179 In The Garden

Olivia’s POV

I frowned and stepped closer to where he lay. “I was just taking a walk,” I murmured, lowering myself onto the grass. I didn’t know why I sat—I should have kept walking.

His gaze lingered on me. “You always come here when you’re overthinking.”

I frowned. He still knew me—too well. Even after everything.

“I could say the same about you,” I replied softly, folding my arms. “Why are you out here? What’s got you tossing and turning?”

Levi looked back up at the stars, sighing through his nose. “Just… stuff. Couldn’t stay in that room. Too many memories.”

The silence stretched between us, not uncomfortable, just… heavy. Unable to endure it, I stood to leave, but Levi spoke. “Please stay,” he pleaded.

I looked at Levi for a long moment. His eyes were still closed, facing the sky, but his voice… it shook something deep inside me.

“I’m running mad… please just stay.”

My chest tightened. I felt it—the bond pulling at me, gently but strongly. My wolf whined inside me, begging me not to walk away. And then I felt it: his pain.

It was quiet, buried deep, but real. Like a slow, heavy weight pressing down on him. His energy felt dim, like a candle struggling to stay lit. I didn’t understand how, but I knew it—he was draining, like he had nothing left in him.

Without thinking, I walked back and sat beside him again, closer this time. I didn’t speak. I didn’t need to.

He didn’t look at me. He just whispered, “Thank you.”

We sat in silence, the grass cool beneath us, the moonlight soft and silver. The air smelled like flowers and earth, and for a moment, I let myself breathe him in.

Then Levi spoke again, his voice low, almost as if he were talking to himself. “Do you remember your twelfth birthday?”

I turned my head slightly, frowning. “Of course I do. I wished for something impossible that day.”

He chuckled softly, but there was no real joy in it. It was a bitter sound. “You looked up at the sky with those big, dreamy eyes and said, ‘I wish the triplets would give me one of the stars.’”

I blinked, surprised he remembered that.

“You were serious about it, too,” he went on, still staring at the stars. “You didn’t want gifts or parties. You just wanted us to give you a real star.”

I let out a soft breath. “I was a kid. I didn’t mean it literally.”

Levi finally turned to look at me, and there was something wild and haunted in his eyes. “We did.”

My frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

“We tried to find a way to give it to you,” he said, his voice quieter now. “We were seventeen, so damn stupid and in love with you. We actually visited a seer—one of those ancient ones.”

My breath caught. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” He gave another bitter laugh and dragged a hand through his messy hair. “She looked at us like we were mad. Told us to go home.”

I didn’t know what to say. My heart was pounding now, and part of me didn’t want to believe him. But the look in his eyes said it was true.

“Why would you do something like that?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, staring back up at the stars. “Because it was you. You asked for a real star, and we would’ve burned the world trying to give it to you.”

I looked away, my throat tight, emotions bubbling too close to the surface. No! Don’t feel like this… don’t. I didn’t want to feel this. Not now. Not after everything. Not after what they did. But his words had already pierced through the walls I’d spent years building. And that was dangerous.

“No,” I whispered to myself, shaking my head. “Don’t feel like this… don’t.”

But my heart didn’t listen. Neither did the bond.

Levi let out a quiet breath beside me, as if he could feel my inner fight. Maybe he could. That was the curse of the bond—feeling too much, too deeply, even when we didn’t want to.

“You and Gabriel seeing each other now?” he asked, too casually. So casually, I wondered what kind of wolf asks his mate—his wife—if she’s seeing someone else.

I studied his face, but he didn’t look at me. He just kept his eyes on the sky, as if it would save him from hearing the answer.

I frowned before responding. “Do you have a problem with that?”

He was quiet for a second too long. Then, finally, with a dry laugh, he said, “No. Do I even have a say?”

His words hit harder than I expected. Not because they were sharp, but because they were so… hollow. Like he had already let go.

He stood slowly, brushing grass from his pants, not once looking at me. “Well then,” he muttered, his voice distant. “Goodnight, Olivia.”

I didn’t reply. I just watched him turn and walk away. Slow steps, shoulders low, like the night itself was too heavy on his back.

I expected him to head toward the pack house, but he didn’t. He passed the path that led to the house and kept going—toward the main gate.

I blinked, sitting up straighter, unsure at first if I was imagining it. But no. He wasn’t heading back into the pack house.

I told myself not to care. Let him go. Let him do whatever he wants. It’s not your business anymore. But I didn’t move.

Until the gate creaked open. That sound alone was enough to shove panic into my chest. A dozen questions rushed through my head. Where was he going? Why now? Why alone?

Before I could talk myself out of it, I stood and followed. His scent was easy to track in the night air. I saw him just ahead, walking into the woods, his steps slow.

“Levi,” I called out.

He turned, caught off guard. His face was pale in the moonlight, and the bags under his eyes looked darker than ever.

“You look like hell,” I murmured, taking a step closer. “Not even your wolf could fake fine right now. Go back to the house.”

“I’m fine,” he said too fast—like he was trying to convince himself.

But I could see the tremble in his hand as he shoved it into his pocket. I could see it in the way he swayed slightly on his feet. The way his wolf energy felt… hollow.

And for a stupid reason—I cared. I hated myself for it, but I did.

“No, you’re not.”

He tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just needed some air. I wasn’t going far.”

I crossed my arms. “Into the woods in the middle of the night? Come on, Levi.”

There was a pause. He finally sighed, nodding once. “Okay. I’ll go back.”

We turned together, walking in silence down the dirt path toward the gate. His steps dragged now, slower than before, like every one took something out of him.

I glanced at him—his shoulders hunched, his breaths shallow. His hand trembled slightly before he shoved it back into his pocket.

“Levi,” I said cautiously, “you’re swaying.”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, not even looking at me. But he didn’t sound fine at all.

Something in the air felt off. Even his scent was different—faint and strange, like something was wrong deep inside him.

I stayed close, watching him carefully. The woods were quiet, but my heart wasn’t.

Then, just as we passed through the gate—his body crumpled.

“Levi!”

I barely caught him before he hit the ground, his weight slumping into my arms. His skin was cold, too cold, and his breathing was shallow.

Something shot through the bond, cold and sharp like something breaking inside me. Panic exploded in my chest.

“Levi!” I shook him. “Levi, wake up—come on!”

But he didn’t move. He just lay there. Heavy. Still.