Chapter 140: Crazy

Lorali Pov

I was literally happy.

Sitting on the edge of the sleek kitchen counter in the early morning quiet, I replayed the previous afternoon’s scene over and over in my head, relishing every single expression that had flashed across their faces when I strolled through the front door with Oracle trailing behind me.

The silence in the penthouse had been absolute since yesterday. Time itself seemed to have paused. No one had spoken a single word to anyone else after that spectacle in the living room. Lowkey, they couldn’t even blame me for the chaos, they were already beating the living hell out of each other long before I even stepped foot in the entryway. None of this was my fault. Well, except for the part where I turned their Oracle into my leash-bound dog. But other than that? I was completely, blameless.

I let out a soft hum, watching the water inside the electric kettle begin to bubble and steam.

I was making myself a hot cup of tea, silently thanking whatever instinct had made me buy those specific tea bags when I went out a while ago. Otherwise, I would have had absolutely nothing to drink, because this multi-million penthouse still had zero real food in it. I truly wondered what these idiots were planning. Was anyone in this pack ever going to step up and actually buy groceries, or were they just planning on starving to death while posturing as powerful Alphas?

I clicked my tongue as the kettle reached its boiling point with a sharp, metallic click.

I poured the steaming water over the tea leaves, carefully adding a touch of honey and stirring it slowly. In the past, I had never been a tea person. Coffee was always my fuel. But as I’ve grown a year older, through all the madness, I felt as though I had naturally transitioned into a tea person. There was something cold, controlled, and methodical about holding a warm mug while watching everything around me crumble.

I leaned back against the marble island, taking a small, slow sip, thoroughly enjoying the peaceful stillness.

My moment of quiet was interrupted by a faint, defeated sigh coming from the direction of the staircase.

I didn’t turn my head right away, just kept my lips pressed against the rim of my cup. Soft, hesitant footsteps echoed down the floating stairs, and a moment later, Walter walked into my line of sight.

He was dressed in comfortable, loose-fitting loungewear, looking entirely relaxed. In fact, he looked at peace with himself. I felt a sudden, sharp prick of irritation in my chest as I stared at him. Why on earth did he look so calm?

Our eyes met, locking together in an intensely awkward beat. The last time we had been in the same room, I was smashing his precious, priceless vases against the floor until there was only a single one left standing.

I didn’t move an inch. I just held my mug with both hands, my cold dark eyes following his every movement as he awkwardly made his way into the kitchen, rubbing his hands together nervously, Walter offered me a tentative, timid smile. "Good morning, Lorali."

"Hmm," I acknowledged, making a low, flat sound from the back of my throat before taking another slow sip of my tea.

He moved around the kitchen as if he were a guest in his own home, treading lightly on the floor. I didn’t shift my posture, but my eyes tracked him like a hawk. He walked over to the pantry and pulled the tall wooden doors open, looking inside for food.

I almost laughed out loud. He was in for a very rude awakening.

Walter stood at the open pantry for a solid ten seconds, just staring blankly at the empty shelves, until it finally, dawns on him that there was literally nothing to eat. He closed the pantry doors slowly and moved over to the massive double-door refrigerator. He pulled it open, stared at the barren interior, and let out a soft, dry laugh.

"There’s no food," he said, turning his head slightly toward me. "Hmm," I hummed again, giving him the exact same indifferent, acknowledging sound as before.

"Okay," Walter said softly, closing the fridge. "I’m going to go now."

He turned to walk out of the kitchen, taking two slow steps toward the living room, before he suddenly stopped. He hovered there for a second, hesitated, and then turned back around to face me fully.

"I’m not mad about the vases, Lorali," he said quietly. I kept my mug near my lips, my eyes narrowing slightly.

"I know things are awkward between us," Walter continued, his voice gentle, devoid of any edge or malice. "And I am still very, very sorry for what happened in the past. I still blame myself for how everything ended up between us. I just... I wanted you to know that what I said to you that day was true. Even if I didn’t have a proper way of conveying it back then... I am truly sorry for the way things played out."

I didn’t say a word. I just stared at him over the rim of my glass.

"I’m not just saying this because you’re a fated mate to this pack," he added, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes met mine with unshakeable sincerity. "I’ve been feeling bad about it for a long, long time. But back then... my own rage blinded me. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t expect you to forgive any of us, honestly. You are free to convey your anger in whatever way you wish. You don’t have to stay in this pack if you don’t want to, and if you ever need help with anything, anything at all, I will gladly help you with care. I want you to know that I truly do care for you, Lorali. And I will forever pay for what I’ve done." Silence fell over the kitchen.

Something about his apology felt deeply, utterly.... condescending. It made my blood begin to simmer beneath my skin. The way he spoke, so gentle, so understanding, so entirely forgiving, made it feel as though I was the one who was crazy.

And there were many things in this world that I absolutely loathed, but feeling like I was the crazy one was something I could not stand.

I hated the peace I saw in his eyes. I hated it with every fiber of my being. I had literally just broken things that meant the absolute world to him—vases he had cherished for years—he should be throwing a violent fit! He should be screaming, crying, or glaring at me with raw resentment! Why was he standing there looking so peaceful?!

I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it one bit.

I hated seeing him at peace while I was still burning inside. Breaking his treasures was supposed to have broken him. Did one week of being locked away in his heat literally heal him of all his pain? And then, like a sudden bolt of clarity, it hit me.

He had been locked in his nest for a week due to his heat. He probably had no idea what had happened yesterday. He didn’t know about the press conference. He didn’t know about Torin. A dark, sharp smile spread across my face as I lowered my teacup, looking him dead in the eye.

"You don’t know, do you?" I drawled, my voice dripping with sweet, lethal poison. "Torin held a live press conference yesterday, Walter. On national television. He declared my name to the entire world. Every news outlet, every gossip forum knows that I am fated to the Spade pack. Everyone knows that I wasn’t some leech, or some gold-digger, or some trash lying on your name like you all so graciously claimed."I pushed myself off the counter, taking a slow, deliberate step toward him.

"Many of the people in your circles were watching," I whispered, my smile widening as I watched his expression. "They know you are a liar now. They know this entire pack is a disaster. Your reputation is completely finished."

I walked closer, stopping just a foot away from him, searching his face intently. I waited to see the flash of panic. I waited to see the sudden flare of irritation, the anger, the realization that control was slipping entirely out of his grip.

But I didn’t see it.

It wasn’t there.

Instead, as I came to a halt right in front of him, Walter looked at me... and smiled.

"Congratulations," Walter said softly, his tone completely genuine. "Honestly, Lorali... I would have done it myself if Torin hadn’t done it first."

My smile froze.

"I’m not upset like you think I am," Walter continued, stepping half an inch closer, his soft gaze searching my furious eyes. "I truly want you to know that I’m not acting. I want you to find happiness, Lorali. I really do. But... I can tell that you are living in anger right now. I’ve been there. I’ve lived in that exact same anger before, and it is no place to live. Nothing you ever do will ever satisfy that anger if you do not choose to let it go."

Let it go?

The absolute, unadulterated audacity of this man.

Who the hell did he think he was?! Telling me to let it go?!

My entire body began to shake with a violent, terrifying surge of rage. My hand trembled around the handle of my teacup so hard the hot liquid sloshed over the rim, burning the sensitive skin of my knuckles. I was seriously, actively contemplating flinging the entire cup of boiling hot tea directly into his peaceful face.

I wanted to burn his skin off. I wanted to disfigure him right here in this kitchen, and then look down at his screaming, scarred face and tell him to let it go then.

Walter just offered me another soft, gentle smile. He reached out and lightly, briefly touched the back of my trembling hand with the tips of his fingers. "Take care of yourself, Lorali," he murmured gently.

He turned around and walked out of the kitchen, his soft footsteps fading down the hallway toward the living room.

I stood completely frozen in the middle of the kitchen, rage suffocating me from the inside out. My fingers clenched around the porcelain teacup, the heat scalding my palm, but the physical pain didn’t bother me at all. The inferno raging inside my chest was a thousand times hotter.

I was supposed to have won. I came back here, I brought Oracle on a leash, I ruined the pack’s reputation, I smashed Walter’s vases. I won.

So why did it feel like I hadn’t won anything at all? Why did it feel like I was stuck in a pathetic, endless competition with myself while they just stood there giving me pity?! Why wasn’t he fighting back?!

"AH!" I screamed, a raw, furious sound ripping from my throat.

With all the strength in my arm, I hurled the ceramic teacup across the room. It slammed violently against the far kitchen wall, shattering into a hundred sharp, jagged pieces and splashing dark tea all over the pristine white wallpaper.

My chest heaved as I dropped heavily onto the cold floor tiles, pulling my knees to my chest. I slammed my back against the base of the kitchen island, pressing the palms of my hands violently over my ears to drown out the suffocating silence of the penthouse.

"I am happy," I whispered frantically to myself in the dark, squeezing my eyes shut so tight my vision swam. "I am happy. I am exactly where I want to be."

He had no idea what he was talking about. None of them did. And he was going to pay for that arrogant, patronizing mouth.