<h4>Chapter 201: The truth in tears.</h4>


    <strong>Charis</strong>


    He pulled out of the driveway smoothly and drove in silence for a few minutes. The tension in the car was suffocating.


    Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned to face him. "Why are you doing this?"


    "Because you need a ride to court."


    "I could have taken a cab."


    "You could have," he agreed. "But you shouldn’t have to."


    "Why do you care?" The question came out harsher than I intended. "You made it pretty clearst night that you think I’m immature and weak and make nothing but bad decisions."


    His jaw clenched. His hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.


    "I shouldn’t have said those things," he said quietly.


    "But you did."


    "I know." He was quiet for a moment. "I’m sorry."


    The apology hung in the air between us.


    I turned to look out the window, watching the buildings pass by. "You really hurt me, Kael."


    "I know," he said again. "That’s why I’m here. To try to make it right."


    "You can’t just fix everything by giving me a ride."


    "I know that too."


    Wepsed back into silence. But it felt different this time. I was less angry and more sad.


    "There’s a breakfast café up ahead," Kael said. "Have you eaten?"


    "No."


    "Then let’s stop for a quick bite, you still have time before the court session begins."


    And despite everything, the argument, the hurt, not understanding what was going on between us, I didn’t protest, maybe because I was too tired or maybe because, despite everything, I still wanted him there.


    Even when he hurt me or when I didn’t understand him or when being near him felt like standing too close to a fire, knowing I might get burned, but unable to move away.


    Moons! I truly love Kael.


    ~~~


    The breakfast café was warm and cosy, with the smell of fresh coffee and baked goods filling the air.


    It was one of those small, intimate, local ces with mismatched chairs and tables that had probably been there for decades. A few early morning customers sat scattered around, reading newspapers or staring at their phones.


    Kael and I chose a table in the back corner, away from the windows. The morning light was starting to stream in, catching the highlights on Kael’s hair and turning them green.


    We sat down across from each other. Before I could reach for the menu, Kael’s hand shot out and caught mine.


    I looked up, startled.


    He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my palm. Showering, soft, gentle kisses on them that made my breath catch. His eyes stayed locked on mine the whole time.


    "I’m sorry," he said quietly, still holding my hand. "Forst night. I’m sorry for everything I said. Yes, I was jealous you were spending time with the boys, but that’s not an excuse, and that still doesn’t mean I love the idea of sharing you."


    My throat felt tight. "Kael—"


    "Please," he interrupted gently. "Let me finish. I was cruel. I said things I didn’t mean, things that weren’t true. You’re not weak. You’re not immature. You’re one of the strongest people I know, and I..." He paused, looking down at my hand in his. "I was taking out my own issues on you, and that wasn’t fair."


    Before I could respond, the waitress appeared at our table-a middle-aged woman with a kind smile and tired eyes.


    "Good morning! What can I get you two?"


    Kael released my hand, and I felt the loss of warmth immediately.


    "Coffee, ck," Kael said. "And the breakfast special: eggs, toast, bacon."


    "Same for me," I said. "But tea instead of coffee. And scrambled eggs, please."


    The waitress nodded and disappeared toward the kitchen.


    We sat in silence for a moment. I didn’t know what to say. The second apology had been unexpected. Kael wasn’t usually one for words, and when he did speak, he rarely said sorry. The fact that he had apologised twice to me made me feel an unexinable kind of way.


    "Thank you," I finally said. "For apologising. It means a lot."


    He nodded but didn’t say anything else.


    Our drinks came first. Kael wrapped his hands around his coffee mug, as if trying to absorb its warmth. I did the same with my tea, letting the steam rise and warm my face.


    A few minutester, our food arrived. The tes were piled high with fluffy eggs, crispy bacon, and buttered toast. My stomach growled appreciatively.


    We ate in silence. It wasn’t exactly ufortable, but it felt weighted, like Kael had something heavy on his mind he was trying to figure out how to say.


    He finished eating before I did. He pushed his empty te aside and leaned back in his chair, watching me take myst few bites.


    "I need to tell you something," he said suddenly.


    I looked up, a piece of toast halfway to my mouth.


    "You don’t need to say anything," he continued with a serious expression. "Just listen. Can you do that?"


    The intensity in his eyes made my heart beat faster. I set down my toast and nodded. "Okay."


    He took a deep breath. "Remember when I said I had to deal with something urgent? When I couldn’te to the pack house right away when Rhett needed us?"


    I nodded.


    "I found something. In the underground tunnels beneath the Academy." He paused. "I’ve been having these dreams. Visions, maybe. Of a woman. I didn’t know who she was, but I kept seeing her face. And I felt this... pull. Like I needed to find something."


    I stayed quiet, listening like he’d asked.


    "I followed that feeling to an open field at the back of the campus. There was nothing there. No buildings, no entrances. But my wolf knew something was hidden. So I shifted, and ck started digging." His hands clenched on the table. "We found a metal door buried underground. When I opened it and went down, I ended up in these tunnels. As I touch the walls, they started glowing and I..."


    He stopped, swallowing hard.


    "I had a vision. I was transported back in time, maybe twenty years ago or more. I saw an underground fighting arena. The kind that used to be illegal, where they’d make wolves fight to the death while people bet on them."


    My stomach turned. I’d heard stories about those ces. They’d been banned for decades because they were considered barbaric and inhumane.


    "There was a cage suspended over water," Kael continued, his voice getting quieter. "And inside the cage were two fighters. One was this huge woman, flexing her muscles, looking confident. The other..."


    He paused again, and I saw his jaw working like he was trying to keep control.


    "The other was a woman, too. She was small and beaten up badly. Her hair had been chopped short, probably to keep opponents from grabbing it. She was covered in blood and bruises. Her hands were wrapped in cloth to stop the bleeding. She looked exhausted, like she’d been fighting for days or weeks without rest, and she was also pregnant."


    I reached across the table and touched his hand. He grabbed it like a lifeline.


    "She looked up," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "And our eyes met. Across time, across years, we looked at each other. I knew her face. I’ve seen her before in my dreams. She was the woman in chains. And I knew. I just knew."


    "Knew what?" I whispered.


    "That she was my mother."


    The words hung in the air between us.


    "Kael," I breathed.


    "I looked around the arena," he continued. "At the people watching and cing bets. And I recognised them. Terry Thatcher—Rhett’s father. Ss Greye—your father, Henry Winters. Headmistress Vale. They were all there. They looked so much younger, and they were all enjoying the show."


    Horror washed over me. "They were betting on the fights?"


    "They were part of it," Kael confirmed. "After the vision ended, I came down to be with you guys, and then you know the thing that happened with Elena. I needed answers. And she..." He took a shaky breath. "She confirmed it. The woman in that cage was my mother."


    Tears were building in my eyes. I squeezed his hand tighter.


    "Elena told me my mother was the captive daughter of a Rogue Alpha tribe," Kael said. "But they’re not like regr rogue wolves. They’re organised and have structure. They’re just... primitive. The original version of what packs became. And they all have something inmon."


    "What?" I asked softly.


    "Bloodborn Wolves." His voice was barely above a whisper. "That’s what they’re called. Wolves born specifically to fight. It’s in their gics and instincts. They’re stronger, faster, and more aggressive than normal wolves. They can’t help it, fighting is literally bred into them."


    My mind was racing. "And your mother was—"


    "A Bloodborn Wolf," Kael finished. "Which means I am too."


    The pieces were clicking together in my head, forming a picture that made me feel sick.


    "That’s why you can fight the way you do," I said.


    He nodded. "And it exins why my master, the man who raised me, put me in fighting rings when I was just a child."


    A tear slid down his cheek. Then another.


    Kael, calm, controlled, emotionless, was crying.