Chapter 69

~ Octavia ~

My heart hammered against my ribs, each thud echoing the frantic pace of my footsteps.

I didn’t know where I was going, only that I had to move.

The crescent moon hung low over the ocean, casting a magical, silver glow across the waves—the only light strong enough to reach this far from the resort’s manicured paths.

"Octavia!"

I pushed faster, my lungs burning. I wasn’t just running from him; I was running from the terrifying possibility that my mind was finally fracturing, creating a dream-like scenario I could never actually have.

"Stop running! Please!" His footsteps were heavy and fast behind me.

"Leave me alone, Franklin!" I shouted, my voice hitching.

"I’m not! I’m not going anywhere!" he yelled back. "Just stop!"

I skidded to a halt, spinning around to face him. He caught up, doubled over and panting for air.

"You... you just forced me to run a marathon," he managed between gasps.

"Then you shouldn’t have followed me!"

"I will always follow you," he said, straightening up, his eyes locking onto mine with a startling intensity. "Because I care about you."

A flare of white-hot anger ignited in my chest. "You don’t fucking get to say that, Franklin! You don’t get to use those words!"

"But I am." He stepped closer; I stepped back.

"Octavia, I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you in ways that are unforgivable. And I am so, God-awful sorry."

"Sorry?" I repeated, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my throat. "You didn’t just hurt me, Franklin. You shattered my soul. You killed the person I used to be! You made me hate myself so much it physically ached. Every single day I asked myself why I was stupid enough to fall for you. I watched you love someone else while I withered away, wishing I was her. I tried to tell you how I felt, and you stepped on my heart like it was trash. And now you’re sorry? I don’t accept it. I won’t!"

Tears finally broke, hot and thick, streaming down my cheeks.

"I know," he said, his voice cracking. "I know a thousand apologies won’t fix it. I hate myself for how I treated you. I realize now that you deserved so much better."

"Damn right I deserved better!" I wiped my face with the back of my hand, but the tears kept coming.

"You do. But I’ve changed, Octavia. I see everything now. I understand why you’re cold, why you’re angry—I earned every bit of it. But I don’t know how else to say this..." He took another step, invading my space until I could feel the heat radiating off him. "I’m falling in love with you. I love you, Octavia."

The world went silent. My breath hitched. This was the nightmare—or the dream—becoming real.

"It drives me crazy," he continued, his voice dropping to a rough, pained whisper. "Seeing you with Clinton, hearing you defend him...it makes me so jealous I want to level that restaurant with my bare hands. I’ve never felt this, Octavia. Not even with Bella. I realize now that was just an obsession, a habit. You’re the one I actually love."

The sexual tension between us snapped tight, vibrating in the air.

I looked away, my head spinning. "Stop it," I mumbled.

"Why?" He moved to stay in my line of sight.

"Because...because I don’t believe you." I felt lightheaded, the air suddenly too thin to breathe.

"We both know you do," he said, his voice turning husky, vibrating deep in his chest. "So stop lying to yourself."

"Even if I did," I whispered, refusing to meet his eyes, "I don’t have feelings for you anymore. It’s gone."

"You are lying." He caught my arm, pulling me back as I tried to walk away. "I can feel it. I know you still love me. Fucking admit it, Octavia! Say it!"

"God damn it, I love you!" I screamed the words at him, the dam finally bursting. "Is that what you want to hear? I love you! Even after everything you did, I still love you and I hate myself for it! I shouldn’t want you, but I do! I love you, Franklin!"

Franklin’s mouth fell open, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and triumph.

"Are you happy now?" I sobbed, the weight of the confession crushing me.

"Very," he whispered.

In a heartbeat, he surged forward, his hands cupping my face as he crashed his lips against mine. It wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was desperate, possessive, and hungry. He held me so tightly I thought I might fuse into his skin, as if he were terrified I’d vanish if he let go. I didn’t pull away. My hands found his cheeks, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as I realized I wanted more—I wanted everything.

He pulled back just an inch, our foreheads resting together, both of us gasping for air. The tension shifted from emotional to primal.

Without breaking eye contact, he began to unbutton his shirt. My throat went dry.

As the fabric fell away, the moonlight hit his physique—the broad set of his shoulders, the hard, defined lines of his abs.

He looked powerful, masculine, and entirely mine.

He laid his shirt carefully over the sand and sat down, reaching out a hand toward me.

"Come to me Octavia," he said, his voice a deep, commanding rumble that vibrated through the soles of my feet.

I stared at his outstretched hand, the realization hitting me: this wasn’t a fantasy anymore. This was real.

And I was done running. The rhythmic sound of the crashing waves seemed to sync with my pulse, drowning out the last of my doubts. I took a step forward, leaving behind the wreckage of our past and surrendering to the overwhelming pull between us. The salt air stung my eyes, but I didn’t blink, unwilling to lose sight of the man who had finally, truly, looked at me.