APRILS POV
The restaurant was stunning, its beauty almost mocking me as I sat there, the tension between us stretching taut. The lake glittered under the moonlight, serene and untouched, a stark contrast to the chaos brewing inside me. The soft flicker of the candlelight felt too intimate, exposing cracks I’d spent years burying.
Cassius was across from me, his presence as overwhelming as ever. His expression-a mix of anger and something I couldn’t quite place-cut deeper than I wanted to admit. My defenses were up, as they always were, but he wasn’t just looking at me. He was looking through me, and I hated how naked it made me feel.
You’re probably wondering why I decided to tell him what I am. Well, for starters, I was tired of running, and when he was finally honest about his real nature to me, I could not help myself. He had to know about me, too. After all, it was only fair.
His words came like a slap: “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I froze, my fingers curling instinctively around my wine glass. How could I answer that? Where could I even begin?
I turned my gaze to the lake, letting the stillness of the water ground me. But his voice-sharp, almost accusing-dragged me back.
“That’s not the same, and you know it.”
My head snapped toward him before I could stop myself, the heat of my frustration flaring. Did he really think he had the moral high ground here?
“How is it not the same, Cassius?” The words spilled out before I could reconsider, my tone sharp enough to cut. “You didn’t tell me you were a werewolf until it suited you. You held back a part of yourself, too. So why am I the only one at fault here?”
I watched as my words landed, his expression faltering for the briefest moment. He wanted to argue; I could see it in the tight line of his jaw, but he couldn’t. Because I wasn’t wrong.
“You knew,” he said, quieter now, though the accusation still hung in the air. “You knew what I was from the start, and you didn’t say anything. You let me believe I was the only one holding something back, all while hiding your own truth.”
Fuck!
Guilt prickled at the edges of my armor, but I refused to let it show. Not here. Not now. Instead, I straightened, meeting his gaze head-on. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” I admitted, my voice steadier than I felt inside.
His eyes softened for a moment, but the frustration lingered. “Why? Because you didn’t trust me?”
Trust? I don’t even know this guy like that.
Those words hit me like a blow. He didn’t get it-how could he? I felt the anger rise, sharp and unrelenting, but underneath it was a wound that had never quite healed.
“It wasn’t about trust. It was about survival.” My voice trembled, but the conviction behind it was unshakable. “You don’t know what it’s like, Cassius. To live the way I’ve lived. To know that the wrong person finding out the truth about you could destroy everything. I wasn’t just protecting myself-I was staying alive.”
For a moment, he said nothing, his expression shifting. I could see his wolf in his eyes, restless and unsure. He didn’t understand, but he was trying.
“I would’ve understood,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with something I almost didn’t recognize: regret. “You didn’t have to go through it alone.”
Who else would I have gone through it with? Him? Well, unfortunately, I had not met him yet.
I laughed then, a hollow sound that scraped against my chest. Did he really believe that? “Maybe you would have,” I said, my tone laced with bitterness. “But I didn’t know that. And by the time I thought I might be able to trust you, it felt like it was too late.”
The words hung in the air, heavier than the silence that followed. I wanted to look away, to hide from the weight of his gaze, but I didn’t. I let him see the truth, as raw and ugly as it was.
He broke the silence, his voice laced with something softer now. “I didn’t tell you what I was either,” he admitted, and the vulnerability in his tone made my chest tighten. “Because I was afraid. Afraid of what you’d think, of how you’d look at me if you knew.”
Damn, that was the exact reason I had not told him.
That admission chipped away at my defenses, leaving me feeling more exposed than ever. I hated how much his words affected me, how much they echoed my own fears.
“Then you understand,” I said quietly, holding his gaze even as the vulnerability in my voice threatened to unravel me.
“I do,” he said, and I believed him. But that didn’t make it any easier.
His next words caught me off guard. “But we can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep hiding from each other.”
I looked down at the table, my fingers tracing the rim of my glass. He was right, of course. But the thought of tearing down the walls I’d built felt impossible. Still, I didn’t want to keep hiding-from him, from myself.
When I finally looked up, the determination in his eyes startled me. He wasn’t just saying the words; he meant them.
“I don’t want to hide anymore,” I said, the tremor in my voice betraying how much those words cost me.
His warm and steady hand reached across the table, covering mine. The gesture was simple, but it felt monumental like the ground shifting beneath me.
“Then don’t,” he said softly. “Whatever happens, we face it together.”
I stared at him, searching for any hint of doubt, but there was none. Just quiet resolve and a tenderness that made my heart ache. Slowly, I let my fingers curl around him, grounding myself in his touch.
It felt nice.
“Together,” I agreed, my voice steadier now.
The way he looked at me then-like I was something he couldn’t bear to lose-made my heart race. I could hear the pounding of his heart, his wolf silent but present, and for the first time, I let myself believe that this-whatever this was-might actually work.
I wasn’t ready to give him everything. Not yet. But maybe, just maybe, I could start with this.