TERESA'S P.O.V.
Lucian's arms were strong around me, his warmth an anchor in the storm of emotions. My tears had begun to dry on his shirt, but my heart was still heavy from everything he had just told me. I felt like I was holding two versions of him at once—the alpha with the sarcastic smirk and the broken man that was terrified of love.
He leaned back slightly, his blind gaze fixed somewhere over my shoulder. "I'm okay now," he murmured, his voice soft but resolute. "And I'm sorry, Teresa. Sorry for everything. For making you pay for what wasn't your fault. For being too wrapped up in my fears to see what I was doing to you. You didn't deserve that."
"Lucian..." My voice trembled, but I forced it to steady. "It's not your fault that you've been through hell. What I fault you for—" I stopped, gathering my words carefully. "What I fault you for is not trusting me enough to tell me your fears. Instead, you hurt me deeply. You pushed me away."
