Chapter 594 Then I Found You

“You lied to me.”

The sentence was supposed to be steel. It came out cracked.

Her eyes filled. The filling was instantaneous, involuntary, the kind that happened before the brain could intervene and tell the tear ducts to stand down. She blinked and the blink cost her because two tears slipped and she couldn’t take them back.

“I’m sorry Fin. I lied to myself first.” Her voice came out hoarse, much rougher than she realized it would. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’re the last person I want to hurt.”

The matebond was screaming.

His anger slammed into her so hard she winced, which her ribs punished her for.

Fin’s hands were shaking.

He looked down at them. Watched them tremble against the desk like they belonged to a different man, a man whose body had decided that the composure the brain was demanding was a price it was no longer willing to pay.

Finnick Shadowclaw’s hands did not shake. His hands held swords and treaties and women and power and they held all of them steady because steadiness was the tax his body paid for the privilege of being him.

They were shaking now.

It was because her grief ricocheted into his hurt. His hurt amplified her guilt. Her guilt fed back into his anger at a higher volume, and the volume kept climbing, each cycle louder than the last. They were caught in a feedback loop that neither could control, every emotion bouncing off every wall, amplifying and returning and amplifying again until the room was so full of feeling it was hard to breathe.

“I can’t do this with the matebond on,” he said through his teeth. “Every time I try to think, I feel you, and every time I feel you, I lose the thought, and I’m losing this conversation to your goddamn guilt, Serena. I need you to manage your goddamn feelings.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. He had never talked to her like that before.

He spoke before she could find the words.

“Try harder.”

That made it worse. She was trying. But her heart was breaking because he was breaking and that wasn’t something she could just turn off.

Fin pressed both fists against the desk. His head dropped forward. His breath left him in a long, shaking exhale that carried every ounce of armor he’d spent the day constructing, the sound of a man whose control was a castle and the castle was coming down and the evacuation was happening whether he authorized it or otherwise.

“I lost her.”

Serena’s breath caught.

“She died, and I carried that, and I told myself every single day that the universe owed me. That somewhere, sometime, the balance would correct. That fate would look at what it took from me and give me something back that was mine. A second chance that was whole.”

The matebond delivered his grief in colors she’d never tasted. Old grief. Structural grief. The kind that had been absorbed into his bones and become part of the architecture, indistinguishable from the man it had built.

“Then I found you.”

His voice cracked on “you.” The crack was hairline, barely audible, the fracture line in a foundation that had been holding weight for years and had just been asked to hold more.

“And you were everything. You were the answer to every question I’d been screaming into the dark since she died. You were the correction. The apology. The universe finally saying sorry in a language I could understand.”

Tears were running down her face now. Silently. She let them fall because stopping them would have required energy she was spending on breathing and breathing was taking everything she had.

“Then Dexmon. And I lived with that. I fucking lived with it, Serena, because he was first and because the matebond was real and because sharing you with one man was a wound I could learn to carry. I was learning. I was LEARNING.”

His fist hit the desk.

The sound was loud, final, the crack of bone on wood that echoed off Shadowfell’s stone walls and announced to every molecule of air in the room that the quiet part of this conversation was over.

“THREE. The universe looked at me and said, ’here’s your second chance, Finnick, here’s your whole, here’s your apology,’ and then it handed me a FRACTION. A third. A goddamn time-share on the one thing that was supposed to be MINE.”

The matebond exploded.

His anguish hit her so hard her vision whited out at the edges. The feedback loop that had been building since she sat down reached critical mass, his pain amplifying her pain amplifying his, the signal doubling and tripling until neither of them could identify which feelings were theirs and which belonged to the other person.

“Fin,” she gasped.

“Am I enough?” he roared. “Was I EVER enough? Because the math keeps changing and the math keeps saying MORE and more means I’m LESS, Serena. Every matebond you add takes a piece of what was supposed to be ours and gives it to a man who didn’t EARN it and didn’t WAIT for it and didn’t spend YEARS in the fucking dark wondering if the universe even remembered he existed!”

The roar shook the room.

Finnick Shadowclaw had never raised his voice at her. Never. He was the calm one. The steady one. The man whose register stayed low when everything was burning because low was how you led and leading was breathing.

“You were always enough. Please don’t ever think that you weren’t. You are more than enough,” she said, voice cracking.

“Do you love him?”

Three words. Quiet. The quietest he’d been all night, which was right, because the most dangerous questions were always the quietest, delivered at a volume that matched the courage required to say them.

The matebond was wide open. Whatever she said next, he would feel the truth of it in his chest before the words finished leaving her mouth. There was no room for lies, no room for omission, no room for the self-deception that had gotten them here. The matebond was a lie detector wired directly into their cardiovascular systems and the systems were currently running at maximum sensitivity.

But she wouldn’t have lied to him without that. She just hadn’t admitted it to herself until now.

“Yes.”