The Alpha's forbidden omega mate - Chapter 311: Chapter 311
You are reading The Alpha's forbidden omega mate, Chapter 311: Chapter 311. Read more chapters of The Alpha's forbidden omega mate.
Rowan POV:
“Isabelle, we need to talk.”
My voice, though soft, held a weight of unspoken emotions, a history of shared experiences, a bond forged in the fires of loss and grief, a love that had been twisted, distorted, denied.
I stood before her in the quiet of her study, the scent of lavender and sandalwood, a familiar comfort, now tinged with a sadness that mirrored my own, a reminder of the life we’d almost shared, the future we’d both lost.
As she’d navigated the treacherous waters of pack politics, the constant threat of rogue attacks, the ever-present shadow of Damien’s darkness.
And now… now I was back.
But the world had changed.
I had changed.
And she… she had changed too.
“Rowan.” She greeted me with a sad smile, her amber eyes, usually so bright, so full of fire, now clouded with a weariness I recognized, a grief we shared, a loss we’d both endured. “It’s… good to see you… here.”
Her words, though sincere, held a formality, a distance, that made my heart ache, a reminder of the chasm that separated us, the love we’d never truly found, the destiny we’d both been denied.
“You too, Isabelle,” I replied, my voice a low rumble, my gaze meeting hers, my amber eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and regret, a love that had been twisted, a destiny that had been rewritten.
“I… I owe you… an apology.”
She nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, a nervous gesture I’d never noticed before, a vulnerability that made my wolf whimper, a primal instinct to protect, to comfort, to reclaim a bond that had never truly been ours.
“I know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, the weight of my absence, the life she’d lived without me, the choices she’d made, the sacrifices she’d endured, heavy in the silence.
“I understand, Rowan. You did what you thought was best. For Catrina. For the pack. For all of us.”
Her words, a forgiveness I hadn’t dared to hope for, a generosity of spirit that made my heart ache with a mix of gratitude and a profound sense of loss, brought a lump to my throat, tears stinging my eyes.
“Thank you, Isabelle,” I whispered, my voice breaking, my gaze holding hers, a silent acknowledgment of the sacrifices she’d made, the strength she’d shown, the love she’d given, even in the face of my… betrayal.
“I hurt you, Isabelle,” I said, my voice gaining strength, a new resolve replacing the guilt, the shame, the uncertainty. “ I made a promise that I couldn’t keep. And I’m sorry.”
She nodded again, her gaze still fixed on the floor, her silence a heavy weight in the room, a reminder of the unspoken words, the unfulfilled promises, the love that had been denied.
“It’s… it’s alright, Rowan,” she said finally, her voice a soft murmur, a quiet strength, a resilience that made my heart ache with a mix of admiration and a profound sense of loss.
“I… I understand. You… you were… confused. Lost. You… you didn’t know… what you were… doing.”
Her words, a forgiveness I hadn’t earned, a generosity of spirit that humbled me, made me want to reach out, to touch her, to comfort her, to… to reclaim a bond that had never truly been ours.
But I couldn’t.
Not anymore.
“Our marriage was a mistake, Isabelle,” I said, my voice a quiet certainty, a truth we both knew, a destiny that had been rewritten.
“It was… my father’s will, Rowan,” she agreed, her gaze finally meeting mine, her amber eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored my own, a shared understanding of the sacrifices we’d both made, the love we’d both lost. “A political alliance. A means to an end. It was never real.”
“I know,” I said, my voice a soft rumble, my gaze holding hers, a silent acknowledgment of the truth we’d both been denying, the destiny we’d both been trying to escape.
“And… I’m… I’m sorry, Isabelle. For… for everything.”
“It’s… it’s not your fault, Rowan,” she said, her voice a gentle echo, her words a balm to my wounded soul, a forgiveness I hadn’t earned.
“We were both pawns in his game. Victims of… circumstance. Of destiny.”
She paused, her gaze searching mine, her amber eyes filled with a mix of sadness and a quiet strength, a resilience that made my heart ache with a love that had been twisted, a destiny that had been rewritten.
“You belong with Catrina, Rowan,” she said, her voice a soft whisper, her words a gift, a release, a blessing. “And with Lucas. They’re your family. Your your future.”
Her words, a generosity of spirit I hadn’t expected, a love that transcended the boundaries of our broken bond, the destiny we’d been denied, brought a lump to my throat, tears stinging my eyes.
“Thank you, Isabelle,” I whispered, my voice breaking, my gaze holding hers, a silent promise to honor her sacrifice, to cherish the memory of the life we’d almost shared, to fight for the future she’d given me.
“I won’t let you down.”
We stood there for a moment, the silence heavy with unspoken emotions, the weight of our shared past, the uncertainty of our future, the love that had been, the love that could never be.
And then, with a shared glance, a silent understanding, a mutual respect, we turned and walked away, our paths diverging, our destinies unfolding, our love… transformed.
I’d hurt her, Isabelle. Made a promise I couldn't keep. I owed her an explanation, an apology.
“Isabelle,” I began, my voice rough, the weight of unspoken words heavy on my tongue. “I know I…”
“Rowan,” she interrupted, her voice gentle but firm.
“You don’t need to explain. I understand. You were lost. Confused. And I was naive. We both were. We were playing a game with rules we didn’t understand.”
Her words, surprisingly understanding, eased the knot of guilt in my stomach. “But I still hurt you, Isabelle,” I insisted, my gaze meeting hers. “I made a promise I couldn’t keep. I…”
“You did what you thought was right, Rowan,” she said, her amber eyes holding a depth of understanding that surprised me.
“For Catrina. For your son. We all make mistakes. Especially when love is involved.” A sad smile touched her lips. “And perhaps this mistake was necessary. For both of us.”
A wave of gratitude washed over me. She was offering me absolution, a chance to move forward, to reclaim the happiness I’d almost lost.
“Thank you, Isabelle,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything,” she replied, her smile widening. “Just promise me you’ll be happy, Rowan. Promise me you’ll find your way back to Catrina. To Lucas. They need you.”
Her words, a selfless act of love, a release from the chains of our past, brought tears to my eyes.
“I promise, Isabelle,” I said, my voice firm, my heart filled with a renewed sense of hope.
“I’ll find my way back to them. And I’ll never let them go. Not again.”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversation I knew was coming, the words that would officially sever the ties that bound us, the destiny we’d both been denied.
“About the marriage, Isabelle…”
She nodded, her gaze meeting mine, her amber eyes clear, steady, a reflection of the strength she possessed, the Alpha she had become.
“I’ll speak to the elders. We’ll arrange the divorce. Make it official.”
“Thank you, Rowan,” she said, a genuine smile touching her lips, a warmth in her amber eyes that made my heart ache with a mix of gratitude and a bittersweet longing.
“ I wish you all the happiness in the world. You and Catrina. You deserve a second chance.”
Her words, a blessing, a gift, a reminder of the love that still burned within me, filled my heart with a renewed sense of hope, a fierce determination to make things right, to honor her sacrifice, to be the Alpha, the mate, the father, they all deserved.
“Isabelle, we need to talk.”
My voice, though soft, held a weight of unspoken emotions, a history of shared experiences, a bond forged in the fires of loss and grief, a love that had been twisted, distorted, denied.
I stood before her in the quiet of her study, the scent of lavender and sandalwood, a familiar comfort, now tinged with a sadness that mirrored my own, a reminder of the life we’d almost shared, the future we’d both lost.
As she’d navigated the treacherous waters of pack politics, the constant threat of rogue attacks, the ever-present shadow of Damien’s darkness.
And now… now I was back.
But the world had changed.
I had changed.
And she… she had changed too.
“Rowan.” She greeted me with a sad smile, her amber eyes, usually so bright, so full of fire, now clouded with a weariness I recognized, a grief we shared, a loss we’d both endured. “It’s… good to see you… here.”
Her words, though sincere, held a formality, a distance, that made my heart ache, a reminder of the chasm that separated us, the love we’d never truly found, the destiny we’d both been denied.
“You too, Isabelle,” I replied, my voice a low rumble, my gaze meeting hers, my amber eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and regret, a love that had been twisted, a destiny that had been rewritten.
“I… I owe you… an apology.”
She nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, a nervous gesture I’d never noticed before, a vulnerability that made my wolf whimper, a primal instinct to protect, to comfort, to reclaim a bond that had never truly been ours.
“I know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, the weight of my absence, the life she’d lived without me, the choices she’d made, the sacrifices she’d endured, heavy in the silence.
“I understand, Rowan. You did what you thought was best. For Catrina. For the pack. For all of us.”
Her words, a forgiveness I hadn’t dared to hope for, a generosity of spirit that made my heart ache with a mix of gratitude and a profound sense of loss, brought a lump to my throat, tears stinging my eyes.
“Thank you, Isabelle,” I whispered, my voice breaking, my gaze holding hers, a silent acknowledgment of the sacrifices she’d made, the strength she’d shown, the love she’d given, even in the face of my… betrayal.
“I hurt you, Isabelle,” I said, my voice gaining strength, a new resolve replacing the guilt, the shame, the uncertainty. “ I made a promise that I couldn’t keep. And I’m sorry.”
She nodded again, her gaze still fixed on the floor, her silence a heavy weight in the room, a reminder of the unspoken words, the unfulfilled promises, the love that had been denied.
“It’s… it’s alright, Rowan,” she said finally, her voice a soft murmur, a quiet strength, a resilience that made my heart ache with a mix of admiration and a profound sense of loss.
“I… I understand. You… you were… confused. Lost. You… you didn’t know… what you were… doing.”
Her words, a forgiveness I hadn’t earned, a generosity of spirit that humbled me, made me want to reach out, to touch her, to comfort her, to… to reclaim a bond that had never truly been ours.
But I couldn’t.
Not anymore.
“Our marriage was a mistake, Isabelle,” I said, my voice a quiet certainty, a truth we both knew, a destiny that had been rewritten.
“It was… my father’s will, Rowan,” she agreed, her gaze finally meeting mine, her amber eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored my own, a shared understanding of the sacrifices we’d both made, the love we’d both lost. “A political alliance. A means to an end. It was never real.”
“I know,” I said, my voice a soft rumble, my gaze holding hers, a silent acknowledgment of the truth we’d both been denying, the destiny we’d both been trying to escape.
“And… I’m… I’m sorry, Isabelle. For… for everything.”
“It’s… it’s not your fault, Rowan,” she said, her voice a gentle echo, her words a balm to my wounded soul, a forgiveness I hadn’t earned.
“We were both pawns in his game. Victims of… circumstance. Of destiny.”
She paused, her gaze searching mine, her amber eyes filled with a mix of sadness and a quiet strength, a resilience that made my heart ache with a love that had been twisted, a destiny that had been rewritten.
“You belong with Catrina, Rowan,” she said, her voice a soft whisper, her words a gift, a release, a blessing. “And with Lucas. They’re your family. Your your future.”
Her words, a generosity of spirit I hadn’t expected, a love that transcended the boundaries of our broken bond, the destiny we’d been denied, brought a lump to my throat, tears stinging my eyes.
“Thank you, Isabelle,” I whispered, my voice breaking, my gaze holding hers, a silent promise to honor her sacrifice, to cherish the memory of the life we’d almost shared, to fight for the future she’d given me.
“I won’t let you down.”
We stood there for a moment, the silence heavy with unspoken emotions, the weight of our shared past, the uncertainty of our future, the love that had been, the love that could never be.
And then, with a shared glance, a silent understanding, a mutual respect, we turned and walked away, our paths diverging, our destinies unfolding, our love… transformed.
I’d hurt her, Isabelle. Made a promise I couldn't keep. I owed her an explanation, an apology.
“Isabelle,” I began, my voice rough, the weight of unspoken words heavy on my tongue. “I know I…”
“Rowan,” she interrupted, her voice gentle but firm.
“You don’t need to explain. I understand. You were lost. Confused. And I was naive. We both were. We were playing a game with rules we didn’t understand.”
Her words, surprisingly understanding, eased the knot of guilt in my stomach. “But I still hurt you, Isabelle,” I insisted, my gaze meeting hers. “I made a promise I couldn’t keep. I…”
“You did what you thought was right, Rowan,” she said, her amber eyes holding a depth of understanding that surprised me.
“For Catrina. For your son. We all make mistakes. Especially when love is involved.” A sad smile touched her lips. “And perhaps this mistake was necessary. For both of us.”
A wave of gratitude washed over me. She was offering me absolution, a chance to move forward, to reclaim the happiness I’d almost lost.
“Thank you, Isabelle,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything,” she replied, her smile widening. “Just promise me you’ll be happy, Rowan. Promise me you’ll find your way back to Catrina. To Lucas. They need you.”
Her words, a selfless act of love, a release from the chains of our past, brought tears to my eyes.
“I promise, Isabelle,” I said, my voice firm, my heart filled with a renewed sense of hope.
“I’ll find my way back to them. And I’ll never let them go. Not again.”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversation I knew was coming, the words that would officially sever the ties that bound us, the destiny we’d both been denied.
“About the marriage, Isabelle…”
She nodded, her gaze meeting mine, her amber eyes clear, steady, a reflection of the strength she possessed, the Alpha she had become.
“I’ll speak to the elders. We’ll arrange the divorce. Make it official.”
“Thank you, Rowan,” she said, a genuine smile touching her lips, a warmth in her amber eyes that made my heart ache with a mix of gratitude and a bittersweet longing.
“ I wish you all the happiness in the world. You and Catrina. You deserve a second chance.”
Her words, a blessing, a gift, a reminder of the love that still burned within me, filled my heart with a renewed sense of hope, a fierce determination to make things right, to honor her sacrifice, to be the Alpha, the mate, the father, they all deserved.
End of The Alpha's forbidden omega mate Chapter 311. Continue reading Chapter 312 or return to The Alpha's forbidden omega mate book page.