Chapter 142: More Lies
Oliver’s POV
I knew she was heading straight to her apartment. Of course, she couldn’t come back to the pack house... not after this.
I went back home. By the time I arrived, evening had already settled.
I walked straight to my room and took off the mask. I stepped into the bathroom, letting the water run over me as if it could wash everything away. I scrubbed harder than I should have, then washed my hair, covered my tattoo, and removed the lenses.
When I was done, I stood in front of the mirror, just staring.
This was becoming too much. How long was I going to keep doing this? How long could I keep living as two different men?
My chest tightened, but I couldn’t think about myself for long. My mind went back to her. Aurora. I wondered how she was feeling—if she was still crying, if she was okay.
I grabbed my phone and called her from Oliver’s number. It rang... and rang... no answer.
I called again. Nothing. I threw the phone across the room, watching it bounce off the bed. I was angry. I was furious that she had gone to Raymond. But beneath that rage, there was a love so deep it made me feel pathetic. I was worried sick. I kept thinking about the welts, the wax, and the way she had sobbed.
I couldn’t take it. I grabbed my keys and drove to her place.
When I reached her door, I didn’t even wait. I rang the bell, my heart hammering against my ribs. It took a long time, but finally, the door opened.
Aurora stood there. Her eyes were red and puffy, her face blotchy from crying. Seeing her like that... I felt like a monster. I pushed past the door and walked into her small living room.
"Aurora," I said, my voice cracking. "What’s wrong? Why haven’t you been answering me?"
I knew the answer. I knew every inch of the pain she was feeling. But I needed her to say it. I needed her to be real with me.
She didn’t speak. She just fell into my arms, her body shaking with fresh sobs. I held her tight, pulling her into my chest. My wolf was whimpering, desperate to comfort her, but I was frozen in my own hurt. I led her to the bed and sat down, pulling her onto my lap. I wrapped my arms around her, rocking her like a baby.
"Aurora, talk to me," I murmured, pressing my face into her hair. "I’m here. I’ve got you. Just tell me what happened. Did someone hurt you? Is there something bothering you?"
I was holding my breath, my heart racing. Tell me, I prayed. Tell me about Raymond. Tell me you made a mistake. Tell me you want me and not him.
She pulled back just a little, her tear-stained eyes meeting mine. Her lips trembled as she struggled to find her voice.
"It’s... it’s James," she choked out, a fresh wave of tears hitting her face. "The doctors called... his case is getting worse, Oliver. He’s dying. I’m going to lose him."
My heart didn’t just sink; it went cold. It turned into a block of ice in my chest.
She was lying.
Even now, sitting on my lap, feeling my heart beat for her, she was using her dying brother to cover up the fact that she had been under a masked man just hours ago. She was choosing the lie over me. She was looking at the man who loved her and giving him a story instead of the truth.
I held her tighter, but the warmth I usually felt when she was in my arms was gone, replaced by a bitter, stinging cold. My wolf was howling in the back of my mind, confused and hurting. He wanted to lick her wounds, to growl at whatever had made her cry, but I knew—I knew the monster was me. And she was protecting that monster.
"I’m so sorry, Aurora," I said, the words feeling like dry sand in my mouth. I rubbed her back, my hand passing over the very spots where the flogger had landed just hours ago. She winced slightly, a tiny hitch in her breath that she tried to hide.
My jaw clenched. Every time she flinched from my touch, a fresh wave of self-loathing washed over me.
"Is that all?" I asked, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes. I was searching for any crack in the facade, any sign that she was about to break and tell me the truth. "Is there nothing else? You look... you look like you’ve been through hell, Aurora. You can tell me anything. I won’t judge you. I just want to help."
She looked away, unable to hold my gaze. "No... it’s just James. I went to see him and the doctors... they were so blunt. I feel like my world is falling apart, Oliver."
She was so good at it. If I didn’t know the truth, I would have believed her. I would have spent the rest of the night comforting her, promising her that I’d use every resource as King to save her brother. But I knew James wasn’t why her legs were shaking. I knew James wasn’t why she had red welts hidden under her clothes.
"I’ll take care of it," I said, my voice flat. "I’ll call the specialists again. We’ll get him moved to a better hospital."
"Thank you," she whispered, leaning her head back onto my shoulder.
I sat there with her in the dim light of her apartment, the silence between us stretching until it felt heavy enough to suffocate me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to demand why she thought a masked stranger was a better choice than the man who was currently holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world.
But I stayed silent. I had built this trap, and now we were both caught in it.
"You should rest," I finally said, easing her off my lap. I couldn’t bear the physical contact anymore; it felt like I was touching someone else’s property. "You’ve had a long day. I’ll stay here until you fall asleep."
"You don’t have to," she said, her voice small.
"I want to," I replied.
I watched her crawl under the covers, her movements slow and pained. As I tucked the blanket around her, I saw a faint glimpse of a dark mark on her collarbone—a bite mark I had left. My stomach turned.
I sat in the chair by her bed, watching her close her eyes. As her breathing evened out, I pulled out the Raymond phone. My fingers hovered over the screen.
Raymond: Check your bank account, Pet. I just sent the first installment. Don’t be late next time.
I hit send and watched her phone on the nightstand light up with a silent notification. She didn’t move. She didn’t wake up.
I leaned back in the chair, the darkness of the room closing in on me. I was the King who was comforting her, and the masked man who had brutally hurt her. And as I watched her sleep, I realized I didn’t know which one of us was the better liar.
I stared at the wall, my mind replaying the afternoon in vivid, agonizing detail.
Around midnight, she stirred. I saw her hand reach out blindly across the sheets before her eyes fluttered open. She blinked against the shadows, finding me still sitting in the chair, a silent sentinel in the dark.
"Oliver?" she whispered, her voice thick with sleep and the remnants of her tears. "You’re still here."
"I told you I wouldn’t leave," I said, my voice sounding like it belonged to a stranger.
She shifted painfully, a small wince crossing her face as she moved her legs—legs that I knew were covered in the welts I had given her. She patted the space on the bed beside her. "Come here. Please. Come into the bed."
I hesitated. Every fiber of my being wanted to crawl in there and hold her until the world disappeared, but the Raymond side of me felt like a parasite, tainting the very air between us. Eventually, I moved. I kicked off my shoes and slid under the covers, pulling her back against my chest. She was so small, so warm, and yet she felt a thousand miles away.
She turned in my arms, looking up at me with those wide, innocent eyes that I now knew could hide such dark secrets. She reached up, her thumb tracing my jawline.
"I love you, Oliver," she said softly.
I blinked, the words hitting me like a physical blow. My heart didn’t soar; it stuttered in a confused, painful rhythm. This was the first time she had ever said those three words to me as Oliver. In any other life, I would have been the happiest man alive. I would have made her my Queen right then and there.
But tonight, it felt like a jagged piece of glass. You don’t love a man and then sell your body to a masked monster two hours later. You don’t love a man and then lie to his face while your body still carries the marks of another man’s touch.
"You seem surprised," she murmured, her brow furrowing slightly.
"This is... the first time you’re saying this to me," I managed to choke out.
She let out a small, tired laugh, tucking her head under my chin. "No, it isn’t. I told you I loved you this morning while we were having breakfast. And I told you again before I left for the ’salon.’ You were just so distracted."
I went cold. I searched my memory, digging through the haze of that morning. I realized then that I hadn’t even noticed. My mind had been so consumed by the message I’d sent as Raymond, so poisoned by the knowledge that she was about to betray me, that I had tuned out her voice. I was so busy looking for the lie that I hadn’t even heard her confession of love.
"I... I guess a lot was going on in my head this morning," I whispered, my grip on her tightening.
"Is everything okay?" she asked, her voice muffled against my chest. "You’ve been so tense lately. Is there something you aren’t telling me?"
The irony was so sharp I almost laughed. Here we were, two people lying in the same bed, both of us drowning in secrets, both of us asking the other for a truth we weren’t brave enough to give ourselves.
"Nothing for you to worry about, Aurora," I lied, kissing the top of her head while my heart broke for the hundredth time that day. "Just go back to sleep."
She hummed and closed her eyes, falling back into a restless slumber. I stayed awake, staring into the darkness, wondering if the woman I loved even existed, or if we were both just masks playing a part in a tragedy of our making.