Goodbye, My Mate

Chapter 227

Lycidas' POV

Darren looked away. "I have no interest in learning that."

I leaned against the car door, trying to seem casual. "Would you like to go out for a drink? My treat."

He turned his head, his voice firm. "I don't drink at 10 AM."

"Well, we sure can do something else without drinking alcohol."

He glared at me angrily. I quickly backtracked and raised my arms. "I mean, we can chat without drinking."

He lowered his head again, not saying a word.

"I insist. Don't make me force you," I said, moving closer and whispering in his ear. "I can be really persuasive."

I saw his fists clench, his body tensing. I casually put my arm around his shoulder and started walking him towards my Bentley.

As we walked, I could feel the heat from his body, the tension in his muscles. I wondered what had happened to him, what had turned this once-confident man into something like this.

Once we reached the Bentley, I opened the door for him. He hesitated for a moment, then got in. I walked around to the driver's side and started the engine. The smooth purr of the engine filled the silence in the car.

I glanced over at him. His profile was still as perfect as I remembered. There was a stain of gas on the side of his face. I wanted to reach out and clean it, but I knew that would be too much.

"So, where do you want to go?" I asked, trying to break the ice.

He didn't answer. He just stared out of the window, lost in his own thoughts.

I knew this was going to be a long day.

-

"It's lunch time. Why is there no one in this place?" Darren looked around in a restaurant and asked.

"It's empty because I've just bought it and I decide we gonna need some privacy." I poured a glass of whiskey and handed it to him.

Darren's hands shook when he reached for the whiskey glass, but not from fear. From withdrawal. From the hollow ache of a wolf stripped to marrow. I'd seen it before.

He fumbled for a cigarette, the paper crinkling like dead leaves in his grip. When his gaze darted around the empty room, hunting for a lighter, I slid one across the bar. Bronze, tarnished, engraved with a crescent moon biting its own tail.

The flame caught, and for a moment, his face glowed like a relic under the lighter's flicker. Young, but not innocent. Eyes like cracked amber, too bright for a man who'd sold his soul. He inhaled sharply, smoke curling from his lips like a ghost he couldn't exorcise, and stared at the lighter in his hand.

"I don't know who you are," he said, voice sandpaper-rough. "Why do you have my brother's lighter?"

I leaned back, letting the shadows swallow half my face. The human world had taught me this- show teeth too soon, and prey bolts. Show none, and they fester. "Lycidas Lewyn," I said. The name tasted like rust. "I'm the Exiled One. I met you once - Skagen City, a diplomatic dinner. You were a pup, trailing Lester like a shadow."

His knuckles whitened around the lighter. "My brother's dead."

"I know."

"Your sister killed him."

"I know that too."

He snapped the lighter shut, then open again, the flame sputtering to life with each click. A nervous tic. A tell. Wolves chew their claws; humans play with fire.

"You came here to kill me?" he asked, too casual. A man who'd rehearsed this moment in mirrors.

I smiled. Not the sharp one I'd used on the mutt in the slave market, all threat and hunger. This was colder. A glacier's grin. "It depends. Are you still useful?"

Darren turned his head, throat bared - submission or suicide?

"You might as well kill me. I'm no werewolf anymore. The Moon Goddess clipped my fangs."

Ah. That was the stench beneath the whiskey. Not just human. Empty. A vessel drained of howls.

"What happened?"

"I broke an oath and she's mad at me," He flicked the lighter again, watching the flame devour air. "Let's leave it like that."

"Then why were you in prison for?"

"I killed someone."

"Regret it?"

"The murder? A bit. " He shrugged. "Losing my wolf? Not really. Freedom's lighter without a wolf gnawing your ribs."

Lies. All lies. I'd smelled his rot the moment I saw him - guilt and grief and something fouler, festering in the hollow where his wolf had been.

I became impatient, so I seized his wrist, the lighter clattering to the table. "How about betraying your brother? Regret that?"

He jerked free, stubbing out his cigarette like he wished it were my throat. "Lester's last words were to protect your sister. I did. I tried. But I lost her to Finn."

Pathetic. I let him rise, let him stagger toward the door, his boots scuffing the floorboards like a human's clumsy tread. No wolf would've missed the growl building in my chest. "But what did Lester really say before he died?"

He didn't pause. Didn't flinch. Just gripped the doorknob, shoulders hunched like a man waiting for a bullet.

So I gave him one.

I blurred across the room, slamming the door shut with a crack that shook the shelves. Bottles rattled; dust rained down like old sins. "We're not done yet," I said, crowding him against the wood. His pulse rabbited under my palm, but his eyes were wildfire. "This is how it's gonna work. I ask questions. You answer. You're not going out of this door until I say you can do so."

"Go to hell."

I laughed. "Already there." My thumb brushed his collarbone, a mockery of tenderness. "Another thing you should know. Leah's still alive."

He froze. Not the stiffening of fear, but the stillness of a man whose bones have turned to ice.

"Your brother's last words weren't about protecting her. They were to kill her." I pressed against his chest, over the heart he'd let rust. "But you loved her too much. Loved her enough to murder your own mate, Josephine, didn't you?"

His breath hitched. I smelled salt - tears - before he blinked them away. "Leah's dead."

"Is she?" I stepped back, letting the truth sink its fangs in slow. "She showed up the other day, setting Leo's lab on fire. Listen, kid. Your brother died to protect you. But you sold your fangs for a lie."

Darren's chest was heaving.

I slid the lighter into his chest pocket and said, "Keep it. It's yours now."

Then, I opened the door, a gust of wind rushing in like a verdict. "Now, you're free to go."

For a heartbeat, I thought he'd swing at me. Instead, he shoved past, vanishing into the crowd.

I took a sip of whisky and immediately spat it into the glass. It tasted like piss.

Human beings never get things done, but wolves, on the other hand, always circle back to their wounds.

And I had just given him a new one to lick.