Dark Woods

Chapter 18

I made it exactly three steps into my house before everything Nick had said came crashing down on me like a f*****g avalanche.

"Since the night you two met."

The words kept echoing in my head, over and over, until I wanted to punch something. I stood in the foyer of my family's house, surrounded by portraits of strong Preston alphas who'd never let emotion cloud their judgment, and felt like I was drowning.

But wait. That wasn't right, was it? Nick had said she'd been different since we met, but I remembered Lucas mentioning something about her nightmares starting way before that. Before the party. Before we'd even known each other existed.

So what the hell did that mean?

"Gabriel?" My mother's voice drifted from the kitchen. "Is that you, honey?"

"Yeah," I called back, my voice sounding strangled even to my own ears. "Just... just gonna be in my room for a while."

I took the stairs two at a time, desperate to get away from anyone who might see the panic that was clawing its way up my throat. My room felt like a prison when I closed the door behind me, but at least it was private. At least no one could see me falling apart.

Since the night you two met.

I sank onto my bed, my head in my hands. The timeline was f*****g perfect, wasn't it? Jasmine's nightmares had started right after our night together. Right after I'd held her in my arms and felt like I'd found something I didn't even know I'd been looking for. Right after I'd taken her virginity and then spent the next day convincing myself it had been a mistake.

What kind of sick cosmic joke was that?

I tried to remember the exact sequence of events. The party. The attack on Sarah. Lucas losing control. Taking Jasmine home. The way she'd looked at me like I was her whole world. The way it had felt so f*****g right to touch her, to be with her, to hold her afterward like I never wanted to let her go.

And then the next morning. The panic. The fear that I was getting too attached, becoming too weak. The decision to prove I didn't need her by making sure she knew exactly how little she meant to me.

God, I was such a f*****g i***t.

I grabbed my laptop and opened it, my fingers shaking as I typed "nightmares after trauma" into the search bar. Maybe there was some logical explanation. Maybe it had nothing to do with me, nothing to do with our night together.

But deep down, I knew I was lying to myself.

The search results were a mess of medical jargon and psychology articles, none of which seemed to fit what Nick had described. I tried "visions during consciousness" and "dissociative episodes" and "terror during sleep." Nothing matched.

My phone buzzed with a text from Lucas: "You good? You looked pretty shaken up earlier."

I stared at the message for a long moment. Lucas. He'd found his mate early too. He'd know about the bond, about what it meant, about what happened when...

My fingers flew over the keyboard: "Can we talk? Need to ask you something."

His response came immediately: "Come over. Sarah's with the girls anyway."

I was out the door and in my car before I could second-guess myself. The drive to Lucas's place felt like it took forever, my mind racing with possibilities I didn't want to consider.

Lucas was waiting for me on his front porch, and one look at my face had him standing up straighter.

"What happened?" he asked immediately.

"I think I f****d up," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I think I f****d up really, really badly."

He gestured for me to follow him inside, leading me to his living room where we'd spent countless hours as kids, back when the world was simpler and I thought I had everything figured out.

"Talk to me," Lucas said, settling into the chair across from me.

"The mate bond," I started, then stopped. "When you found Sarah, when you knew she was yours... what would have happened if you'd tried to fight it?"

Lucas's expression grew serious. "What do you mean?"

"I mean if you'd tried to deny it. If you'd tried to prove you didn't need her by..." I ran my hands through my hair. "By being with other people. By making sure she knew you didn't want her."

"Gabriel." Lucas's voice was quiet, but there was something in it that made my blood run cold. "What did you do?"

"I think Jasmine might be my mate," I said, the words feeling like broken glass coming out of my throat. "And I think I've been destroying her for months."

The silence that followed was deafening. Lucas just stared at me, his expression shifting from confusion to understanding to something that looked like horror.

"How long?" he asked finally.

"Since the night we met. Since the Jamison party." I couldn't look at him. "We... we were together that night. And then I panicked. I thought having a mate would make me weak, so I... I made sure she knew I didn't want her."

"Jesus Christ, Gabriel."

"She's been having nightmares," I continued, the words pouring out like a confession. "Visions. Episodes where she's somewhere else, somewhere terrifying. Nick said she's been different since we met, but I think the nightmares started even before that."

Lucas was quiet for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was careful. "The mate bond... when it's denied, when it's betrayed... it can cause physical and psychological trauma in both parties."

"What kind of trauma?"

"Physical pain when the bonded mate is with someone else. Depression, anxiety, a feeling like you're slowly dying from the inside out. For the one being betrayed, it's usually worse - they might have visions, intense emotional episodes, even physical symptoms."

Each word hit me like a physical blow. "And if it goes on too long?"

"It can drive someone insane," Lucas said quietly. "Or kill them."

The room spun around me. I felt like I was going to throw up.

"But her nightmares started way before we even met," I said, trying to piece it together. "Months before. So that's not from the mate bond."

"No," Lucas agreed slowly. "That's something else entirely. But Gabriel... if she was already struggling with something, and then you added mate bond trauma on top of it..."

"I made it worse," I whispered. "Whatever was already happening to her, I made it ten times worse."

"The hookups," I said slowly. "All those girls... they never felt..."

"Like anything," Lucas finished. "Because they weren't her."

He was right. Every single meaningless f**k had felt like going through the motions, like my body was there but my mind was somewhere else. I'd told myself it was because I was proving my strength, but the truth was so much worse.

Nothing had compared to that night with Jasmine. The way she'd looked at me like I was everything. The way she'd moaned my name when I was buried inside her, like it was the only word she knew. The way her tight heat had wrapped around me so perfectly, like we were made for each other. The way she'd given me her virginity, trusted me to be her first, and I'd made it so f*****g good for her.

And I'd thrown it all away because I was a f*****g coward.

Every blonde, every brunette, every nameless piece of ass in every cheap motel—none of them had made me feel even a fraction of what Jasmine had. They'd all been pale imitations, hollow attempts to fill a space that only she could fill. I'd been trying to f**k her out of my system with every meaningless hookup, trying to recreate something that had been perfect the first time.

But every time I came inside someone else, all I could think about was how wrong it felt. How empty. How none of them made those little sounds Jasmine had made, how none of them felt as good as she had.

"Oh God." I buried my face in my hands. "I've been killing her. This whole time, I've been killing her."

"Not just her," Lucas said gently. "The bond works both ways, Gabriel. You've been killing yourself too."

I thought about all the meaningless nights, all the empty encounters that had left me feeling hollower each time. I'd told myself I was proving my strength, but really I'd just been torturing us both.

"What do I do?" I asked desperately. "How do I fix this?"

"I don't know if you can," Lucas said honestly. "The longer the bond is denied, the more damage it does. And if she's having visions..."

"What kind of visions?"

"Usually of her own death. Of losing her mate forever. The bond shows her worst fears, over and over, until she can't tell what's real anymore."

I felt like I was going to be sick. "She's dying because of me."

"Gabriel—"

"She's f*****g dying because I was too much of a coward to admit I needed her." I stood up abruptly, pacing to the window. "Because I thought being strong meant being alone."

"What are you going to do?"

I turned to face him, and for the first time in months, I knew exactly what I had to do.

"I'm going to tell her the truth," I said. "I'm going to tell her she's my mate, and that I'm sorry, and that I'll do whatever it takes to fix this."

"And if she doesn't forgive you?"

The question hit me like a knife to the chest, but I answered anyway. "Then at least she'll know she's not crazy. At least she'll understand why she's been suffering."

"Gabriel, if the bond is this damaged, if she's having visions... telling her might not be enough. The trauma might be too deep."

"Then I'll spend the rest of my life trying to heal it," I said fiercely. "I'll spend every day proving to her that she's worth everything. That she's worth more than my fear, more than my pride, more than my f****d-up ideas about strength."

Lucas nodded slowly. "And your beliefs about leadership? About mates being a weakness?"

I thought about the terror in Jasmine's eyes, about the way she'd pulled away from my touch like it burned her. About months of her suffering while I'd convinced myself I was being strong.

"I was wrong," I said simply. "About everything. Real strength isn't about being alone. It's about having something worth protecting. Someone worth fighting for."

"Even if it's too late?"

"Especially if it's too late."

I headed for the door, my mind already racing with everything I needed to say to her, everything I needed to explain.

"Gabriel," Lucas called after me. "For what it's worth... I think you're finally making the right choice."

I paused at the door. "Yeah, well, it's about f*****g time."

As I drove toward Jasmine's house, my hands shaking on the steering wheel, I realized that for the first time in months, I felt like I could breathe again. Not because I knew everything would be okay – I didn't. There was a very real chance that I'd already lost her forever.

But because I was finally done lying to myself. Done pretending I didn't need her. Done choosing fear over the one person who made me feel alive.

Even if she hated me. Even if she told me to go to hell and never speak to her again.

At least she'd know the truth.

At least she'd know that someone loved her enough to fight for her, even when they'd been too stupid to do it from the beginning.

And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to start healing the damage I'd done.

Even if it took the rest of my life to earn her forgiveness.