A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 111 - 110

Chapter 111: Chapter 110

LAYLA

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There was a poem I used to read back while I was younger.

A poem about a girl who lost everything. She had no family, no friends, no home—nothing to hold on to. And yet, despite having nothing left, she still didn’t want to die. I never understood why then. It made no sense to me. Why would someone who had lost so much choose to keep going? She was far more unfortunate than I ever was, and yet she held on. I used to wonder why she didn’t just end it all. What was the point of living when there was nothing left to live for?

But now, I understand.

The only thing she had left was herself, and she couldn’t afford to lose that. Because once she did—once she gave up—then she would have truly lost everything. And maybe, just maybe, that sliver of self, that tiny ember of existence, was worth holding on to.

The book in my lap laid open, its pages kissed by the soft afternoon light filtering through my window. The words blurred as my eyes drifted toward the world beyond the glass, fingers absentmindedly twisting a strand of hair.

Outside, the garden stretched wide and endless, the treetops rolling like waves in the gentle breeze. The sky was a soft wash of pale blue, streaked with golden wisps of clouds that drifted lazily, unconcerned with the worries of those trapped under them.

It had been weeks since my last encounter with the Lycan King.

Weeks since I had forced those words from my lips—I reject you.

A small scoff left me, barely more than a breath of air.

Fight? No. It hadn’t been a fight. It had been a rebellion, a desperate attempt to carve a sliver of control from a world that refused to grant me any.

And yet, here I was. Still within these walls. Still in this cursed tower, left to rot while time moved on without me.

A leaf fluttered through the open window, carried by the wind’s lazy dance. It drifted in slow spirals before settling on the wooden floor beside my bed. My gaze followed it as it came to rest, motionless, as if it had finally found peace after a long journey.

One of my cats, Xylara, stirred at the disturbance. She stretched, her sleek body arching before she padded toward the leaf, sniffing it curiously before flicking it aside with a dismissive paw.

I smiled faintly, my fingers still playing with my hair.

Then the song from my dream hummed on my lips, a quiet melody floating into the stillness of my bedchamber. The notes curled around me like arms, warm and familiar, tugging at memories I couldn’t quite grasp.

I was very sure it was my mother that sang to me.

A woman I had never met. Yet, I had loved her all my life.

She had been my guiding light, the only person I could love without hesitation, the one I looked up to despite never having seen her face. I had lived for her—clung to the thought of her like a pup reaching for warmth in the dead of winter.

And now, I was struggling not to hate her.

The goddess’s words echoed in my mind. She is the reason you were born a half-shifter.

The weight of that truth crushed me. To know that the very woman I had cherished, the mother I had longed for in every aching moment of my existence, was the reason I had been forced to live this cursed life—it was devastating.

How was I supposed to reconcile the love I had for her with the bitterness now festering inside me?

My fingers stilled in my hair, the strands slipping free as I sighed.

The wind whispered through the open window, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and wildflowers. It stirred the curtains, sending soft ripples through the fabric, like waves rolling onto a quiet shore.

A shadow passed overhead—a bird soaring high, wings outstretched, free.

I envied it.

Xylara moved again, this time she padded closer, her tail flicking before she clamped her tiny teeth onto the hem of my dress.

I blinked down at her.

"What is it?" I murmured, releasing my hair and bending down to scratch behind her ears. Her purr rumbled in response, vibrating beneath my fingertips.

She only ever did this when she wanted attention—or when she sensed something was off.

My gaze softened as I traced my fingers down her back, smoothing the fur between her shoulder blades. "You’re restless, too, huh?"

She pushed her head into my palm, her whiskers twitching.

Another gust of wind slipped into the room, swirling around me before disappearing into the quiet corners. The leaf on the floor lifted slightly, tumbling further into the chamber before settling again.

Then—

A knock.

Soft. Measured.

I froze.

Xylara’s ears twitched, her body going still beneath my touch.

The knock came again, firmer this time.

My fingers curled into the fabric of my dress.

For a moment, I considered ignoring it.

Whoever it was—whatever it was—they would leave eventually.

Wouldn’t they?

But to my disappointment the door creaked open, breaking the stillness like a blade slicing through silk.

I tensed, fingers curling into the fabric of my dress, my body unwilling to turn toward the doorway. But I didn’t have to. I already knew who it was.

Sabastine.

My eyes flicked toward him, and my glare met his steady gaze, but he didn’t flinch. He only sighed, as if dealing with me was a burden he had long resigned himself to carrying.

"Someone is here to see you," he announced, his voice laced with exhaustion.

I scoffed, turning my face away. "I don’t want to meet His Majesty."

Sabastine didn’t react—not immediately. But after a pause, his next words made my breath catch. "It’s not His Majesty."

I turned back to him sharply, my heart slamming into my ribs.

What?

But...

A prisoner like myself can’t have a visitor except...

The goddess’s voice curled into my mind. Your true mate is on his way to get you. You will be whole.

Sabastine’s lips parted again, his expression unreadable. "His Majesty, in his true grace, allows you to meet—"

I didn’t let him finish.

I shoved past him, my feet hitting the floor with urgency, my breath shallow as my body moved on instinct. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out everything else.

Then I stopped.

Pausing in the middle of the hallway, my chest heaving, I turned back, my voice a whisper against the walls.

"Where is he?"

Sabastine frowned. His sharp gaze assessed me. "How did you know it would be a he

My lips curled into another glare, sharper this time.

He exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. "You’ll find him in the waiting hall."

I turned away from him and rushed towards the waiting hall.

The cold stone beneath my feet blurred as I moved, my heart hammering so violently it threatened to burst from my chest. My breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

Freedom. It was waiting for me just beyond that door.

My true mate.

He was here.

The goddess had promised. And if she was right, then my way out of this cursed tower, out of this twisted fate, was standing on the other side of that wooden barrier.

He’s here.

Would he have emerald eyes like mine? Would his touch bring back the warmth that had been stolen from me? Would he see me, truly see me, and know that we belonged to each other?

The hallway stretched on, torches flickering along the stone walls, their light casting trembling shadows. My heartbeat pulsed against my ears, a rhythm of hope and fear tangled together.

And then I reached it.

The waiting hall.

A heavy door, carved from dark oak, loomed before me. The handle was cool under my trembling fingers.

This was it.

This was my salvation.

I swallowed. My throat was dry, my hands slick with sweat.

And then I pushed.

The door groaned open, revealing—

No.

I froze.

Everything inside me turned to ice.

This wasn’t possible.

This wasn’t right.

The figure before me wasn’t some unknown savior. He wasn’t a green-eyed stranger sent by the goddess to rescue me.

He was—

I took a step back, my stomach twisting into knots, my breath caught in my throat.

"You," I whispered.