Enzo’s POV
I was supposed to feel happy. I was supposed to feel relieved. This was precisely what I had been pushing her toward for months—for her to finally give up on me, to detach her soul from mine, to find safety in hating me. But as I watched her push herself away, my chest collapsed under a wave of absolute pain.
Why did I want to scream at her to stop? Why did every single instinct in my body want to wrap my arms around her waist, pull her back into my lap, and beg her to take those words back?
The answer was obvious. It was because I loved her. Because I was completely, irrevocably in love with her.
But I couldn't tell her that. I had a role to play, a devastating truth to hide, and a promise to keep. I had to stick to my pretense, even if it tore my wolf to bloody ribbon
