Marked by midnight.

Chapter 13: The Weight of Silence. Rayne’s POV.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, frozen in the same place. My fingers dug into the leather of the seat with such force they ached. The air inside the car tasted stale, too warm, thick with the ghost of Matteo’s breath still clinging to my skin. Every inhale scraped against the rawness in my chest; every exhale threatened to unravel what little strength I had left.

The rage hadn’t fully drained from me. It pulsed faintly beneath my ribs, a lingering tremor, the echo of a retort I couldn’t afford to let slip. I forced air in and out until the shaking dulled, until the world stopped ringing so sharply at the edges, until the fury loosened its grip on my throat.. if only a little.

Only then did I push the car door open.

The night air was cold enough to sting, sharp enough to wake the numbness in my limbs. My legs felt unsteady as I stepped out, like they remembered the fear and fury before the rest of me admitted to it.

My thoughts refused to settle; the moment my feet hit the ground, gravel crunched beneath my shoes scattering my mind in too many directions at once. Anger still flared, hot and reckless, chasing Matteo’s shadow into the dark, sharp enough that it made my hands ache. Fear followed close behind, quieter but older, heavier, coiling tight beneath my ribs, where it had lived for years. And layered over everything was the mask, sliding back into place with practiced ease, even as the night stripped something raw beneath it. The whiplash left me feeling dizzy.

The event pressed in on my mind.

Not what it was, but where.

The forest had been mentioned too casually, as if it didn’t matter. But it mattered to me. Places like that always did. Isolated. Claimed. Far from human eyes. I’d spent years steering clear of gatherings that felt like that, of rooms and spaces that belonged to worlds I’d chosen to leave. This wasn’t a concert hall or a club. It wasn’t neutral ground.

It was wolf territory.

And Bay.. The name stirred something old and half buried, a memory without edges; from a life I didn’t let myself be apart of anymore. There had been something about him that set my nerves on edge, something familiar and wrong all at once. I couldn’t place it. Couldn’t trust it. My senses weren’t what they used to be. But my skin still reacted the same way it always had, an awareness that hummed just beneath the surface.. my body remembering what other supernaturals felt like. Bay was definitely a wolf.. that much I could sense.

What scared me the most was my boys.

The thought of them insisting on coming sat like a stone in my chest. They were too observant, too protective, already reading rooms, people, interactions. I told myself it was just the way they’d grown up, being aware, careful of Matteo. That was all. The lie tasted bitter on my tongue and the idea of them anywhere near a pack, wolves, old magic and unspoken rules, made something feral twist inside me.

I couldn’t let them be seen there.

Couldn’t let anyone look too closely.

Couldn’t let that world touch them.

But the truth pressed in, heavy and unavoidable.

I couldn’t refuse this.

Not without consequences I didn’t yet understand.

By the time I reached the front door, my breath was uneven.

I pressed my forehead to the painted wood.

Cold. Steady. Real.

I let the chill sink into me, cooling the fire under my skin, steadying the parts of me that still trembled.

For a moment, I stayed like that, forehead bowed, hands pressed flat against the door, taking slow, careful breaths so I wouldn’t c***k open before I made it inside.

A few more breaths. In. Out.

Pull it together.

They can’t see this.

Not tonight.

Not ever.

I straightened, smoothing my hair with a hand that still trembled faintly. My curls resisted, urging to be wild and unruly, they were fighting to be free, like Rayne clawing to the surface. I forced them down, smoothed myself back into place, restoring the Raven façade.

A faint smile touched my mouth, stitched carefully into place. A soft lie meant to protect more than deceive.

Raven over Rayne.

The mask sliding on because it had to.

Right now, it didn’t matter which name I answered to. Mum was who I needed to be.

I pushed the door open.

Warm light spilled into the hallway, brushing over the framed family photo Matteo insisted on hanging by the entrance. I paused, staring at the lie; his hand on my waist, his smile too wide, my eyes too empty. Remy and Romeo looked like shadows pressed into the image, their expressions unreadable to anyone who didn’t live inside their stillness.

I wished, fiercely, painfully, that the picture on the wall was of something else.

Just me and my boys.

Or maybe.. maybe my mate, too.

I closed my eyes and exhaled.

Stupid. Impossible. Ridiculous even.

A dream as hollow as the memory of his eyes staring back at me.

That life had never been meant for me. I’d forfeited it the moment I severed myself from my wolf, from the Goddess, from the bond that should have saved me.

For the first time in years, I wished my life, the choices I had made, had been different. The thought struck hard and sudden, stealing the air from my lungs.

Until tonight, the lie had been bearable, something I had learned to live inside, to move through without cutting myself open. But seeing him had shifted something I didn’t know how to set back into place. The pull I had denied, the way his eyes had looked at me, like he could see every fracture I carried, left a bitter ache in my chest.

Denying him tasted wrong now, heavy and sour, and the guilt of it settled deep, a quiet grief for something sacred I had destroyed long before he ever laid eyes on my face.

I let the thought linger only a moment longer before I exhaled, trembling and pressed it back down into the place where survival lived. This was the choice I had made. For my children. In grief. In desperation. And if the day ever came when this life stopped being safe for them, when the world I’d fled reached too close, if danger or wolf politics found my twins; I would run and start again. Always. For them.

I breathed deeply, letting the air push the ache back where it belonged, blowing away the dangerous thoughts from the surface, until only a forged sense of calm remained and I stepped into the lounge.

The twins were sprawled across the sofa, a show playing quietly on the TV. At first glance, they looked relaxed; long limbs draped over cushions, casual, almost careless. But the moment I entered, the air shifted. Their bodies were too still, too aware. An untouched mug of tea waited on the coffee table for me, steam long gone.

To anyone else, this scene would look normal.

But I knew better.

They were assessing.

Silent. Measured. Attuned.

Their eyes didn’t leave me.

“Hey,” I said softly, threading warmth into my voice.

Both heads lifted. Remy’s dark gaze scanned me first, sharp and clinical, catching every micro-shift. Romeo followed a heartbeat later, his eyes gentler but no less perceptive. Together, they read me better than anyone ever had.

I moved toward them slowly, deliberately, careful not to trigger their protective instincts. They didn’t speak, but their shoulders eased when I sat between them. Romeo leaned subtly into my side; Remy’s leg brushed mine, grounding me with his quiet presence.

I picked up the tea. Lukewarm, but comforting.

“Thank you.”

“You were gone longer than usual,” Remy said. His voice was too calm, masking a storm beneath. When he was younger, that tone used to worry me. Now, it unsettled me how easily he dismissed Matteo’s authority without ever challenging it outright.

Romeo’s gaze stayed locked on mine.

“You okay, Mum?”

I nodded. “Just tired.”

They didn’t believe me. Not for a second. Worry burned behind their eyes, but they let me pretend they did. Let me have the lie.

We sat together, the flicker of the TV casting soft light across the room. Slowly, barely perceptibly, the boys relaxed. Romeo rested closer, his shoulder brushing mine. Remy’s fingers tapped a quiet rhythm against his leg, syncing unconsciously with my breathing.

For a few stolen minutes, the world softened.

Their laughter, rare, honest, unguarded, filled the room when a joke landed on the TV. I soaked it in greedily, letting the sound mend places Matteo could never touch. These moments were the only ones that didn’t feel borrowed.

Then it hit.

A sharp, crushing twist low in my spine.

Heat coiled tight around my chest, stealing the air from my lungs. Pain bloomed beneath my ribs like a brand.

I inhaled sharply.

Remy stilled instantly.

Romeo’s gaze snapped to me.

“Mum?” Romeo asked quietly.

I forced a smile. “Just tired, sweetheart.”

But the pain didn’t recede. It rolled through me in slow, merciless waves, like something buried was clawing its way back to the surface. Like the bond I’d pretended didn’t exist was objecting to my lies.

I stood, aiming for casual, but my legs shook beneath me. Romeo reached out to steady me, concern flashing sharp and bright in his eyes. Remy was already half-risen, power stirring beneath his stillness.

“It’s late,” I said softly. “I think I’m going to head to bed. Long day.”

They watched me closely; reading, weighing, sensing. I bent and kissed their foreheads, one after the other.

“I love you Terror Twins.”

“Love you too,” they replied together, voices low and perfectly in sync. Smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes. Something unspoken passed between them, a communication without words.

I turned toward the stairs.

Halfway up, the pain flared again, slicing through my chest like a warning. My knees nearly buckled, but I forced myself onward.

I reached my bedroom and shut the door behind me, the latch clicking louder than I meant it to.

The moment it closed, I shattered.

My back hit the wood, a sob tearing free as my legs gave out. I slid to the floor, hand clamped over my mouth as tears burned down my cheeks.

Tonight, I had been Raven.

The mask.

The survivor.

But Rayne..

Rayne was splintering.

Grieving the mate she’d been denied.

The half of her soul she’d found only to deny.

I pressed my forehead to my knees, shaking.

I had survived tonight.

But at what cost?

Pain pulsed again, deeper this time; radiating through my chest, down my spine, into the hollow depths of my soul.

And then..

Stillness..

Not absence. Not emptiness.

A sudden, profound stillness that stole the breath from my lungs.

Something brushed the edge of my mind.

Soft. Tentative.

Familiar.

I froze.

Another presence stirred, closer now. Warm. Like a hand sliding into mine.

“Rayne.”

The whisper trembled through me. Rough and heavy with emotion.

Home.

The air thickened, wrapping around my shoulders like something I had forgotten belonged to me.

A pause.

A breath.

A shared heartbeat.

“It’s okay,” the voice murmured.

Warmth bloomed through me; gentle, consuming, heartbreakingly familiar.

“I’m here now.”

The dam broke.

The world narrowed to that one presence, that one voice. Steady, loving, undeniable.

And as the truth crashed into me, as her presence threaded through the cracks grief had splintered open, I curled forward and cried harder than I had in a lifetime.

Midnight.

My Midnight.