My Sister Stole My Mate, And I Let Her

Chapter 525: Chapter 525 A SECOND CHANCE (BONUS Chapter 3)

LUCIAN’S POV

Consciousness was a journey.

For a long time, there was only darkness—though even that wasn’t entirely accurate.

Darkness implied awareness of its own existence, and whatever place I had drifted into after the island felt emptier than that.

There had been no pain there, no memory, no thought substantial enough to hold onto.

Then, gradually, something began to intrude upon the silence.

At first, it was only a voice.

Not even words—a rhythm. A cadence I couldn’t quite grasp but somehow recognized anyway.

It came and went like distant waves reaching a shoreline I couldn’t see, retreating before I could reach it and returning before I could convince myself it had never existed at all.

Eventually, there were other things too.

A presence.

Warmth pressing insistently against the cold emptiness surrounding me.

The faint scent of cinnamon and old books and rain caught in stone corridors.

Something familiar.

Something safe.

Something that tugged at an instinct buried deeper than thought and made me want, with an urgency I could not explain, to move toward it.

The closer I drew to that distant warmth, the heavier everything around me seemed to become, as though the void objected to my departure and had every intention of dragging me back beneath its surface.

But the voice came again.

And again.

And again.

And the idea of losing it was unbearable.

So I followed.

Toward warmth.

Toward light.

Toward the certainty that if I stopped, if I let go, something important would disappear before I ever managed to reach it.

The ascent was slow and difficult and exhausting, but eventually the darkness loosened its grip, the warmth became sunlight against closed eyelids, and I surfaced into the world of the living with all the grace of a man being violently evicted from the afterlife.

Waking up was a bitch.

The discomfort was so profound and all-encompassing that it overshadowed the miracle of continued existence.

Every muscle in my body ached.

My mouth felt like sandpaper and tasted like ash.

My limbs possessed all the responsiveness of decorative furniture.

Opening my eyes felt like lifting cinderblocks with a feather.

I managed to squint against the sunlight spilling across white sheets and pale walls, filling the room with the soft gold of late afternoon.

For several seconds, I simply stared upward, allowing my mind to catch up with the fact that I was alive.

The island returned in fragments.

Blood.

Battle.

Catherine’s voice.

My own voice begging someone—begging everyone—to kill me before I became something I couldn’t come back from.

My body reacted before my brain did.

I sat upright too quickly and immediately discovered that several days of unconsciousness had left my muscles with strong opinions about sudden movement.

Pain lanced through my ribs and shoulders as the room spun around me.

A hand caught my arm before gravity could reclaim me.

"Lucian!"

I looked up to find Sera standing beside the bed, relief washing visibly across her features.

"Easy," she said, sounding close to tears. "You don’t get to wake up and immediately attempt to injure yourself. We’ve had enough of that foolish behavior to last a lifetime."

My throat felt raw when I tried to speak.

"How long?"

"Almost two weeks."

Sera handed me a glass of water, and I drank it with all the dignity of a man who had spent a lifetime trekking through the desert.

My fingers trembled as I returned the glass, and my head hurt as I shook it when she asked if I wanted more.

My gaze drifted toward the window, and a strange sense of wrongness settled over me.

Something was missing.

My eyes moved instinctively toward the chair beside the bed.

Empty.

“Where’s Evelyn?”

The question escaped before I could even make sense of it.

But somehow, I knew she had occupied that seat. It was her voice, her scent, her presence that had pulled me out of that bottomless void and into the light.

Mate.

Sera’s face softened as she arranged pillows behind me and gently helped me sit up.

"She isn’t here right now."

I looked back at the empty chair.

The blanket folded neatly over the backrest looked used.

The teacup on the table beside it looked recent.

The room smelled faintly of cinnamon and herbs and something else I couldn’t quite place but was irrationally disappointed not to find stronger.

"She was here, though," Sera added quietly. “She spent almost every waking moment beside this bed.”

The words settled somewhere beneath my ribs.

I swallowed with difficulty. “And...now?”

Even as I asked the question, I knew the answer. It hit me with such devastating efficiency that I might have laughed if I hadn’t felt like my larynx had been licked by flames.

Of course.

The mate bond.

A powerful pure-blood witch with abilities that bordered on the absurd and enough intelligence to solve problems most people couldn’t understand had looked at the situation, looked at me, and come to the obvious conclusion.

I couldn’t blame her.

Honestly, I was surprised she’d even bothered to stick around for a second.

Sera frowned, evidently knowing where my thought process had gone. "Lucian—"

"It’s alright."

Sera shook her head. “No, it’s not. I...I think it might have been my fault.”

I frowned at the guilt marring her features.

"What do you mean?"

“She asked, and”—Sera winced—“I told her about Zara.”

The room lost all of its warmth.

Zara.

The last image I had of her flashed in my mind—that soft smile, those softly spoken words: ‘You’ll be okay,’ and then the collapse into nothing.

I closed my eyes. The pain in my head felt like it was going to split my skull.

“She’s really gone?” I whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Sera whispered. “There was nothing we could do.”

I nodded, my neck stiff. “It was like she said—she was dead anyway.”

I’d lost Zara twice—both times because of me.

I didn’t know which memory hurt more: her sacrifice on the island or watching her die in my arms.

I swore softly under my breath.

No wonder Evelyn had left. I carried enough emotional baggage to qualify as commercial shipping freight.

I had spent years carrying ghosts that refused to stay buried.

I had failed everyone and everything I’d ever cared about—Zara, Sera, Maya, OTS; I didn’t even want to think about the chaos my prolonged absence had caused back home in Shadowveil.

How many disasters had my existence caused?

How many people had paid for caring about me?

What possible place could there be for Evelyn in the shadow of all that?

Eventually, she would join that list, and I couldn’t bear that thought.

A mate bond with me came attached to grief, guilt, trauma, old wounds that never fully healed, and enough psychological complications to keep therapists employed for decades.

Not exactly a compelling offer.

I leaned back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling.

“She deserves better.”

“Don’t say that,” Sera chided.

I let out a self-deprecating scoff. "Sera, I have a deeply concerning history of bringing suffering to the people I care about."

“That’s not true.”

I turned my head so my gaze met hers. “I did it to you.”

The words hung heavily in the room, and I watched our tangled history—the manipulation and deceit and eventual betrayal—flit behind her eyes. She didn’t say anything.

I sighed and returned my gaze to the ceiling.

“Zara died because she loved me enough to sacrifice herself for me, and if things had gone wrong, Evelyn might have died trying to save me too."

My throat tightened.

"How many times does the same lesson need to repeat itself before I stop pretending not to understand it?"

Sera sighed. “That’s trauma talking.”

“It’s truth.”

Regardless of its cause, the evidence supporting the belief was clear as day.

“Happiness with a mate was never really in the cards for me.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. I could feel all the things Sera wanted to say, but I could also feel that she knew none would quite suffice.

Eventually, she stood. “I’ll go get the healers.”

Before she stepped out of the room, she stopped in the doorway and looked back at me.

"You’re wrong, you know."

I kept my gaze fixed on the ceiling.

“About which part?”

“Most of it. One day, you’ll see.”

The door closed softly behind her.

Alone in the quiet room, I looked once more toward the empty chair beside the bed.

The faint scent lingering in the air hurt more than aching muscles and bruised ribs.

I closed my eyes and remembered warmth in darkness, the distant voice refusing to stop calling me home, and the certainty that somewhere beyond the emptiness, someone had been waiting for me to find my way back.

Then I opened my eyes and wondered if the darkness hadn’t been better.