---- Chapter 19 LAURENCE POV: The silver still burned in my veins, a constant, agonizing fire that no medicine could quench. But it was nothing compared to the pain of waking up alone. The hospital room was sterile and silent. | had expected her to be here. | had gambled everything on the hope that my grand gesture would shatter her cold exterior and bring her back to my side. Instead, my grandmother walked in Madeline's face was a mask of disappointment. She didn't tush to my side or ask about my pain. She stood at the foot of my bed, her arms crossed. "Did you really think this would work?" she asked, her voice sharp as glass. "Did you think hurting yourself would heal the wounds you inflicted on her?" "She had to see how much | love her," | rasped, my throat dry. "She had to know I'd die for her." "That isn't love, Laurence. It's obsession. It's control," she snapped back, her eyes flashing with the authority of a former Luna. "You didn't do this for her. You did it for yourself. To ---- ease your own guilt. She is not a prize to be won back through emotional blackmail. She is a person you broke." Her words hit me harder than the silver knife. She was right. "Is she... is she going to forgive me?" | asked, my voice small. Madeline's expression softened into pity. "No, my boy. She's not. And she shouldn't. You need to let her go." She issued her ultimatum then, not with an Alpha's Command, but with the unshakeable weight of a matriarch's will. "You will recover. You will come home with me. And you will never, ever contact Josie Watson again. This ends now." A fresh wave of despair washed over me. But beneath it, something else began to stir. A dark, cold rage. If | couldn't have Josie's forgiveness, | would have vengeance in her name. My pain, my guilt, my fury-it all needed a target. And that target was Rosalie Harris. A week later, | was discharged. As | left the neutral territories, | focused my mind, picturing Rosalie, and swore a silent oath. | would make her pay for every tear Josie had ever shed. ROSALIE POV: | sat in my mother's lavish sitting room, filing my nails and complaining. "| just don't understand it," | whined, examining a perfect pink ---- nail. "Chris is supposed to be my brother. Why is he helping that little nobody? He's probably sleeping with her. It's disgusting." My mother, sipping her tea, nodded in agreement. "He was always soft, Rosalie. Don't you worry. Once Laurence gets her out of his system, he'll come crawling back to you. He always does." Her words were meant to be reassuring, but a sliver of unease had taken root in my heart. | hadn't been able to reach Laurence for over a week. Every time | tried the Mind-Link, it was like screaming into a wall of stone. He had blocked me. "Laurence, darling? Are you there?" | tried again, sending out a hopeful tendril of thought. Nothing. Just cold, empty silence. A shiver ran down my spine. Something was wrong. Very wrong. But my mother just patted my hand. "He's just sulking, dear. Men and their fragile egos. He'll get over it." We both still believed we were in control of the game. We had no idea that the board had already been flipped, and we were the pieces about to be swept into the fire.