Breaking Point

ALEXANDER

As the sun began to set behind the mountains, I felt a chill in the air. The day was giving way to the cool of the evening. I’d been awake for a few hours, waiting for the sun to sink and the heat of the day to fade.

From outside, the distant sounds of children playing in the water reached my ears, their parents’ voices calling them home. The rich aroma of tomato sauce cooking filled the air—a warm and comforting presence as dusk settled in.

I couldn’t detect any vampires. No scent, no sound. But I knew they wouldn’t be far behind.

They would have figured out by now that we’d taken to the ocean, and it was only a matter of time before they scoured the coastline, searching for any sign of where we had surfaced. The daylight had given us a brief respite, but as soon as the sun set, they’d be on the move—scouring the shores.

If we were lucky, we had a day’s lead at best. I sat up slowly, dragging a hand down my face. If I didn’t find Caroline soon, all of this would have been in vain.

And it was my fault. My stupid, reckless fault. I was the one who had set the mansion on fire.

I was the reason she had run off. I needed to bring her home—somewhere safe. Even if she despised me for it, I had to keep her alive.

It was the only redemption I could hope for after killing our father. But it wouldn’t be nearly enough.

I had a lot more to make up for. I ran my fingers through my hair, finding it sticky with salt from the seawater.

I needed a proper wash. With a sigh, I stood up, glancing down at the bed where Aya lay curled up, sleeping soundlessly.

At some point during the night, she had unconsciously wrapped herself around me—her long leg draped over mine, her face buried in my chest. It was the closest she had allowed herself to get to me in days, and she hadn’t even realized it.

It was also the reason I hadn’t slept well. Having a hard-on all night was uncomfortable, to say the least.

But she was worth it. She always had been.

I had just been too blind, too arrogant to see it. I couldn’t change the past.

For fifty years after my banishment, I had searched for her. I had clung to the hope that she had stayed behind.

That she had waited for me. But she hadn’t.

She had left me for good, and I deserved it. During those fifty years, I thought about my crown, my exile, and the way I had treated others.

And I tried—tried—not to think about Aya. In the span of my nearly five hundred years, three years with her should have been fleeting.

And yet, they remained my most cherished memories. Frozen in time.

It was the only time I had ever felt truly free, unburdened by the expectations of pureblood society. The only time I had ever been truly happy.

And she had been mine. Mine to love, to cherish, to protect.

When I lost her, I hadn’t handled it well. I was too proud.

Too stubborn. I didn’t want her to see how deeply she had wounded me.

I didn’t want her to know how much I had suffered. How broken I was.

When I couldn’t sleep during the day, I thought of her. I remembered her touch, her laugh.

I remembered her pain—the pain I had caused. The hurt I couldn’t fix.

She had been broken, and I hadn’t put her back together. I had just…given up.

I deserved her hatred. I deserved every bit of hell she wanted to give me.

The fact that she was still here, beside me, after all this time—after the way I had ignored her—was nothing short of a miracle. I had never met anyone who cared as much as Aya did.

She cared about me. About her family.

About people who weren’t even hers to protect. She was the furthest thing from a coldhearted, ruthless vampire.

And yet, somehow, I had turned her into the opposite of what she once was. And still, she shone through.

I had the urge to reach down and touch her soft skin. She looked beautiful—even in that old, worn-out pink nightgown.

I wanted to fall back into bed—to pull her into my arms again.

To feel the warmth of her body against mine. But I wasn’t sure how much she would allow.

In fact, I was fairly certain she’d bite me. And not in a good way.

I wouldn’t push her. She deserved that much.

I quietly exited the cellar, making my way into the quaint house. It was clear the owners had left in a hurry, probably for a vacation.

The house was well-kept and inviting. I found the shower Aya had used just yesterday and took the opportunity to clean myself up.

The clothing options were limited, so I settled for a pair of worn-out jeans and a dark, long-sleeved sweater that felt a bit too tight across my chest. Once outside, I noticed Aya’s blue dress, still hanging on the clothesline, dry and warm from the sun.

I took it down and brought it back to the cellar. When I got back, Aya was awake, sitting on the bed, her nimble fingers braiding her long hair.

I stood at the doorway, silently observing her.

“Evening,” she said softly.

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. She was too good for me, too pure.

If I ever got a second chance with her—if I could call her mine again—I would never let her slip away. I wouldn’t repeat the same mistake.

But that was just wishful thinking. She could never love me the way she used to.

A hundred years had passed. Too much had changed. We were different people now.

Our innocence was lost. She was stronger—I could see it in her eyes.

I wondered if I was. When she put on her earrings and smiled softly as I handed her the dress, I realized the truth.

I wasn’t. I was just as ready to fall to my knees and beg for her forgiveness as I had been a hundred years ago when she first rejected me.

I had spent my life hiding my pain. Maybe it was time to stop.

I knew I could never have her back, but maybe—just maybe—I could earn her forgiveness.

“We should probably find something to eat,” I suggested, breaking the silence. “We’ll be heading into the mountains today. There should be plenty of chamois.”

“All right,” she agreed.

“Hopefully we’ll pick up Caroline’s scent again,” I said, more to myself than to her.

The thought of finding Caroline meant leaving Aya behind. It felt like a punch to the gut.

I closed the door behind me, giving her privacy to change. The thought of letting her go again made my fists clench. I wasn’t ready.

But she deserved more than I could ever offer her. Frustrated, I grunted and carried the bed back upstairs to its original place.

When I returned, she was outside, gazing toward the ocean. From our position in the foothills, only a sliver of water was visible.

“I thought I heard something,” she said, her brow furrowed. “Why are we always running, Alex?”

I took her hand in mine, holding it gently, and told her what I hoped was the truth.

“This will be the last time. I promise.”

We ran up into the Alps. I led Aya through the winding green valleys and dense forests.

The weather was warm, and the mountains were bustling with humans in chalets, as well as chamois, squirrels, and eagles hunting. We masked our scents again with pine needles and mountain thyme.

The vampires hunting us would have a hard time tracking us down. But they were bounty hunters—this was their job, and they wouldn’t be deterred for long.

They would have picked up our scent along the coast by now. I kept my eyes open, alert for any sign of hunters.

But the mountains were teeming with life and noise, making it hard to distinguish them. Aya was beside me; I could feel her—alert, aware.

I couldn’t help but feel proud of her. She had become a fierce creature—strong, aware, and smart.

She knew how to walk silently. She knew when to listen, how to sniff the currents of wind that blew around us.

She was perfectly adapted to her surroundings. And though I remembered teaching her a little, most of her abilities she had learned without me.

She moved in her own chosen way—soft and smooth. Halfway through a valley covered in wildflowers, I spotted a young woman and her dog having dinner.

She was dressed in hiking clothes, had set up a small tent, and was laughing as her dog tried to steal a bite of her sandwich. Her heart was pounding, and my blood was already calling to me.

I licked my lips, grinning, and grasped Aya’s wrist to stop her before pointing toward the woman. It was about time we shared a meal.

And I wanted to remind her that I could provide for her again. Aya frowned at me and shook her head.

I paused, confused.

“What’s wrong? She’ll be delicious. People disappear into the mountains all the time. Come on, I’m hungry.”

I started stalking the woman, letting the scent of her blood overwhelm my senses. Just as I was ready to spring into action, Aya’s arm shot out, hitting me square in the chest.

I tumbled backward into the tall grass, letting out a grunt. The woman and her dog remained oblivious, blissfully unaware of the two predators lurking nearby.

“No,” Aya whispered harshly.

I looked up at her, my face creased in a frown. She glared back, her eyes filled with a mix of fear, anger, and confusion.

I could feel her emotions, raw and unfiltered. She tried to suppress them, but they were too strong, too new for her to control around me.

They spilled over, overwhelming her. With a groan, she turned and started to walk away, leaving me behind.

Something had changed. I watched her retreating figure, then glanced back at the woman and her dog.

I pushed myself up and hurried after Aya. I caught up with her at the edge of the forest, grabbing her arm and spinning her around to face me.

“What are you scared of?” I asked, my voice demanding an answer.

She stiffened, her anger flaring up. She tried to pull away, but I held on. Her emotions were a whirlwind, changing rapidly.

“Nothing,” she retorted, her voice breathless.

“That’s not nothing,” I countered.

She struggled against my grip, but I held firm. Her anger surged, tainted with guilt. I could feel her emotions battering against me.

“Tell me, Aya,” I said, my voice low and controlled, trying not to let her anger affect me.

“Let go of me, Alex,” she spat.

“Tell me, or I’ll force it out of you.” I pushed her back against a tree.

She looked around wildly, her panic rising—as if she were afraid I would hurt her. As if something was about to harm her.

I felt a wave of horror wash over me. Was she scared of me? Had I done something to frighten her? Had someone else hurt her?

Anger surged through me, hot and fierce. I wanted to tear apart anyone who had dared to harm her.

“Aya?” I tried to keep my voice steady. “What are you scared of?”

Her emotions were a chaotic mess. Fear, horror, anger—it was as if her mind couldn’t decide. I didn’t understand what had triggered her, but I knew I had to help her.

Seeing her so distressed was unbearable. When she finally looked at me, her eyes were a fiery red.

She bared her teeth at me.

“Let me go,” she growled.

“Aya,” I said, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Tell me what’s wrong. What are you scared of? Let me help you!” I pleaded.

She hissed at me. “Help me?” she spat out. “You can’t help me, Alex. You destroyed me!”

Her words hit me like a physical blow. I felt my own anger rising.

“I gave you eternity!” I retorted. “I gave you power!”

“You turned me into a monster! You stole my life! You killed me,” she spat back, her anger boiling over.

My own anger was building. She was hurling her hatred at me—her rage, her pain. I flinched, barely managing to hold onto her.

This was a fight we’d had before, and I didn’t like how it ended the first time.

“I gave you a better life!”

“You made me a prisoner!”

“You abandoned me!”

“Because you shattered my heart!” she gasped. “Because if I didn’t leave, I would have died. Because you were the love of my life, and I didn’t know how to love you from a distance.”

For a moment, the only sound in the forest was the rustling of the wind as an eagle swooped down for its prey.