Fated To Not Just One, But Three - Chapter 589

Chapter 589: Drunk
Lennox’s POV

When she told me to stop, I froze.

Not because I wanted to, but because my body obeyed before my mind could catch up.

I turned slowly, my hand still on the door. The corridor light spilled into the room behind me, casting her in shadow and gold. She stood there rigid, chin lifted, eyes suddenly filled with pain.

“Come back,” she said.

Not an order.

Not a command.

A request.

That was worse.

I stepped back inside and closed the door quietly behind me.

She didn’t speak right away. She walked past me instead, moving toward the small table by the window where a half-finished bottle of amber liquor sat untouched. She poured two glasses with an unsteady hand and pushed one toward me without looking.

“Drink,” she said.

I should have refused.

I knew that.

Every instinct screamed that this was a line I couldn’t afford to cross.

But I took the glass. I missed her… missed being this close to her.

The liquor burned going down. She drank hers faster. Too fast.

She leaned back against the table, staring at the floor like it might give her answers.

“I failed him,” she said suddenly.

The words hit like a blade.

My chest locked.

“Lennox,” she went on, her voice rough. “I failed him.”

I didn’t speak.

I couldn’t.

“He died thinking I stopped loving him,” she said, laughing bitterly. “Isn’t that cruel? Of all the things he survived… that’s what he died believing.”

She swallowed and drank again.

“We fought so much near the end,” she continued. “Misunderstandings. Pride. Silence. And I kept telling myself I’d fix it later. When things were calmer. When there was time.”

Her voice broke.

“There was no later.”

I set my glass down before it shattered in my grip.

She turned to face me then, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed. Drunk—not falling-down drunk, but loosened. Unguarded.

Again, she filled her cup and drank it all in one go.

“I loved him,” she said fiercely. “I still love him. It was always him.”

Every word was a wound to my already shattered heart.

“I wish he were here,” she whispered. “Just for a moment. Just so I could tell him.”

I’m here, I whispered only to myself.

She laughed again, but this time she was drunk. I knew Olivia’s alcohol tolerance was low—just a sip and she was gone. That was why, when we were younger, we never let her take even a sip. We made sure no one in the pack offered her that.

Olivia scoffed drunkenly. “God, listen to me. Talking to a guard like he’s—”

She stopped.

Her gaze sharpened.

Focused.

“Why do you feel like him?” she asked quietly.

My breath caught.

“I don’t,” I said carefully.

She stepped closer.

“You do,” she insisted. “Your voice. The way you stand. The way you look at me like you already know what I’m going to say.”

She shook her head. “I know it’s stupid. I saw his body. I touched him. I watched him decay.”

Each word gutted me.

“So why,” she whispered, “does it feel like he’s standing right in front of me?”

My heart hammered violently.

“Why do you think I’m Lennox?” I asked, forcing my composure to remain intact.

She reached up suddenly, cupping my face with both hands.

I froze.

Her palms were warm. Familiar. A touch I missed so much.

“Because you feel like him,” she said softly. “Because when you hold me, my wolf goes quiet. Because your heartbeat matches the one I memorized.”

Her thumbs brushed my cheekbones.

“I would have thought you changed your face,” she murmured, almost laughing, “but that’s impossible. Why would you do that? Why would you come back as a common guard?”

Her voice cracked.

“You died,” she said firmly. “I saw you die.”

I couldn’t breathe.

She leaned closer, her forehead resting against mine.

“I miss you,” she whispered.

That was it.

The last thread snapped.

I lifted my hands and held her wrists gently, grounding her—and myself.

“Olivia,” I said hoarsely. “You’re drunk.”

She laughed weakly. “And grieving. Don’t ruin the moment.”

Her lips brushed mine accidentally.

Or fate.

I should have pulled away.

But I didn’t.

She kissed me again, this time deliberate—soft at first, testing, like she was afraid I’d disappear. When I didn’t, her fingers slid into my hair and she kissed me harder, desperately, like she was trying to pour years of loss into a single breath.

I kissed her back.

Moon, forgive me—I kissed her back.

Not rushed. Not hungry.

Deep.

Familiar.

Her breath hitched against my mouth, a broken sound she used to make when she was overwhelmed. My body remembered her before my mind could stop it. I pulled her closer, anchoring her against me, every sense screaming that this was wrong and right all at once.

Her hands trembled on my chest.

“Lennox,” she whispered against my lips.

That was when I broke.

I pulled back just enough to press my forehead to hers, breathing hard.

“Olivia,” I said. “If I were him—”

She kissed me again, silencing the words.

This kiss was different.

Slower.

Devastating.

It tasted like grief and love and things left unsaid.

When we finally parted, her eyes were full of tears.

“I know it’s not you,” she whispered. “I know I’m imagining things.”

I said nothing.

Because if I spoke, I would confess everything.

She rested her head against my chest, exhausted.

I closed my eyes.

This was dangerous.

I pulled back.

Not because I wanted to.

Because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t stop, and I would reveal myself.

“I have to go, Luna,” I said hoarsely, my hands still resting on her arms like that was the only thing keeping me anchored to the ground. “This—this is wrong.”

The word tasted bitter.

Wrong.

After years of not touching her. After years of dying with her name in my mouth.

I stepped back, forcing space between us, even though every instinct screamed against it. My chest felt tight. My lungs burned like I’d been holding my breath for far too long.

She shook her head slowly, eyes glossy, unfocused, shining with too much pain and too much drink.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

I turned toward the door.

That was my mistake.

Her hand caught my sleeve.

Then she was there—so fast, so desperate—pressing herself against me again, her lips crashing into mine like she was afraid I’d disappear if she let go.

I froze.

Then I broke.

I kissed her back.

Harder this time. Deeper. Like a man who had starved and finally tasted something real. My hands slid to her waist before I could stop them, muscle memory taking over, pulling her close like I had done a thousand times before.

God.

I had missed this.

Missed her.

Her mouth moved against mine, familiar and frantic, her breath shaky, her body warm and real in my arms. She kissed me like she used to when she was scared of losing me. Like she used to when words weren’t enough.

“This is wrong,” I murmured against her lips, my voice breaking. “Olivia—”

“Then why does it feel right?” she whispered back, her forehead pressed to mine, her breath uneven. “Why does it feel like coming home?”

Because it was.

Because she was my home.

I pulled back just enough to look at her, really look at her. Her cheeks were flushed. Her lashes wet. Her eyes filled with love that had never gone anywhere—just buried under grief and regret. But then again, she was drunk.

“I shouldn’t,” I said again, weaker now. “You’re hurting and drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

She cupped my face with both hands, thumbs brushing my jaw the way she used to when she wanted me to listen.

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” she whispered. “I miss you.”

My heart shattered all over again.

“Lennox,” she said softly, like a prayer. “I miss you so much.”

I closed my eyes.

Moon Goddess, forgive me.

“I am not Lennox,” I whispered, hating myself for lying.

Her breath hitched. I thought she might have realized her mistake… but she didn’t. Instead, she kissed me again—slower now, trembling, pouring years of longing into that single touch. I felt it everywhere. In my chest. In my bones. In the wolf that stirred even though it was supposed to be gone.

I kissed her like I might never get the chance again.

Because maybe I wouldn’t—for now.

She clung to me, fingers curling into my shirt, her body fitting against mine like it always had. Like it was made for this. Like it remembered me even when her mind couldn’t allow it.

“I waited,” she whispered against my mouth. “I waited for you to come back. Even when everyone said you were gone.”

I swallowed hard, pressing my forehead to hers.

“I never stopped loving you,” she said. “Not for one second. He died thinking I did, and that’s what kills me.”

I held her tighter, my jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

“Olivia,” I whispered again, so quietly it barely existed. “Lennox is not here… I am Kaine.”

She kissed me like she didn’t hear it anyway.

Her hands slid up my chest, familiar paths, familiar touch, and I had to stop myself—had to grip her waist and still her before this went somewhere I couldn’t undo.

I rested my forehead against hers, breathing hard.

“Olivia,” I said, forcing the words out. “If I stay… I won’t be able to control myself.”

She smiled sadly, her eyes full of tears.

“Then don’t.”

God help me.

I knew she was drunk, and right now she wasn’t herself… I had to do something.

I pulled back again—this time with everything I had—and she made a small sound of protest, her hands tightening on me like she didn’t want to let go.

“I have to go,” I said firmly now, even though it felt like tearing my own heart out. “If I don’t… we will both regret it.”

She stared at me for a long moment, then wrapped her arms around my neck.

“I want you.”