Chapter 116

Chris

I sighed as I looked around the Packhouse, watching the servants and decorators scurry about like ants. Garlands of vibrant flowers were being strung along the rafters, tables draped in fine linens, and a large wooden backdrop erected for photographs.

Everything was coming together perfectly for the ball—the event that would mark the beginning of my search for a new Luna. A fresh start, as the Elders had so delicately put it.

My chest tightened at the thought. A fresh start was the last thing I wanted.

All I could think about was Ava, and how desperately I wished she could be by my side that night, beaming at me with that radiant smile of hers as we danced together. But I knew such thoughts were foolish. She had made her decision.

Clearing my throat, I turned to the head decorator. “Make sure those flower arrangements are evenly spaced,” I instructed, my voice gruffer than intended. “And have someone start setting up the refreshment tables near the—”

The words died on my lips as my gaze landed on a familiar figure standing frozen in the entryway. Ava. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted.

In that moment, it felt as though the breath had been knocked from my lungs. She looked so beautiful, so heartbreakingly beautiful, and yet so utterly devastated. I could see the pain etched into every line of her face, the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

Goddess, how I wished I could take that pain away. I wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms and tell those stuffy Elders to shove it.

But our relationship was over, a decision she had made for reasons that I disagreed with but couldn’t argue against. All I could do was respect her choice and carry on, no matter how much it felt like I was being torn apart from the inside.

Swallowing hard, I forced myself to look away, focusing instead on the decorators who had paused in their work and were waiting for my next instructions.

“Alpha Chris?” The head decorator’s voice broke through my haze. “Where would you like us to set up the refreshment tables?”

“Oh, uh… Near the back entrance,” I replied automatically, my gaze flickering back to Ava for the briefest of moments. She was turning away, no doubt to leave.

“Ava!” I called out abruptly, almost like it was impossible not to. She froze in her steps. “Could you come here?”

She stood still for a moment, her back turned to me, and I thought she might run off anyway and pretend she hadn’t heard me. But finally, she turned. Squaring her shoulders, she approached.

“Chris,” she said, her voice betraying nothing. “How can I help you?”

Truthfully, I had just called for her out of instinct—my wolf’s yearning for her momentarily taking over. We didn’t really need help around the ballroom, but… I couldn’t bear to watch her leave.

Clearing my throat, I gestured to the head decorator. “Samantha here can give you a list of tasks that need to be completed,” I said. “If you don’t mind.”

Ava’s gaze flickered to Samantha. For a fleeting moment, I found myself hoping that Ava would protest, that she would ask me not to go through with this ridiculous charade of a ball.

But of course, she did no such thing. With a curt nod, she turned to Samantha, her shoulders squared in determination. “Just tell me what needs to be done,” she said in a shockingly steady voice.

I watched, my heart shattering into a million pieces, as Samantha began rattling off a list of tasks, and Ava dutifully noted each one down. This was it, then. This was how things would be from now on—polite exchanges, professional interactions, and a lifetime of suppressed longing.

Swallowing hard, I tore my gaze away, unable to bear the sight any longer. “Carry on,” I muttered, waving a hand dismissively before turning on my heel and stalking out of the Packhouse.

…

The cool evening air did little to soothe the ache in my chest as I rose from my desk and walked over to the minibar that I had installed in my office not that long ago. Often, I used it to break bread during meetings and not much more; but tonight, I needed something to soothe my frazzled nerves.

I poured myself a generous glass of whiskey and sank into the chair in front of the fireplace, staring unseeingly into the flames. But even the fire offered no reprieve; I could practically see Ava’s face there, her hair dancing around her as she smiled at me.

Goddess, I was hopeless.

A soft knock at the door suddenly pulled me from my thoughts, and I groaned inwardly, bracing myself for yet another intrusion.

“Enter,” I called out, taking a long sip from my glass.

The door creaked open, and to my surprise, it was Elder Degas who stepped into the room. He leaned heavily on his cane, looking all too weary as of late. I instantly rose and turned to him.

“Alpha Chris,” he greeted, offering me a solemn nod. “May I have a word?”

I nodded, gesturing to the free chair next to me. Degas offered me a thin smile and hobbled over with some effort, finally sinking down into the seat with a sigh of relief. I sat next to him.

We sat in silence for several long moments, the only sound the crackle of the fire and the occasional sip from my glass. Finally, it was Degas who broke the stillness.

“You handled the situation with those photographs quite admirably,” he said, his voice gravelly yet kind. “I know it couldn’t have been easy, lying to protect the woman who had to end things with you.”

I tensed at the mention of the entire matter. Ava had told me about her conversation with Degas that ultimately led to our breakup—he knew all along. Not that I was surprised, of course. Degas was more astute and wise than all of us combined, although many often treated him like a doddering old man because of his age.

Two hundred years. That was quite a long time to walk the earth.

Degas hummed thoughtfully when I didn’t answer. “I can’t imagine the heartbreak you must be feeling now that things have come to an end.”

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “You have no idea.”

Leaning back in his chair, Degas regarded me with a solemn expression. “On the contrary, my boy; I know all too well the ache of losing the one you love.” He paused, his eyes growing distant. “My own mate passed away many years ago, and not a day goes by that I don't miss her.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but found myself at a loss for words. What could I possibly say to that?

Seeming to sense my inner turmoil, Degas offered me a reassuring smile. “I know it hurts now, Chris. But the pain will fade with time, and soon enough, you will find a suitable Luna who sweeps you off your feet.”

My jaw clenched at his words. A suitable Luna. As if anyone could ever compare to Ava, could ever make me feel the way she did with just a single glance or a brush of her hand against mine.

Staring pensively into the fireplace, I shook my head. “I don’t want anyone except for her,” I murmured, the words escaping me before I could stop them.

Degas was silent for a moment, studying me with an inscrutable expression. Then, to my surprise, he leaned forward in his chair, his eyes glinting with something akin to mischief.

“There is another way, you know…”