8. The Beast’s Struggle

CHAPTER 8

THE BEAST'S STRUGGLE

T he nightmare clings to Brynn long after they resume their trek.

Even now, as they continue through the forest, the image of their faces—Talia, Markus, Bran—haunts her. Eyes empty, mouths open in silent screams, hands reaching for her. She can almost feel their fingers still clutching at her, cold and accusing, pulling her deeper into the darkness she can never seem to escape.

Every step makes the shadows of her past swirl closer, whispering accusations in Maelor's voice.

"Failure."

The word echoes through her mind, soft and deadly, like the hiss of a blade sliding between her ribs. Her body trembles, muscles burning from the strain of holding the Beast back. Every inch of her feels raw and frayed, like she's one wrong step away from shattering.

It isn't supposed to be this hard.

She isn't supposed to be this weak.

But after that vision—after feeling their hands clawing at her, hearing their voices tearing into her mind—it's like something has come loose inside her. Something vital. And now, no matter how hard she tries to lock it down, it's unraveling.

Fraying at the edges. Falling apart.

You failed them .

The thought wraps around her heart, cold and unrelenting, squeezing tighter with every beat. She failed them. All of them. The soldiers who trusted her, who fought beside her, believing she could protect them. They died because of her.

Because she hadn't seen Maelor's betrayal coming.

Because she hadn't been strong enough to stop it.

What if that happens again? What if?—

Her gaze flicks to Luca, walking beside her, his jaw set in a tense line, his eyes scanning the forest with that steady, watchful focus. Every time she looks at him—every time she sees the concern in his eyes, the silent questions he doesn't ask—it twists the knife deeper.

You'll fail him too .

The thought slides through her like poison. Luca isn't like them—isn't a soldier trained to face death on the battlefield. He's strong, yes, stubborn, brave, but he isn't ready for what hunts them. And if she fails him… if she lets the curse take over.

If she loses control…

Her stomach churns, nausea swirling as she remembers the vision. The way their blood had stained her hands. Just like she'd be powerless to stop it if it happens again. If Luca's the one standing in front of her.

She squeezes her eyes shut, forcing down the panic clawing at her throat. I can't do this. I can't?—

But what choice does she have?

Every day, every hour, the curse tightens its hold. The Beast is growing stronger, hungrier, more desperate to tear free. And Luca… Luca. Gods, he's always there. Too close, too determined, pushing and pushing until she feels like she's suffocating under the weight of his faith in her.

His faith that she can fight this.

He has no idea, she thinks bitterly. No idea what it's like to feel herself slipping, to know that one day she'll break completely and there will be nothing left of her—nothing but the Beast's fury. He doesn't understand how hard it is. How impossible.

How dangerous.

A shiver runs through her, and she pulls away, putting more distance between them. She can't let him get too close. Can't let him see the cracks spreading through her. Because if he does… if he sees what is really inside her…

The truth twists like a knife in her chest.

She isn't just afraid of hurting him.

She's afraid of loving him.

The realization hits her like a blow. She's been trying to deny it—trying to shove it down, bury it under layers of anger and frustration and fear. But it's still there, simmering beneath the surface, growing stronger every time he looks at her with that quiet intensity.

Every time he reaches out, touches her, speaks her name.

Luca is hers. The thought sends a jolt of something sharp and dangerous through Brynn—a ferocious, possessive ache that leaves her breathless. But that's the problem, isn't it? If he's hers, that makes him a target. If the curse consumes her, it will turn him into prey. It will use him against her, twist her feelings into a weapon, make her watch as she tears him apart?—

No.

She clenches her fists, claws biting into her palms. No. She won't let that happen. She can't let that happen. Because if she hurts him, if she?—

If she loses him…

Brynn's throat tightens, her vision blurring for a moment. The fear is like ice in her veins, freezing everything inside her. She'd rather die than hurt him. She'd rather let the curse destroy her a thousand times over than?—

But it won't destroy her. It will twist her. Corrupt her. And she'll become the Beast, become the very thing she's spent her whole life fighting against. And Luca…

Luca will be her first victim.

The thought sends a fresh wave of panic crashing through her. She stumbles, her breath catching, and Luca's gaze snaps to her, sharp and worried.

"Brynn?" His voice is low, almost hesitant. "Are you okay?"

No. No, she'sn't okay. She's breaking. Falling apart, piece by piece. And she doesn't know how to stop it. Doesn't know if she can stop it.

But she can't tell him that. Can't let him see how deep the fear runs, how badly she wants to?—

"Fine," she mutters, forcing the word out through clenched teeth. She keeps her gaze fixed ahead, refusing to look at him. "I'm fine."

A lie. They both know it. But what else can she say? That every time she looks at him, she feels like she's drowning? That the only thing more terrifying than losing herself is losing him? That every time she sees that flicker of hope in his eyes, it makes her want to scream because she can't be the person he needs?

No. She can't say any of that.

Can't let him see the cracks spreading through her resolve.

So she keeps walking, keeps her shoulders stiff and her chin high, even as the weight of the lie presses down on her chest.

But Luca isn't buying it. She can feel his gaze on her, sharp and assessing, cutting through the flimsy walls she's built around herself. He isn't going to let this go. She can see it in the stubborn set of his jaw, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

"Are you sure?" He steps closer, brow creased. "Because it seems like?—"

"I said I'm fine," she snaps, the words coming out sharper than she intends.

She doesn't mean to lash out, but the panic is building again, tightening around her ribs like a vise. He needs to stop. He needs to back off. Because if he keeps pushing, if he keeps getting too close?—

She will break. And then?—

"Just—just give me some space," she forces out, her voice shaking.

But Luca doesn't move. He just looks at her, his gaze steady and unflinching, and she can see it—the hope, the determination, the stupid, reckless faith.

He isn't going to give up.

He isn't going to walk away.

His eyes narrow, frustration flickering across his face. "I'm not going anywhere, Brynn. You need to talk to me. Whatever's going on—whatever you saw?—"

"It doesn't matter," she cuts in, voice tight. "It's over."

"It does matter," he insists, his gaze intense. "If the curse is getting worse, if the Beast is?—"

"Luca, just stop." She spins to face him, the sudden movement sending a wave of dizziness through her. The forest blurs around them, shadows pressing in, and she sucks in a breath, forcing the world back into focus. "You don't get it—you can't get it. There's nothing left to fight for. Nothing left to?—"

She breaks off, chest heaving, and reaches down to the small pouch at her waist, ripping it open. The Solheart shard tumbles into her palm, its once bright glow now a faint, sullen glimmer. The sight of it sends a fresh wave of despair crashing over her. "You want proof?" she snaps, holding it up between them. "Look at it."

Luca's gaze drops to the shard, his expression tightening. "It's still glowing. It's?—"

"It's dying," she interrupts, voice trembling. "Just like me." Her hand clenches around the shard, and for a moment, it flickers, a single, fragile pulse of light shining through her fingers. But then it dims again, the glow fading to a dull, lifeless shimmer. "No matter what I do, it's never strong enough. I'm never strong enough."

Luca's eyes snap up to hers. "That's not true?—"

"Yes, it is!" Her hand shakes as she stares down at the shard, tears burning behind her eyes. "You keep saying I can fight it, that I can win. But this?" She holds the shard up again, the light flickering weakly. "This is what I am. A broken piece of something that will never be whole. No matter how hard I try, it's not enough."

Before he can respond, she throws the shard to the ground.

It hits the earth with a dull thud, the light flickering once before winking out completely. Brynn stares at it, breath catching in her throat. The sight of it lying there, lifeless and dull, sends a jagged pain through her chest.

"Just… stop trying to save me, Luca," she whispers, voice cracking. "It's too late."

"Brynn, you have to let me help. You can't do this alone."

But that's exactly it, isn't it? She's alone. She has to be. Because the alternative—this—is too dangerous. Too reckless. If she lets Luca close, if she lets him see the truth of what she's becoming…

The Beast growls low in her chest, furious and restless. She takes another step back, shaking her head. "You can't help me," she murmurs. "No one can."

"Don't say that." He reaches out, but she jerks away. She can't—won't—let him touch her. Not when she can still feel the Beast's claws, twitching, itching to lash out. "Brynn, please. I know you're scared?—"

"Scared?" A bitter laugh tears from her throat. "You think I'm scared? I'm terrified, Luca!" Her voice rises, trembling with barely contained rage. "Terrified of what I'll do. Of what this—this thing inside me will do the second I slip up. If I hurt you—if I?—"

"You won't," he interrupts fiercely.

"You don't know that!" She takes a shaky breath, trying to calm the frantic beat of her pulse. But the Beast is thrashing now, snarling and snapping, and she can feel her control slipping. "You don't know what it's like, Luca. To have something inside you that wants to destroy everything you care about. Something that enjoys it."

He shakes his head, stubbornness etched into every line of his face. "Then show me."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm dangerous!" The words tear out, raw and desperate. Brynn turns away, squeezing her eyes shut as if that will block out the sight of him—so steady, so determined, so painfully kind. "Because I could kill you, Luca! Before this forest ever gets the chance."

"Yet, you've never hurt me," he murmurs quietly. "You brought me food. You've protected me."

A shudder runs through her, a bone-deep tremor that leaves her breathless. "Don't," she whispers, voice breaking. "Please, just… don't."

But he doesn't leave. Doesn't turn away.

He just steps closer, his presence a solid, unyielding weight against her fear.

"Brynn," he murmurs, his voice low and gentle. "You're not alone. I don't care what this curse is doing to you, or how strong the Beast is. You're still you. You're still in there. And I'm not going to let you go."

She shakes her head, tears burning behind her eyes. "You don't understand. I—I can't control it. Not anymore."

"Then we'll find a way," he says, his hand brushing against hers. The touch sends a shiver through her—half fear, half longing. "I don't care how long it takes, or how hard it is. We'll beat this. Together, remember?"

The words sink in, wrapping around the cold knot of fear in her chest. For a heartbeat, she lets herself believe him. Lets herself lean into the warmth of his presence, the strength of his conviction.

But then the darkness surges, and the Beast roars, its fury and hunger clawing at her mind. She stumbles back, heart racing, and Luca's hand slips from hers.

"Brynn?"

"I—I need space," she whispers, voice tight. "Please. Just… please."

He hesitates, pain flickering across his face. But he nods slowly, taking a step back. "Okay," he murmurs quietly. "Okay. I'll give you space. But I'm not going anywhere."

She watches him retreat, her chest too tight to breathe. And as the distance between them grows, she feels something fracture inside her—something fragile and precious, slipping through her fingers like sand.

"Luca," she whispers, but the word barely makes it past her lips.

He doesn't hear her. And maybe that's for the best. Because no matter what he believes, no matter how fiercely he clings to his hope…

She's already lost.