Page 43 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
Maya sighs. “Sometimes people make mistakes, Fiona. Sometimes they’re afraid.”
“Erik isn’t afraid of anything,” I say dismissively, though my wolf whimpers at the words, as if she knows better.
“Everyone is afraid of something,” Maya counters gently. “Even Erik.”
I shake my head, unwilling to indulge in false hope. “It doesn’t matter. This isn’t about him.”
“Isn’t it?” Maya’s voice is gentle but probing. “At least partly?”
I stare down at my hands, hating the tremor in them that has become constant. “What do you want me to say? That I wanted him to want me? That I hoped our bond would give me a place here?” My voice breaks. “That for a brief couple of days, I thought maybe fate had given me something good after all those years of suffering?”
“Do you care for him?” Maya asks softly.
I look up at her, and to my horror, I feel wetness gathering in my eyes. I’ve spent so long hiding my feelings that showing themnow feels like exposing an open wound. But the truth spills out anyway.
“I do,” I whisper, my voice thick with the emotion I’ve tried so hard to suppress. “More than I should. Enough that I don’t want to be a burden to him.” A tear escapes, tracking down my cheek. I wipe it away angrily. “He has responsibilities. To the kingdom, to his brother, to the army. I understand why he rejected me. I’m damaged. Broken. I’d only distract him from what matters.”
“Oh, Fiona,” Maya says, her voice filled with compassion. “Is that what you believe? That you’re not worthy of being loved?”
I flinch at the directness of her question. “I’m not what he needs. He deserves someone whole. Someone strong.”
“And you think you’re not strong?” Maya asks incredulously. “You, who survived twenty years of torture? Who escaped on your own? Who is fighting every day to rebuild a life from nothing?”
I shake my head. “That’s not the kind of strength he needs.”
Maya leans forward. “You don’t get to decide what Erik needs. Only he can do that. And maybe he doesn’t even know himself.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I insist, though my wolf keens mournfully inside me. “He’s made his choice. I’ve accepted it. Now I need to make my own choices.”
I reach for the vial again, but Maya pulls it further away. “I’ll give you this after you’ve spoken to Griffin,” she says firmly. “And I still think you should talk to Erik, but I won’t force that issue.”
I want to argue, but exhaustion sweeps through me. The constant battle between my human side and my wolf has drained me in ways I can barely articulate. “Fine. I’ll talk to Griffin.”
“Good.” Maya nods, satisfied. “And Fiona?”
I look at her questioningly.
“Think about what you really want from this life. Not just freedom from pain, not just the absence of suffering—but actual joy. Fulfillment. Purpose.” Her eyes are intense, searching mine. “What future are you hoping to build with this choice? Who do you want to become?”
The questions pierce me. I’ve been so focused on running from what I am that I haven’t really considered what I might be instead.
“I don’t know,” I admit, and the honesty leaves me breathless. “I’ve never had the chance to find out. That’s what I want, I think. The opportunity to discover who I could be. To explore a world I’ve never known. To learn what it means to live instead of just survive.”
Maya smiles, and this time, it reaches her eyes. “Then, hold on to that. That’s a reason worth fighting for. Worth living for.”
She carefully places the vial in a small, wooden box and locks it. “Come back after you’ve spoken with Griffin. The choice will still be yours, I promise.”
As I leave her laboratory, my wolf stirs anxiously within me, sensing the decision I’m making. For once, I don’t try to silence her. Instead, I acknowledge her presence, her fear.
“We’ll figure this out,” I whisper, though I’m not sure if I’m trying to reassure her or myself. “Somehow.”
What I don’t say—what I can’t bring myself to say aloud—is that I’m terrified. Not of dying, but of living. Of finding out who I could be only to discover that person isn’t enough, either. Of building a life for myself only to have it crumble around me.
But for the first time since escaping captivity, I think I feel real hope flickering inside me. Not the desperate hope of the prisoner dreaming of freedom, but the tentative hope of someone who may, at last, have the chance to choose her own path.
Whatever that path may be and wherever it may lead.
The walk to Griffin’s study has my stomach in knots. Each step requires more effort than it should.
