Saphyra's POV
I open the door of our home.
"Blaine?" I call.
He sits at the edge of the bed, arms locked across his chest, eyes fixed on the wall, refusing to meet mine.
He doesn't answer.
Doesn't move.
The stillness stretches too long, pressing into my chest until breathing feels careful and measured, like one wrong sound might break him.
He always meets me by the door.
Always reaches for me before I can even close it, as if letting go of me for a second might make me disappear. But lately, that warmth has thinned, smiles dulled, words shorter, and silence taking over.
Tonight is worse. He doesn't move.
The space between us stretches thin, colder than the rain clinging to my dress. And for the first time, I hesitate further into the room, into a place I call home.
"Blaine?" I whisper, almost afraid to hear silence again.
He jolts forward. "Oh…"
"How long are you going to keep shutting me out?"
"I didn't notice you came in," he mutters.
"No." I force a smile. "Unless you've decided to tell me what's going on."
His eyes stay low.
Sweat beads along his temple, catching the faint glint of moonlight.
Too much for this cold that's seeping into my blood.
Too much for someone who hasn't done anything wrong.
He goes quiet again like he hasn't heard a word I've said.
"Blaine." I call, drawing closer. "You aren't okay."
He forces a laugh that dies halfway out of his throat, a sound so wrong it chills me.
"It's… about us, isn't it?"
He grips my wrists, pulling me close to his body, his other hand slowly pulling the cover I have on me.
His eyes drag over me, but there's no warmth, none of that quiet spark that always lived before. Just… emptiness.
"You can't shift," he says, letting go of my hand.
I furrow my brows. "But that's nothing new. Hybrids like me find it too hard to shift… I've never been able to."
"That's the problem." He exhales loudly, cracking his knuckles.
"You're a hybrid," he says quietly.
Not my hybrid.
Not the woman he loves.
Just the thing he's been hiding.
It hits like a slap when it shouldn't.
It sharply echoes off the walls anyway, like a sentence already passed. And suddenly, I'm standing in front of the man I love, on trial.
And maybe he's been thinking about it.
Or maybe it's something worse.
The thought crawls up my spine.
"So now hiding who I am is a problem?"
"No." He blurts out. "But maybe if you shift into a wolf… it would be a perfect cover for them not to see you as one."
"For them?"
He looks at me for a second, then averts his gaze, sweat dripping down his cheeks. "It will help you escape what they're already looking for."
"I'm half witch…" I stare at my palms as though expecting a magic glint to appear in my fingers. "But I don't know how to express it… wait, what's coming for me?"
He doesn't look at me. "Just a possibility. People like you don't stay unnoticed forever."
Warmth flares beneath my skin like heated needles pricking into me.
My witch instinct.
The same warning that screamed the night my parents died.
I swallow it down immediately.
Not here.
Not with Blaine.
And so I take his hands in mine. "We've been together for this long, and no one is coming to confirm if I'm hybrid or not. What's there to worry about if I can't shift?"
He goes silent, his gaze back to the wall.
"You seem to forget something."
Still no answer.
"Blaine?"
He pulls my arm off him, getting off the bed. "What's that?"
"Our anniversary."
"Anniversary…"
"You forget that."
He goes to the window, staring outside. If it were daytime, I would have thought he was waiting for a guess.
"It's supposed to be a special day between us."
"Saphyra…" He exhales like my name weighs something out of him. "That doesn't matter anymore."
"Four years," I whisper.
I say nothing else. I shouldn't have to.
He steps back, and the faint moonlight cuts across his face, revealing a twisted expression. It looks like fear tangled with regret, and neither is winning.
"Your eyes are wet…" I whisper, going close enough to touch his face.
But he stops me, wipes his palm across his face. "That doesn't matter anymore."
A chill creeps up my spine. "Are you… are you breaking up with me?"
He shakes his head. "I wouldn't do that. Not to you."
"But your face… it says something else."
He smiles but his eyes brim with tears he refuses to let fall.
"Just say it. Tell me what's eating you up."
"Maybe it's guilt?"
"Guilt about what?"
"It's nothing."
He goes to the wardrobe and takes out a gown I can't possibly wear to bed.
"Put this on," he murmurs without looking at me.
"You intend for us to go out in this storm?" I draw closer, but he keeps stepping back as if my presence burns him. "You aren't making any sense."
"You should cover up before…"
His voice trails off, his back leaning against the wall.
"You're a hybrid," he whispers. "And my family is dying."
His voice breaks on the next part.
"I love you… but it doesn't save my family."
The warm sensation on my skin becomes hotter. It has never been like this since my parents passed.
It's just Blaine and I in this room. It doesn't make sense.
Questions crowd my mouth, and I swallow every one of them.
"My family, my brothers, and mother have to survive… so I had to."
"What did you do?"
He slides down the wall, collapsing, head bowed.
He lifts his face for our eyes to meet. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry… for what?"
No answer.
"Blaine?" My voice cracks. "Tell me what you did—"
A loud bang shakes the sitting room door.
I freeze, the chilling sensation on my skin heightens.
It's past midnight, a time visitors wouldn't come. And we barely had any.
I yank on the gown he tossed earlier and rushed out. Blaine follows.
The door bursts open before we reach it.
A werewolf fills the frame.
"Blaine!" He snarls. "Where is she? Where's the hybrid wolf?"
His gaze hits me, then flickers to Blaine whose eyes are already on me.
My skin lets out sweat.
Almost a minute passes, and Blaine hasn't said a word.
"Blaine…" I manage with a shaky breath. "Did you… did you tell him about…"
"Sorry." He says, voice barely audible.
His hand raises slowly.
It trembles just enough for me to hope.
Then his finger straightens and points at me.
Not the door.
Not the floor.
Me.
The room suddenly feels small as though the walls are pressing against my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Three other men storm in with rain dripping from their claws. They grab my hands, legs, dragging me outside.
"BLAINE! BLAINE!" I scream, thrashing, struggling to pull from their grip.
But he doesn't come close, just watching as they force me into their cart.
He steps outside in the rain, arms crossed at his sides, shaking his head like he's trapped in a nightmare.
"HELP ME!"
He does nothing. He doesn't fight.
"He needed the deal," one of the men laughs as others join in. "He had to sell you out."
My breath stops.
He sold me out.
And in that moment, every memory of us dims, like someone turned the sound down on my life.
"I had to do it!" He shouts from the distance he still maintains between us.
His words land, and I can't get past them.
I wait for the moment this sto
ps feeling real.
But nothing changes. It's so real my chest hurts.
The cart jerks hard, the werewolves' laughter drowning out my struggles.
I try to fight, but my body gives up.
Then everything goes quiet inside me.
What then becomes of me?