Chapter 355: Wanting to End It All
Chapter 355 of "Mated To The Crippled Alpha" begins revealing exciting developments: I never liked calling her Camilla.That name had been stained by Wisteria.So to me, she... Donât stop now!
I never liked calling her Camilla.That name had been stained by Wisteria.
So to me, she would always be Whitney.
She was like a snowflake, fragile and lost, with nowhere safe to land. But now that I had found her again, I wanted her life to move forward in peace.
Whitney bit her lip.
"But Elena, I still feel uneasy. He wonât let me go that easily."
"Itâs okay," I said. "One step at a time. Lewis and I are here. The most important thing is that you donât give up. Whitney, trust me. You still have so much to live for. Donât let one scumbag ruin your whole life. There are people in this world who will love you."
Whitney suddenly wrapped her arms around me tightly.
"Elena, I never want to leave you again."
I held her back and smiled.
"Donât worry. Iâm not going anywhere."
"Okay."
"For now, just cooperate with Vito. Donât provoke him. Once the chip is removed, weâll decide what to do next."
She nodded through her tears.
"You paved this road for me with your blood. I wonât let you down."
The determination in her eyes finally eased something inside me.
"Good."
This house was full of people hiding things.
Not long after, Vitoâs wounds were wrapped up. He stood by the door, his deep eyes fixed only on Whitney. It was not until he stopped smiling that I noticed how much his eyes looked like Lewisâs. Dark. Deep. Impossible to read. Like a midnight sky with no stars.
"Camilla, come here," he said.
Whitney glanced at me first.
I squeezed her hand gently, reminding her of what we agreed.
She did not fight him. She calmly walked over to Vito without provoking him. I knew better than to interfere right now, so I simply kept walking past them.
Still, worry stayed in my chest.
Amberâs behavior had been strange, almost unstable. And Vito... I could not help wondering if he had inherited that same darkness from her.
At the end of the hallway, I turned back.
And froze.
Vito had pulled Whitney into a tight embrace. His tall frame covered hers almost completely. Even from that distance, I could hear the tremor in his voice.
"Camilla... do you really want to leave me that badly?"
How different life would have been if Vito had not been born a Blackwell.
I let out a soft sigh and turned away. Lewis and Yael were nowhere in sight, but then a cry of pain came from Yaelâs room. My heart jumped. For a second, I worried Lewis might have gone too far, so I followed the sound.
The room smelled strongly of blood.
Lewis stood by the bed with his sleeves rolled up, his watch set aside. There was a dagger in his hand, the blade smeared with ointment. His eyes were cold in a way that made the whole room feel dangerous.
"So, dear cousin," he said icily, "do you like my mate that much?"
As he spoke, he slowly dragged the flat of the blade across Yaelâs back. I could see the blurred wound there, and the untouched skin around it had broken out in goosebumps.
I had never seen anyone use a knife to apply medicine before.
For one strange second, I honestly could not tell which of them was more twisted.
"Lewis."
I pushed the half-open door wider and stepped inside.
The moment he saw me, something uneasy flashed across his face. Yael looked up too, wearing that same innocent expression of his.
"Elena..."
Lewis immediately tossed the dagger aside. "Donât misunderstand. I was just cutting open his bandages."
I looked at Yaelâs bleeding back, then smiled faintly. "Go ahead. Itâs fine."
I did not blame Lewis.
Yael was not innocent either. His hard life was not my fault, but he had still played a part in separating Lewis and me. He had hurt me in ways I could never deny. He had taken my voice. He had dragged me into suffering.
And Lewis had always stood on my side without hesitation.
What we had between us had already crossed the line between life and death. There was no point pretending otherwise.
Disappointment flickered in Yaelâs eyes, but I ignored it and looked around the room instead.
Lewis seemed to lose interest in tormenting him after that. He set the knife aside and started treating the wound properly.
As I glanced around, my eyes landed on a framed photo.
It showed a couple with two children.
Amber looked much younger there, probably in her forties or fifties now but appearing barely in her thirties in the picture. She carried that same cold beauty, though in the photo she looked younger, quieter, almost naive, like a woman in her early twenties. The man beside her was tall and dignified, and he looked a lot like Vito. His arm rested lightly on Amberâs shoulder, and his face carried a gentle, refined warmth.
Vito looked truly happy in that photo.
Then there was Yael, maybe around one year old, dressed in yellow duck overalls. His cheeks were soft and round, and his slightly curly hair made him look almost angelic. He resembled Amber a lot, but unlike her serious face, he smiled brightly.
The man and the boys all looked happy.
It seemed to be their only family photo.
"How did your father die?" I asked.
"In a car accident," Yael replied. He lay on the pillow with his back to me, his voice quieter now.
After a pause, he said, "Elena, I know you want to take Whitney away. You think Vito is a monster, but youâve misunderstood him. Without Vito, she would have died a long time ago."
I stayed silent and let him continue.
"When Whitney first came to the Blackwells at five years old, my father hated the Morrigans so much that killing her would have meant nothing to him. Vito may have restricted her freedom, but he still gave her the best life he could. Without him, she could have ended up as a blood donor, a source for organs, or worse. She could have become someoneâs toy. Vito has always been the one shielding her."
His voice grew lower.
"Youâve only been here a few days, Elena. What do you really know about us? You see the Morrigans as victims, but havenât the Blackwells suffered too? My father lived with the bitterness left behind by the older generation. He struggled with schizophrenia and depression. He watched his parents die and carried pain his whole life, even though that life was short."
I had no easy answer for that.