A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 112 - 111

Chapter 112: Chapter 111

This had to be a joke.

A cruel, twisted joke crafted by the goddess.

Of all people. Him?

I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me, my breath caught somewhere between my lungs and my throat. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms so hard I was sure they would leave crescent-shaped marks.

Thane.

The bastard who rejected me.

The person who once looked me in the eye, saw every raw, broken part of me, and still turned away.

I could still hear his voice, etched into the deepest wounds of my soul—I can’t be with the outcast of Sy.

And now, here he was.

Standing before me in the Lycan King’s waiting hall.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Every muscle in my body locked up, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing.

Thane’s dark brown hair was slightly disheveled, strands falling over his forehead as if he had been running his hands through it in frustration. His golden eyes, the same ones that used to look at me with pity, were wide with something I didn’t quite recognize. Desperation? Regret?

No. I refused to believe it.

This had to be some kind of sick trick.

"Layla," he said, stepping forward.

His voice—goddess I curse you, I hated how familiar it was. How, for a fleeting second, my body wanted to react to it. But I wouldn’t. I rather die than give him that satisfaction.

I forced air into my lungs, forcing myself to breathe, to think.

"What the hell are you doing here?" My voice came out sharp, colder than I expected.

Thane hesitated, his eyes searching my face as if looking for something, some kind of sign that I still cared.

"I came to apologize."

I blinked.

Apologize?

A slow, bitter laugh built up in my chest, but I swallowed it down.

"You came to apologize?" I echoed, my voice dripping with disbelief. "You risked your life, came all the way here, to the Lycan King’s tower, just to say sorry?"

Thane took another step closer. I could smell the faint scent of pine and smoke on him, the same scent I used to find comfort in—before I learned how much of a coward he truly was.

"I regret everything, Layla," he voiced, his voice quieter now, more urgent. "Rejecting you was the biggest mistake of my life."

I flinched before I could stop myself.

He saw.

The bastard saw it.

His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say more, but I cut him off.

"You regret it?" My voice cracked slightly, but I forced it steady. "You regret rejecting me? Is that supposed to mean something to me now? Am I supposed to fall to my knees in gratitude? Cry in your arms and tell you I forgive you?"

Thane’s jaw tightened. "No, that’s not—"

"I was nothing to you," I spat, the anger bubbling up, hot and venomous. "I needed you, Thane. I needed you not to do it. Not to reject me! And you still did."

"I was wrong," he admitted. "I should have fought for you. I should have never cared what the elders thought, what the pack thought. I was weak, Layla. But I see that now."

I let out a sharp breath, my nails digging into my palm again. I hated this. Hated how his words twisted something inside me.

Hated how he sounded like he meant it.

"I risked everything to come here," he continued, his voice desperate. "The Lycan King could have had my head for even stepping into his territory, but I didn’t care. I had to see you. I had to—"

His hand reached for mine.

I slapped it away.

The sound cracked through the air.

Thane stilled, his expression unreadable.

"I need to process what the hell is going on," I muttered, my chest rising and falling unevenly.

Because none of this made sense.

Because I couldn’t allow myself to believe him.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

But do I hate him?

Have I managed to hate him after not seeing him for a while.

The question clawed at the back of my mind, an unrelenting whisper that refused to be ignored.

I should.

I should hate him.

I should despise him with every ounce of my being. I should loathe the very air he breathes, the sound of his voice, the way he dared to stand here as if he had any right to.

But had I truly managed to hate him after all this time?

The thought alone made my stomach twist.

Slowly, almost unwillingly, I lifted my head and met his gaze.

Thane looked...pained.

Not the kind of pain that was fleeting or shallow, but something deep-rooted, something that gnawed at him from the inside out. It was written all over his face, in the tight clench of his jaw, the way his eyes—golden like dying embers—held onto me as if letting go would shatter him completely.

And I hated that.

I hated that I could still see him. The real him, beneath all the layers of regret and mistakes.

A choked breath left my lips before I could stop it.

No.

No, I wouldn’t fall into this trap.

I wouldn’t let his pain reach me, wouldn’t let it twist around my heart like ivy, tightening until I couldn’t breathe.

My hands curled into fists at my sides, my nails pressing deep into my palms.

I would not break.

With a sharp inhale, I turned on my heel and ran.

My feet moved before my mind could catch up, my body acting purely on instinct. The doors to the waiting hall blurred at the edges of my vision as I burst through them, my heart pounding in my chest.

Sabastine was standing just outside, arms crossed as if he had been expecting me.

His usual mask of indifference faltered for a fraction of a second when he saw the sheer desperation in my expression.

I shot him a glare.

A glare filled with all the things I couldn’t say, all the emotions I refused to voice.

Then, without another word, I rushed past him, my legs carrying me down the dimly lit corridors.

I barely registered the servants who paused and lowered their gazes as I passed.

I barely heard the whispers that trailed behind me.

All I knew was that I needed to get away.

Away from him.

Away from the memories threatening to suffocate me.

The halls felt endless, each turn leading to another stretch of cold stone and flickering candlelight. My breaths came ragged now, my vision slightly blurred, but I didn’t stop.

It wasn’t until I reached the heavy wooden doors of my bedchamber that my body finally betrayed me, exhaustion slamming into me like a tidal wave.

I shoved the doors open and stumbled inside, pressing my back against the cold wood as they swung shut behind me.

Silence.

My lungs burned, my hands trembled at my sides, and my mind was an utter mess of emotions I had no idea how to process.

I had thought I was ready for anything.

I had thought I was prepared to face whatever the Moon Goddess had planned for me.

But I wasn’t prepared for this.

For him.

I squeezed my eyes shut, exhaling shakily.

I couldn’t do this.

Not now.

Not like this.

With slow, unsteady steps, I pushed myself off the door and made my way toward my bed.

Xylara, my ever-faithful feline companion, stirred from her spot on the pillows, letting out a soft, questioning meow as I approached.

I didn’t respond.

Instead, I sank onto the mattress, curling in on myself as I buried my face in my hands.

The room was warm, but I felt cold.

Hollow.

The goddess was truly messing with me.

A cruel, wicked game.

A never-ending cycle of pain that I had no choice but to endure.

It suddenly felt like the weight of everything had finally crushed me.

And maybe it had.

Maybe I had been carrying too much for too long, pretending I was strong when I was barely holding myself together.

Tears burned in my eyes before I could stop them.

Why?

Why did my life keep falling apart?

Why did the wounds I had desperately tried to heal keep ripping open at the seams?

Why did the one person who shattered me now stand before me, regretful, as if his sorrow could erase the scars he left behind?

I gritted my teeth, a raw sob escaping my throat as I grabbed the nearest pillow, pressing it to my face to muffle the sound.

Then I screamed.

A guttural, broken sound, ripped straight from the depths of my soul.

I screamed until my throat burned, until my body shook with the force of it.

Until there was nothing left inside me but silence.

The room felt unbearably still, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I slowly loosened my grip on the pillow.

Xylara nudged my hand with her tiny nose, her soft fur brushing against my skin in a quiet attempt at comfort. But there was no comfort to be found.

I rolled onto my side, curling in on myself, my tears soaking into the sheets. My mind was a storm of emotions, tangled and chaotic, each thought slamming into the next with no sense of order.