For Me,There Is Only You |18+|

45. The Unseen Gate

It was around eight in the morning when I padded downstairs, my steps soft against the wooden floor, ears pricked up like I was hunting for the faintest sound of her.

The last thing I wanted was to run into that bitch first thing in the morning.

Her words had burrowed into my mind, stirring up enough chaos to keep me wide awake all night. Tossing, turning—the bed had never felt so uncomfortable.

By the time the clock hit 3 a.m., I'd considered doing something stupid, like lowering my mental barriers and mind linking Ansel. But I caught myself at the last moment.

He was on a mission. He had enough on his plate without me adding to it.

The kitchen was blissfully empty when I walked in. No Genesis in sight, thank god.

I headed straight for the cereal, pulling out a box and some cold milk from the fridge, sliding onto the stool at the counter.

Simple, quick, zero brainpower involved—exactly what I needed after the sleepless night I'd had.

Ansel would definitely scowl if he saw me eating this. I could already picture the disapproving look he'd give, his eyebrow raised like I'd committed some sort of breakfast crime.

I groaned, pressing my forehead against my palm. The last thing I needed was to think about him again. But it seemed like that's all my brain wanted to do.

I needed to talk to him.

Too many emotions had surged through me last night after learning the truth—the real truth—about the lengths Ansel had gone to protect me.

Not just from his world, but from himself.

When the dust finally settled after my showdown with Genesis and I started thinking clearly, I didn't know what to feel anymore.

Admiration? That he had the strength to fight his animal instincts just to avoid forcing his world—and himself—on me?

Or guilt? That while he was silently enduring all of this, I had been busy blaming him for everything, blind to the struggle he had kept hidden.

I thought back to those books I'd read, about the intensity of the mate bond and how impossible it was to resist. They'd described the pain of rejecting it as excruciating, something I could barely imagine.

And yet, Ansel had lived through that pain every single day for four years. Fought against a bond that must have tugged at him constantly, pulling him toward me like an invisible chain.

And worse, he had to suppress his instincts—something no werewolf had control over.

Was that why he'd always kept his distance? Watching from the shadows for four years, never daring to get too close?

Maybe it was his way of giving the bond just enough to keep it from tearing him apart, holding it at bay while keeping the dark parts of his world safely away from me.

The thought of him suffering alone all this time, protecting me while I stayed blissfully unaware, tightened painfully in my chest. Now, knowing the truth, how could I even look him in the eye?

Images of his suffering—everything I'd seen in his memories—kept replaying in my mind, each one more haunting than the last.

Since he was a child, he'd wanted one simple thing: a mate who would love him as fiercely as he'd protect and cherish her.

But what did he get in the end? Me.

He'd done everything he could to protect me. And what had I done for him? Blamed him, pushed him away.