Leah's POV
Leo slurped fried noodles, sauce smearing his chin, and met my gaze. "I don't think that's wrong. Everyone's got a right to love. Werewolves get mates shoved on us at birth, but that doesn't mean we know how to feel it - or take it. Normal wolves figure it out through family, mates, whatever. But us? Lycans? All we get from blood and bonds is hate."
He leaned back, eyes glinting with something raw. "You had a mate once, Leah. I never did. You had the glory, the wealth, the whole damn Lycan Princess package - I got nothing. When I heard you tossed it all to marry Lucas as an omega, I was fucking livid. Growing up, I envied every scrap you had, and you just… threw it away for some fool's love. And then Father didn't even stop you. Made me wonder if he ever gave a shit about you like I thought."
His words sliced deep, but I kept my face blank, hands steady as I peeled the last shrimp. "Love's a mess, Leo. It doesn't bend to reason or rank. I chose what I chose, and I carry it - scars and all."
He sighed, shoving his plate aside, the clatter echoing in the sterile room. "Maybe. Doesn't make it hurt less."
Gean's projection stepped closer, a hand of light resting on Leo's shoulder - intangible but heavy with meaning. "It's okay to feel that, Leo. But Leah's here now. She's still yours, in her way."
Leo looked at the hologram, then at me, something softening in his gaze. "I know," he said, quiet, almost broken.
I handed him the final shrimp, our fingers brushing for a split second. "Eat this," I said. "And rest. You've been through enough."
He took it, chewing slow, eyes drifting shut like he could taste more than just the food. I stood, legs stiff, a storm of feelings twisting in my gut. This machine, this ghost of Gean, had done what I couldn't - eased him, if only for a moment. Our family was a shattered thing, jagged edges and old blood, but here, in this fucked-up basement, it almost felt whole.
The moon bore down on me that night, its light a cold, unyielding judge spilling across the cracked floorboards where I sat, knees drawn up, shadows clawing at my edges. I couldn‘t shake the Old King's voice, those words he'd rasped before death claimed him -
"A father would do anything to protect his child."
I turned them over in my mind like a worn coin, tracing the scars they left. Had that been his reason for letting Lucian tangle with his favorite concubine, birthing me in a haze of whispers and shame? Had that been why he'd hunted me, his own blood, with a desperation that reeked of madness before his last breath rattled out? It was a jagged kind of protection, sharp enough to cut.
Leo had scoffed when I'd spilled those thoughts, his head shaking slow, eyes shadowed with something heavier than I could name. "You know nothing about Father," he said, voice rough as gravel. "He's darker than you can ever imagine. All of this is just a game of the gods. You and I are just pawns to him." His words landed like a slap, and I felt my pulse stutter, caught on that phrase - game of the gods. Familiar, yet it slipped through my grasp, a half-remembered dream.
Gean pressed him, voice trembling. "What do you mean by the game of gods?" The question hung there, fragile, and he'd tilted his head, a sad smirk tugging at his lips.
"I swear I won't tell anyone," he murmured, mocking, like it was a game.
"But I'm not anyone," Gean shot back, stung, my chest tightening.
"You are just a memory," Leo said, soft and cutting. "You carry Gean's memory and appear in front of me. This is all arranged by the gods."
My breath snagged, fear prickling my scarred skin. Did he know about Gean's holographic flicker, that ghostly echo I clung to? How could he? And these gods he spoke of - who were they? In our world, the Moon Goddess reigned alone, her bloody light our law, her will our cage. Yet Leo tossed the word around like there were others, unseen hands weaving a tapestry I couldn't see.
I stayed silent, wrestling with the tangle of his words, but Gean's voice - hollow through the projection - had cut in. "I don't understand what you're saying, Leo."
Leo leaned back, eyes distant. "When you study science to the end, there will always be unexpected encounters with the gods. Fate, reincarnation, love, hatred - these are all memories. And now we're so helpless, so insignificant. Memory is the only thing we can have. We must rely on each other, because otherwise, we're useless."
His words clawed at me, heavy with truth I couldn't quite touch. The pieces were there, shimmering just out of reach, but something vital was missing. Gean tried again, softer. "Leo, you're in pain now that you've learned the truth. I want to help you share this pain."
Leo's hand had swept across the table then, takeout packages crashing into the trash with a snarl. "If you can come and hold me tight right now, I'll be convinced that you're real. Then, I'll tell you the truth."
I watched Gean's projection hesitate, its edges flickering, before it stepped forward, arms outstretched. But Leo had flinched back, sharp and sudden. "No, don't do that. Don't you do that."
Gean's hands had dropped. "Why?"
His smile had broken me open, raw and aching. "Because only in this way can I have hope, and I can be sure that you might really be alive."
The weight of it hit me hard. Leo wasn't lost to madness - his addiction to that fractured world wasn't chaos; it was survival. He blurred reality and illusion because it was the only way he could still see his beloved Gean, touch something like hope. He was sharper than anyone, more desperate, clinging to ghosts because the truth was too heavy to bear alone.
I couldn't stand it. My arms moved before I could stop them, wrapping around him, tight and fierce. He froze, hands lifting but hovering, stiff in the air. Through the projection's glow, I saw Gean's image mirror me, urging Leo to hold on. After a beat, his arms came down, tentative at first, then clutching me like I might dissolve. His breath hitched against my shoulder, real and warm, and I felt the scars on my flesh ache less under that moon's glare.
We were pawns, maybe, in a game too vast to name. But in that moment, pressed together, we were more than that. The gods could play their hands, but we had this - this fragile, defiant thread binding us. And for now, it held.