Lawrence.
I hated Lurgard for always trying to act like so perfect hero in front of Theresa, always stepping in at the right mont, always looking like he had everything under control. And the worst part was that I had followed Bella’s side in all of this without even thinking it through properly...and the mont things settled, I instantly regretted it.
Because now I could see it clearly....I should have sided with my mate, regardless of if she was guilty or not.
Yet, Theresa had pushed Bella to the ground without even a hint of remorse, nor hesitation or guilt.
And that single act made her feel almost unfamiliar to at that mont, like I was seeing a version of her I hadn’t fully t before.
But even with that realization sitting heavy in my mind, sothing else refused to leave alone.
I had beco addicted to her presence.
Ridiculously so.
And despite everything that had just happened, I still found myself wanting to go to her, to speak to her properly, to apologize for how things escalated...and maybe, just maybe, gently correct what she had done today without making it worse.
But nothing—absolutely nothing—prepared for what I saw the mont I stepped into the room.
Lurgard was too close to Theresa.
Far too close.
His arms were wrapped tightly around her, holding her as though he had every right in the world to do so, refusing to let go no matter how long it lasted.
Sothing inside snapped instantly.
She was my mate.
Only I should be the one holding her like that.
The thought alone sent a sharp, unfamiliar ache spreading through my chest, heavy and dull at the sa ti. My fists clenched at my sides without even realizing it, my nails digging into my palms as I tried to control the surge of emotion rising within .
My breathing slowed—but not in a good way.
In a dangerous way.
"Why the hell are you so close to her?" I asked, my voice cutting through the room as I stepped closer toward them, each step heavier than the last.
The atmosphere shifted imdiately.
"I don’t think Theresa has an issue with being close to her," Lurgard said calmly, slowly turning to face . His eyes darkened slightly, not with fear, but with challenge.
And the worst part?
He wasn’t wrong.
That realization hit harder than I expected.
Because why did Theresa allow him to get that close?
Why didn’t she stop him?
Why didn’t she push him away the way she should have if I was really the one she was ant for?
My jaw tightened as the questions piled up in my mind, each one worse than the last.
Was she hiding sothing from ?
Or worse...
Was she looking at Lurgard and seeing instead?
A colder thought slipped in imdiately after, unwanted but impossible to ignore.
Whatever the truth was, I could only hope—deep down—that it was the latter.
I forced a smile onto my face, though it felt tight and unnatural, like it didn’t belong there at all.
"Right," I said slowly, my tone deliberately light but edged with sarcasm. "Theresa actually does mind... because I am very sure you’re forcing yourself on her."
I scoffed under my breath, letting the sound carry just enough weight to be heard.
Then I tilted my head slightly, my gaze sharpening as it fixed on Lurgard.
"Can’t you see the look on her face?" I asked, and this ti my smile widened just a little more—too calm, too controlled, almost dangerous in its restraint.
The room felt tense imdiately after my words.
A beat of silence passed.
"Alright, enough!" Theresa yelled imdiately, her voice cutting through everything like a blade. "Two of you get out. I need to rest and freshen up," she added, her tone leaving absolutely no room for argunt.
I swallowed hard.
The command hit differently coming from her. Not because I didn’t expect it...but because part of had wanted to stay.
To help her.
To make sure she was actually okay.
She looked exhausted—physically, emotionally, everything in between—and I couldn’t ignore that. I would have helped her, even if it ant staying longer than I should have. And beyond that, there was sothing deeper... sothing instinctive. A pull. A desire for our wolves to connect properly, to settle whatever tension lingered between us.
"Actually..." I began, taking a step forward before I could stop myself.
But Theresa didn’t even let finish.
"THE DOOR, LAWRENCE!" she snapped again, louder this ti.
"Yes, the door!" Lurgard echoed imdiately after her, as if he had suddenly agreed too quickly, too eagerly.
My brows shot up instantly.
I turned my head toward him sharply.
"What do you an ’yes’ Lurgard?" I asked, my voice tightening. "I clearly rember she said both of us."
Lurgard scoffed, clearly unimpressed, before turning his attention back to Theresa with an expression that almost looked...pleading. Like a child seeking approval, or reassurance.
And that alone irritated even more than his words did.
"Theresa..." Lurgard started again, his voice softer this ti, as if he was carefully choosing his words and trying once more to speak without triggering another interruption.
But I cut in imdiately.
I didn’t even let him finish the sentence.
The thought of him being alone with her in that room—just the two of them, with no one else watching—sent a sharp, uncomfortable chill straight down my spine. It wasn’t sothing I could easily ignore, no matter how irrational it might have sounded out loud. The feeling was imdiate, instinctive, and far too intense to dismiss.
"I think we have sothing to attend to, Lurgard," I said firmly, straightening slightly as I stepped closer to him. My tone left no room for argunt, no space for negotiation.
Before he could respond, I reached out and grabbed his hand, stopping him from saying anything further.
"Let’s give Theresa her space," I added, more controlled this ti, though my grip on him remained steady, almost insistently so.
I didn’t wait for his reaction.
Without waiting for another protest or a chance for him to argue back, I began guiding him toward the door. My hold on his hand tightened just enough to make my point clear—I wasn’t in the mood for debate, not now, not about this.
Each step felt deliberate as I moved him along, my focus fixed ahead while I made sure he followed.
The mont the door clicked shut behind us, the sound echoed faintly through the corridor, sharp in the sudden quiet that followed.
It felt final.
Like a boundary had just been drawn.
We were outside now—sealed away from Theresa’s room, and whatever was happening inside it.
And almost instantly, Lurgard shot a deadly look.
His eyes were sharp, narrowed with irritation, as if I had personally offended him in the worst possible way.
"What’s wrong with you, Lawrence?" he asked, his voice laced with clear annoyance, each word controlled but tight with frustration.
I scoffed under my breath, refusing to let his expression unsettle in any way.
Instead, I t his gaze head-on, unbothered.
"Stay away from Theresa, Lurgard," I said bluntly, my tone steady but firm. "Your sudden attention and care toward her is... alarming."
I didn’t bother softening the words.
I had never been the type to bottle things up or dance around my thoughts. If sothing felt wrong, I said it. Plainly. Directly. Even if it caused friction. I would rather face discomfort than live with confusion or suspicion eating at from the inside.
Lurgard’s expression tightened slightly.
"I don’t understand what you an, Lawrence," he replied after a short pause, his tone cooling down just enough to sound controlled again. "But I have always been like this with Theresa... even in the past."
He tilted his head slightly, as if reminding of sothing obvious.
"So keep your alarm to yourself," he added, his stare lingering on a mont longer before continuing. "And next ti, don’t spread your bad luck to my side."
That last part landed sharply.
My brows drew together imdiately.
"What do you an by bad luck?" I asked, my voice sharpening with annoyance as I took a small step forward.
Lurgard didn’t flinch.
"Are you seriously asking that?" he replied, almost incredulous now. "Wasn’t it the mont you entered that she suddenly beca irritated?" he asked, his tone cutting in a way that was ant to challenge .
For a brief second, I had no imdiate response.
The words hung between us, uncomfortable and pointed.
Then he shook his head slowly, as if he had already decided this conversation wasn’t worth continuing. A soft, dismissive click of his tongue followed.
Without saying anything else, he turned on his heel and began walking away, his steps steady and unhurried.
"So things are better left alone," he muttered under his breath as he headed toward his room, leaving standing there with my thoughts far louder than the silence around .
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