Rosalie:

I wasn’t entirely sure what kind of reaction I had expected after telling them the truth. Shock, perhaps. Or disbelief. Maybe even anger. But what I definitely hadn’t expected was for Darien to start shaking his head as though he was trying to physically reject my words.

"It doesn’t make sense." His voice was low. The words spoken more to himself than anyone else. "It just doesn’t make sense."

I stared at him. Then my gaze shifted to Alastor. And somehow, despite everything that had already happened, he still managed to surprise me. Because instead of questioning Charlotte’s actions, instead of questioning whether something might have gone wrong, and instead of even considering the possibility that I was telling the truth... he somehow twisted the entire situation around.

Again.

His jaw tightened. His blue eyes remained fixed on me. And then he spoke. "You must be mistaken."

For a moment, I genuinely thought I had misheard him. "What?"

"The anger you are still carrying toward Charlotte is clouding your judgment. Or maybe it’s the shock from the fall."

Every word that left his mouth made me feel more numb.

"Rosalie, think about it." His voice softened slightly, as though he was trying to reason with a stubborn child. "As upset as you are, you are still allowing your feelings toward her to affect how you are remembering that night."

I simply stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing.

Alastor continued, "Charlotte sent those men to protect you. But because of everything that happened between the two of you, you are mistaking their actions."

The room suddenly felt suffocating.

"Protect me?" I repeated. The words came out hollow, almost disbelieving.

Alastor nodded. "Yes."

I stared at him for several long seconds, then asked the only question that came to mind. "Do you think I’m five years old?"

That finally made him pause.

I took a step closer, my eyes never leaving his. "Do you honestly think I’m incapable of telling the difference between someone trying to help me and someone trying to harm me?"

Neither he nor the others answered.

So I continued - slowly, clearly. Making sure every word reached them.

"Charlotte’s man pushed me off that cliff." I refused to look away and my voice remained steady as I added, "I am not mistaken about that."

There was no uncertainty here. No confusion, and no misunderstanding. I remembered that moment with perfect clarity - the hand reaching out for me, the force behind the shove, the sudden absence of ground beneath my feet, the terror, the pain, the darkness - those memories had haunted me for nights.

There was no possibility that I had imagined them. No possibility that I had misunderstood them. And definitely no possibility that someone had accidentally pushed me off a cliff while attempting to protect me.

Alastor held my gaze, and for the briefest moment, I thought he might finally understand.

Then he spoke.

"Why?"

The single word instantly drained that hope away.

My brows furrowed. "What?"

"Why would Charlotte do that?" Alastor took a slow breath, and when he spoke again seconds later, his voice was calm and carried a reasonable tone. "Think about it. She already had everything."

I felt my stomach twist.

"She is our fated mate. And that very night she was announced as our Luna. She already got the status, the power, and the respect. And she’s already carrying..." He hesitated, but only for a second. "...one of our children."

The room became painfully quiet. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Alastor spread his hands as he continued, "I’m asking honestly, Rosalie. Why would she still try to hurt you after getting all of that?"

I almost smiled. Almost. Because the truth was... I wanted that answer too. I wanted to know why.

Why Charlotte couldn’t leave me alone? Why taking my place hadn’t been enough? Why becoming Luna hadn’t been enough?

I wanted answers just as badly as they did. Unfortunately, wanting answers didn’t magically create them. So all I could do was stand there and acknowledge the one thing that had become painfully obvious.

They weren’t going to believe me. Not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe not ever. At least not when it came to Charlotte.

I looked at the three men standing before me and suddenly felt tired. Not physically, but emotionally. I was tired of repeating myself, tired of explaining and trying to make them see something they refused to acknowledge.

The strange thing was, I realized I didn’t actually care anymore. I hadn’t come here seeking justice or expecting them to suddenly choose me over Charlotte.

I came for one thing - my mother’s bracelet. And somehow, during this conversation, I had gained something else as well.

The truth.

Now I knew who had tried to kill me and exactly where the danger truly came from. And that knowledge was enough. As for the rest, I would handle it myself. Somehow.

I looked directly at Alastor. Then spoke calmly, "Believe whatever you want."

His expression tightened.

I continued before he could interrupt. "I don’t need you to believe me. Nor do I expect you to punish Charlotte."

His jaw clenched.

"I don’t need anything from any of you." The words echoed through the room. Then I took a slow breath and added, "The only thing I want is my mother’s bracelet. Get it from Charlotte and leave it at the library in town within two days."

A muscle in Darien’s jaw jumped.

I ignored it. "I’ll pick it up myself." Then I looked at all three of them, one by one, and delivered the final truth. "After that, I don’t want anything to do with any of you anymore."

The silence that followed was deafening.

For some reason, those words seemed to hit harder than everything else I had said tonight.

I didn’t stay long enough to analyze their reactions. I simply turned and walked toward the door, or at least I tried to.

I had barely taken three steps when fingers suddenly wrapped around my arm, strong and unyielding. The force stopped me immediately and my body stiffened. Slowly, I looked down at the hand gripping me before turning around to come face-to-face with Alastor.

Of course.

His expression had darkened and something dangerous flickered behind his eyes.

For several seconds neither of us spoke.

Then he pulled me back toward him. The move wasn’t harsh enough to hurt, but firm enough to make his point clear.

"Where are you going?"

The question sounded more like a demand. I stared at him and he stared right back. Then his expression hardened even further, and the next words that left his mouth sliced through the room like a blade.

"Where exactly do you think you have left to go?"

The grip around my arm tightened, not painfully. Just enough to make it clear he wasn’t letting me walk away so easily.

His blue eyes locked onto mine - cold, sharp, and unforgiving. His voice dropped lower as he continued, "Other than our packhouses... what place do you even have left to go?"