He Called Me Blind

CHAPTER EIGHT — Unfamiliar Silence

CLAIRE'S POV

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

He asked in an almost whispery voice, leaning in closer when I didn’t answer.

The next thing I felt was his warm fingertips brushing a strand of hair from my face.

I let out a quiet sigh and closed my eyes. I honestly didn’t want to see him right now, much less talk to him. Thinking about losing my pup because of his betrayal only made the pain heavier.

Sometimes I don’t understand why he acts so possessive over me while still entangling himself with Isabella.

Why can’t he just stop pretending he cares?

Everyone in the pack, even in this whole country, knows who he truly cares for—and it isn’t me.

“I’m tired. I want to sleep,” I said quietly, eyes still closed.

He didn’t say anything after that. I only heard him release a sharp, frustrated breath as he got up.

But he didn’t leave, yet.

He stayed there for a while, but even without seeing him, I could feel his sharp eyes raking over me along with the anger simmering inside him.

“Whose coat is this you brought into our bedroom?” His suppressed snarl broke the silence, making my eyes snap open.

I was stunned for a second, then slowly turned to him with a blank look.

“The cab driver who brought me home lent it to me. I forgot to give it back.”

He didn’t seemed convinced. “A cab driver? This isn’t just any driver’s coat. Are you lying to me, Claire? Were you with another wolf?”

Now he’s getting furious over a jacket. Isn’t that hypocrisy?

I didn’t back down and faced him.

“Do you even hear yourself, Ethan? Who would dare get close to a blinded, worthless Luna like me?” I scoffed.

His breathing remained heavy with suppressed anger, but he didn’t speak again.

I turned my back to him—unwilling to continue the conversation.

He let out a breath, though his tone was still a little heavy.

“Claire, I'm asking you this once—don’t start anything with Isabella again. I need you to stay away from her, for both your sakes.”

I didn’t answer.

His voice wasn’t sharp, but every word still cut deep.

He was defending her… again.

Fine.

Let him keep defending her. Soon, he'll see what it costs.

…..

I woke up late in the afternoon because my stomach was grumbling with hunger. I hadn’t realized I’d fallen asleep for a few hours, and now I felt a little steadier—though still lightheaded.

Forcing myself up, I reached for my cane on the nightstand and got out of bed to look for Sarah.

On my way to the lift, I bumped into Ethan instead.

“Where are you heading?” His tone was lighter now.

“I’m going downstairs. I’m hungry,” I answered, my voice hoarse from sleep.

“Sarah’s not around. What do you want to eat? I’ll make something for you.”

I was surprised to hear him offering such a special service for me—for the first time.

Did the wind blow from the south?

Wasn’t he supposed to be at North Villa by now, checking on Isabella?

What kind of stunt was he pulling this time? It surely came with a price.

Before I could say “okay,” he spoke again.

“I also want to talk to you about something.”

My ears pricked up immediately.

“About what?” I tightened my grip on my cane.

I already guessed where this talk was going.

“We’re going to North Villa later. You need to apologize to your sister.”

I stood there, rigid as stone—without uttering a word or showing emotion. It was like a bucket of ice-cold water had been thrown in my face.

“You really believe I pushed her down the stairs.”

It wasn’t a question, but a cold statement.

I added, after a pause—without giving him a chance to speak—

“I’m not going. Forget it.”

I turned back toward our bedroom, but his big hand caught my arm.

“Claire,” he said, keeping his voice low, “she’s willing to let it go. All she wants is an apology.”

I gave him a short, cold laugh. “Yeah? Then let her come here and get it.”

There was no way I was going to make this easy for them.

“Claire—after everything that happened, can’t you just let this go?” he pressed.

My lips twitched, almost wanting to laugh at his words again, but I held it back.

I’ve just come to realize how Isabella has fooled a once strong-willed Alpha.

“Let go of what, Ethan?” I shot back. “The part where she fell on her own? Or the part where I was kicked by my brother and still got blamed for it all?”

I was angry, but I tried hard to keep my cool.

I couldn’t see his reaction, but he went quiet for a few seconds.

“I just want to end the dispute between you two,” his voice softened, as if trying to reason—though even in his tone, the words felt hollow.

Yanking my arm free, I walked past him. “I’ll go. Don’t worry.”

But the way I said it… the sound felt too unfamiliar to both of us.

___

The ride to North Villa was quiet.

I didn’t bother trying to ease the mood between us either. I preferred the silence over starting a conversation with him.

“I’m not forcing you to do this. We can still head back,” he said, breaking the cold silence inside the car.

I didn’t respond—just kept staring out the window.

Not forcing me, huh? Was this his way of coaxing me after everything?

Too late.

He reached over, trying to hold my hand, but I pulled away.

He held it anyway, so I stayed still—not wanting to waste my energy.

“About yesterday… I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “I shouldn’t have left you behind. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Any form of soft words from him didn’t stir anything in me anymore. I was done believing his lies and infidelities.

“It’s fine,” I replied, still facing the window. “You weren’t thinking. That part’s clear.”

Silence lingered after I shut him out with those cold words, lasting the rest of the drive—until we arrived.

But the moment we stepped onto the villa’s doorstep, the servant’s disdainful voice stopped us.

“Still got the nerve to show your face here? You won’t be satisfied until you’ve finished Ms. North off, will you?”

Isabella had clearly taught her servants well.

“I belong to this pack house. Why shouldn’t I come?” I sneered.

The maid gaped, stunned. She hadn’t expected me to talk back.

“You—you—!” she sputtered, and I guessed she was pointing at me too.

“Step aside, before I break your filthy hands.”

Ethan’s low, growly voice rang beside me.

“My apologies, Alpha Pierce. And Luna Claire,” she recoiled immediately, stepping aside to let us through.

We crossed the threshold, and as we neared the living room, a sugarcoated voice floated through the air instantly.

“Ethan?”