Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Kain
She’s shaking in my arms, her tears soaking through my shirt, and I know I don’t deserve to hold her like this.
But I can’t let go.
“You shouldn’t have come in here!” Her voice is muffled against my chest, broken. “I told you to stay in the living room.”
“Anne, please, let me explain everything. Let me tell you what happened.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” She tries to pull away, but I hold on tighter.
“Please?” My voice cracks, and I feel tears streaming down my own face. I can’t remember the last time I cried. Maybe not since the first year in that place. “I know I don’t deserve it. I know you have every right to hate me. But please, Anne, just listen.”
She stares at me, and something she sees—maybe my tears, maybe my desperation—makes her hesitate.
“Okay,” she finally whispers. “Tell me.”
I take a shuddering breath, trying to find the right words. How do I explain ten years of systematic torture? How do I make her understand without sounding like I’m making excuses?
“The amnesia was a lie,” I start. “So that I could complete my mission. The organization Darius mentioned—they sent me back here to capture Violet, and I had to maintain my cover.”
She flinches at the confirmation, even though she already knew.
“Why didn’t you just stop?” Her voice is raw. “Once you were here, why didn’t you turn against them?”
“Because they made it impossible. Let me show you.”
I release her and pull off my shirt.
She has probably noticed some of them before, of course, but Anne’s breath catches as I show her the full extent of my scars. They cover my torso, my back, my arms. A roadmap of torture etched permanently into my skin.
“These are from the first year,” I say, pointing to older, faded marks on my ribs. “They used silver-tipped whips. Broke my bones over and over, let them heal wrong, then broke them again to reset them.”
I turn so she can see my back. “Wolfsbane burns. They’d chain me up and pour it directly on my open wounds. My wolf would try to heal me, but the poison fought back. It felt like my skin was being torn apart from the inside.”
Facing her again, I take her hands in mine. We are both shaking.
“For ten years, they wore me down. And I wasn’t the only one. They had a whole program designed to strip away everything that made us who we were and rebuild us into weapons.”
“Kain—”
“They made us believe we’d been abandoned,” I continue, the words pouring out of me now. “Showed us forged documents. Made us repeat what I now know were lies over and over until we believed them. ‘My pack sold me. No one looked for me. I’m worthless.’”
I meet her eyes, needing her to understand.
“But through all of it, I held on to the memory of you. You were the only thing that kept me alive.”
My hand unconsciously goes to my pocket where the ring sits, but I stop myself. Not now. Not like this. That moment needs to be…different. Better than this desperate confession in the middle of the night.
“I had something that I kept hidden,” I say instead. “Something I bought before I was taken. I’d bring it out every night and hold it, trying to remember your face. Your smile. The sound of your laugh.”
I trace one of the scars on my forearm, a particularly vicious burn mark.
“There were days I couldn’t remember what color your eyes were. Days I forgot your name and had to force myself to recall it. But I always remembered that you were important. That loving you was the reason I had to survive.”
“Then why?” Her voice is barely audible. “Why did you come back and deceive me? If I was so important, why did you hurt me like that?”
“Because I was conditioned not to doubt their lies.” I close my eyes against the shame. “Ten years of training, Anne. They beat it into us that the mission was everything. ‘Complete the objective. Don’t deviate. Don’t question.’”
I show her my wrists, where the newest scars from the silver chains are still raw.
“They poison us before every mission. We need an antidote every four months or we die. It’s how they guarantee we’ll come back. How they make sure we’ll complete the mission, no matter what.”
Anne’s hand flies to her mouth.
“I knew I was dying when I talked to my handler that day, when you heard me on the phone,” I continue. “The symptoms had started. I needed the antidote. He refused unless I delivered Violet.”
Silence stretches between us. I can see her processing, trying to reconcile everything I’ve told her with what I did.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” I say quietly. “I know what I did is unforgivable. But I need you to know that seeing you again saved me. Helped me break through the conditioning. Made me remember who I was before they turned me into this.”
She’s crying silently, and I reach up to wipe away her tears.
“Every moment with you made it harder to complete the mission. Every smile, every laugh, every time you looked at me like I was still the person you loved—it chipped away at their programming.”
I cup her face gently, thumbs brushing across her cheekbones.
“You saved me, Anne. Just by being you. By refusing to give up on me even when everyone else said you should.”
“Kain...” Her voice breaks on my name.
“I’m so messed up,” I continue. “Broken in ways I don’t know how to fix. But I’m still your mate. Still the person who loved you enough to survive ten years of hell because my heart wouldn’t let me forget you.”
She looks up at me, tears streaming down her face, and I see what is happening behind her eyes. Love and anger and grief, all tangled together.
For a moment, I think she might forgive me. Might let herself believe we can work through this.
“Please leave.” Her voice is quiet but firm.
“Anne—”
“I said, leave.” She pulls away from me, putting distance between us on the bed. “Go back to the couch. I can’t—I can’t do this right now.”
“Please, just—”
“No.” She’s not yelling, but there’s steel in her voice. “I’m sorry for what you went through. I’m sorry they tortured you. I’m sorry they broke you down and made you believe you were abandoned.”
Hope flares in my chest only to die at her next statement.
“But I can’t forgive you. Not right now. Maybe not ever. You made choices, Kain. Terrible choices that hurt me in ways I don’t know how to get past.”
Each word cuts deep into my heart.
“You need to leave my room. Now.”
I stand slowly, picking up my shirt with trembling fingers. The ring is heavy as a rock in my pocket, a reminder of everything I wanted to give her, everything I’ve lost.
I walk to the doorway and pause, looking back at her. She’s sitting on the bed, small and broken, tears still glistening on her face. The mate bond aches between us, stretched painfully thin.
“I love you, Anne,” I say quietly. “I know that doesn’t fix anything. I know it’s not enough. But I need you to know that.”
She doesn’t respond. Just sits there, arms wrapped around herself like she’s trying to hold the pieces together.
I step out into the hallway, pulling the broken door closed as much as I can behind me. It doesn’t latch properly—can’t, after I tore it off its hinges—but it provides a semblance of privacy.
I barely make it to the couch before my legs give out.
I sink onto the cushions, my head in my hands. The ring digs into my leg through my pocket, a constant reminder of the proposal I never got to make. Of the future we were supposed to have.
I told her the truth. Showed her the scars. Explained the conditioning. The poison.
And she still told me to leave.
Because at the end of the day, none of that changes what I did to her. None of it erases the pain I caused.
The mate bond aches in my chest, pulling toward her room. My wolf whines, wanting to go back, to make her understand, to hold her close until she forgives us.
But she’s right to send me away. I don’t deserve her forgiveness. Maybe I never will.
I pull a blanket over my bare chest and close my eyes, but sleep doesn’t come. Just the echo of her words playing over and over in my mind.
“I can’t forgive you. Not right now. Maybe not ever.”
Along with the terrible knowledge that I have no one to blame but myself.