Chapter 200: The Beginning of a Dangerous Choice
Chapter 200: The Beginning of a Dangerous Choice
Emma looked away.
Her tongue pressed briefly against her lower lip as she exhaled through her nose, slow and uneven.
The air in the hall felt heavier than before, like the walls had moved closer without permission.
First Evan.
Now Lunara.
Both had stood in front of her, both had said the same kind of thing—words that didn’t leave cleanly, words that stayed behind like hooks.
Something tight coiled in Emma’s chest.
She couldn’t walk away.
But staying... felt just as dangerous.
"All my moonallies have left me and I...."
She didn’t wait. She crossed the space and pulled Lunara in.
She broke instantly, shoulders shaking as her face pressed into Emma’s shoulder, tears soaking through the fabric.
A few minutes passed like that before Elara and Brooklyn stepped in, gently separating them.
"I’ll talk to my father," Emma said quietly. "He’ll help you."
She gave a small nod, eyes swollen and unfocused.
"What you need now is treatment," Emma added, her hand still lingering near her arm. "I’ll make sure you get it."
"Thank you," Lunara whispered.
"I’m leaving," she said after a pause. "Call me when you’re released."
"Alright..." Lunara’s voice broke again.
A security warrior guided her away.
She didn’t move at first. Neither did Elara or Brooklyn.
Lunara walked down the long hallway, steps slowly. Her shoulders looked thinner than before. Her skin, once glowing, now carried burns and blisters. Her hair was gone.
Emma’s breath caught. She turned away fast, wiping her face.
Outside the building, they got into the car in silence.
Emma kept wiping her eyes, staring out the window without really seeing anything.
Brooklyn watched her for a moment. "Would you forgive her?"
Emma nodded slowly. "I think I already did."
Brooklyn leaned back, exhaling. "She won’t change. It’s in her blood. But... I get it. You forgive her for your peace."
She said nothing.
Brooklyn’s voice softened. "Just don’t trust her. Don’t let her close again. Elara and I—we’re here."
Emma let out a shaky laugh through tears.
Elara smiled faintly.
And then, somehow, the sound broke the heaviness, and they laughed together through it.
The estate had already settled into moonfall by the time Emma stepped out of the bathchamber.
The kind of silence that lived in the Nightclaw residence was never empty. It carried the soft hum of distant guards, the faint echo of shifting patrols beyond the walls, and the steady breath of a house that never truly slept. But inside, everything had grown still enough that even her bare footsteps against the polished floor sounded too loud to belong there.
She slowed as she reached the bedchamber, one hand drifting instinctively to her lower stomach before she caught herself and let it fall. Her thoughts were elsewhere anyway, circling the same image she had tried, and failed, to push away since noon.
Lunara on her knees.
Not the sibling who once stood in confidence and pride, but a young lady stripped down to desperation, asking for something that sounded less like forgiveness and more like survival.
Emma exhaled softly as she stepped into the bedchamber and paused.
Her eyes went to the gold clock on the wall.
10:26 p.m.
Brandon still wasn’t back.
She walked toward the closet, one towel wrapped around her body and another around her damp hair. She pulled a nightgown from a hanger, but before she could put it on, her arm dropped to her side.
With a quiet sigh, she leaned against the closet door.
Earlier, Elara and Brooklyn had tried to stay with her, but she had sent them away. Right now, she wants silence.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth. A glass decanter and a cup sat untouched on a nearby table, filling the chamber with the faint scent of herbs.
A few minutes later, the intercom blinked.
She glanced at it but didn’t move.
The door opened.
Brandon stepped inside, a briefcase in one hand.
He loosened his tie as he walked in, then looked up.
The moment he saw her, he stopped.
"Moonheart."
His voice was low and gentle.
Emma stayed where she was, her shoulder against the closet door.
"You’re still up."
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"You weren’t asleep."
A soft huff escaped her nose.
Brandon set his briefcase on the side table and crossed the chamber.
When he reached her, he untied the towel around her hair and draped it over a nearby chair. Taking the nightgown from her hand, he shook it open and helped her slip into it.
His fingers brushed her shoulder as he adjusted the fabric.
"Sorry I came home late. The meeting was..."
"It’s okay." She cut him off and shook her head. "I’m not complaining."
His hand closed around hers.
Without another word, he led her toward the bed.
"You’re warm," he murmured, not accusing, just noticing.
"I’m fine," Emma answered, though even she could hear how thin it sounded.
Brandon didn’t argue. He never rushed her past her own words. Instead, he studied her face quietly for a moment longer, as if whatever he was searching for was written somewhere just beneath her expression.
Then he stepped back slightly and nodded toward the living chamber. "Sit with me."
She followed him without protest.
The living chamber was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a chandelier that cast warm light across the chamber.
She sat first, careful, almost uncertain, at the edge of the couch. Brandon remained standing for a moment, watching her the way he often did when he already knew something was wrong but waited for her to bring it to him on her own terms.
"You’ve been like this since you came back, haven’t you?" he said after a moment, watching her closely. His voice stayed calm, but the certainty in it made her chest tighten.
She lowered her gaze to her hands. "I’m just tired."
"That’s not all of it," he replied gently, not pressing, only refusing to accept a half-truth as a full answer.
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It was familiar. The kind that existed between two lovers who had long stopped needing noise to understand when something had shifted.
Brandon finally sat beside her, close enough that their knees brushed lightly. His hand found hers without hesitation, fingers folding around hers She rested against him as though there was nowhere else she wanted to be.
Then she stared at their joined hands for a moment before she spoke.
"I saw her today," she said quietly, and although she never mentioned a name, Brandon already knew who she meant.
"Lunara?" he asked.
She lowered her eyes and gave a small nod.
He didn’t interrupt her. He never did when she spoke like that, careful and uncertain, as if each word might change something she couldn’t take back.
She let out a slow breath, her thumb moving absentmindedly against his skin.
"She wasn’t what I expected," she said.
It sounded simple, too simple, and she knew it the moment it left her mouth. It didn’t carry the weight of what she had actually seen.
Brandon tilted his head slightly. "What did she look like?"
She hesitated.
For a moment, she was back there again, standing in that cold hall, watching Lunara crumble under something no pride could hold together anymore.
Her throat tightened.
"She was on her knees," she said at last.
Brandon’s hand tightened around hers, just slightly, but he didn’t speak.
She continued, her voice lower now, almost careful, as if speaking too loudly might break something fragile inside her.
"She was begging," Emma continued. "She said she doesn’t want to live anymore."
The words lingered between them long after she finished speaking.
Brandon’s jaw tightened, a quiet reaction that never turned into interruption. He only watched her, waiting for what came after the truth.
Her fingers curled slightly around his.
"But that isn’t what’s staying with me," she admitted.
Her voice softened further.
"She didn’t look like she was acting," she said slowly. "It didn’t look like pride or manipulation. It looked like... a girl who doesn’t have anything left to hold herself together with."
She swallowed, her gaze dropping briefly before she forced herself to continue.
"I can’t stop thinking about it."
Brandon remained still, listening without interrupting.
When Emma finally lifted her eyes to his, they were filled with quiet uncertainty.
"That’s what scares me," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Silence settled between them, heavy with everything neither of them knew how to say.
Then, almost reluctantly, she let the thought she had been holding back finally surface.
"I think I want to help her."
The chamber didn’t change, but something in the air between them did.
Brandon didn’t react immediately. His thumb paused against her hand, his expression steady but more focused now, like he was measuring each part of what she had said.
Emma rushed to continue before silence could turn into misunderstanding.
"I forgave her a long time ago," she said, lowering her eyes. "That doesn’t change what she did. I still remember everything. I know exactly how much pain she caused us."
Her voice tightened slightly, and she exhaled before continuing.
"I just can’t forget what I saw."
Brandon leaned back a little, still holding her hand, his eyes never leaving her face.
She shook her head faintly, as though trying to organize thoughts that refused to stay in place.
"And I don’t know how to tell you that," she added more quietly.
That was when his expression softened.
Not because the situation had changed, but because he understood what she was really struggling with.
She lowered her gaze again.
"You would do anything I ask," she said, almost under her breath. "You always have."
Her grip tightened slightly around his fingers.
"That’s what scares me," she admitted.
Brandon frowned faintly. "Why?"
She hesitated, then finally said what had been sitting inside her too long to stay silent.
"Because I don’t want you agreeing just because it’s me," she said. "I don’t want to become a mate who leans on your love to make decisions you don’t believe in yourself."
Her voice dropped further, almost fragile.
"I don’t want to use your love like that."
That changed something in him instantly.
He shifted closer, closing the space between them until their shoulders nearly touched.
"Moonheart," he said softly.
She kept her eyes on the floor, refusing to look at him.
"Look at me," he said again, his voice calm and steady, without a trace of anger.
After a long moment, she slowly raised her head to meet his gaze.
The tension that had hardened his features was gone, replaced by a quiet warmth that made his next words even harder to ignore.
"You’re not using me," he said gently.
Emma’s breath hitched as she searched his face.
"You never have."
She looked away again, but he lifted her hand gently, keeping her anchored without forcing her to stay.
"If something matters to you," he continued, his voice calm and unwavering, "then it matters to me. That isn’t an obligation. That’s not you leaning on me. That’s us being on the same side."
Emma swallowed hard, her eyes lowering again.
"But what if I’m wrong?" she asked quietly.
He didn’t hesitate.
"Then I stay right here with you until we figure out what’s right."
Something tightened in her chest at that. Not relief exactly, and not pain either, but something that sat between both of them, too heavy to name cleanly.
She leaned back slightly, her eyes closing for a brief moment as fatigue pressed behind them again. The headaches had become familiar lately, arriving without warning whenever her thoughts refused to settle.
Brandon noticed the change in her expression immediately and studied her face with quiet concern.
"Is your head hurting again?" he asked.
Emma gave a small nod before pressing her fingers lightly against her temple.
"I think it’s just stress," she admitted.
His expression darkened slightly, concern threading through his calm.
"You’ve been carrying too much alone," he said quietly.
"I’m not trying to," she replied, though she could hear the exhaustion beneath her words.
"I know," he said, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. "But you are."
The chamber fell into silence again, but it was no longer empty.
It was full of everything she hadn’t yet figured out how to say.
And somewhere beneath it all, Lunara’s voice lingered like an echo she couldn’t turn off.
"Please don’t leave me."
Emma’s fingers tightened slightly in Brandon’s hand.
Because for the first time, she understood something she wasn’t ready to fully admit.
It wasn’t just pity or guilt anymore—it had become something far heavier.
By the time she realized what her kindness had set in motion... It was already too late.
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