Realization

I paced, a caged predator in my own office, the polished floorboards echoing the frantic rhythm of my steps. My breath hitched, a ragged, uneven sound, each inhale a struggle against the crushing weight in my chest. It felt as if an iron band constricted my ribs, squeezing the very life from me. Every time I dared to close my eyes, Liliam's face materialized, a phantom of distant resolve, her eyes mirroring a choice that shattered my world. She had chosen him. William. William. The name tasted like ash on my tongue.

A guttural roar ripped from my throat, and I slammed my fist against the mahogany desk, the wood groaning under the brutal impact. My wolf, a tempest of fury trapped within my skin, snarled and paced, mirroring my own inner turmoil. The bond, that fragile, shimmering thread connecting me to Liliam, pulsed with a chaotic symphony of emotions—confusion, a burning, white-hot anger, and a raw, gaping wound of hurt. I could feel her pain, her fear, a faint echo against the storm within me, but she was unreachable, a distant star. She had erected a wall, a fortress of ice, and I was left standing outside, powerless.

I inhaled deeply, attempting to quell the raging inferno within, but it was a futile gesture. The anger, a molten tide, surged through my veins, threatening to consume me entirely. I couldn't lose her. Not to William, not to anyone. My fists clenched at my sides, the sharp edges of my nails digging into my palms, a desperate attempt to anchor myself to reality.

Then, a dark seed of suspicion took root. Dalia. Was it true? Was she truly Cerberus's magical advisor, as William had so casually claimed? Had she been feeding them information, betraying us from within? The thought, like a venomous serpent, coiled in my gut.

Without conscious thought, I stormed from my office, my footsteps a thunderous cadence against the stone floor. The hallways blurred into indistinct streaks of color as I hurtled towards the garden, drawn by an instinct as primal as my rage. It was near the security quarters, and I knew she'd be there.

As I approached the garden, she came into view. Dalia stood near the rose bushes, her posture deceptively calm, but her eyes widened in alarm as she saw me. My anger, a raging tempest, threatened to drown me. Before she could utter a word, I seized her by the throat, slamming her against a stone pillar with a force that rattled the very foundations of the garden.

"Who are you really?" I snarled, my face inches from hers, my breath hot and ragged against her skin. "Do you work with Cerberus?"

Dalia choked out a cry, her hands clawing at mine, desperate to break free. Her icy blue eyes, usually so composed, flashed with fear and surprise. My grip tightened, the fury within me reaching a boiling point. William had been right. That thought alone sent another wave of rage through me.

"I should have known!" I growled, my voice a low, menacing rumble. "Too convenient that you suddenly came back for family remnants. How much have you fed him?"

"I swear, Zeff—" she gasped, her voice strangled.

Before she could finish, a hand clamped down on my arm, tugging at me, attempting to break my hold. "Hey, hey, hey!" Josh shouted, his voice frantic. "Zeff, let her go!"

"I haven't—" Dalia choked out, her face paling.

"Zeff, calm down!" Josh urged, his voice tight with fear and urgency.

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down!" I roared, my voice a thunderous echo. "This rat is a pet of Cerberus!"

Josh's face drained of color, his eyes darting between Dalia and me. "Zeff, please," he pleaded, his voice breaking. I loosened my grip just enough for her to gasp for air.

"Is this true?" Josh asked, his voice trembling with a mixture of hope and despair.

"Yes," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "But I swear, I haven't fed him anything vital since I realized Josh was my mate."

"Mate?" I repeated, stunned, my eyes flicking to Josh. His face was a mask of pain and betrayal.

Dalia's eyes were wide with desperation. "They don't know about Liliam," she said quickly, her words tumbling over themselves in her haste to explain. "I've only fed them enough to keep them at bay, to keep them from suspecting anything more."

I snarled, my anger flaring anew, and tightened my grip, making her gasp. "Because of you, Liliam is gone! I won't forgive you, even if you are Josh's mate."

I released her, and she slumped to the ground, gasping for breath. My rage, a wildfire, still burned within me. I turned and punched the stone pillar where I had held Dalia, the force of my blow shattering it, sending shards of stone flying.

Josh flinched, torn between his loyalty to me and his connection to Dalia. I saw the pain in his eyes, the agonizing conflict tearing him apart.

"Zeff…" he started, but I cut him off with a glare.

"Get her out of here," I ordered, my voice cold and sharp. "If she causes any more trouble, mate or not, I'll deal with her myself."

Josh nodded, his expression grim. He moved to help Dalia to her feet, but I saw the doubt in his eyes, the uncertainty. He didn't know if he could trust her, and neither did I.

As they left, I clenched my fists, attempting to quell the tempest within. The anger wouldn't subside, it churned, simmered just beneath the surface, a constant reminder of my failures. I was consumed with self-loathing for being so blind, so foolish. My stupidity had cost me my chance with Liliam, my fated mate. The thought of her choosing William over me was a searing, agonizing pain. But the bond, faint but present, was a sliver of hope.

I had to mend things, to fix what was broken. I couldn't let William have her, couldn't let my mistakes push her away. She was mine, and I would do whatever it took to win her back, to prove that I could protect her better than anyone else.

I drew in a deep breath, my hands slowly unclenching as I steeled myself for what lay ahead. I had to be smarter, sharper. This wasn't over—not by a long shot. And as long as that bond remained, I had a chance to make things right.

Liliam

24 hours before

As I followed William out of the room, my mind was a storm of emotions. Anger, fear, confusion—they swirled around, choking me, making it hard to breathe. I glanced back once, just a fleeting moment, to see Zeff standing there, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and pain. A pang of guilt hit me, sharp and cold, but I pushed it away, focusing on the warmth of William's hand on my waist, his presence steady and reassuring beside me.

I didn't want to feel this way. I didn't want to feel torn between them, between what was right and what felt… necessary. I didn't want to feel weak, to feel scared. I was tired of being scared, of feeling like I was constantly at the mercy of forces I couldn't understand, couldn't control.

Zeff's eyes had held so much. Confusion. Hurt. Maybe even love. Yet… he wasnt clear. He'd kept secrets, hidden truths about who I was, what I was. I could still feel the sting of that revelation, the betrayal. How could he claim to care for me and not tell me the truth? How could he just stand there, helpless, while William offered me what I desperately needed—strength, power, a way to fight back?

I knew I was being unfair, maybe even cruel, but I couldn't help it. I didn't want to lose this power, this feeling of control. For the first time, I felt like I could stand on my own, that I wasn't just some pawn in a game I didn't understand. With William, I felt… powerful. And I didn't want to let that go. I couldn't go back to being weak, to being afraid. Not now, not after everything.

The memory of Owen's twisted face flashed through my mind, the fear I'd felt, the helplessness. I never wanted to feel that way again. And if this power—whatever it was, wherever it came from—could keep me safe, could keep the people I cared about safe, then I'd take it. I'd embrace it. I'd choose it.

Even if it meant pushing Zeff away. Even if it meant hurting him.

A part of me screamed that this wasn't right, that I was making a mistake. But another part, a louder part, insisted this was the only way. The only way to survive. The only way to protect myself.

I didn't look back again. I couldn't. If I looked back, I might break. I might falter. And I couldn't afford that—not now. So I kept my eyes forward, focusing on the path ahead, on the steady strength of William beside me.

I couldn't lose this. I wouldn't lose this. I needed it too much.