Lysander's POV
I should have stayed in my room.
The house has gone quiet, children tucked into bed hours ago, Kieran called away to an emergency pack meeting that will keep him occupied until dawn. I should be packing, researching flights back to Colorado, or doing anything except sitting in the kitchen at midnight waiting for something I have no right to want.
Thalia appears in the doorway like I conjured her from a desperate imagination. Her hair loose around her shoulders, feet bare on the cold tile floor.
"Couldn't sleep either?" she asks.
"Too much on my mind."
She moves to the counter, pours herself a glass of water, then sits across from me at the island. The space between us feels charged, electric with everything we said in the garden and everything we didn't.
"We should talk about the school meeting tomorrow," she says. "Kieran and I finally agreed on an approach. Firm but not threatening. Clear expectations without ultimatums."
"That sounds like progress."
"It took three arguments and one broken vase, but yes. Progress." She manages a small smile. "Phoenix was thrilled about the vase. She's been wanting to break something all week."
I laugh despite myself. "She has excellent timing."
"She has terrible impulse control, which is apparently genetic."
We fall into conversation about the children—safer territory, familiar ground. Luna's empathic abilities growing stronger, the way she's learned to shield herself from overwhelming emotions. Orion's teacher finally acknowledging that maybe the problem isn't a student who asks too many questions but a curriculum that doesn't challenge him. Phoenix's strength training showing real results, her control improving daily.
"They're remarkable," I say. "All three. You should be proud of what you've built."
"What we've built." She meets my eyes. "You're part of their lives too, Lysander. You always have been."
The words settle in my chest like an ache I can't name. "I'm their uncle."
"You're more than that and we both know it."
The conversation shifts without either of us intending it. One moment we're discussing Luna's progress reports, the next Thalia is staring at her water glass like it holds answers she can't find anywhere else.
"I feel trapped," she says quietly. "Some days more than others. Is that terrible to admit?"
"Tell me what you mean."
"The bond." She traces patterns on the countertop with her finger. "It’s always that damned bond. It holds my body with such certainty. My wolf recognizes Kieran without question, responds to him like instinct, like breathing. Everything physical between us feels right, what the stories promised."
"But?"
"My heart strains elsewhere." The confession comes out barely above a whisper. "Keeps asking questions the bond refuses to answer, wondering about choices I never got to make."
I stay silent, letting her speak, giving her space to say things she clearly needs to release.
"I was twenty-seven when my wolf finally woke up and the Moon snapped into place and told me who I belonged to." Her voice wavers. "I didn't get to figure out completely what I wanted before destiny decided for me. One moment I was trying to survive, the next I was claimed."
"You didn't choose."
"I chose to accept what the bond showed me." She finally looks up, eyes glistening. "But sometimes I wonder if I was right to let the Moon choose for me. If surrendering to destiny was wisdom or just another form of giving up."
The vulnerability in her face makes my chest constrict. I want to reach across the counter, take her hand, tell her everything she needs to hear. But she's still speaking, releasing truths she's clearly held too long.
"Kieran is good to me. He loves me fiercely, protects our family with everything he has. I don't doubt his devotion." She takes a shaky breath. "But devotion isn't the same as understanding. And what ties me to him doesn't leave room for the questions I can't stop asking."
"What bothers you?"
"What would I have chosen if I'd had the chance?" Her eyes hold mine with devastating intensity. "Would I still have found my way to him?"
The implication hangs between us, heavy and dangerous.
"Thalia..."
"I don't feel guilty for what I feel when I’m around you," The words come out defiant, almost surprised. "I keep waiting for the shame to hit, for my wolf to rise up and demand I honor my fate mate. But she stays silent, and all I feel is..."
"Say it. You know you can trust me."
"Alive." She laughs softly, the sound carrying wonder and confusion in equal measure. "When we talk like this, when you look at me like you actually see me instead of just Luna or the mother or the mate—I feel like myself. The self I was before everything got so complicated."
I can feel my heartbeat in my throat, can feel every nerve ending screaming at me to close the distance, to touch her, to claim what the bond refused to give me.
But she's not mine. The mate mark on her throat glows faintly in the dim kitchen light, visible proof of a claim I can never challenge.
"I go back to Colorado," I say, even though every word feels like cutting off a limb. "Tomorrow, after the school meeting."
"I know." Her voice is steady but her eyes are not.
"This isn't fair to anyone—"
"I don't care about fairness right now." She stands, moves around the island until she's standing beside me. Close enough that I can smell her shampoo, feel the warmth radiating off her skin. "It’s about honesty, and the honest truth is that I don't want you to go."
I look up at her, this woman I've loved since before I understood what love meant. A wall I've maintained for years, built from resignation and distance and the careful lies I told myself about moving on has cracked inside me.
"I never stopped choosing you."
The words escape before I can cage them. Thalia goes completely still.
"Every day since you disappeared, every night I spent searching, every moment I tried to build a life in Colorado—I was choosing you. Over and over, in every decision, in every relationship I couldn't commit to, in every reason I found to come back to Seattle."
My voice breaks on the admission. "I just stopped believing I could."
Tears spill down her cheeks, silent and glittering in the low light. She doesn't wipe them away, doesn't break eye contact, doesn't retreat.
"Lysander," she breathes.
The sound of my name on her lips undoes something fundamental. I reach up, cup her face in my hands, feel the warmth of her tears against my palms.
"We can't," I whisper.
"I know."
"If Kieran finds out—"
"I know."
Neither of us moves or pulls away. We stand there in the midnight kitchen, foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air, suspended in a moment that shouldn't exist.
Wanting what we cannot have.
Choosing each other in the only way we're allowed—silently, secretly, in the space between heartbeats where bonds and destiny hold no power.