NADIA
I find myself blushing, my gaze darting to anything and everything except Maxwell's face. The warmth creeping up my neck is both frustrating and exhilarating. I am tempted to ask the Moon Goddess why she didn't bless me with a mate like Maxwell—someone kind, understanding, and genuinely caring. But I hold my tongue. I don't want to risk offending a deity, not when my life has already been thrown into chaos.
His words are like honey, soothing the raw ache that Asher's rejection left in my chest. Sweet and tender, they weave through my pain, momentarily dulling it. I never thought anything could ease that lingering wound, yet here I am, drawn to Maxwell in a way that feels both comforting and electrifying.
But why does it feel this way? Why is he able to make me feel seen and valued in a way Asher never did? The thought gnaws at me, persistent and unrelenting.
Werewolves are supposed to be bound to their fated mates—their other half, their perfect match. But if that were true, why does my connection with Maxwell feel more profound, more natural, than anything I ever shared with Asher? Could the mate-bond be flawed? A mistake? Some cruel cosmic joke?
Maybe it was a glitch. Maybe Asher was never meant for me at all. But what does that mean for Maxwell? For me?
I shift uncomfortably, wrestling with these thoughts, and suddenly, another question burns in my mind, refusing to be silenced.
"But why?" I ask suddenly, my voice cutting through the quiet night. My thoughts shift from my own turmoil to something equally perplexing—the tension between Maxwell and Asher.
The question escapes before I can stop it, but I don't regret it. It has been gnawing at the back of my mind since the first time I saw them together. The way Asher looks at Maxwell isn't just disdain—it's loathing, deep and unwavering. And yet, Maxwell, despite his charm and humor, carries a similar hatred, though he conceals it behind his easy-going facade.
Even though he masks it well, I can tell Maxwell harbors a deep resentment for his brother. The difference between them is that Maxwell tries to bury it beneath humor and teasing, while Asher makes no effort to hide his hatred. It's raw, vicious, and entirely unfiltered.
And that terrifies me.
Because it means Maxwell might be far more dangerous than he lets on.
If I hadn't caught that fleeting flicker of rage in his eyes during their fight—anger, vengeance, something much darker—I might have believed that Asher's loathing was one-sided. But it's not. Maxwell feels it too; he just disguises it better.
"Why do you two hate each other so much?" I press. "You're blood brothers, aren't you?"
I expect him to brush it off, to make some lighthearted remark and steer the conversation elsewhere. Instead, his expression darkens.
"I don't hate Asher the way I should." His voice is quiet, but the weight of his words is deafening. "If anyone else did what he did to me, they wouldn't be walking the earth right now. But he's my brother. No matter what, I can't bring myself to hate him the way he deserves."
The raw pain in his eyes is so vivid it makes my chest tighten. I can feel it—his anger, his sorrow, his regret. "Yes, I'm not fond of my brother, and I won't pretend that I am. There are moments when the bitterness is overwhelming, when I want nothing more than to see him suffer as I have. But hate? I can't. I won't. Because if I let it consume me, I'd be no better than him."
I believe him.
I trust him.
From the moment I met Maxwell, he has been open with me—honest in a way that few people are. He has never given me a reason to doubt him, and even now, despite his secrets, I believe that his heart is in the right place.
But trust only goes so far. I need answers.
"What happened between you two?" I ask, my voice softer this time. "Why were you a rogue when you could have been Alpha? Why is Asher ruling instead of you?"
I try to temper my curiosity, to tread carefully, but the words tumble out before I can stop them. I don't want to push too hard, to make him shut down, but I need to know. If I'm going to move forward, if I'm going to make sense of what I feel for him, I need the truth.
Maxwell's gaze turns distant, his jaw tightening as if physically restraining himself from speaking. A heavy silence settles between us before he finally murmurs, "I can't tell you."
The words hit me like a slap.
A mixture of shock and frustration surges through me, my body reacting before my mind fully processes it. I stand abruptly, my hands curling into fists. The hurt of his refusal stings more than I expected. I don't know what I anticipated, but it wasn't this.
Does he not trust me? Does he think I can't handle the truth? Or is it something worse—something so dark that even he is afraid to say it aloud?
I turn on my heel and walk away.
He's behind me in an instant, his voice urgent. "Nadia, wait. Please."
I ignore him, my pace quickening. If he won't trust me with the truth, why should I stay?
He moves faster, stepping in front of me, blocking my path. There's something in his expression that catches me off guard—fear. Not fear of me leaving, but fear of something much greater.
"You can't leave me here," he says, his voice laced with desperation. "If you go, they'll kick me out. I'll have nowhere to go. Please, stay. Help me."
His plea ignites something in me—anger, frustration, betrayal. I lift my hand and press it against his chest, shoving him back just enough to make my point.
"You can shove your pleas down your fucking ass." My voice trembles, but not with fear—with fury. "I don't care. I deserve an explanation more than anything. And don't think I'm stupid. I know you're using me to get back at Asher for whatever happened between you two. I know you like me, but I also know I'm part of something bigger than just you and me."
He opens his mouth to speak, but I don't let him.
"Let me in," I demand. "Tell me the truth, or I walk away. I refuse to be blind in whatever this is."
I hold my breath, waiting for his answer. Because this moment—this choice—will change everything.
He hesitated and I took that as a sign to leave. If he isn't ready to let me in on whatever beef he has with his brother, then he can kiss my ass goodbye.
"You claim to like me and want to imprint on me but is that truly the reason? It seems to me that you are using me to make your brother jealous. You don't want to have me because you genuinely like me, you only want me because you want something that belongs to Asher."
He shakes his head, denying the allegations placed against him. "That is not the case, Nadia. I swear on the throne of the moon goddess that it isn't what you want to think. Yes, that too is one of the benefits but trust me when I saw that even if you aren't my brother's mate, I would still want you. I got heavily attracted to you even before I found out you are mated to my brother. When I found out you are his rejected mate, I took that as the goddess trying to pay me back for all the pain and suffering I have gone through at the hands of my brother. It was a win-win for me and I immediately knew that I couldn't let you go."
I scrutinize him in an attempt to know if he has been honest or not. All I could judge in his eyes, his body language and everything he is doing is the fact that he is telling the truth and nothing but the truth.
I believe everything he said but even his truth isn't enough for me to stay without knowing the truth about the two brothers.
I am not sure how big their vendetta against each other is and if it is truly as big as I predicted then I don't want to be in the middle of it.
"Goodbye, Max."
I am about to leave but stop at his next words. "Wait, I'll tell you everything you need to know."