CHAPTER 89: 89 - NEVER HER

89

~Belinda’s POV

Lisa opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She just looked at me, heartbroken, maybe. But I didn’t care. I was done. I pointed at the door again.

"Leave. Now."

Lisa hesitated. For a split second, I thought she might argue. I saw it in her eyes, the way her lips quivered like she wanted to say something, to defend herself, to beg maybe. But she didn’t. She turned around slowly, her shoulders sagging with defeat, and walked out the door. Quietly. Without another word.

As soon as the door shut behind her, a deep breath escaped my lips.

Finally.

Peace.

I stood there for a moment, not moving, letting the stillness settle. Then I walked over to my bed and dropped onto it, the mattress giving way under me like it had been waiting for this moment too. I laid back, staring at the ceiling, letting the tension bleed out of my muscles one slow breath at a time.

It was done. She was gone.

I’d told her everything, well, not everything, but enough. Enough to make her stop looking at me like I was some heartless brat. Enough to shatter that delusional image she had of our family, of the triplets, of the world she thought she could walk into and magically fix with her sweet smiles and warm hands.

I told her the truth. The raw, ugly truth.

And I didn’t even tell her the worst of it.

I didn’t tell her how I used to stay up all night with my ear pressed to the wall, listening to Kael cry into his pillow. How Damon once stood so still in the corner after a beating, he looked like a broken statue. How Rowan didn’t speak for days after Garrick threw him down the stairs, like words had become too heavy to carry. I didn’t tell her about the time I found blood on my toys and had to throw them away because they reminded me of screams I couldn’t forget.

I didn’t tell her any of that.

I told her enough to scare her. And I hoped it worked.

And I wasn’t about to let her get close enough to ruin what we’ve built.

And now?

Now she knew enough to stay away.

She had to.

She had to understand that love doesn’t erase scars, and this pack wasn’t a fairytale. This was survival. Pain. Loyalty born from shared trauma.

If she had any sense at all... she’d walk away on her own.

And I hoped, truly, that she would.

I stood in the middle of the room, chest rising and falling fast from all the yelling I’d just done. My hands were still trembling a bit, but not from fear, no, not anymore. From release. From power. I had finally said it all. Every word Lisa deserved to hear.

The silence after her footsteps faded brought a strange kind of calm. My room felt... quiet again. Mine again.

I walked to the door and cracked it open, poking my head out into the hallway. One of the young maids stood not far off, pretending to dust the edge of a table. She looked up quickly when she saw me.

"Hey," I said sharply, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

She scrambled over. "Yes, my lady?"

I didn’t waste time. "Go get me alcohol. Something strong. The good kind. And I want music, real music. Bring in the speakers from the great hall."

She blinked at me, clearly unsure. "Right now, my lady?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like someone who’s in the mood to be questioned?"

Her eyes widened. "No, my lady! Right away."

I shut the door with a heavy sigh and walked to the vanity. I stared at myself in the mirror, eyes a little red, hair messy from pacing and yelling, lips still curled in something close to a smirk.

Lisa was gone.

And I could breathe.

Not even two minutes passed before I heard a soft knock and the door opened. The girl pushed in a trolley with two big speakers on top and set down a bottle of dark liquor and a single glass. She stood there awkwardly, waiting.

"Should I pour it for you, my lady?" she asked softly.

I shook my head. "No. Leave. Lock the door behind you."

She obeyed quickly, and once I heard the door click shut, I turned on the speakers. The bass hit instantly, deep and wild. Old music, the kind that made your bones remember places they’d never been.

I poured myself a full glass, held it up in the air like I was toasting ghosts, and muttered, "To pain."

Then I drank.

The burn hit my chest hard. I loved it.

I let the music move through me. I danced alone in the middle of the room, my bare feet sliding against the cool floor, my head thrown back. I laughed, at what, I don’t know. Maybe just because I could.

Because Lisa wasn’t here to cry and whine and pretend she understood.

No one understood the triplets like I did.

"They were babies," I slurred, lifting the bottle straight to my lips this time. "Starving. Crying in the dark. He didn’t even look at them. Didn’t feed them. And Lisa thinks she can walk in here with her soft voice and fix everything?"

I scoffed. The thought made me want to laugh and scream at the same time.

"She knows nothing..."

The music pounded harder, vibrating through the floor, through my legs, my arms. I spun, slow and tipsy, like I was dancing in a dream. The room was spinning, but I didn’t care.

Another glass.

Another.

I didn’t even know when I dropped the third. The glass slipped from my hand and rolled across the floor. I didn’t bother to pick it up.

My knees were weak. My head felt heavy. I collapsed onto the bed, sinking into the soft mattress with a groan. I turned onto my side and stared at the wall, breathing hard.

"She better stay gone," I muttered to no one.

Lisa. That foolish, emotional mess. Crying as if that would change what happened. As if she ever stood a chance. She didn’t know what they’d been through. I was the only one who knew. I was the only one who saw them. Who felt for them.

And that made me the rightful Luna.

Not her.

Never her.

My eyes fluttered shut, the world blurring.

The music kept playing, but I was already drifting, half dreaming, half drowning in the haze of alcohol and anger.

And for the first time in a long while, I felt at peace.