The Lycan King’s Mark (Nevara) by Tiffanie L. Campbell novel Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

–

The Letters I Never Sent

Thoren

+25 Point

She asked for them.

The words I never meant for her to see. The pieces of me I buried in ink, never daring to send. She asked.

And I couldn’t say no.

Not when she looked at me like that–torn open and stitched together all at once, like she was trying to decide whether to run toward me or slam the door in my face. And for once, I wasn’t afraid of either.

I was just… relieved she didn’t let me walk away.

I went straight to my office, moving on instinct more than thought. If I paused too long, I’d start doubting myself again. Wondering if giving her these letters was a mistake. If it would hurt more than help.

But she deserved the truth. Every word of it.

The drawer stuck for a second. I yanked it harder and pulled out the black leather journal–the one I’d started the day after I lost her. Every page was filled. Some with poems. Others with half–finished apologies. A few with the rage I was too ashamed to speak out loud. But most of them were hers. Letters I never mailed. Confessions I never gave voice to. I flipped through a few just to be sure.

I saw you again today–in a dream I didn’t want to wake from. You were laughing. Forgiving. Real. I think I would’ve stayed asleep forever if I could have.

The day I rejected you, I carved out something vital and let it rot in my chest. I don’t think I’ve taken a full breath since.

If you’re reading this, I either died or grew brave. And gods help me, I hope it wasn’t the former.

I swallowed hard and closed the journal. She wanted them. Every word.

So I took them to her. She was standing in her doorway when I returned, hair down, shadows beneath her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said as I handed the journal over, her fingers brushing mine.

“You don’t have to read them all at once,” I said, voice quieter than I intended. “Some of them are… messy.

I wasn’t trying to be poetic. I was just trying not to lose my mind.”

She nodded, clutching the journal to her chest like it was something sacred. Like she understood what it

had cost me to hand it over.

I didn’t linger. Didn’t ask if I could stay. I’d already taken enough from her.

But just before I turned, she spoke again.

“Was there ever a version of our story,” she asked, “where we made it?”

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< CHAPTER 29 – The Letters I Never Sent

I exhaled slowly. “Every version I ever imagined.”

And then I walked away, praying she’d find the pieces of me I left behind worth picking up.

+25 Points

The moment I stepped inside my room, I ripped my shirt over my head and turned the shower on full blast.

Not for the warmth. I didn’t feel cold.

I just needed to drown the silence.

Steam billowed out as I stepped under the spray, letting it pour over me, trying to scrub away the weight of

her voice–her tears–her damn honesty that still echoed in my bones.

“You still chose for me,” she’d said.

Gods, that had gutted me. Because she was right.

I’d done it over and over. From the moment I first saw her–wide–eyed and too good for the bloodstained

world she’d been dropped into–I’d decided I knew what was best. Protect her. Shield her. Even if it meant

breaking her heart. Even if it meant disappearing from her life completely.

And maybe that was the first lie I told myself. That I was doing it for her.

Truth was… I was afraid. Afraid that if I let her choose, she might still walk away.

So I ripped that choice out of her hands. And now–after everything–she’s still standing here, giving me space to show her something real.

And I don’t know if I deserve it.

I braced both hands against the tile, head bowed as the water streamed over me. For four years I’d kept her alive in ink and memory. Four years of replaying every moment, every look, every laugh like it was a

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