<h4>Chapter 71: Chapter 71 Aftermath of mes</h4>


    Cecilia’s pov


    "Ahhh!" A female scream pierced the air, followed by the heavy thud of a body hitting the floor.


    I didn’t understand what was happening until arge form partially covered mine. My nose brushed against expensive fabric, and an unmistakable scent—sandalwood with hints of mountain pine—wrapped around me. A scent that had been inexplicablyforting to metely.


    "Alpha Sebastian?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.


    Alpha Sebastian winced slightly. "Let go of your hand," he said quietly.


    Only then did I realize my fingers were clutching his shirt, my palm pressed against his abdomen, feeling the hard muscles beneath the fabric...


    I released my grip immediately.


    The darkness and my swollen face mercifully hid my embarrassment.


    Alpha Sebastian pulled himself up and untied my restraints.


    I noticed him pressing a hand against his lower back as he moved to subdue Cici, binding her wrists the way mine had been bound.


    Within minutes, the house was flooded with people—police officers, Harper, and finally, Xavier.


    Everyone froze at the scene before them.I exined what had happened as clearly as my drug-foggd mind would allow. Alpha Sebastian handed the lighter to the police and described "Unfortunately, I grabbed the lighter with my bare hands," he exined to the officers, his voice tight with frustration.


    "My fingerprints are all over it now, but the knife—" he gestured toward the de lying on the floor, glinting under the harsh overhead lights, "—that should still be viable evidence."


    "Cici, you were actually going to burn Cecilia alive?" Harper shouted, her voice trembling with fury. Her face was flushed, her hands clenched at her sides.


    "You’re absolutely insane!"


    Cici’s head snapped toward Xavier. The moment she saw him, her entire demeanor changed.


    In a blink, the arrogance vanished, reced by wide eyes and a trembling lip.


    "Xavier," she whimpered, her voice suddenly small and tearful, "it’s not what you think! I’m the victim here! I’m framed!"


    Xavier stood frozen, as if someone had ripped the breath from his lungs. He stared at the scene—my torn clothes, the gasoline soaking the floor around me, the blood still drying on my skin. The knife. The lighter. The smell of smoke and fear. His face was pale, his jaw ck. His hands hung limp at his sides, fingers twitching but unable to move.


    He finally saw it. All of it.


    The cost of his silence, his cowardice, his repeated failure to protect me.


    This was what his betrayal had bought.


    I’d warned him once—told him in a voice shaking with pain and truth:


    You didn’t kill me yourself, but if I die because of you, there’s no difference.


    No difference at all.


    And now he understood.


    Some damage was permanent. Some things could never be taken back.


    "Cecilia..." he finally managed, his voice barely more than a whisper.


    His feet shifted, slow and heavy, like they were chained to the ground. He tried to move toward me.


    I just looked at him in silence, my gaze as still and lifeless as a stagnant pond.


    We stared at each other for what felt like eternity.


    But in the end, neither of us spoke.


    ...


    Alpha Sebastian and I were transported to the hospital.


    Cici was taken into police custody, though she loudly imed Sebastian had broken her ribs and demanded medical attention. The police, seeing through her act, ignored her pleas.


    This was her second serious offense—first hiring thugs to attack me, and now attempted murder.


    My injuries were mostly superficial bruises, though the drugs in my system required monitoring. Alpha Sebastian, however, had taken Cici’s knife in his lower back. The wound didn’t damage any organs, but it was deep enough to require several stitches and would need rest and regr dressing changes.


    I felt immensely grateful and guilty at the same time.


    By now, it was the middle of the night.


    We were ced in separate hospital rooms. In mine, Xavier sat beside my bed while Harper slept on the couch just outside.


    Xavier had been eerily quiet since we arrived at the hospital. The man who was usually as temperamental as a lion had be withdrawn and mncholic.


    I didn’t have the energy to curse him or even hate him. All my emotions toward him had faded into something so pale and diluted, they were barely there at all."You should go home," I finally said, breaking the heavy silence that had filled the hospital room for the past hour.


    It was the first time I’d spoken to him since the incident.


    My tone was t, polite—cold even. Like I was speaking to a neighbor I barely knew, not the man I had once thought I would spend my life with.


    "Harper can stay with me." I didn’t look at him when I said it.


    Xavier lowered his gaze, his voice rough with exhaustion and something that almost sounded like regret.


    "I’d rather stay," he said quietly. "I have nothing to do at home anyway. And someone needs to keep an eye on your IV."


    I nced at him, just for a second. He looked wrecked—dark circles under his eyes, shoulders slumped, his once-proud posture now small and folded in on itself.


    But I felt...nothing. Not pity. Not anger. Just a hollow stillness, like standing in the eye of a storm that had already passed and left everything in ruins.


    I didn’t argue. I didn’t reply. I simply closed my eyes and turned my face slightly away from him.


    Time passed in fragments—soft beeping machines, the low hum of the air conditioning, the distant murmur of nurses outside the door.


    At one point, I felt him shift closer.


    He gently rested his forehead near the crook of my neck, his breath warm against my skin. A momentter, I felt it—the soft, almost weightless drop of a tear soaking into my hair. Then another. And another.


    Silent. Heavy. Toote.


    I stayed still, breathing evenly, pretending to sleep. Pretending not to notice the way his shoulders shook ever so slightly.


    [This is over,] I told myself. [No matter how many tears he cries now. No matter how sorry he looks.]


    [It’s over. Truly.]