~ RONAN ~

Mara walks through the door, and a deep frown mars my face.

Hell no. No. No, this isn’t right. This can’t be happening.

Her scent reaches me across the room, and the primal part of me stirs in response, I don’t want to acknowledge it, or even feel it. Kael recognizes her on a level that has nothing to do with love and everything to do with the cruel, merciless hand of fate.

What the actual fuck?

My gaze darts to Roselle, panic gripping my chest. The crimson thread connecting me and Mara refuses to disappear, even as I will it away with every fiber of my being.

Mara’s lips curl into a smug smile the moment our eyes meet. A smile that says she already knows, and she’s been waiting for this moment.

"Hello, Ronan," she purrs, her voice sounding like venom. "Did you miss me?"

"What’s going on?" Roselle’s puzzled look meets mine, and I don’t know how to explain it. How do I tell her that I just found the mate she wanted to sacrifice everything for... and it happens to be Mara? The woman who tried to kill her?

No, Kael snarls, even as he acknowledges the truth resonating through our bond. No, we don’t want her. We want Roselle. Roselle is ours.

"It seems," Mara continues, "that the Moon Goddess has a twisted sense of humor. Ronan, darling, I’m your true mate. The one the curse has been looking for all along."

Roselle’s face drains of color. I watch as her heart shatters right before my eyes. I can see it happening, the moment she realizes what this means. The moment she understands that everything we’ve fought for, everything we’ve sacrificed, is about to be destroyed by something neither of us can control.

Fuck the Moon Goddess.

"Remember you promised not to leave me again," I say desperately, reaching for her hands as she starts to back away from me. "Please, I’ll figure this out. I promise. Just... don’t go."

"Look at that," Ethan snarls with satisfaction, "Your precious jewel isn’t even your bride anymore, brother. How does that feel?"

I want to gut his head. I want to slam him against the wall so hard his bones shatter. But then—

"Last night was quite epic," Mara slurs, stepping closer to us with the confidence of someone who knows they’ve already won. She winks at me—a gesture so brazenly suggestive that my stomach drops. "Wasn’t it, darling?"

"What’s she talking about?" Roselle asks, her voice small and frightened.

I turn to face Mara, my mind racing. Last night? What the fuck is she talking about?

"I don’t know," I say, and I can hear the uncertainty in my own voice. "I have no idea what she’s—"

"Oh, darling," Mara continues, her voice growing louder. "Don’t tell me you’ve gotten too senile already. How your dick milked my pussy. How you fucked me so hard I could barely walk this morning. How you begged me to ride you again and again and again."

Silence.

The room falls deathly silent, and I’m suddenly torn between wrapping my hand around Mara’s throat and slamming her to the floor, or turning to Roselle and telling her it’s all a lie.

We should’ve killed this bitch when we had the chance, Kael growls.

"Fuck," Ethan laughs, his voice echoing through the hall. "I didn’t know my brother had it in him to play two girls at the same time. Impressive, really. Though I have to say, your bride looks like she’s having some difficulty processing the information."

’She’s lying,’ Kael insists, his voice sharp with denial. ’She has to be lying. We don’t remember any of this. We would remember if—’

My mind races back to last night. I was drunk—devastatingly, catastrophically drunk. I remember drinking. I remember the bottle of tequila. I remember the crushing darkness, the pain, and the desperate need to disappear.

But after that? After that, everything is a blur.

"What are you talking about?" I demand, my voice hoarse. "You’re lying. You have to be lying. I was alone last night. I was in the guest room—"

"Were you?" Mara asks, her smile widening as she steps even closer. She reaches into the pocket of her expensive dress and pulls out something.

My boxers. My fucking boxers, dangling from her fingers like a trophy.

The room starts to spin.

I remember taking them off. I remember the heat. I remember hands on my body and lips on my skin and a voice whispering things I don’t want to remember.

But was it really her?

"No," I say, shaking my head violently. "No, I don’t... I can’t remember. I was drunk. I don’t remember anything after—"

"After what?" Mara asks sweetly. "After I came to your room? After I stripped down and climbed into bed with you? After you grabbed my hair and fucked me like you’d been waiting for me all your life?"

’Liar,’ Kael roars, but even his denial is wavering, uncertain.

"That’s not what happened," I say, but the words sound hollow even to my own ears. "You’re lying. You—"

"Did I?" Mara asks, and her voice takes on a dark, seductive quality that makes my skin crawl. "Or did you just finally remember who your true mate is? Did you finally remember that I’m the one you’ve been searching for all along?"

She steps closer, and I can smell her—really smell her. And underneath the perfume, there’s something that matches the bond. Something that makes Kael respond on a purely biological level that has nothing to do with choice or will or love.

"Let me refresh your memory," she purrs, reaching out to trace a finger down my chest. "You were so desperate last night, Ronan. So lonely. So desperate to forget about your little bride that you practically begged me to touch you."

She leans in close, her lips near my ear, and she whispers something that makes my blood run cold. Images flood my mind—vivid, sensual, explicit images of things I’m not sure I actually did. Of hands and mouths and bodies intertwined in ways that make me want to vomit.

Are they real? Are they false? Are they memories or are they fantasies that she’s planting directly into my consciousness?

I don’t know.

And that uncertainty is worse than any certainty could ever be.

When I turn around, Roselle is gone.

She’s already moving toward the door, her entire body rigid with shock and devastation.

"Roselle!" I shout, dropping everything to chase after her. "Wait! Please, just listen to me!"

She keeps walking hurriedly withoitolkokg back, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, her hand pressed against her mouth as if she’s trying to hold back a scream.

"Roselle, please!" I call out again, pushing through the crowd of pack members who’ve gathered to witness this spectacular fall from grace. "I don’t remember! I was drunk! She could have done anything, said anything. Please, just let me explain!"