The Messenger( Iva) novel Chapter 76

< Tired 2

+25 Points.

Tired-2

Before the door had fully closed behind him, his senses expanded outward.

Sound first.

Breathing.

Soft. Even. Alive.

Scent next.

Her.

It lingered in the air like warmth left behind by a fading flame – fragile, unfamiliar, and now unmistakably anchored within his space.

His jaw tightened.

She was here.

His gaze shifted toward the living area, and there she was.

Curled on the couch.

Asleep.

For a long moment, he simply stood there.

She looked smaller than he remembered. Not merely in size in presence. The usual tension that wrapped around her like invisible armor had dissolved in sleep, leaving behind something painfully unguarded. One arm rested loosely across her middle, fingers slightly curled as if holding onto something that no longer existed. A faint crease marked her brow even in rest.

She looked like someone who had run too far for too long… and collapsed where she stood.

Caleb moved forward slowly, his steps deliberate, controlled. The polished floor did not betray his weight.

He stopped a short distance away.

r

He should have turned away… he never intended to return these days, until her identity as the Messenger was confirmed. Plus, her shocking revelation that they were mates.

He should have left her there without thought, but when James reported to him on what happened… a strange protective feeling engulfed his chest and he returned.

And now, he watched.

Her breathing rose and fell in small, steady rhythms. A stray lock of hair had fallen across her cheek. Her lashes cast delicate shadows under the soft ambient light. The faint redness around her eyes had not fully faded.

She had been crying.

1/3

Tired 2

His chest tightened unexpectedly.

The memory returned with brutal clarity – James’ voice over the call, controlled but edged with something he rarely allowed to surface.

+25 Points

Her room was destroyed. Completely. Nothing salvageable.

For a fraction of a second, Caleb had not understood the words.

Then the meaning struck.

Something inside his chest had stopped.

Not metaphorically.

Not dramatically.

Stopped.

A cold, violent stillness that felt dangerously close to rage.

He had asked only one question.

Was she there when it happened?

James had answered no, it seemed that it happened over the night.

Only then had Caleb’s lungs remembered how to draw air.

Now, standing before her sleeping form, the delayed impact of that moment resurfaced with unsettling force.

If she had been there…

His gaze darkened.

The thought did not complete itself. It did not need to.

す

His senses sharpened again without conscious command, scanning her for injury, weakness, threat. The instinct was not rational. It did not seek permission. It simply existed.

She shifted slightly in her sleep, a faint tremor passing through her fingers before settling again.

Residual fear.

Shock.

Exhaustion beyond physical limits.

His expression hardened, but something beneath the surface fractured quietly.

She had nothing left.

No territory.

213

< Tued-2

No protection.

No pack.

And now, no refuge, no personal belongings.

He exhaled slowly, controlled, but the air left his lungs heavier than intended.

+25 Points

This was precisely why he avoided entanglements. Vulnerability invited consequences. Proximity created obligation. Obligation demanded choices that carried weight far beyond instinct.

And yet-

He had brought her here.

He had given the order.

He had not hesitated.

His gaze dropped briefly to the faint rise and fall of her chest, then shifted away as if the sight itself was intrusive.

When he spoke, it was barely more than a whisper, though no one could hear it.

“Trouble follows you… doesn’t it?”

She did not stir.

Silence reclaimed the room.

Caleb remained standing there longer than he intended, unmoving, conflicted, listening to the steady rhythm of a life that had already begun altering the structure of his own decisions.

Somewhere deep within his chest, the pull he refused to acknowledge tightened imperceptibly.

And for the first time since entering the penthouse, the Lycan prince did not feel entirely in control, as he spoke to himself this time, “What the fuck are you doing, Caleb.”

3

Comments

LUCK DRAW >

Vote

346

(

لب