Chapter 33
The Levites Pack - Flora POV
Four Years Later
The Levites have won the battle with the Blood Sect; that was what I was told, no detailed explanation. A few days ago, we were invited to the Levites pack for the return party of their Alpha and eldest daughter.
We were assigned rooms. I requested this room; thankfully, Luna Vivian didn't find my request weird and assigned me this room. It was particularly clean for my stay as the welcome party lasted a week.
The old room smelled of dust curled in the sunlight like secrets too long left unsaid. I leaned against the wooden frame of the bench, knees pulled to my chest, the hem of my pale dress trailing the floor. Outside, the world had bloomed into summer, but inside my chest, it still felt like winter.
Finally, Nicolas's fiancée was returning after her three months' departure to the battlefield to aid her father to victory; her merits were recognized, likewise her promotion was praised.
We are of the same age, but I'm just a weak princess pampered by my father, who just made his stance as one of the major pack Alphas in the clan.
Viona, a brave warrior princess who went to war at the young age of 14 and was even raised to the rank of commander, controlling the second most powerful army in the werewolf race.
I stared at the window in the far corner, unable to bring myself to open it. Not yet. Not when every minute in this room reminds me of the boy that makes my heart race at every thought of him.
Nicolas.
Four years, and still he hadn't come.
I still wasn't even sure whether he'd come to the Levites pack today or the last day of the party when his fiancée returns. Maybe because this was where it had happened. The confession. The breathless, trembling, foolish thing I had whispered into the silence between us, knowing full well he didn't belong to me, but I didn't regret it.
A rustling behind me broke the quiet.
"Miss," came the soft, familiar voice. "Are you hiding again?"
I didn't turn. I didn't have to. The scent of rosewater and baked bread was unmistakable.
"Lysa," I murmured. "I'm not hiding. Just thinking."
"Same thing, if you ask me," Lysa said, settling onto the bench beside me with the kind of grace only age could bring. "Your tea's gone cold. Again."
I offered a weak smile. "It always does."
Lysa watched me for a long moment, then said, "It's been four years today."
I blinked at her. "You remember?"
"I remember everything you trusted me with."
I turned away, shame prickling at my skin.
"I shouldn't have said anything that day; it was selfish."
Lysa tilted her head. "You mean telling Nicolas you loved him?"
I flinched at the word, even now. "I didn't say that exactly..."
"No," Lysa agreed. "But it was in your eyes. And he saw it."
I pressed my fingers to my lips, remembering how they had trembled.
"It's my fault; I waited until the very end, until he was already promised to someone else. I told myself I didn't expect anything in return—but I did."
"And what did he say?" I closed my eyes.
"He said... he said he was engaged. That it was arranged. But his voice... it shook, Lysa. He looked at me like he wanted to say something else."
"Did he?"
I shook my head. "No. He just held my hand for a second. And then he left." Silence followed.
And then Lysa's hand found mine—worn, warm, and steady.
Lysa was a maid gifted to my father by Alpha Jones, and my dad assigned her to be my nanny. Since Lysa was assigned to me as a nanny, she had always treated me well, encouraging me to follow my heart. But for some reason, my nanny doesn't like her, also claiming she has bad intentions, and it bothers me as I always imagined them taking care of me together.
"Four years is a long time to say nothing. If he ever felt anything... wouldn't he have written? Or come back? Even once?"
"Maybe," Lysa said softly. "Or maybe he's been silent because he felt too much." I laughed bitterly. "That's a generous story to tell myself."
"I've seen generous stories. Yours was real."
I pulled my hand away, curling it into my lap.
"Do you really believe that?"
"I have to."
The words cracked as they left her throat.
"I've replayed that moment in my mind so many times," she confessed. "What I could've said. If I should've stopped him. If I should've kissed him. Or run away before saying anything at all."
Lysa was quiet for a beat.
"And what if I told you he did come back?" Flora's head snapped up. "What?"
"Three months ago, during the ongoing massacre of some packs," Lysa said gently. "He returned. I saw him near the manor gates, alone. He stood there for an hour."
Her heart stuttered. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because he didn't come in. He left without a word. I thought... perhaps he came to talk to the father concerning the impending battle."
"No," I said, voice breathless. "No, he came. He was going to—"
I stopped myself, reeling.
"But he still didn't try again," I whispered.
Lysa touched my shoulder. "My sweet girl, what are you truly afraid of? That he never loved you? Or that he did, and it still wasn't enough?"
I stared at the window again. My throat tightened.
"I think... I'm afraid it was all in my head," I admitted. "That I built a life around a single moment that meant nothing to him."
Lysa's eyes softened.
Flora swallowed hard.
"Then why didn't he at least give me a reply?" I asked, barely above a whisper. "Why didn't he?"
Lysa sighed.
"Sometimes, love isn't about what someone does in a moment—it's about what life does to them. Maybe he thought leaving was protecting you. Maybe he was afraid. Or maybe he made a mistake he's still trying to live with."
I didn't answer. My hands trembled in my lap.
"You have to live your life, Flora," Lysa said gently. "Not in the shadow of what he didn't say. But in the light of what you still can."
"I don't even know if he'll accept me. His fiancée commands almost eight hundred thousand werewolf army. Would Alpha Jones even agree to this? What if my father is affected by this?" Tears threatening again. "I don't even know if I still love him... or if I just miss the hope."
"That's fair," Lysa said. "But it means you've grown."
I took a shaky breath and reached for the phone can beside me.
I began to get up from the room I had stayed in for three days now. "You're trying again?" Lysa asked.
I didn't look up. "Maybe I am."
This might not be the right thing to do, but I'm not going to stop until he either rejects me or accepts me. Viona has everything; she wouldn't possibly fight with me over Nicolas. Their marriage is arranged. I did it before; I can do it again. Not even the moon goddess can stop me.
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