Chapter 154

Chapter 154
Third person POV
Lance hadn’t been able to sit still since the call.
The sun had sunk low, casting long shadows across the desk of the ship. He paced the length of the room, running a hand through his hair, then stopping abruptly only to start again.
Nolan’s words echoed like a pulse in his mind-steady, relentless possible to silence.
I lied. Dad was still alive. I spoke to him.
He could still hear the rasp in Nolan’s voice, the way it had cracked-not with weakness, but with the raw truth of someone who’d been holding it in too long.
For years, Lance had believed a simpler version of the story. Their parents had been caught in a rogue ambush when they’d gone searching for Nolan. Nolan had run away. He’d led them into danger. It was all his fault.
There had been grief, yes, but not guilt. Not like this. He’d hated Nolan for most of their adult lives. Nolan was the one who took his parents from him. That was what he thought…
And he’d watched through the years as Nolan, cold and unfeeling, ad made the most selfish decisions possible. He hadn’t sent Lance to the alpha training camp when he came of age. He’d kept Felicity around, given her everything her rotten little heart desired. He’s focused solely on gaining power and influence.
Then he’d married a rogue girl, one younger than him and completley out of place in polite society. Not even because he liked her, solely to produce a strong heir.
Nolan was a pompous, selfish, arrogant, heartless prick…
Now everything he thought he knew had come undone.
He dropped into the nearest chair and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Anger warred with sympathy in his chest, both fierce and unfamiliar. How was he supposed to reconcile the brother who had raised him-the one who had carried their pack through crisis after crisis with that cold resolve-with the boy who’d watched their parents die because of a single reckless decision?
The truth made him feel small.
He thought back to those years after the ambush. He’d been young barely more than a child, and Nolan had stepped into their father’s role without hesitation. Like he’d wanted it. Like he deserved it.
Lance had resented him, his control, his focus, his certainty. It had never occurred to him that all of that discipline was just armor forged from guilt.
He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.
How many times had he judged Nolan? For being cold. For being distant. For holding people at arm’s length.
Now, knowing the truth, it all made a terrible kind of sense.
The anger didn’t fade, it simply shifted direction. He wasn’t angry at Nolan anymore. Not entirely. He was angry at the people who had made Nolan believe he had to bear everything alone.
Their parents had demanded strength from him before he’d ever had the chance to be young.
They’d shaped him into a weapon and then died, leaving him to clean up the mess. And somehow, Lance had missed it.
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the red and orange of the sunset flickering across the water.
“You idiot,” he murmured under his breath. “You’ve been carrying this the whole time.”
Then there was the Felicity thing.
Their dad’s last words had been a blessing of that relationship. Of course Nolan felt like he was stuck with her. Leaving her after what happened would be like admitting their parents died for nothing.
It explained so much. The way he gave in to her whining when he would have torn anyone else apart The way he’d forgiven her behavior. forgiven her behavio When anyone else would have been thrown out on their ass. And the way that he allowed Ellie to be treated…
If he let himself feel for her, then it risked breaking apart the balance he thought he had to maintain. Be happy with Felicity. That would have, felt like an order to Nolan. Just another expectation from their parents that he had to follow, no matter what.

He poured himself a drink, though the whiskey burned too hot against his throat to
be comforting.
He thought of Ellie next, of how she
must have seen sides of Nolan that he never had. Maybe she had felt the weight of that old guilt too, buried beneath all that control. And maybe she’d been crushed under it, the way everyone else had been, without ever knowing where it came from.
Lance hated how much sense it made.
For years, he’d painted Ellie as the problem, the fragile one, the unpredictable one,
the reason Nolan seemed to constantly on edge. But maybe she’d just been a
mirror, reflecting back everything Nolan had never wanted to see in himself.