Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King Chapter 137

MAXIMUS'S POV

How does breathing work again? Because looking at Damien I seem to have forgotten how to.

Damien stood there watching me. Same blue eyes as mine. Same broad shoulders. Same sharp jaw. Same person that had once watched over me…then watched me fall apart.

He didn't speak.

I didn't either.

Emilia's hand tightened around mine gently. When I turned to her, she gave me a small, warm smile. One that told me she understood everything without a single word.

"I'll give you two some privacy," she whispered.

I shook my head, instinctively wanting her close, but she only squeezed my fingers again and stepped away before I could protest. As she walked past Damien, she offered him a kind smile.

He smiled back.

Then she moved down the hall, far enough to give us space—but not so far she couldn't see us if we needed her. That alone steadied my lungs.

Silence fell again.

Heavy. Thick. Years of distance pressed between us.

Damien looked at me like he was searching my face for something he had lost. His jaw clenched once. He exhaled sharply.

"I should've been a better brother," he said quietly. "I should have—"

He didn't finish.

Because I stepped forward without thinking, grabbed him, and pulled him into a tight, desperate hug.

For a second, Damien froze.

Then his body softened, and his arms wrapped around me just as tightly—like he had been waiting years for this moment and was afraid I might disappear if he held too lightly.

"Damien," I whispered, my voice cracking, "I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

His grip tightened.

I pushed through the lump in my throat. "I've been nothing but an ass to you. I was unbearable. I wouldn't blame you for keeping your distance."

He swallowed hard. "I'm your older brother. I shouldn't have given up on you."

"You didn't give up on me," I said, pulling back enough to look at him. "I gave up on myself. I pushed you away. I shut everyone out."

His eyes softened with something like pain. "Maybe. But I still should've tried harder."

We stood there, just breathing each other in, two grown men carrying years of unspoken things. When we finally broke the embrace fully, Damien let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh.

"I can't deny," he said, a smile tugging his lips, "you were a little unbearable."

I groaned. "Do not start."

"Oh, I will start." He smirked. "You had anger issues and threw tantrums like they were sport."

"Hey," I hissed, glancing over at Emilia, "don't be loud. My mate might hear you and think I was weak."

Damien went silent.

He just stared at me for a long second.

And then I saw it—the warmth in his eyes. The pride. The relief. The love. All the emotions that had been buried for too long.

A tight breath escaped me.

"Thank you, Damien," I said quietly. "For not walking away. For still being here."

He pressed his lips together, looking like he was fighting emotion he refused to show.

"God," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face, "I feel like a weight of a thousand years has finally been lifted off my chest."

A small laugh escaped me.

He laughed too.

The sound echoed through the hallway—soft, disbelieving, tired, but real. Emilia turned toward us at the sound, and when she saw us smiling like idiots, she broke into a gentle smile of her own.

Damien followed my gaze, saw her watching, and smirked.

Then—because he was still the same damn brother—he reached over and ruffled my hair like I was five years old.

I jerked back immediately. "Stop it."

"I have my little brother back," he said proudly.

I swatted his hand away. "Emilia is watching."

He only chuckled and squeezed my shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Maximus."

The words hit deeper than he knew.

Before I could respond, he turned and walked down the hallway, his steps lighter than I had seen in years.

I stood there watching him leave—my brother, my blood, a piece of me I thought was gone forever—until he disappeared around the corner.

Only then did I turn back to Emilia.

She was smirking.

"So," she teased, arms crossed, "you used to throw tantrums?"

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "It's not like that."

She raised an eyebrow. "Mm-hmm."

"Emilia," I said, following her as she began to walk away, "listen—it wasn't how he made it sound."

"Oh, I'm sure," she laughed softly.

"It wasn't tantrums," I insisted.

"Of course not," she said, absolutely not believing me.

"I was training," I said firmly. "Intense training. Warrior training. My beast was driving me fucking crazy back then."

She shot me a playful look over her shoulder.

I cursed Damien under my breath.

"Emilia," I sighed, catching up to her, "I swear, it wasn't tantrums."

"Uh-huh."

"Emilia—"

She laughed harder, walking away while I tried to defend myself.

Thanks to Damien.

But still…I wouldn't trade this moment for anything…my mate teasing me, my brother walking away with a weight lifted from his soul, and me stuck in the hallway trying to explain myself like a fool.

A warm, peaceful, ridiculous moment.

After a lifetime of war.