Chapter 157 The Villain
Chapter 157 The Villain
TESSA
I woke to pain.
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Not the kind of dull ache that comes from overexertion or bruises after training, but a deep, suffocating pressure that seemed to live inside me. My chest burned. My body trembled as though I had been torn apart and stitched together again.
Alive.
I was alive.
The realization struck like lightning, blinding and terrifying all at once. Then, I looked around, looking for Ellana.
“Ellana!” I exclaimed.
I tried to sit up, every muscle screaming in protest.
The room around me was small and oddly rustic compared to the polished pack infirmaries I was used to. The walls were pale wood, shelves stacked with unfamiliar herbs, instruments too modern to belong to some rural clinic yet too old to belong in the city. A draft blew through the half–open window, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth.
I didn’t recognize this place.
Panic made its way up my throat. My heart hammered too hard.
Where was Ellana?
The accident flashed back in pieces, and I had to
The door creaked open..
close my eyes for a moment due to the ache in my head.
A man stepped inside, wearing a white coat that seemed almost out of place here. His hair was peppered gray, his face lined but kind.
“Ah. You’re awake.” He smiled faintly. “My name is Dr. Cross. You’re safe now. You’ve been through quite a lot.”
Safe. The word felt foreign.
I tried to push myself off the bed, but my body refused. My legs shook, my chest heaved, and a tearing pain stopped me from moving more than a few inches.
“I want to leave,” I rasped. My voice cracked, broken from disuse. I coughed hard, clutching at my chest. “Where is this? Where’s Ellana?/I have to go!”
Dr. Cross raised his hands in a slow motion, like one might do when approaching a wounded animal.
“Calm down,” he said gently. “You’re fine. We took care of you. Don’t stress yourself too much, or you’ll
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strain your new heart.”
I froze.
New… heart?
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My gaze snapped to him, words stumbling out before I could stop them. “Wh—what did you say?”
He exhaled, studying me carefully before answering.
“Yes. The transplant was successful. That young woman… the one who suffered so many injuries. She told me she wanted to give you her heart.”
“No.”
It came out of me like a broken whisper, a denial that twisted in my throat until it became a sob. “No. No, no, no.”
Tears blurred my vision, dripping hot down my cheeks. My hands clawed weakly at the sheets, as though I could pull myself out of this nightmare with force.
He tilted his head, his eyes softening. “Tessa? Is that your name?”
My chest convulsed with another sob. My name on his lips felt like a cruel reminder of who I was, of what I had lost.
“Why would she do that?” My voice cracked apart. “Why would she–Ellana-”
Dr. Cross lowered his eyes. “Her body has already been buried. We found you at the ditch and brought you here. You were barely clinging to life. She… made sure you would live.”
“It had been two weeks,” he added. Two weeks gone–vanished–while I lay unconscious in some stranger’s clinic.
Two weeks.
I began to cry harder, the sobs tearing out of me with no control.
All those nights I had written in my journal about how I sometimes wished I could be Ellana, about how she had everything I didn’t–Rowan’s love, her family’s admiration, a name untainted by resentment. I thought it was harmless, the idle scribblings of jealousy and loneliness.
But not like this.
Never like this.
I wanted her to be here, not gone/I wanted to fight with her, laugh awkwardly with her, maybe one day tell her that I envied her, and hear her laugh it off. I didn’t want her silence. I didn’t want her sacrifice.
And what would Rowan think?
The thought shattered me completely.
Rowan, who had already lost his brother. Rowan, whose heart had barely begun to heal. Rowan, who had
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sworn to protect his lover. And now–me. Me, with her heart beating inside my chest, a cruel reminder of everything he had lost.
This wasn’t a miracle. This was a disaster.
My sobs shook the bed. My hands pressed over my chest. I wanted to rip the truth out of me, give it back to her and undo the exchange.
Just then, the door banged open, rattling on its hinges. A young warrior rushed in, breathless, his uniform marked. His eyes darted straight to me, widening.
“Alpha! We found her!”
My breath caught. I knew that scent.
It cut through the scent of medicine.
My chest clenched, though strangely, there was no pain. My pulse thundered in my ears, faster and faster. my body betraying me. Was this what Ellana’s heart felt like? Alive, pounding, and unbroken?
Rowan came in, and I felt all the air leave my body.
Shadows slipped in behind him–Zaria, David, and more South soldiers I couldn’t name. Their presence made the room smaller. The weak light from the window couldn’t cut through the tension that followed them in.
“Where is she?” Rowan’s voice was a growl, hoarse, sounding like he hadn’t slept in weeks. His wild, and it hurt to look at him. The stubble on his jaw, the mess of his hair–he looked like living through days without rest and hope.
“Where is she?” he asked again, stepping forward, closer.
The doctor froze, fumbling. “Ellana?”
“Yes,” Rowan barked. His chest heaved.
The doctor looked down, shoulders slumping. “She had died,” he said finally, quietly.
I felt the air thin instantly. The silence after was suffocating, filled with disbelief. Rowan’s eyes, usually light, became storm–dark, his whole frame shaking with restrained rage. The others shifted uneasily, and Zaria’s lips pressed in a thin line.
I couldn’t breathe. No, this wasn’t right. My head was spinning, and yet I forced myself to speak. “No–no, wait.” My voice cracked.
All eyes turned to me.
“I didn’t want this,” I whispered, my hands shaking, gripping the edge of the bed so hard my nails dug into the sheets. “We were going to meet her-” I stopped. My tongue stumbled, because what could I say? How could I explain this mess without revealing everything?
Rowan’s eyes cut into me.
I swallowed hard, trembling. “We were going to meet her mate,” I finally said, the words spilling out before
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Chapter 157 The Villain
I could take them back.
Rowan went rigid. His gaze hardened, growing heavier. “You’re making up stories now?” he snapped. “Why should she be meeting her mate?”
“No!” I cried, my chest burning. I shoved the blankets, tore the IV from my wrist, ignoring the sting as blood welled. I stumbled to my feet, weak but desperate. “I’m not lying!”
I looked at him–at the fury in his eyes, the wreckage of a man who had lost too much. And my heart–her heart–raced in my chest, beating for him, but not mine to give.
“You’re caught, Tessa,” Zaria said coldly.
And then she pulled something out from under her arm. My breath hitched.
My diary.
“No,” I whispered, my stomach dropping. “No, give it to me.” My voice cracked into a plea.
Zaria’s smirk deepened as she flipped it open, her fingers caressing the pages I had bled my soul into. “Let’s see…” she began, her tone dripping with venom.
“Don’t!” I lunged forward, my legs trembling. “Please, give it back!”
She ignored me. Her voice rang through the small clinic room.
“Sometimes, I really want to be Ellana, have her heart, so I know what it would mean to be loved b Rowan.”
The world stopped.
My eyes widened, my throat closing with a sob. “I didn’t mean it literally!” I gasped, shaking my head so hard it made me dizzy. My tears blurred everything into light and shadow, Rowan’s face a smear of devastation I couldn’t reach.
“Rowan, please believe me,” I begged, my knees giving out. I hit the cold floor, clutching at the sheets. “I didn’t choose this, I never wanted this–I swear I didn’t—”
But he stepped back, his expression closing, colder than I had ever seen.
His hands clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening. His gaze became a wall I could never break through.
“Why should I?”
