My Sister Stole My Mate, And I Let Her

Chapter 529: Chapter 529 A SECOND CHANCE (BONUS Chapter 7)

EVELYN’S POV

Morning sunlight spilled through the curtains in pale ribbons of gold, catching in strands of hair and tracing shifting patterns across bare skin.

For a long moment, I simply lay there and stared.

Lucian slept on his stomach beside me, one arm tucked beneath the pillow and the other stretched lazily across the mattress between us, his face turned toward me as though even unconsciousness had not quite erased the instinct that had drawn him closer during the night.

I wasn’t sure I had ever seen him peaceful before.

Even while he was in the clinic, there had been tension lingering around him like a shadow that refused to let go.

But this was different.

The hard lines of his face had softened beneath sleep’s mercy. The perpetual strain I had come to associate with him was gone, leaving behind a man who looked younger and infinitely more vulnerable.

Gods, he was beautiful.

His dark hair, having been tugged out of its usual bun by my impatient hands last night, lay in soft disarray across the pillow, halo-like.

Long lashes cast shadows against sharp cheekbones that looked less severe without those tortured eyes staring at the world as though bracing for attack.

My gaze drifted lower—to the broad line of his shoulders, the muscles of his back rising and falling beneath each slow breath, the dark tattoo winding around his right arm.

My fingers twitched with the sudden, absurd urge to trace every line and curve of his body.

Instead, I curled them tightly into the blanket. The blanket that was currently the only thing covering either of us.

Heat rushed into my face as memories returned in flashes that made my entire body tighten.

Moonlight spilling across polished floors.

Lucian’s voice saying my name like a prayer.

Navy eyes looking at me as though I was something precious and fragile and entirely impossible.

The warmth of his body pressed against mine.

The connection that had flooded the bond between us until I hadn’t known where I ended and he began.

A sound escaped Lucian in his sleep—a soft sigh that sounded like my name and made my heart stumble.

Carefully, trying not to wake him and rob him of the peace I knew was rare, I shifted slightly and looked around the room.

I winced, taking in the mini disaster.

My shirt hung halfway off the chair near the window, my jeans lay tangled with his shirt near the foot of the bed, and one of Lucian’s boots had somehow ended up near the door while the other rested beside the bed.

I had spent years believing myself to be a rational, intelligent woman capable of making sensible decisions under pressure.

Apparently, all it took to dismantle that illusion was one blue-eyed werewolf and a full moon.

The thought made a quiet bubble of laughter rise unexpectedly as my eyes roamed the room again—and stopped on the bags sitting by the door.

I cocked my head, and for a moment my mind refused to make sense of what I was seeing.

The warmth lingering in my chest faltered as my smile slowly faded.

I pushed myself upright, careful not to disturb Lucian, but he remained motionless beside me, his breathing deep and even as sleep held him fast.

My gaze drifted from the bags to the folded piece of paper resting on top of them, and a knot tightened low in my stomach before I had even reached for it.

Some instinct deep inside me already knew I wasn’t going to like whatever waited inside.

The paper unfolded easily beneath my fingers.

Lucian,

If you’re reading this, then congratulations on proving me right.

I knew you were absolutely going to do something annoying like sneak out before sunrise without saying goodbye.

I’ve packed enough supplies to get you through the first part of your journey—whatever or wherever that may be.

And no, this isn’t permission to disappear forever.

Shadowveil will be there when you’re ready. OTS will be here when you’re ready. I’ll be here when you’re ready.

You’re not alone, Lucian. I hope one day you believe that. I hope one day you set down the burden of guilt you’re carrying.

I hope one day, you find peace—within yourself and with everything else.

P.S. I still think you should see Evelyn before you leave, but I understand your reservations.

I’ll always be rooting for you.

—Sera

For several seconds, I could do nothing except stare at the letter in my hands, reading the same lines over and over as though repetition might somehow change them into something else.

The room seemed to shift around me as the truth settled over me like a bucket of ice water.

He was leaving.

Slowly, my gaze drifted back toward the bed and the sleeping man on it. The man who had kissed me and worshipped my body, who had looked at me with wonder and disbelief written across his face, as though he couldn’t quite believe I was real or that fate had somehow placed me within his reach.

But that had been last night.

Last night, beneath a full moon, while instincts stronger than reason sang through his blood and swept us both beneath a current neither of us could resist.

My fingers tightened around Sera’s letter.

The moon was gone now; morning had come, and Lucian’s bags were packed.

Of course he was leaving.

Why wouldn’t he?

Lucian had spent weeks convinced that everyone would be better off without him.

Even after surviving Catherine and waking from the coma, he still looked at himself as if he were a disaster waiting to happen, something dangerous and broken that the people around him needed protection from.

I was the one foolish enough to mistake a moment of weakness for permanence. I’d thought that maybe what I had seen in his eyes last night had been enough to change something fundamental between us.

I brought my fist to my mouth to muffle the choked sound that slipped out of me.

The worst part of this wasn’t wondering whether last night had meant something to him—it probably had.

The worst part was knowing that Lucian had spent so long believing he needed to sacrifice the things he wanted in order to protect them from himself that he no longer seemed capable of imagining any other ending.

Even one that included me.

The bond inside my chest stirred at the thought, warm and questioning and somehow painfully aware of the distance I was already preparing to put between us.

Because I didn’t know if I could survive him waking up and explaining why he was leaving, and I wasn’t sure I could stand there and listen while he apologized for something that wasn’t his fault.

Because of course he would apologize.

He would look at me with those eyes full of guilt and regret and tell me that last night shouldn’t have happened, that I deserved better than someone like him, that he wasn’t safe or whole enough to give me the life I deserved.

I wasn’t strong enough to hear him say it. Not while I could still feel the echo of certainty the bond had wrapped around my heart only hours before.

My eyes burned, and I blinked hard against the gathering moisture, then harder when that proved insufficient.

Absolutely not.

I refused to cry over a man who wasn’t even truly mine.

The bond pulsed softly in response, aching in a way that felt an awful lot like disagreement.

The cool morning air sent goosebumps racing across my skin, but I barely noticed as I began gathering my clothes from around the room.

Each piece felt oddly significant as I pulled myself back together one layer at a time, as if I were rebuilding armor I had willingly set aside only hours earlier.

When I finally looked back toward the bed, Lucian still hadn’t stirred.

His face was still turned toward my side of the mattress. Toward the space I had left behind.

Pain tightened in my chest, and it felt like I was breathing through glass shards.

Before I could stop myself, I crossed the room and moved back to his side.

For several seconds, I simply stood there looking down at him, at the peaceful expression on his face, at the man who had somehow become important enough to break my heart without ever intending to.

My hand lifted toward him before stopping midway.

No. If I touched him, I would never be able to let go.

So I gave him the only thing I could manage.

”Goodbye, Lucian. I really do hope you find peace.”

The soft words disappeared into the silence of the room.

I turned toward the door before I could change my mind.

One step became another, and then another after that, until I stood in the hallway beyond the room, leaning against the closed door with blurred vision and a bond stretching painfully inside my chest with every inch of distance between us.

Behind me, beyond that closed door, Lucian Reed slept peacefully, perhaps for the first time in forever.

He would eventually wake. He would find me gone. He would heave a sigh of relief for being spared the awkwardness of goodbye.

Then he would leave.

And I didn’t know how I would survive without the piece of my heart that would leave with him.