Chapter 13 - Cassius

The first rays of dawn crept through the curtains, casting long shadows across Cassius's bedroom. He hadn't slept a wink, the events of the previous night replaying in his mind like a torturous film reel.

Alysa's tear-stained face, the hurt in her honey-brown eyes, the tremor in her voice as she'd called their night together a mistake—it all haunted him. The silence of the room felt oppressive, as if the air itself was holding its breath.

Cassius dragged himself out of bed, his body feeling like lead. The cool floor beneath his feet grounded him, if only for a moment. His muscles were tight, coiled with tension that refused to release.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror and winced. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usually neat blonde hair was a disheveled mess.

I look like hell . Fitting, since that's exactly where I am.

As he stumbled into the shower, letting the scalding water cascade over his tense muscles, Cassius tried to convince himself he'd done the right thing.

It's better this way.

He repeated the words like a mantra. He was certain Alysa deserved better than a man with more baggage than the airport lost and found.

She has her future ahead of her, I won’t rope her into taking care of me and my kid.

But even as the thought crossed his mind, doubt gnawed at the edges of his resolve. He clenched his fists under the spray of water, the heat doing nothing to thaw the icy chill settling over his heart.

There had been a moment, just after he’d said those words, where her eyes had darkened with a hurt so deep it made his wolf restless.

Maybe I was too harsh.

He forced the thought away, tightening his jaw. The more he entertained the idea of softening his stance, the more he risked crumbling. Alysa was better off without him.

Cassius went through the motions of his morning routine, his movements mechanical and devoid of their usual purpose. He nicked himself shaving, barely registering the sting as a droplet of blood welled up on his jaw.

Focus.

But as he knotted his tie, his fingers fumbling with the familiar motions, all he could think about was the way Alysa's smaller hands had pulled off his shirt just days ago, her touch sending shivers down his spine. The memory of her smile, soft and shy, made his chest ache with a longing so fierce it nearly brought him to his knees.

Cassius shook his head, trying to dispel the image.

You made your choice. Now live with it.

He straightened his shoulders, forcing his face into a mask of calm indifference. He had a Pack to lead, a daughter to raise. He couldn't afford to wallow in regret.

But as he made his way downstairs, each step felt heavier than the last. The house seemed eerily quiet, devoid of the warmth and life Alysa had brought into it. Cassius paused at the bottom of the stairs, his enhanced hearing picking up the soft sounds of movement from the kitchen.

Alysa

His wolf whined, eager to see her. Cassius tamped down on the surge of hope that rose in his chest.

She probably doesn't want to see you.

Taking a deep breath, Cassius steeled himself and walked into the kitchen. The sight that greeted him made his heart stutter in his chest. Alysa stood at the counter, her back to him as she prepared Aurora's bottle.

After last night, you're lucky if she speaks to you again.

Her chestnut hair was pulled back in a messy bun, exposing the graceful curve of her neck. She wore a simple T-shirt and jeans, but to Cassius, she'd never looked more beautiful.

"Good morning," he said softly, his voice rougher than he'd intended.

Alysa stiffened, her movements faltering for a moment before she resumed her task. "Good morning, Alpha," she replied, her tone carefully neutral. She didn't turn to face him.

The formal title stung more than Cassius cared to admit. He moved further into the kitchen, drawn to her like a moth to a flame despite his better judgment. "Alysa, about last night—”

"Don't," she cut him off, finally turning to face him. The pain in her eyes made his breath catch. "Please, just… don't. I think you made yourself perfectly clear."

Cassius opened his mouth to argue, to explain, to say something that might ease the ache in his chest. But before he could form the words, Alysa spoke again, her voice quiet but firm.

"I'm leaving, Cassius."

The world tilted on its axis.

Cassius felt the ground beneath him shift. His breath hitched as the words sank in, cold and unrelenting. He searched her face for any sign of hesitation, something he could latch onto, but there was nothing. Just resolve.

Cassius blinked, sure he'd misheard. "What?"

Alysa took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "I'm leaving. I've already called Aleksander. He's coming to pick me up this afternoon."

You pushed her to this.

Cassius felt like he'd been sucker-punched. "Alysa, you don't have to—”

"Yes, I do," she interrupted, her voice cracking slightly. "I can't… I can't stay here anymore. Not after…" She trailed off, gesturing vaguely between them.

This is what you wanted.

Cassius reminded himself harshly. He had pushed her away, after all.

What did you expect?

But knowing he'd brought this on himself did nothing to ease the panic clawing at his throat. "What about Aurora?" he asked, grasping at straws. "She needs you."

A flash of pain crossed Alysa's face. "Aurora will be fine. She has you, Abigail, and the rest of the Pack. I'm just… I'm just the nanny, after all."

The words hit Cassius like a physical blow. He wanted to grab her, shake her, make her understand how much more she meant—to him, to Aurora, to everyone. But the words stuck in his throat.

"I've loved every moment with Aurora," Alysa continued, her voice soft. "And I'll miss her terribly. But I can't stay here and pretend everything's okay when it's not. It's not fair to anyone, least of all Aurora."

Cassius's mind raced, searching for a way to fix this, to make her stay. But every argument he could think of felt hollow, selfish.

You don't get to ask her to stay. Not after what you said last night.

“It was a mistake.”

His own words echoed in his ears, and he didn’t know how he could take them back.

"Where will you go?" he asked instead, hating how weak his voice sounded. “I thought you didn’t renew the lease on your apartment.”

Alysa shrugged, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips. "Home, I guess. Back to the Iron Fang territory. Aleksander says there's always a place for me there."

His mind raced with a thousand thoughts, but none of them made sense. His Pack, his duties, his daughter—everything had always come first. There was no room for more.

And yet, the thought of Alysa leaving, of her going back to her old life as if the past weeks had never happened, made Cassius's chest constrict painfully.

"You don’t have to go," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, I do," Alysa said, her tone cool and calm. "I’m not asking you to change, Cassius. I’m not even asking for anything from you. But I can’t stay here, feeling like I’m a convenience."

Her words hit him like a blow to the chest, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He hated himself for letting it get to this point. But what could he say?

Say something else , his wolf urged.

Tell her how you feel. Ask her to stay.

But Cassius remained silent, the words lodged in his throat like shards of glass. He watched helplessly as Alysa moved past him, heading for the stairs.

"I should go Pack," she said softly. "Aleksander will be here in a few hours."

Cassius nodded numbly, unable to form a coherent response. As Alysa disappeared up the stairs, he slumped against the kitchen counter, his head in his hands.

What have I done?

The next few hours passed in a blur. Cassius went through the motions of his daily routine, checking in with his Pack and reviewing reports, all while acutely aware of Alysa's presence upstairs. Every soft thud, every rustle of fabric as she Packed, felt like another nail in the coffin of what might have been.

You could stop this, his wolf whined.

But Cassius squashed the impulse. He'd made his choice, drawn his line in the sand. To go back on it now would be selfish and unfair to Alysa. She deserved better than a man who couldn't decide what he wanted.

When Alysa finally came downstairs, a small suitcase in hand, Cassius felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. She looked pale but determined; her chin lifted in a show of strength that made his heart ache.

"Aleksander's here," she said softly, nodding toward the window where a sleek black car had just pulled up. “I prefer you don’t come out to the car with me.”

Cassius nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He followed her to the door, every step feeling like a mile. As Alysa reached for the doorknob, he finally found his voice.

"Alysa, wait."

She turned, her honey-brown eyes meeting his. For a moment, Cassius saw a flicker of hope in their depths, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to pull her into his arms and beg her to stay.

Instead, he cleared his throat. "I… I'm sorry. For everything. I hope you know that… that you meant more to me than just…" He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Alysa's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "I don’t know," she whispered. "But I'm sorry too. For pushing, for expecting… For everything."

They stood there for a moment, the air heavy with unspoken words and missed opportunities. Finally, Alysa reached out, her hand hovering over Cassius's cheek for a heartbeat before she pulled back.

"Don’t go like this." He wanted to say more, to explain why things had been so difficult, but all that came out was, "Aurora will miss you."

I’ll miss you.

Alysa closed her eyes briefly, letting out a shuddering breath. "I’ll miss her too," she admitted, her voice thick with emotion. "But I can’t stay, Cassius. Not like this."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and for a fleeting second, Cassius thought she might change her mind. But then she blinked, regaining her composure, and whatever hope he had flickered out like a dying flame.

“I have to think about what’s best for me now,” she continued, her voice steady. “And staying here… it’s not good for either of us.”

He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she belonged with them—with him—but the words refused to come. Instead, he just nodded, a hollow gesture that felt like another nail in the coffin.

"Goodbye, Cassius," she said softly. Her voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough to shatter the fragile hope he’d been holding on to.

And then she was gone, the door closing behind her with a finality that made Cassius's heart shatter.

Cassius watched through the window as Alysa climbed into the car, Aleksander's concerned face glancing at him before driving away. The sight of her leaving—just like that—left a void in his chest that only seemed to grow as the car disappeared down the long, winding drive.

Cassius stood there long after the car had vanished from sight, staring at the empty driveway as if he could will Alysa back through sheer force of will. The house felt cavernous around him, echoing with the absence of her laughter, her warmth.

The scent of Alysa lingered faintly in the air, but it would fade soon, just like she had. His mind screamed at him to chase after her, to stop her before it was too late, but his feet wouldn’t move. He’d made his choice, and now he had to live with it.

What have I done?

The thought was a torturous refrain in his mind that threatened to drive him mad. He’d pushed her away, telling himself it was for the best, but now all he could feel was the sharp, suffocating regret clawing at his chest. Alysa had brought light into his life—into Aurora’s life—and now that light was gone.

He realized that, in a way, he had failed Aurora. She had grown attached to Alysa. They both had, though he was too stubborn to admit it.

Damn it, Cassius. Why didn’t you say something?

As if on cue, Aurora's cries drifted down from upstairs. The sound jolted Cassius out of his daze, reminding him of his responsibilities and how his daughter needed him more now since Alysa was gone. He picked up the feeding bottle Alysa prepared before leaving breathing a prayer of thanks.

I never deserved her.

With a heavy heart, Cassius climbed the stairs to tend to Aurora. But as he lifted his daughter into his arms, soothing her cries, the ache in his heart didn’t lessen. It only grew, spreading like wildfire, burning through the walls he’d tried so hard to build.

He’d lost Alysa. Maybe for good.

Aurora's small hand grasped his shirt, her innocent eyes looking up at him with complete trust, and Cassius felt the weight of his decisions settle on his shoulders. As he fed his daughter from the bottle, the question he’d been avoiding surged up from the depths of his soul.

His heart squeezed painfully as he looked down at his daughter. Her eyes, wide and innocent, stared back at him with absolute trust.

Was I wrong?

The answer, as terrifying as it was clear, lingered in the silence.