Betrayed By One. Bound To Three

Selena.

Night settled slowly over the cave, stretching long and heavy as though the world itself was reluctant to give way to the darkness, and I remained exactly where they had told me to stay.

I was seated near the edge of the entrance with my back pressed against the cool stone, my hands resting loosely in my lap even though my fingers would not stop trembling no matter how tightly I tried to still them.

The fire before me burned low, its faint crackle the only steady sound at first, and I focused on it with more attention than it deserved, watching the flames bend and flicker as though they might anchor me to something real, something unchanged, something that had not been taken from me within the span of a single day.

I had done everything they asked.

I had cooked for them.

I had stood there while they ate, silent and still, forcing myself to ignore the way they spoke around me as though I were not there, as though I had already been reduced to something beneath notice, something that existed only when needed and disappeared the moment I was not.

And even now, long after the meal had ended, I remained where they had left me, close enough to be seen, close enough to hear them, but no longer close enough to matter.

My gaze remained fixed on the fire, though it blurred slightly as my vision wavered, and I realized distantly that I had not truly stopped crying, that the tears had simply grown quieter, slipping down my face without resistance, without sound, as though even my grief had learned not to draw attention.

Behind me, I heard them.

Not clearly at first.

Just movement.

The shift of bodies.

The low murmur of voices settling into something softer, something more itimate.

Something I did not belong to.

My chest tightened slowly, the pressure building in a way that made it difficult to breathe fully, but I did not turn, because turning would make it real in a way I was not sure I could withstand, and some fragile, desperate part of me still clung to the illusion that if I did not see it, it would not hurt as much.

"You are hurting."

Lyra’s voice came quietly, but there was no softness in it this time, only a raw awareness that made my throat tighten further.

"I am fine," I whispered, though the lie barely held its shape.

"No," she said, more firmly now, her presence pressing against mine in a way that felt almost restless. "You are not. You are trying not to feel it."

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening against each other until the pressure almost hurt.

"What would you have me do?" I asked, my voice unsteady despite my effort to control it. "Turn around and watch? Stand there while they replace me in front of me?"

The words burned as they left me.

Lyra fell silent for a moment, and in that silence, the sounds behind me grew clearer.

Nyra’s voice.

Soft.

"Be gentle," she murmured, and there was something in her tone that made my chest twist painfully, because it was the same tone they had once used with me, the same ease, the same closeness that had once felt like something I could trust.

Ronan responded with a low sound that I felt more than heard, something warm and amused, and Edris followed with a quiet chuckle that carried none of the sharpness it held when he spoke to me.

It was effortless.

All of it.

Effortless in a way that made something inside me crack.

"I missed you," Nyra said again, softer this time, and I could hear the smile in her voice, the way her words curved around them as though they belonged there, as though she had always belonged there.

My breath faltered.

Because I remembered.

I remembered what it felt like to be the one they spoke to that way.

I remembered the weight of their attention, the way their voices would lower, the way everything around us would seem to fade until it felt like I was the only thing they saw.

And now...

Now I sat with my back turned while they gave that to someone else.

"She is going to hear you," Nyra added lightly after a moment, her voice laced with quiet amusement.

"Let her," Ronan replied, unbothered, dismissive.

The words landed harder than anything else.

Because they meant it.

They did not care.

Not even enough to pretend.

Lyra stirred sharply within me.

"This is wrong," she said, her voice tightening with something that felt dangerously close to pain. "I can feel it now. The bond is reacting. It is not breaking, but it is... strained. Twisted. Like it is being forced into something it is not."

I shook my head faintly, though the motion felt weak, almost meaningless.

"Stop," I whispered.

"You feel it too," she insisted. "Do not lie to me. When they are close, when they touch her, it... it pulls at us. It should not feel like this."

My chest tightened violently at that, something sharp and unfamiliar twisting low within me, not quite pain, not quite anger, but something far more disorienting.

"Then ignore it," I said, more sharply than I intended.

"I cannot," she said, and there was a note of helplessness in her voice that I had never heard before. "It is part of us."

"Then you deal with it," I snapped quietly. "Because I am done."

Silence followed, heavy and immediate, and I felt her withdraw slightly, not leaving, never leaving, but pulling back in a way that left me alone with everything else.

Behind me, the low murmur of voices continued, softer now, closer, and I could hear the shift of movement, the subtle changes in breath and tone that made it impossible to pretend I did not understand what was happening.

Kael’s voice rose then, quieter than before, but no less certain, and even without turning, I knew the way he would be looking at her, the way his attention would be fixed, unwavering, as though nothing else existed.

The same way he had looked at me.

My throat tightened painfully.

I pressed my lips together, forcing myself to remain still, forcing myself not to react, even as something inside me strained against that control, desperate and aching and humiliating in a way I could not fully contain.

"They are doing this on purpose," Lyra whispered after a moment, her voice fragile now. "They want you to feel it. They want you to break."

I closed my eyes briefly, my head resting back against the stone as I forced myself to breathe through the tightness in my chest.

"I will not." I said quietly.

The words felt thin at first.

Fragile.

But I held onto them anyway.

Behind me, Nyra laughed softly again, the sound low and unrestrained, and this time it slipped under my skin, sharp enough to draw something dangerously close to a sob from my chest, but I swallowed it down, refusing to let it escape.

I would not give them that.

I would not give them the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart.

"They had no right," Lyra murmured, her voice quieter now, grieving in a way that mirrored something deep within me. "What they felt for you... it was real."

"Then it does not matter anymore," I said.

Because it didn’t.

Because whatever it had been, whatever it could have been, they had chosen this instead.

Chosen her.

Chosen to let me hear it.

Chosen to make sure I understood exactly where I stood.

My fingers slowly loosened in my lap, the tension easing not because the pain had lessened, but because I no longer had the strength to hold onto it the same way.

Something inside me was shifting.

Not breaking.

Not completely.

But changing.

"I am done hoping," I said softly, the words settling into me with a quiet finality that surprised even me. "I am done trying to understand them. Whatever they are doing... whatever they feel... it is no longer mine to carry."

Lyra did not argue this time.

Perhaps she could feel it too.

The way something inside me was pulling back, withdrawing from the place where it had once been open, vulnerable, willing.

"I still care," I admitted after a moment, because denying it would have been pointless. "But I will not let them see that anymore."

The realization grounded me in a way nothing else had since morning.

Behind me, their voices continued, but they felt different now, distant in a way that had nothing to do with space and everything to do with choice.

I leaned my head back fully against the stone, my eyes closing as exhaustion finally began to pull me under, heavy and unrelenting.

The pain was still there.

Sharp.

Alive.

But it no longer controlled me the way it had before.

And as sleep slowly claimed me, the sounds behind me faded, not because they had stopped, but because I had finally chosen to let them go unheard.

Not forgiven.

Not forgotten.

But no longer allowed to break me.