EVAN'S POV

　　As I stood in the corridor, watching Lydia walk away from us, a crushing sense of regret weighed heavily on my chest. I couldn't believe I had let things get this bad. Brandon and I had made a terrible mistake, and now we were on the verge of losing the one person who meant the most to us.

　　"Lydia, wait!" I called out, my voice cracking with desperation. But she kept walking, her steps determined and unyielding.

　　I exchanged a glance with Brandon, who looked as anxious and regretful as I felt. Suddenly, Brandon turned and ran down the corridor. My heart sank further; among us, he is the one who usually contains himself the most. He likes to hold back his emotions, but sometimes that dam breaks, and now was one of those times.

　　I hurried after him, my mind racing with worry. I knew Lydia's warning had set off alarm bells in his brain, and we were both scared. But I was sure Brandon would be more emotional than me. He had spent more time with her, and she liked to share her problems with him first.

　　"Brandon, where are you going?" I called out, struggling to keep up with his frantic pace.

　　He didn't stop. "I don't know, Evan. I don't even know what I'm doing or what I want to do!" His voice was raw with emotion, and I could hear the frustration and fear in every word.

　　I finally caught up to him and grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop and face me. "Brandon, we can't just run away from this. We need to figure out how to make things right with Lydia."

　　He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and despair. "How, Evan? How do we fix this? She's hurt, and it's our fault. I don't even know if she'll forgive us."

　　"I know, but stop for a second and talk to me!" I pleaded, hoping to reach him.

　　But he didn't listen. He shifted into his wolf form and ran, the sheer force of his emotions propelling him forward. I had to stop him from doing anything rash, so I followed, pushing myself to keep up with his frantic pace.

　　We raced through the forest, the trees a blur around us. After what felt like an eternity, I sensed his emotions start to calm through our link. Eventually, he slowed and stopped near a cliff, his breath coming in heavy pants.

　　"Brandon? Are you ready to talk now?" I questioned through the mind link, but he didn't respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

　　"Brandon, please... I know you're hurting, but so am I. We need to formulate a plan to convince Lydia," I urged, desperation creeping into my voice.

　　Finally, he turned to look at me, his eyes still filled with pain. "No more plans, Evan. No more games."

　　I shook my head. "That's not what I meant. I mean, we need to show Lydia that what we did was for her, only this time through our actions, not just words."

　　I saw his ears perk up at that. "She doesn't even want to look at us."

　　"Then we'll give her time," I said, stepping closer to him. "But we won't stop trying. We'll prove ourselves to her through our deeds. We'll support her, protect her, and show her that we're here for her, no matter what."

　　Brandon's shoulders slumped, and he let out a deep breath. "I just don't know if she'll ever trust us again."

　　"We have to believe she will," I said firmly. "We've made mistakes, but we can learn from them. We can become the mates she deserves."

　　He looked at me, a flicker of hope in his eyes. "What do we do now?"

　　I sighed, feeling the weight of the situation. "For now, we give her space. We let her lead, and we follow her example. We show her respect and let her see that we're committed to making things right."

　　Brandon nodded slowly. "Okay. We'll do it your way."

　　Brandon, unwilling to accept Lydia's rejection, felt a sense of relief upon hearing my words. I tried to comfort him, but deep down, I remained distraught. That night, after making sure Brandon was settled, I went to the tavern to drown my sorrows.

　　The tavern was dimly lit, filled with the low hum of conversations and the clinking of glasses. I found a quiet corner and ordered a drink, hoping to numb the turmoil within me. As I downed the first glass, I felt a temporary relief, but the weight of our situation soon came crashing back. The rich, amber liquid burned a path down my throat, leaving a warm sensation in its wake, but it did little to quell the storm raging inside me.

　　The last conversation with Brandon replayed in my mind. The anguish in his eyes, the raw pain in his voice. I didn't even know if what I said was going to work, but as his brother, I couldn't see him like that. I remember the last time I let him run wild with his emotions; it was total chaos. Brandon could have lost his life, but thank Goddess our dad found him just in time. Otherwise, only the Goddess knows what could have happened.

　　The tavern was a cacophony of noise and activity. Groups of patrons sat huddled together at wooden tables, their laughter and chatter creating a background hum. The barmaid moved swiftly between tables, her tray laden with mugs of frothy ale and glasses of spirits. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and the faint, smoky aroma of roasted meat from the kitchen.

　　I ordered another drink, the glass cool and smooth in my hand. I stared into its depths, the liquid swirling as I absentmindedly twirled it. The music from a small band in the corner was lively, a sharp contrast to my mood. The fiddler's bow danced over the strings, and the accordion player swayed with the rhythm, but none of it reached me. It was as if I was in a bubble, detached from the revelry around me.

　　The lights were dim, casting long shadows that danced on the walls. Candles flickered in their holders, their flames wavering with the occasional draft. Despite the merriment around me, a heavy sense of isolation weighed on my shoulders. I felt adrift, unable to find an anchor in the sea of my emotions.

　　I ordered drink after drink, each one a futile attempt to drown my sorrows. The bartender eyed me with a mixture of concern and curiosity but said nothing as he refilled my glass. The alcohol blurred the edges of my thoughts, but the core of my pain remained untouched. I felt trapped in a cycle of despair, unable to find a way out.

　　The music, once lively and joyous, now felt like an ironic counterpoint to my misery. The laughter and clinking glasses around me seemed to mock my despair. I watched as a group of friends toasted to something, their faces lit with smiles and cheer. I envied their simple joy, their unburdened hearts.

　　As I nursed another drink, the door to the tavern opened, and a cool breeze swept in. I glanced up, not expecting anything, but my heart skipped a beat when I saw Lydia standing there.

　　"What is she doing here? Unprotected and away from the mansion." I thought to myself.