Chapter 57
1161 Words
Cole
I knocked on Gwen’s door for the second time that night.
Still no answer.
She’d missed dinner—no word, no message—and something about that silence tugged at the wrong parts of my chest. Not in a possessive way. Just… worried. The bond between us still felt strained, like something fraying at the edges. Ever since the talisman. Ever since him.
I tried the knob. Unlocked.
"Gwen?" I pushed the door open slowly.
She sat on the windowsill, knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped tight around them. She didn’t even flinch at the sound of my voice. Her gaze was out the window, unfocused. Her nightgown hung off one shoulder, and the moonlight poured over her like a spotlight on a woman made of glass.
Something in me broke at the sight.
I didn’t ask questions. I just crossed the room and sat next to her, shoulder to shoulder. Close, but not touching—not yet.
She finally spoke, voice hollow. “Do you ever wish it had been someone else?”
I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“That you’d been fated to someone normal. Someone without so much… damage.” Her voice cracked on the word, and she laughed bitterly, wiping under her eye. “Someone easier to love.”
I turned to face her fully, my heart hammering. “Gwen…”
She shook her head, cutting me off. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better. I see the way people look at me—like I’m fragile. Like I’m broken. I feel it. And sometimes I think maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m not whole enough to be anyone’s mate.”
I couldn’t let her sit in that pain alone.
I took her hand, lacing our fingers together. “You want the truth?”
She nodded, silent tears tracking down her cheeks.
“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, surprised by the force behind the words.
“I don’t care if you’ve been hurt. I don’t care about how complicated things are. I care that you fight every single day to hold yourself together. That you still find moments to smile. That even after everything, you’re capable of love.”
I pulled her into my chest, holding her tightly as she trembled in my arms.
“I can’t wait to marry you,” I whispered into her hair. “To build a home with you. To raise pups and argue about whose turn it is to cook dinner and fall asleep every night tangled up in each other. I want a life with you, Gwen. Exactly as you are.”
She sobbed quietly into my shirt, her fists clutching the fabric like it was the only thing keeping her tethered.
I didn’t try to stop her. I just held her.
Let her break. Let her feel. Let her know that I’d stay through all of it.
“I love you,” I murmured. “So damn much.”
“I love you too,” she whispered back, her voice hoarse. “I just don’t know how to stop being scared.”
“Then don’t,” I said softly. “Just let me be brave enough for both of us.”
And in that quiet, cracked space between heartbreak and healing—we started to stitch something whole.
Third Person POV
The door creaked open softly.
Cain’s head poked through first, followed closely by Cash, both of them expecting the room to be dark and empty, maybe a note left behind. What they weren’t expecting was the sight of Cole cradling Gwen in the soft spill of moonlight, her body tucked into his like she was made to live there.
Cole looked up when he heard them but didn’t pull away. His arms stayed around her, his palm gently stroking her spine through the thin fabric of her nightgown. Gwen didn’t move—eyes red, lips trembling—but her shoulders had finally stopped shaking.
“What happened?” Cash asked gently, stepping inside. His voice held none of its usual sarcasm. Just concern. Just the raw ache of a man watching someone he loved fall apart.
Cole didn’t answer right away. He looked down at Gwen again, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek with reverent fingers.
“She asked me if I ever wished it had been someone else,” he said quietly. “If I ever wished our mate wasn’t… her.”
Cain’s jaw tensed. “What?”
Gwen stirred, sitting up slowly. She didn’t look at them right away, didn’t seem to have the energy to meet their eyes. But when she did, there was nothing guarded or prideful in her expression—just pure, aching vulnerability.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to say something so awful. I just… sometimes I feel like I’m too much. Too broken. Like I’m dragging you all down with me.”
Cash moved first.
He dropped to his knees in front of her, cupping her face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away tears that hadn’t even fully fallen. “You are everything, Gwen. There isn’t a world, a timeline, or a version of myself where I wouldn’t choose you.”
Her eyes shimmered. “But I—”
“No,” he interrupted gently. “You’ve been through hell. And you survived. That doesn’t make you broken—it makes you the strongest damn person I’ve ever met.”
Cain came to her other side, sitting on the armrest of the couch, his body curving protectively toward her. “Do you really think I would’ve risked everything—Alpha duties, political fallout, even war—for someone I didn’t think was worth it?”
She blinked at him, stunned.
“I was yours the second I saw you,” Cain murmured. “And every day since, I’ve only fallen harder. You’re not too much. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”
The room filled with a heavy, quiet emotion. No one rushed to break the silence. They didn’t have to. The bond between them pulsed in the stillness like a heartbeat—wounded but still alive.
Cole tightened his hold on her waist. “You’re not dragging us down. You’re showing us what it means to fight for someone. To love without conditions.”
“We adore you, Gwen,” Cash whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Every damn part of you.”
“And we’re not going anywhere,” Cain added. “So stop trying to push us away.”
Gwen buried her face in her hands, fresh tears slipping between her fingers—but they weren’t from pain this time. They were from the overwhelming, unbearable feeling of being seen. Of being loved.
And for the first time in days, maybe weeks, she believed it.
- Writer
