Chapter 12 #2
Then the following week, then the month after that. Each time I explained the truth, I still allowed her to stay close enough to misunderstand it.
That was my failure in this.
I accepted the meals she brought and appreciated her cleaning my counters while we chatted about trivial things.
I valued her warm presence in my bed during the months before Coro shut it down, because Stacey's submissive nature naturally aligned with my dominant side.
I convinced myself that being honest about my limitations made the situation fair.
It didn’t, and I knew that long before I admitted it.
I had mistaken carefulness for kindness because it felt gentler in the moment than cutting something off altogether.
The more Coro and I bonded, the stronger his will became. The first thing my wolf made clear had nothing to do with elemental power or the impending mate bond.
It was Stacey.
Not in words. But overnight, everything inside me changed when she got close. Resistance settled in my chest where acceptance had been. Coro had already chosen a direction, and he refused to let me keep drifting.
I hadn’t touched Stacey in six months.
She knew why, too. Stacey was perceptive enough to distinguish between discipline and rejection from the wolf itself. But she kept showing up anyway. Still hoping that Coro might change his mind before my mate arrives.
He wasn’t going to.
“Darius, baby, I brought you something.”
“You didn’t have to do this,” I said finally.
“It’s just the chicken you like,” she replied easily, setting the container down beside me. “You don’t eat properly when you’re out with them. I made extra.”
I looked at her then. Really looked.
At the softness in her face. The hope she no longer tried to hide. The quiet loyalty of a woman still standing in a bowling alley on a Thursday night because Jelisa had invited her and because some part of her still believed proximity mattered.
“Stacey,” I said quietly.
She heard everything beneath her name immediately. She always did.
“I’m not staying,” she said before I could continue, already offering me an exit before I even asked for one. “I just wanted to drop it off. Enjoy your night, Sir.”
Damn... she knew how to get under my skin. She knew that calling me Sir would get a reaction.
The problem was that it wasn’t enough of a reaction to make me go against Coro anymore.
She smiled at Marcus and Carter, feeling comfortable with them. They nodded back in respect.
Then she looked back at me one last time and walked back toward Jelisa and the others.
I watched her leave with the same feeling I always had after she walked away — not relief, not satisfaction, but the uncomfortable awareness of a man who knew he had not handled it as cleanly as he should have and was still living with the consequences.
“She brought chicken,” Carter said after a beat. “To a bowling alley.”
“Carter,” Marcus warned.
“I’m just noting it.”
“Noted.” Then he looked at me with that big-brother scowl, we're gonna talk about this later. “Now bowl.”
I picked up my ball.
Across the alley, Ty stood talking to Jelisa with the kind of calm honesty that closed doors properly. No blurred lines. No softness that could be mistaken for a later invitation. He was handling it better than I was.
I stepped forward and released the ball.
Strike.
Clean. Precise. Predictable.
***
DESTINY
"The first rule of close-quarters defense is simple," I said. "You won't always have room to run. So, stop thinking about running. Start thinking about what you already have."
Twelve women stood before me, their expressions ranging from determined to terrified. Good. Fear meant they understood the stakes.
"Your elbows. Your knees. The heel of your hand. Your body isn't a liability. It's your first weapon. Today isn't about winning a fight. It's about surviving the first ten seconds."
I walked the line the way Darius used to walk mine—quietly, letting them feel seen.
"Partner up."
They hesitated. Strangers. Too much space between them and too little trust.
"Hands on your partner's shoulders," I instructed. "Get used to contact. Panic wastes time."
We ran the drill four times before I called for a water break.
"Better," I said. "Not good. Better."
Britta caught my eye again. As on the morning of the breach, she stood with the calm focus of someone who had already decided she was done being helpless.
A woman in the second row raised her hand.
"What if they're bigger?"
"They will always be bigger," I said. "That is not the problem you think it is."
"How?"
"Size only wins when the bigger person knows how to use it. Most who use size as a weapon have never fought someone who doesn't flinch." I looked at her. "Your job isn't to match their size. It's to be the one who doesn't flinch."
She nodded. Filed it. I recognized the filing. I moved on.
I felt her before I saw her.
The room shifted in that subtle way it does when someone walks in carrying intention.
I glanced toward the back wall during the third drill.
Jelisa.
Arms crossed. Calm. Composed. Watching.
I didn't acknowledge her. The women in front of me were why I was here.
We finished the fourth drill, then the correction round. I walked the line one last time, adjusted two grips that could have hurt someone, and nodded as I saw their confidence grow.
"Same time next week," I said. "Practice the shoulder release with someone you trust. Slow first. Speed comes later."
They gathered their things, a few pausing to ask questions. I answered each one before they drifted out.
Britta lingered until she was the last.
"The part about not flinching," she asked. "Is that something you learn or something you choose?"
I met her eyes.
"Both. You decide first. Then you learn what that decision costs. After that, you decide again."
She nodded once and left.
The door closed behind her.
Now it was just the two of us.
I picked up the towel from the bench and turned.
Jelisa hadn't moved. She still stood against the back wall as though she'd been there the whole time, waiting for her turn.
She wasn't angry or grieving. She was confident.
The kind of confidence that comes from believing you've finally found the crack in another woman's foundation.
Then she pushed off the wall and walked toward me. Smooth. Controlled. Pretty enough to make weaker women nervous.
I wasn’t a weaker woman.
"Jelisa," I said.
"Destiny. “The way she said my name carried weight this time. Not fake sweetness. Not passive aggression. Just direct eye contact and the intention behind it. "I'll keep it short. I know you're busy."
“I have time today,” I replied, keeping my tone in check.
"I'm not here to start anything. I want you to know that going in. But I think it’s time for you and me to talk.”
My head tilted slightly. I knew women like her: good girls who turn dangerous when hurt, desperate but never showing it.
"I'm not sure how much Ty's told you about us, but we were together a long time. He was good to me. Kind. Steady." A small smile touched her lips. "I loved him. He knew it."
She looked at me for a moment before continuing.
"When he realized you were his fated mate, he ended things immediately." She nodded once, almost to herself. "The way only Ty could. Gentle enough that I walked away knowing he cared, even if he wasn't mine."
I didn't say anything.
She mistook my silence for permission.