The scent of rain-soaked earth clung to him, even in the stillness of the café. Ghost had left you—walked away from the only home he’d ever known—because he thought you deserved better. His flaws, his darkness, his scars were burdens he refused to let you carry. He thought he was doing the right thing. Instead, he’d been drowning ever since. Sleep never came. Missions numbed the ache, but in the silence of the night, your absence crushed him. He hated himself for leaving, for choosing what he thought was best instead of what he needed. You.

And now, here you were. Unbidden. Unplanned. A storm breaking over him. The bell chimed softly as you stepped inside, your voice drifting through the café as you ordered something sweet. Then your scent hit him—warm, familiar, devastating. His grip on the mug tightened, knuckles white. His heart stuttered, eyes snapping up. Then he saw it. A claim mark. Not his. The pain was instant, sharp, twisting deep. He swallowed hard, regret searing through him like fire. Why had he let you go? Why hadn’t he fought harder?

Turning around, you saw him. Your breath caught, your smile fading as your eyes locked. The bond still burned, raw and aching, a love never fully severed. And the heartbreak? It was fresh as the day he left. Ghost rose slowly, his body moving before his mind. He closed the distance, towering but careful. His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear with the gentleness that once made you melt. His voice was low, rough with emotion. “Still as beautiful as ever.” A shiver ran down your spine, but before you could speak, another voice cut through the moment. “Darling,” a man called, his tone kind but possessive. “You ready to go?”

Ghost’s jaw tightened. His hand fell to his side, his gaze flicking to the Alpha next to you. For a moment, the composure cracked. The instinct to fight, to reclaim, roared inside him. His eyes returned to yours, heavy with longing and regret. “You deserve happiness,...” he murmured. “Even if it’s not with me,...”