Fated Tragedy

11. Depression Lyra: Michail POV

May life forever guide me away from those unworthy of my heart.

Friends who once claimed to love my son proved themselves false when their words turned selfish. They behaved like tantrum children, wounded only because I would not take their advice. Advice that, if followed, would have given his father leverage.

Leverage to expose my son. To put him in danger. To take him from me.

So I disregarded them. I ignored every suggestion, every so-called concern, and did what I knew in my heart was right—what I had always done. I provided for my son myself. I gave him what he needed, not what others thought would make their own conscience lighter.

Yes, it hurt them. Yes, it made them turn on me. But if wounding their pride meant keeping my boy safe, I would do it all over again. Without hesitation.

Because no pain compares to losing him. And if I could have spared his life, kept him in my arms, away from anyone who would side with that man—I would have bled myself dry for it.

That sacrifice was mine to make. And I would make it a thousand times again. For my son.

It made me wonder if that was what Alek had wanted me to feel when he kissed me. It was different than the first time. That kiss had stilled me, but this one… this one had made me feel like he didn’t want to leave me. And I couldn’t understand why he would feel that way.

Wanting something gave a reason to stay in this life. And I didn’t want to stay in this life under any circumstances.

I didn’t move when the door opened. My gaze flicked up, and I saw Alek walk in—yet not the Alek I had seen before.

Earlier, he had been perfection itself: a dark red suit, salmon-colored shirt, dark tie and polished shoes, his hair brushed back to show his princely features.

Now… he came in wearing gray jog pants, a black hoodie, and boots so worn they looked carved out of war itself. His hair was a tangled mess, nothing like the pristine man who carried himself like a dream. But even like this, stripped of polish and pretense, he looked the same.

Unshaken. Unreachable.

I turned my eyes back to the sheets, unwilling to hold his gaze when he spoke.

“Wanting to go with your firstborn won’t make anything different,” Alek said, his voice firm yet soft. “It will only make things worse for you—and for your future. I’m no saint in this world, but I can tell you this: you have a further worth living. You need to heal the pain of losing a part of yourself, to feel you matter enough to keep going. You don’t have to do everything alone. That’s why I’m here.”

His words pricked at me, like needles under my skin. Annoyance flickered in me, sharp and restless, and I was ready to tell him so. But before I could open my mouth, he added—

“You want to fight me? Then fight me. Anything, Michi. If it helps that wound in you to start healing, then take it out on me. Every scream, every strike—I’ll take it.”

My breath caught, fury spiking inside me so fast it burned.

For a moment, all I wanted was to grab something, anything, and throw it at him. To shoot him down with words or bullets, I didn’t care which.

Because how dare he?

How dare he try to carry me when I wanted nothing but to disappear?

Alek walked compared to me, and I struck him, harder than I thought I could. My blow landed, and he bled. For one heartbeat, I braced for the wolf in him to rise, to snap at me, to remind me what I wasn’t.

But he didn’t.

He caught my wrist gently, almost reverently, his strength caged and still. His eyes burned, but not with rage—with grief, with a sorrow that mirrored my own.

“You think claws and teeth are what break me?” he said, his voice ragged. “I’ve fought wars, Michi. I’ve torn through men and monsters. No blade, no wound has ever undone me.”

He pulled me closer, lowering his forehead to mine, his chest trembling against my stillness.

“But you—your pain—your silence—” his voice cracked, raw as an open wound, “that destroys me. You don’t have a wolf, and still you cut deeper than any beast ever could. Don’t you see? You matter more than you believe. And if you give up now, you’ll rip out what’s left of me.”

Tears blurred my vision, anger and sorrow tangling until I couldn’t tell them apart. For the first time, I saw him not as the Alpha, not as the untouchable Prince. I saw him as a wolf brought to his knees—not by war, but by me.

“How did you know I have no wolf? I hit you hard enough to make you bleed!”

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smirk. Instead, he sighed—a sound too heavy to be casual—and took the very hand I had struck him with.

When his lips brushed my knuckles, I flinched, the instinct sharp and unbidden. He felt it. He knew it. And when he spoke, there was no anger in his voice, no command. Only raw, unguarded honesty.

“You fear I’ll hit you back for grieving the death of your pup?” His eyes burned into mine, unyielding. “Tell me—who hurt you this badly, Michi? Who made you believe a man would punish you for feeling pain? For mourning a loss that was never your fault? It was my fault for not protecting you both from the danger that stole his life.”

His words stripped me bare, tearing down every wall I’d fought to keep around me. My breath caught, my throat closing. I felt small, cornered, vulnerable in a way that terrified me more than any threat.

Why did I feel caged?

Why couldn’t I just tell him? That it was my ex. That Doniel had broken me, taught me to fear, taught me that every man was a fist waiting for me to slip.

The truth clawed at my chest, but I couldn’t set it free. Because saying it aloud would make it real again.

And I was afraid—afraid of what Alek would do once he knew.

The silence between us pressed heavy. My lips trembled, but no sound came out. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t tell him.

He didn’t rush me. He didn’t demand. Instead, he held my hand in both of his, steady and warm, his thumb brushing gently over my knuckles where he had kissed me.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, rough, but steady enough to keep me tethered.

“You don’t have to tell me now. Not if it cages you. Not if it tears you open too wide to breathe. But hear me, Michi…” He exhaled sharply, the kind of sigh that carried years of weight. “I will never raise my hand against you. Not in anger. Not in grief. Not for any reason. The only fight I will ever give you is the fight to keep you alive.”

His words broke something in me.

He leaned closer, pressing his forehead to mine, and I felt his breath shudder.

“Whatever monster put fear into your bones—he is not me. And if you never speak his name, I will still know him. Because I can see him in your flinch, in the way you guard your heart like it’s already broken. Let me take that weight. Let me prove to you that not every man is a fist waiting to fall.”

My chest ached, and for the first time, I felt more afraid of crying than of speaking. Because if I cried, if I let go even for a moment, I wasn’t sure I could stop.

I stayed silent. The weight of his words pressed against me, but I couldn’t let them out. My lips trembled, my throat burned, yet nothing came.

Alek didn’t push. He didn’t demand. Instead, he lowered his voice, softer now, almost like he was confessing something he had no right to say aloud.

“I’m sorry, Michi,” he whispered, eyes searching mine. “I’m sorry someone harmed you. If I had ever been the one to do that…” He shook his head, pain flickering across his face. “That would have been my first mistake. Because you’re already in pain. And no man who truly sees you would ever add to it, and I truly am sorry you had that done in the worst of times.”

The words cracked something open inside me.

I couldn’t hold it anymore.

The tears came, hot and unstoppable, spilling faster than I could wipe them away. My chest heaved, the sound of my sobs breaking the silence I had held like armor.

And Alek didn’t recoil. He didn’t flinch at my breaking. He simply stayed, steady as stone, letting me finally cry as though he had been waiting for this moment all along.

I took a step back, the realization crashing over me like ice—I was in more pain than I had admitted to myself.

How pathetic I must have looked. Begging Alek to stay. Because I couldn’t speak for the life of me all I could do was probably write to him.

How pathetic would that have been?

Writing him endless paragraphs, crying until the words blurred. It felt embarrassing, humiliating, to see myself so exposed, so small.

And for what?

All he could give me in return, in the privacy of my mind, was a flat, empty response: “I don’t know what you want me to say. Thanks for letting me start to care for your dead son and yourself?”

The words gutted me.

Because I knew he was hiding something. I could feel it, coiled beneath his calm voice. But I couldn’t untangle whether it was his feelings he concealed—or his intentions.

It left me reeling.

Because standing before me, I swore I wasn’t facing one Alek, but two.

His presence was helping me, and I hated it. I hated that I was being helped when I didn’t deserve it. Zebasthian deserved it. He deserved the world—the one I couldn’t afford to keep living in. Nothing mattered to me anymore, no reason to stay, and yet here was my Alpha telling me I mattered to him.

But it was only duty. An Alpha’s duty is to keep his pack safe and to provide for every member. That’s all this was. I told myself I would only ever believe that.

He had kissed me more than once, but he might also know that before I got pregnant, I was a loose girl. I had slept around to get over Doniel.

Did he think I was still that way?

If so, he wouldn’t have to think it for long—because I intended to make things easier for myself.

I moved toward the dresser behind him. His eyes narrowed, his voice skeptical.

“What are you doing?”

Pushing things aside, I found a bag and started opening the electric closet. “Taking my things to stay in a hotel,” I snapped, “where I won’t be a dickstraction, and I won’t be monitored like a f*****g prisoner.”

But it wasn’t Alek’s voice that answered. It was Lyra’s.

“Miss Toth,” she said gently, though her words carried authority, “I am afraid that because of your earlier actions and your refusal to accept my services, you are under suicide prevention. You are being monitored until the risk is minimized, and eventually eliminated. Your only options are here, or an institution where you will be kept safe.”

Her words froze me, then rage boiled over. My hands shook as I turned around, fury burning through my chest like fire.