[POV: Evan]
I should be asleep.
Dominic is curled around me, his arm draped over my chest, his breath warm against my neck. His skin smells like heat and fire and control—everything he is.
But my eyes are wide open, locked on the ceiling. My mind won't shut the hell up.
Atlas is gone.
No one says his name now. Not in the open. There's too much shame attached to it. The pack moved on within days, as if he'd never existed at all.
But I feel it. The weight of his absence pressing down on me.
Every patrol, I catch myself scanning the tree line. Every training session, I expect to see silver-blonde hair catching the light. Every meal feels wrong because there's a space that should be filled and isn't.
The night he found out about Dominic and me replays in my head like a curse.
The look on his face when he saw us together in the great hall. The way he froze, his whole body going rigid. The way his voice cracked when he said my name—like it didn't recognize me anymore. Like I'd become a stranger wearing a familiar face.
That moment wasn't just pain. It was betrayal. Complete and devastating.
I'd known for years that Atlas cared about me. More than a friend should. The way his eyes would light up when I walked into a room. The carved wolves he'd leave on my windowsill, too scared to give them directly.
He thought I was his mate. He believed it with his whole heart.
And I let him believe it.
I told myself it was kindness. That maybe he'd grow out of it. But the truth is I was a coward. I didn't have the guts to tell him that Cyrus, my wolf, had never stirred for Atlas the way he howled for Dominic.
Maybe part of me wanted to believe it could change.
But then Dominic happened.
He didn't creep into my heart like Atlas did—soft and slow. No. Dominic tore the door off its hinges and stormed inside like a wildfire.
He challenged me. Fought me. Matched me in ways no one else ever had.
His mind was sharp, his tongue sharper, and his hunger—for power, for me—was magnetic. Intoxicating. He made me feel like I was standing on the edge of something dangerous.
And I liked it. Goddess help me, I wanted it.
But I also feared him.
Not in the way a soldier fears an enemy—but the way a man fears a storm he can't outrun. There's something in Dominic—something cold and calculating beneath the charm. His smile never quite reaches his eyes when he thinks no one's watching.
He doesn't just want to rise. He wants to rule. And he's willing to burn down anything that gets in his way.
Even his own brother.
I used to think their rivalry was just petty. But after what happened to Atlas—after how quickly he vanished, after the cold efficiency with which Dominic stepped into his place—I've started to wonder what really went on behind closed doors.
Next to me, Dominic stirs. His hand slides across my chest, fingers pressing just a little too hard. Like he senses the shift in my thoughts. He always does.
"What's bothering you?" he murmurs.
I keep my expression calm. "Nothing. Just restless. Might go for a walk."
He lifts his head, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "Are you still thinking about him?"
I hesitate. That's all the answer he needs.
His tone becomes quieter. Colder.
"Do you even realize that Atlas was never worthy of you?"
I don't speak.
"He didn't love you," Dominic continues. "He loved the idea of you. He wanted the status. Being with you would've made him important."
His words hit hard—not because I believe them, but because part of me wants to.
But Atlas never tried to use me. He blushed when I spoke to him. Fumbled his words. Gave me drawings hidden in his notebooks like secrets too precious to share. He believed in me, even when he barely believed in himself.
He never asked for anything.
I look away, jaw tightening. "I'm just clearing my head."
I sit up and reach for my shirt. Dominic leans back, watching me like he's waiting for something else. An apology. A reassurance.
I don't give him one.
I pull on my clothes in silence. My footsteps are nearly silent as I make my way toward the entrance.
The night air hits my face like a blessing. Cool and sharp, carrying pine and earth and something wild. I breathe it in deep, trying to push away the ghost that won't stop following me.
But I can't. Because everywhere I look, I see Atlas. In the training grounds where we sparred. In the mess hall where he'd sit alone. In the forest paths where we'd walk in comfortable silence.
He's gone. And I'm the reason why.
And no matter how far I walk, no matter how many times Dominic tells me otherwise, I can't shake the feeling that I've made the worst mistake of my life.