A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 65 - 64

Chapter 65: Chapter 64

Maybe it was because I had no one else.

Every step felt like a war I was losing. My breath hitched in sharp, uneven gasps as I stumbled through the endless hallways, my hands clutching at walls and furniture like lifelines. The cold stone floor beneath my bare feet offered no comfort, no anchor, as if mocking my struggle to stay upright.

The dim, flickering torchlight cast shifting shadows that blurred my vision further, making the world around me spin. Each flame seemed alive, dancing in the periphery of my sight, only adding to the chaos in my mind. My legs trembled beneath me, threatening to give out with every agonizing step.

The ache in my chest didn’t fade; it only grew heavier with each passing second, pressing down like a boulder on my ribs. And the void—that horrible, gaping void where my wolf should have been—was relentless. It was like walking without a shadow, like hearing silence where there should have been a heartbeat.

My legs carried me to his chambers almost on autopilot, as though some unseen force was pulling me there. The grand door loomed before me, intimidating and heavy, but I didn’t stop to knock or hesitate. I pushed it open, stumbling inside, my gasping breaths echoing in the quiet room.

Empty.

The bed was impeccably made, its crisp sheets and fluffed pillows betraying no sign of recent use. Yet, his scent lingered in the air, faint but unmistakable—a mix of something clean and earthy that I couldn’t quite place but had come to associate with him. My chest tightened, the hollow ache deepening as my eyes scanned the room once more, desperate for a trace of him.

But he wasn’t there.

The realization hit me like a cold wave, dragging my already sunken heart even lower.

"Where are you?" I muttered under my breath, my voice hoarse and breaking.

I turned back into the hallway, gripping the doorframe to steady myself. He had to be somewhere. He always was. My mind spun, trying to think, to piece together where he might be. The study. Of course—the study. If he wasn’t hovering over me like a storm cloud or brooding in some shadowy corner of this cursed tower, that’s where he would be.

My grip tightened as I steadied myself, the faint hope propelling me forward despite the gnawing unease. If he wasn’t there, I wasn’t sure what I would do.

I turned toward the direction of the study, my steps unsteady and uneven. My fingers brushed against the cool walls for support, and the flickering flames of the torches seemed to mock my desperation.

I was halfway there when I spotted him—Sabastine. He was striding down the hall, his ever-serious expression softening slightly when he saw me.

"My lady," he greeted, his tone laced with surprise. "Are you unwell?"

I barely registered his words as I stumbled toward him, clutching his arm as though it were the only thing keeping me upright. "His Majesty," I gasped, struggling to catch my breath. "Where is he?"

Sabastine’s brows furrowed in confusion. "In his study, my lady. Shall I—"

I didn’t wait for him to finish. I released his arm and continued down the hallway, ignoring his startled expression. The ache in my chest was unbearable now, and the void was like a black hole, pulling everything inside me into its cold emptiness.

When I reached the study door, I didn’t bother with formalities. I pushed it open, stumbling into the room with a gasp.

He was there, seated behind his massive oak desk, a quill in hand as he scribbled something onto a piece of parchment. The soft glow of the fireplace illuminated his sharp features, and his piercing gaze shot up the moment I entered.

"Bride?" he said, his voice laced with confusion and just a hint of irritation at the intrusion.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. My legs buckled beneath me, and I would have hit the floor if he hadn’t moved so quickly.

He caught me in an instant, his strong arms wrapping around me as he pulled me against his chest. "What happened?" he demanded, his voice sharper now, tinged with concern.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I clutched at his shirt, my trembling hands fisting the fabric. "I... I can’t feel it," I whispered, my voice breaking.

His brows furrowed, his expression unreadable as he stared down at me. "What are you talking about?"

"My wolf," I sobbed, the words tumbling out in a broken whisper. "I can’t feel her. She’s gone."

For a moment, he didn’t speak. His expression was still and unreadable, his gaze boring into mine as though searching for answers. Then, slowly, he lowered us both to the floor, his arms still wrapped around me as he cradled me against him.

"Breathe," he said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You’re panicking. I’ll figure this out, but you need to breathe."

I tried to do as he said, but the tears wouldn’t stop. My chest felt hollow, and the absence of my wolf was a gaping wound I couldn’t ignore. "You don’t understand," I choked out, shaking my head. "It’s not just panic. She’s gone. She’s always been there, quiet, yes! But always there nonetheless and now it’s like a part of me has been ripped away."

His grip on me tightened slightly, his fingers brushing against my back in what might have been an attempt to soothe me. "You can’t feel her," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

"No," I whispered, the tears streaming down my face. "I can’t."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at me. His piercing gaze softened as he wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. "It’s not the end," he said, his tone low and steady. "At the very least you are still alive."

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to cling to the hope in his words, but the void inside me was relentless. It swallowed everything—my wolf, my strength, my faith.

And as I buried my face against his chest, sobbing uncontrollably, I couldn’t help but wonder if I would ever truly be whole again.