Beyond the Foggy Path

Chapter 71: Was It Worth It?

Erela appeared in the hallway to the front door. It had been days since she last saw the werewolf and she was ready for whatever the werewolf would throw her way; whether it be silence or an annoyed comment.

Wonder if she could distract him with news on her list of possible suspects she planned to observe . . . or—

"Good news for you, I'm going to disappear for another couple of days on a field mission. Don't miss me too much," she called from the door and kicked her shoes off. "I'm just here to get my things," Erela continued.

Wisenburg watched as her shoes chucked across the floor and walk into the living room, "Oh yeah, thanks for letting me know because I was really goin' to notice, I mean you've been around so much lately."

"Yeah yeah, I'll miss you too," she sighed and went to the bathroom without glancing his way and tossed her things into her bag. "Sorry about being pushy a couple nights ago," she called as causally as possible.

Wisenburg rolled his eyes and shoved his head between pillows, not even wanting to hear her so-called-apology. "Fine," he mumbled into the stuffing.

"What's your deal?" This time, she could have said but bit her tongue in the end.

"Nothing. Get what you need and continue as you where . . ."

Erela got the last of her needs and stopped behind a couple feet from the couch and pursed her lips. The only time he actually talked was when they fought and it wasn't like he took her apology. "So where did you disappear to?"

"With Parker, he's home sick and all that jazz . . ."

"Oh, poor kid. Made a fast recovery?"

"It wasn't that speedy . . ." he answered. "You've been gone a while . . ."

Erela pursed her lips in a hard line and shoved her hands in her coat. "Yeah . . . I needed some time to think . . ."

"Whatever, I don't care."

There he went again. "You asked, clearly you do," she sighed and continued around the flat. To get some clothes from the laundry and such.

"I'm almost positive I didn't, in fact you asked what I was doing," he retorted.

"Fiiiiine then," she groaned and opened up the washing machine. "You commented, if that makes it lesser enough. And sorry for assuming you have feelings," she mocked a butch tone with a wrinkled nose and shoved her clothes into her bag.

Wisenburg pursed his lips, "Don't pretend that it hasn't been pounded into your heads at that god damn academy that I don't." He rolled his eyes and pushed off the couch.

"Do you want me to throw another mug at you? Cause I'll do it . . ." she said grimly and rounded about in the living room.

"Yes, PLEASE ruin more of my nice things."

"I wouldn't have to if you're all "Waaaahh boo hoo me" then "whatever, don't care" a split second later. I still don't know exactly how to react to your mood swings," Erela muttered in a nasty tone.

The werewolf shook his head, "I'm glad to know you're an expert on the human psyche. I mean wow that was so deep, you just really get me."

"It's one of three things I'm used to seeing on you," she shrugged and forced a sarcastic smile. One of which she terribly missed, at least that one characteristic of him was pleasant.

Wisenburg rolled his eyes, "Look you are standing in my fucking flat so would you kindly go be an insufferable bitch elsewhere."

Erela opened her mouth to fight back but huffed instead and went to pick her shoes. "Clearly I've been reading your emotions wrong these past couple days . . ." she mumbled to herself.

"Erela, you can't come in here like you own the place making your sassy remarks like we're best friends and expect me to be here waiting for you like I'm Lucy," he sighed at her and crossed his arms over his chest.

"And like Lucy, you're an oblivious idiot," she rolled her eyes and pulled her boots on. "You know your little carnation flowers you have decorating your flat and your tree house?" It was about time she called him out on it anyway and stop pretending she didn't know why they changed colors.

"Get out," he sighed.

"I figured it out," she fought and turned to him.

"I will ASK one more time, get out of my flat," he repeated as he gritted through his teeth.

"I will not . . ." she huffed, standing her ground and dropped her bag beside her.

"Get the fuck out of my house before I make you, Erela!" the werewolf growled.

"Just FUCKING say the magic words, Landon!" Erela growled back. Oh god, that was the first time she had said his first name, let alone even thought it. "Whether you apologized or not for that kiss, it wasn't a fluke and you know it!"

"Look, it doesn't matter because our worlds are incompatible. It doesn't fucking matter," he sighed angrily, his eyes intense on her.

"It matters to me," she sighed and crossed her arms over her chest as she looked away from him. "Landon, it NEVER bothered me that our "worlds are incompatible" when we were kids and it sure as hell doesn't bother me now . . ." Did she have to spell it out to him in the end?

"Now you're engaged and not only is it stupid, it's not morally right either," Landon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

A lump swelled up in her throat and Erela swore she would choke; she forgot how to breathe for a moment and tried to swallow down the sickness. The ring around her felt heavy, it burned like fire against her chest and heavily reminded her of a loyalty that began to disappear each second. And not only that, but she WANTED to betray that loyalty more. Dip more of her toes in the water, one would say.

"Would it change your mind if I said I've been having second thoughts on marrying him . . .?"

"No! Not at fucking all!"

He was taking the hint but not the bait. "Care to enlighten your loyalty?" she asked, trying hard not to sound hurt and pulled out her old stone face.

Yes, she cared for him and that was what made her emotionally retreat back like she was sixteen all over again. His opinions of her words and actions mattered the most, and his anger made it that much more hurtful. She didn't want him to see how much he could hurt her emotionally and mentally. Landon was only blatantly aware of that.

"Look," he sighed. "I don't care for your fucking fiancé but for the fact that you HAVE a fiancé," Landon kept putting emphasis on his words as if to pound the information in her head.

"And the possibility that I'd leave him so easily without hesitation because I love you wouldn't change your mind?" Erela blurted out. The moment it escaped her lips her face turned as white as a ghost. She shook her head and pressed her palm to her forehead, keeping her eyes to her feet to avoid whatever emotion his eyes burned. "I mean . . ." she huffed. "Fucking shit . . ."

Erela could feel his eyes on her and she was too scared to look up. "No Erela, nothing you do is going to make this right. The poor guy won't even know why you're leaving him," he said.

"He probably noticed . . ." she muttered and ran her hand through her hair. Well, that was it. She said it and she got hurt in the end. Was it even worth it? Erela fingered the ring around her neck, heavy on her muscles and suffocating her to death. She pulled it over her head and dropped it in her bag. It used to feel so much easier having the werewolf be the only one in her life. And the moment she wants him back he didn't want her. "Nothing huh?" she chuckled and finally looked up at him.

"That's not it Erela, I can't even . . ." he huffed. She was being difficult and she knew that, but he wasn't making much sense either. "I still have stuff to take care of, and I won't be your mistress or whatever either . . ."

She barely shook her head and shrugged. "Alright . . ." she muttered and picked up her bag again. "Alright . . . I'll get out of your hair," Erela started uncomfortably and turned away quickly. She felt sick to her stomach and was just ready to break. Erela wasn't sure if she made the right decision going to him. Not only did she cause her own feelings for Markus to die, but she ended up rekindling a fire that was meant to stay dead.

Once she was out of sight and Apparated into the tree house, Erela allowed herself to curl into a ball and cry. It wasn't worth it . . . it wasn't worth it . . .

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