Chapter 15- What He Wouldn’t Let Her See
603 Words
Mikaela felt it.
The moment the decision was made, the bond twisted—sharp and sudden, like something being wrenched out of place. Her knees nearly buckled as she pressed a hand to the wall outside the council hall, breath leaving her in a shaky gasp.
He’s leaving.
“No,” she whispered.
Her wolf surged forward, frantic now, claws scraping against the inside of her chest.
Mate—leaving. Stop him.
She didn’t think. She ran.
Down corridors she’d walked a thousand times, past warriors who called her name, past healers who tried to stop her. The world narrowed to one thing—one pull.
Rhys.
She burst into the outer courtyard just as the Red Moon warriors were assembling.
He was there.
Already armored. Cloak clasped at his shoulder. Head high, expression carefully blank.
Relief crashed through her so hard it nearly knocked her breath away.
“Rhys!” she called.
His head turned.
For one fragile second, the mask cracked.
The bond flared bright and hot—recognition, relief, longing—
Then he shut it down.
Rhys’s gaze slid past her as if she weren’t standing there, chest heaving, heart breaking.
Mikaela skidded to a stop in front of him. “Don’t,” she pleaded softly. “Please don’t do this.”
He didn’t answer.
She stepped closer, voice shaking. “You don’t have to listen to them. We’ll figure it out. Together.”
Rhys clenched his jaw so hard it ached.
If I look at her, I won’t leave.
Kael’s presence loomed nearby, silent and watchful.
Rhys forced his voice steady. “Mikaela, go back inside.”
The words cut deeper than any blade.
Her breath hitched. “You don’t mean that.”
He kept his eyes fixed on a point over her shoulder. “This isn’t the time.”
“Then tell me when it will be,” she demanded. “Because I can feel you tearing away from me.”
Her wolf howled in her head, raw and broken.
Mate. Don’t go.
Rhys’s hands curled into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms.
“I need you to trust me,” he said quietly.
She shook her head. “You’re not telling me everything.”
Silence.
That was her answer.
Mikaela reached for him, fingers brushing the edge of his cloak—
Rhys stepped back.
The movement was small.
Devastating.
Something in Mikaela shattered.
“Rhys,” she whispered, voice barely sound. “I’m your mate.”
He swallowed hard.
“I know,” he said.
The bond screamed.
But he didn’t look at her.
Didn’t touch her.
Didn’t stay.
He turned away, boots crunching against stone as he joined his warriors. Orders were barked. The formation shifted.
Mikaela stood frozen, arms hanging uselessly at her sides as the gates began to open.
Rhys paused at the threshold.
For a heartbeat, she thought he might turn.
Instead, he said—without facing her—“Take care of yourself.”
Then he was gone.
The gates slammed shut.
The bond stretched thin, vibrating with pain.
Mikaela sank to her knees on the cold stone, breath coming in broken sobs as her wolf curled in on itself, whimpering.
Eirik reached her moments later, dropping beside her.
“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely.
She didn’t answer.
Her gaze stayed fixed on the closed gates.
On the space where her mate had been.
And somewhere far beyond Crescent Moon’s borders, Rhys marched forward with his jaw locked and his heart breaking—every step away from her feeling like a betrayal he would never forgive himself for.
- Writer
