[POV: Evan]
The trees blurred past me as I walked, no destination in mind. Just movement, breath and pain.
Atlas's voice still echoed in my ears—gentle, steady, kind. But final.
"I loved you once. But love isn't always enough."
His words had sliced deeper than any blade. Deeper than anything Dominic had ever done to me, and that was saying something.
I didn't try to stop the ache. I let it sink in, let it take root and throb beneath my skin like a second heartbeat, because I deserved every jagged second of it.
I had ruined everything.
All the careful plans, the pain I'd swallowed, the choices I'd made believing they were for him—it all meant nothing now. I had hoped he would see through the past, that he'd look at me and know I had tried, in my own broken way, to protect him.
That the distance, the silence, the years of pretending I didn't feel what I felt—all of it had been a shield, not a weapon.
But maybe it wasn't enough. Maybe it never had been.
I staggered down a sloped path, boots catching on loose roots, letting the cold air bite at my exposed forearms and the back of my neck. The scent of pine and damp soil filled my lungs, grounding me as much as it haunted me.
My chest felt hollowed out, my ribs a cage around nothing.
The muscles in my shoulders ached from the tension I'd carried for days—through that dinner, through Dominic's performance, through every second I'd spent under the same roof as the brother who had orchestrated the ruin of the only person I'd ever truly loved.
This was the same forest I'd once walked with Atlas—hidden paths, secret meetings when no one was watching. Whispered conversations that felt like hope, back when we believed the world could be kind to two boys who'd found each other in the dark.
I remembered the way his silver-white hair caught the moonlight on those nights, the nervous flutter of his fingers when they brushed against mine, the quiet laugh he only ever gave me.
Now those memories felt like ash in my mouth.
I had convinced myself for months that playing Dominic's game—letting him believe I was still loyal, still obedient, still the compliant friend he could use—was a necessary evil.
That enduring his poison, his manipulations, his constant undermining of Atlas would keep me close enough to protect the one person who mattered. When the time came, I could pull Atlas free before Dominic ever got the chance to destroy him completely.
It was a lie I'd clung to like a lifeline. And it had rotted in my hands.
When Atlas's eyes met mine in that clearing, I saw the hesitation. The quiet, painful resolve. I knew instantly he had already slipped through my fingers.
The way he stood—shoulders back, chin level, stronger and more grounded than I'd ever seen him—told me everything I needed to know.
He had moved on without me.
And when he gently but firmly rejected me, the shock landed like a fist to the sternum. It hollowed me out, left me empty, lungs locked, unable to draw breath.
My thoughts raced, scrambling for some explanation that didn't end with me standing alone in a forest watching the only person I'd ever wanted walk away.
I had planned for so long. Dreamed of nothing but making amends, showing him I could be the man he deserved. I had been his first—his safe place and his future.
And now I was nothing but the shadow of a choice he didn't make.
I'd imagined us leaving together—finding peace somewhere far from the darkness Dominic had woven into our lives. A cabin in the mountains, maybe. Somewhere quiet, where I could wake up beside him and know that the worst was behind us.
Now all that hope had shattered in a single moment, and the pieces were too small to gather.
I stopped beneath a hollowed tree and leaned back against the rough bark, closing my eyes. The wood was cold through the thin fabric of my shirt. My pulse hammered in my throat, heavy and slow, the kind of heartbeat that came after grief rather than exertion.
Was the pain I'd caused really beyond repair?
Maybe it was. Maybe I had waited too long. Played the part too well. Betrayed him one too many times in the name of a strategy that had never worked.
But Goddess—I hadn't meant to.
I had wanted to love him. I did love him. More than Dominic could ever understand. More than I had dared admit, even to myself, during all those years of standing in his shadow and pretending my heart didn't lurch every time Atlas walked into a room.
He was light in a world that had been choking me for years. And when I looked at him, I saw something brighter than anything I'd ever known—something pure enough to burn away the rot in me. Something I wanted to protect.
Not possess. Deserve.
I had believed we could be one of those stories that ends with redemption instead of ruin. The kind where the broken pieces get reassembled into something stronger.
I was wrong.
I couldn't go back. Not to Dominic's side. Not to his schemes, his whispered orders, his careful cruelty disguised as brotherhood.
The very thought made my skin crawl, revulsion tightening the muscles across my stomach. I knew him now—knew the full depth of his darkness. He hadn't just manipulated me. He had poisoned me. And I had let him.
Rau, my wolf, still whispered to me sometimes. Still clawed at the walls of my mind, demanding I take back power, reclaim status, erase Atlas and every piece of vulnerability he stirred in me.
That voice was low and constant, a growl beneath every thought, urging me toward the kind of violence that Dominic had always encouraged.
But I didn't want to listen. Not anymore.
Because that darkness—that hunger for dominance, control, blood—that was Dominic's domain. And if I ever lost the fight with Rau, if I ever let him win, I didn't want to be anywhere near the people I'd once cared about when it happened. Let Dominic burn with the monster he'd helped create.
But Atlas would never have to see that version of me. I wouldn't let his memory of us be stained with it. He'd let me go with grace. With kindness and with the steady calm of someone who had learned how to stand on his own and no longer needed someone else to hold him up.
And I would honor that by letting him be. Even if it shattered me.