Goodbye, My Mate

Chapter 184

Jalin's POV

Finn asked a question that cut through the haze of my existence like a blade - sharp, incisive, and brutal. Why haven't I killed Lucian yet?

The answer lies in the shadows of my soul, where hatred and desire twist like poisoned vines. I could tell the world that sparing him is an act of torture. But that's a lie. A comforting lie, perhaps, but a lie nonetheless. The truth is simpler - and far more damning.

Lucian lives because I've chosen to let him live. Every breath he draws is a gift I've freely given, every moment of suffering a consequence of my indecision. I've kept him alive not out of compassion, but out of a twisted sense of control. To kill him would be to relinquish that control - to admit that he still holds power over me, even after all this time.

But the irony is suffocating. I despise him, yet I refuse to release him. The paradox of our relationship is a grotesque masterpiece of contradictions. I hate him because he's a Lycan - because they are creatures born of miracle and curse.

I mean, what am I? I'm just an average werewolves. We are half-formed ideals, incapable of true greatness. It's written in our blood, this mutual loathing, this endless cycle of destruction and preservation. And that's the crux of it - the reason I cannot bring myself to end him, despite the bile that rises in my throat whenever I look at him. It's a complexity so profound it defies understanding, even to myself.

I am pathetic. I've been in this fucking world I hate for 40 years and the only one who loves me is the one I hate the most.

Only Lucian understands. He reads me like an ancient text, every line and nuance laid bare for him to decipher. He sees me for what I am - a broken, bitter shell of an average werewolf, trapped in a love-hate relationship with a creature he despises.

His love for me is relentless, bordering on pathological. It mirrors a mother's unconditional affection, which only fuels my hatred further.

That fucking idiot. Why can't he fight back? Why can't he run away from me, just once? Why can't he put an end to this grotesque dance we've been performing for years?

Closure is a luxury I've long since abandoned - a ridiculous notion for a werewolf like me, adrift in a sea of unanswered questions. But Lucian is a Lycan, supposed to be superior - smarter, stronger, more ruthless. And yet, he does nothing. He stays.

Why can't he just end it?

Why can't he just end us?

Lucian's POV

After Jalin left, I held the delicate hand of the girl who stood before me as her large, frightened eyes looked up at me, pleading for an unknown mercy. Their gaze pierced through my soul, leaving a hollow ache in its wake. Each tremor that ran through her slender fingers reverberated within me, a stark reminder of the innocence and vitality she once possessed.

My heart shattered into a thousand pieces to see my daughter—my Leah—in such a state, a mere shadow of her true self. Memories of her laughter, her curious questions, and the warmth of her smile flooded my mind, contrasting cruelly with the present reality of her fear and confusion.

She was ordered to remain with me that night, and though she didn't recognize me, I knew exactly who she was. Every fiber of my being yearned to reach out, to hold her close and tell her everything would be alright, but the situation demanded restraint.

I forced myself to maintain composure, suppressing the torrent of emotions raging within. My mind scrambled to protect her, to shield her from the horrific life she had been forced into. How had it come to this? How had the bright, spirited girl I loved been reduced to this state? My thoughts raced, searching for answers, for a way to bring her back, to break through the walls of amnesia and fear that imprisoned her.

"What's your name?" I whispered, trying to keep my voice gentle, to break through the haze of fear that clouded her eyes. I leaned in slightly, hoping my tone would convey the love and concern I felt—hoping it would be enough to reach her, even if only for a moment.

She hesitated, her lips trembling. "I... I don't remember," she stammered, barely audible. There was a weight in her words that told me she wasn't just scared, she was utterly lost. It was clear—she didn't remember anything about her past, her family, and most painfully, me. The realization hit like a punch to the gut, but I couldn't let my pain show. She needed me to be strong, to be her anchor in this storm of uncertainty.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the next question. "What about your family?" I pressed, desperate for any flicker of recognition. "Do you remember anything about them?" My voice broke slightly, betraying the depth of my desperation. How I wished for a sign, a spark of understanding in her eyes that told me she was still in there somewhere, fighting to break free.

The girl—no, my Leah—shook her head slowly, almost imperceptibly. "No," she repeated, her voice breaking. "I don't remember." Each word sliced through me like a blade, the finality of her loss settling heavily in the room. I saw the confusion in her eyes, a confusion she dared not fully acknowledge. Her fear was palpable, yet she didn't even dare to voice her confusion fully. It was as though admitting her amnesia would bring even greater horrors upon her.

She noticed the change in my mood and said in a quiet, begging voice, "You can call me whatever you like, Sir."

In a bid to give her some semblance of identity, some anchor to hold onto, I spoke the name that had once been so dear to us both. "Let's call you Leah," I said softly, the name rolling off my tongue like a prayer. For a moment, her eyes brightened, a flicker of recognition sparked within them, a fragment of the girl she once was resurfacing. But just as quickly, it was extinguished, swallowed by the abyss of her fears and lost memories. The fleeting glimmer of hope vanished, leaving behind a deeper sorrow.

Before I could speak further, Jalin stormed in, his presence a jarring interruption. His cruel eyes took in the scene with a sneer, the malevolence in his gaze sending a chill down my spine.

"What's this?" he jeered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Still haven't had your fun? I don't know that you can't perform." His words were like poison, seeping into the already sickening atmosphere.

I clenched my teeth, fury boiling within me, but I knew better than to show it. Jalin thrived on our suffering, relished the power he held over us.

"Give me some time and privacy, please," I replied, struggling to keep my voice steady. Each word was a struggle, a concession to the vile game he was playing.

"Time and privacy?" Jalin scoffed, stepping closer to Leah, who visibly flinched. "You had it. But I see no progress. Maybe I should spice things up a little. Maybe you need some... encouragement." His leer made my skin crawl.

"Jalin, please... I will do it..." I pleaded again. I needed more time with my daughter. Alone.

"Why don't you start then? I'll stay and watch," His intentions were clear, his desire to humiliate and debase us both evident in every syllable.