to do with… ”
“It has everything to do with it, Damien,” I cut in, shouting now, unable to hold the storm back. “It’s exactly what we agreed on, isn’t it? I’m only here to give you your precious heir so you can cling to your title and keep your precious alpha throne. I’m just a means to an end.”
Something shifted in him then. Until that point, he’d tried to stay composed with his voice low and edged with restraint. But now? His temper surfaced. His voice came sharper and harsher, like glass cracking under pressure.
“How can you even say that?” he asked, his voice edged. “After everything…that’s what you think?”
“You’ve made it clear, Damien. Every single thing you’ve done has been about that.
” My words were tumbling out now, fierce and fast, maybe from the pregnancy hormones, maybe from everything else I’d been holding back.
“You brought me here because of your heir. You delayed the duel because of your heir. You’ve been training me to survive it for your heir.
You made me stop working because of your heir. ”
“I had every right to stop you from working,” he snapped.
We were nose to nose now. Tempers flaring. Chests heaving.
“Yeah. Because I’m carrying your heir, right? That’s what gives you the right to control me. That’s what makes you think you can decide for me. Just like that.” My voice cracked. “You didn’t even ask, Damien. You just decided.”
His face shifted. Just a little. A flicker of guilt.
“Raven…” he said, quieter now. “That’s not what I meant…”
I pulled away.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Raven, please, I didn’t mean… ”
I turned away.
He called after me, my name on his tongue, strained and uncertain. But I didn’t stop. I didn’t look back. Yes, I walked out because I was angry. But more than that, I needed space, somewhere quiet where I could fall apart without him seeing it. I didn’t hesitate. I walked straight to the balcony.
The second I stepped into the open air, the tears came, violent and uncontrollable. They poured out in waves, wracking sobs that shook through my chest, down to my fingertips, as if my very body was grieving.
It wasn’t the argument that shattered me, not really.
It was what I realized, right there in that room, that broke me open like never before.
I realized it when I saw the way he looked at her and tended to her.
The way his voice changed when he asked about her.
The way something flickered in me felt like it died when I saw the way he reached for her, and then blamed me for what had happened.
The desperation that rose in me from a deep, sickening fear of losing him to her.
And in that moment, I knew with a clarity that stole the breath from my lungs. I was in love with Damien Blackwell.
Somewhere between the heat and hunger, the magnetic pull that had once felt purely physical, I had lost my footing. Somewhere in the nights wrapped in his arms, in the training, and even in the arguments, I had fallen.
I had begun to care. To feel. To hope. And what a fool I had been. Because no matter how deeply I fell, he would never be mine. Not when she still existed. Not when her place had been written into his soul by the moon herself.
The room was a hollow shell, its barren walls mocking me with their silence.
I sat on the edge of the bed, the crisp, scentless sheets cold against my skin, my hands trembling as they cradled my swollen belly.
The argument this morning replayed in my head, each word a blade carving deeper into my heart.
Damien’s voice, low and steely, had cut through me.
Now, alone in this barren room, I pressed my hands to my belly.
My body ached, my joints were sore, and my breath was shallow with fatigue.
A sharp buzz broke the silence, my phone vibrating on the nightstand, its glow a stark contrast to the dim room.
I grabbed it, my hands trembling, the screen flashing a number, one I hadn’t seen in years.
My breath caught, my heart lurching as I opened the message: Raven Nightbane, this is PI Harlan Voss. I have a lead on your parents’ murder. Critical evidence, but you need to see it in person. Ivory Moon Pack. Come now. Urgent.
I’d hired Voss years ago, a grizzled investigator who’d promised to uncover the mystery of who was behind my parents’ murder. But he’d gone silent, his leads drying up until now.
I stood, pacing the room, my boots scuffing the hardwood. Returning to the Ivory Moon Pack was a risk. Ivy was there, her schemes waiting. Elder Dawson and Aunt Tiffany, the elders who’d betrayed me, would be ready to pounce..
But this lead was the truth I’d sought for years, the key to unraveling the night that broke me. My hand rested on my belly, the baby’s kick stronger now, a reminder of what I was fighting for.
Damien would never love me, not the way I loved him, not with Rielle’s shadow looming. Staying here, in this scentless cage, was a slow death. I had to go. I had to face the past, even if it meant walking into a trap.
I yanked open the wardrobe, stuffing clothes into my bag, mine, not his, because his scent was gone. My fingers lingered on a scarf, the blue one I’d worn in the training yard, now torn from Elias’s attack, a reminder of how close I’d come to losing everything.
I zipped the bag, slinging it over my shoulder, my breath hitching as I glanced around the room one last time. The barren bed, the empty wardrobe, the absence of Damien’s scent. It was a goodbye I hadn’t wanted, but one I had to make.