The lost mate

Chapter 129: A warning

Heather stood frozen at the doorway, her pulse hammering in her ears as Richard’s tall, looming figure blocked the exit. Fear coursed through her veins like ice, making her fingers twitch by her side. She had one fleeting thought—to slam the door shut and run, as fast and far as her legs would carry her. But another part of her, the more rational part, knew it wouldn’t matter. She wouldn’t get far. Richard would catch her without even breaking a sweat.

She clenched her jaw and gripped the doorframe, her breath shallow and uneven, as he took a step closer. He didn’t look hostile, but that didn’t make him any less dangerous.

"I know who you are," Richard said quietly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. His eyes narrowed slightly as he scanned her face, the recognition in his gaze unmistakable. "You’re Jennifer’s sister. Heather."

Her breath caught in her throat at his words. The look in his eyes told her everything—he had known all along.

"You’ve grown up so much since I last saw you," he continued, stepping into the room without waiting for her permission. He closed the door behind him softly, a deliberate act that made her feel even more trapped. "I recognised you during the pack bonfire. The resemblance is uncanny, but more than that, you have a similar scent as Jennifer."

At the mention of her sister’s name, a sharp wave of anger ripped through Heather, chasing away the fear that had paralysed her moments before. Her body tensed, her eyes narrowing as she glared at him, her chest tight with fury. "You killed her," Heather spat, the venom in her voice barely controlled. "You killed my sister."

Richard’s expression remained calm, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something dark and regretful. He nodded slowly, his voice softer now, almost regretful. "Yeah," he admitted, the weight of the confession settling in the room like a storm cloud. "I’m sorry about that."

Heather blinked, momentarily stunned by the casualness of his apology. "You’re sorry?" she hissed, her voice shaking with rage. "Why? Why did you do that?"

Richard took a deep breath, his eyes meeting hers with a strange mixture of guilt and detachment. "I didn’t want to hurt her. She was my mate," he said, his voice quieter now, as if the words themselves caused him pain. "But I was selfish. All I wanted was a child. An heir."

Heather’s blood turned cold as his words sunk in. He had used Jennifer, her sister—her kind, innocent sister—for his own twisted agenda. It wasn’t love. It was never love. It was manipulation, pure and simple.

"I didn’t turn her," he whispered, his voice raw with sadness. "I didn’t turn her into a werewolf so she could live a normal life."

Richard’s face hardened, and he looked away, as if the weight of his own guilt was finally catching up to him. "I thought keeping her human would protect her," he said, his voice tight. "I thought she could live a normal life, away from all of this. But... I was wrong. She wasn’t strong enough. The pregnancy was too much for her, and it killed her."

Heather’s heart pounded painfully in her chest, the words stabbing into her like knives. He had thought he was doing the right thing, but his selfishness had killed Jennifer. His choices had ripped her sister away from her forever.

"I never meant for it to happen like that," Richard said, his voice rough, almost pleading. "I loved her, Heather. I really did."

Heather’s eyes blazed with fury as she took a step forward, her fists clenched by her sides. "You loved her?" she seethed. "You don’t know the meaning of the word. You used her, Richard. You used her until she had nothing left to give, and then you let her die. You took everything from her."

He opened his mouth to say something, but the look on Heather’s face stopped him. There was no excuse, no apology that could ever make up for what he had done.

"She was my sister," Heather whispered, her voice trembling with grief and rage. "And you stole her from me."

Richard’s expression darkened, the guilt in his eyes morphing into something else—something colder. "I didn’t mean it to happen," he said through gritted teeth, as if convincing himself as much as her.

"You failed," Heather shot back, her voice low but sharp. "And now I’ll never forgive you for it."

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy with the weight of their shared past. Richard looked at her for a long moment, his face unreadable, before finally stepping back towards the door.

"I didn’t come here to fight," he said, his voice almost resigned. "But I’m sorry."

"You just came here to apologise?" Heather’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. She could barely contain herself. "That’s it? That’s why you showed up at my door in the middle of the night? To say you’re sorry?" Her voice trembled as she fought the urge to scream. How could he just stand there, acting as if a few words would somehow erase everything he had done?

Richard’s eyes darkened, his face hardening. "No, Heather said, his voice a low growl. "I didn’t just come here to apologise." He took a step towards her, but Heather didn’t back away this time. She stood her ground, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"Then why?" she spat. "Why are you here?"

Richard looked away for a moment, as if struggling to find the right words. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady but laced with something darker—something that sent a chill down Heather’s spine.

"Because things are going to get bad. Very bad," he said. "The werewolf realm is dangerous—more dangerous than you know. You shouldn’t be here, Heather. This isn’t your fight. You need to leave."

Heather let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "You’re unbelievable, Richard. You think you can show up out of nowhere, tell me to leave, and that’s supposed to make everything better? You killed my sister. You took her away from me, and now you’re standing here acting like you’re some kind of hero, trying to protect me?"

"I’m not a hero," Richard said quietly, his voice filled with a tired resignation. "I’m trying to prevent more bloodshed. More pain."

Heather took a deep, shaky breath, her chest tight.

"You’re right about one thing," Heather said, her voice firm. "This isn’t my world. But I’m not leaving. Not until I get justice."