His Silent Luna (Verity and Felicity) novel Chapter 40

CHAPTER FORTY

Verity’s Perspective

I found myself trapped in a web of deception.

Fear had silenced the truth on my lips.

The charcoal stick in my hand trembled faintly as I scrawled the falsehood onto the paper. My fingers shook so uncontrollably that I had to press down harder than usual to form the letters clearly. “I had a mate once. He… he died during the lunar eclipse three years ago.”

My heart hammered fiercely against my ribs, as if desperate to break free. The words I wrote were only partially true, which offered a small measure of comfort. Theron hadn’t truly died that night—not in the way Cassian believed—but to me, it might as well have been the end. His rejection cut deeper than any wound, severing something inside me I hadn’t even realized was there. From the moment he turned his back on me, I had buried him alive in my heart, the bond between us left to wither in the heavy silence.

That was how I justified it. That was how I convinced myself it wasn’t a lie, exactly. But as Cassian’s eyes flicked over the words, my stomach churned violently. Could he see through my carefully crafted story? Could he sense how far I was stretching the truth until it nearly snapped?

When his gaze lifted from the paper, I froze in place. Then, without warning, he wrapped his arms around me.

At first, I stiffened, every instinct urging me to pull away from the sudden warmth. But Cassian held me tighter, his broad frame enveloping me like a protective shield. His hand moved gently to the back of my head, so tender and cautious—so unlike the ruthless alpha I had feared.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered softly, his breath warm against my hair. “I’m sorry you had to endure that.”

The breath I’d been holding escaped in a slow sigh, and before I even realized it, I was leaning into him. His embrace felt like a sanctuary, a fortress shielding me from the world’s harshness. With him, I felt safe. The thought was both absurd and dangerous, yet undeniably true.

Perhaps he believed I relaxed because of the pain, but really, it was because he had fallen for the lie.

Maybe… just maybe, Cassian wasn’t the monster I had convinced myself he was.

A strange, electric sensation flickered across my skin where his body pressed against mine. My arms tingled, my shoulders buzzed, even the nape of my neck hummed with an unfamiliar energy I couldn’t explain. It was bewildering, even frightening—but I didn’t pull away. I didn’t want to.

He continued murmuring softly, words meant to comfort. “I know what it’s like to lose a mate. To feel the world collapse inside you. I understand.”

Something inside me cracked at his confession. I hadn’t even noticed the tears sliding down my cheeks until Cassian gently pulled back, his hand rising cautiously to brush a rough thumb beneath my eye.

I flinched at the touch, but he was so gentle, wiping away the tears I hadn’t realized I was shedding.

Tears. I was crying?

I blinked in shock, my chest tightening as my breath caught in confusion. Why now? Why him? These feelings weren’t mine—they couldn’t be. I hadn’t cried for Theron in years. I had locked that pain away, sealed it under layers of stone. Yet here, with Cassian’s hand on my face, the dam broke.

Something inside me was shifting. I could feel it, though I didn’t know whether to fear it or embrace it. Cassian’s gaze held mine, intense and unreadable. Then he spoke, his voice thoughtful, hesitant. “It’s starting to make a little sense now. Maybe…” He paused, studying me as if I were a puzzle he’d been longing to solve. “Maybe we were given a second chance—because we both lost our mates on the same day, by some cruel twist of fate. The Moon Goddess works in mysterious ways.”

My chest tightened painfully. A second chance? Was that what this was supposed to be? The idea seemed almost laughable, if not for the ache blooming deep in my throat.

He frowned slightly, his hand falling away. “But if that’s true… why don’t you feel the bond?”

Panic surged through me. He couldn’t know. He must never discover the truth—not yet. Not that I was born without a wolf, that I was broken. The risk was too great.

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