IVAN’S POV
Her expression wavered then, just for a breath—eyes flickering with sothing that looked like surprise, or longing, or both.
But she caught it before it slipped too far, sealing her features into sothing icy and distant.
"You’re insane if you think the fact that the severance failed is good news," she snapped. "And fuck you, Ivan—I’m not yours. I’d rather eat a flaming cactus than let that happen again."
Every word was fire on her tongue, spat like venom, ant to kill.
"And for your information," she seethed, stepping back just enough to shove at my chest, "this isn’t about you. Not everything revolves around your precious ego. I didn’t walk out there naked to make you jealous. I did it because your plastic little wife had my clothes taken and told the maids to humiliate . I walked out there like that because I refuse to cower. I refuse to be broken again. But of course you’d twist it into a fucking porno."
"You had a choice, Maeve. You could’ve walked back to —just like you could have done years ago. But sohow, your petty pride always cos first. Twist this however you want," I said coldly, jaw clenched tight enough to ache. "But I won’t have the mother of my son parading herself like a common whore. Did you even think about him? That maybe he saw his mom being lusted after by half the castle? That one day he’ll hear how every wolf got a look at his mother’s tits because she had sothing to prove?"
Her mouth parted.
And for a second—just one devastating second—there was no venom in her eyes. Just sothing fragile. Sothing that flickered between pain and sha. Sothing broken.
But then her spine straightened. Her expression iced over, sealing the wound with rage. When she spoke, her voice dropped to a lethal whisper.
"You don’t get to use him in our conversations," she said. "He is not your son. You don’t exist to him. You don’t deserve to after everything."
"Everything?" I echoed, fury clawing up my throat. "You were drunk, Maeve. While you were pregnant! You put him in danger. So if anyone here doesn’t deserve—"
"I WASN’T DRUNK!" she scread, her voice tearing through the air with enough power to shake the walls.
The silence that followed was ugly. Heavy. The kind of silence that kills any sign of life.
Her breath ca in bursts, her chest heaving, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. The room felt like it might implode.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, Ivan.
She shook her head slowly, lips trembling with the effort of not falling apart. Her voice, when it ca again, was barely more than a whisper.
"I wasn’t drunk," she whispered again, softer now. "But you never let explain, did you? You believed her. You believed a complete stranger over your own mate. That’s how much I was worth to you."
Fuck.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak.
How could I not have believed it? There were pictures. Pictures of Maeve—my mate—heavily pregnant, passed out cold from drinking, surrounded by empty bottles.
How was a father, who had just lost his son, supposed to see that and feel anything but rage?
Serena ca to when I was already spiraling. Vulnerable. Grieving. Angry at the Goddess for ripping my pup out of my hands.
And she pointed the finger. She told the truth about Maeve’s drinking, her recklessness—and I’d been so ready to believe it. She offered an explanation I was desperate to hear.
Because I needed soone to bla.
And Maeve had made it so fucking easy. She chased after like she always did, for comfort, for warmth, for safety—and I gave her nothing.
I gave her nothing.
Nothing.
It hit in the chest like a blade. Even if she had drunk, even if the loss had sohow been her fault... were my actions any better?
I hadn’t just turned away—I’d abandoned my family.
I had abandoned Maeve.
She tried to storm past , to leave, but my reflexes worked faster than my mind. I caught her, pulled her into my arms again, holding her to like a lifeline.
Like a man clinging to the last solid thing he still understood.
"Ivan!" she struggled, shoving at my chest, breathless and furious. Nothing like the girl who used to love . "Let go!"
But instead of letting go, the tension between us only drew closer to her. My grip didn’t loosen. My body refused to let her go.
If anything, everything I had been trying to suppress for years rushed up all at once. The feel of her hips molded to mine. The scent of her—wild, sweet, familiar.
The storm in her gaze that had always threatened to pull under.
"Ivan!" she shouted again. "Get your hands off —for fuck’s sake!"
And goddess help , even in her rage, she was beautiful.
Explosive. Divine. Deadly.
And once... mine.
"Ivan—please. Please, you have to let go," she said again, exhausted this ti.
Her voice was weak, and I heard it in the raw edges. Tears stread down her face now, and when her eyes t mine—I swear I stopped breathing.
"I can’t," I whispered. "I did that once, and I haven’t spent a single day not regretting it."
Her body went still.
"What?" she breathed, eyes wide, lashes wet with disbelief. The fire in her eyes dimd—just for a heartbeat.
Fuck. I hadn’t ant to say it. I hadn’t planned to.
But now that it was out, I didn’t want to take it back.
I should’ve stopped. Should’ve shut the fuck up and walked away before I wrecked her all over again.
But my hands were already on her. My body already starved for the only thing it had ever truly needed. And my goddamn heart hadn’t gotten the ssage.
So I said the one thing I’d never said out loud. The one truth that had been rotting inside for five years.
"I regret it, Maeve," I said softly. "Every fucking day."
Her breath hitched. But... she didn’t believe .
She laughed—bitter and broken. "You don’t actually expect to believe that, do you?"
"I didn’t an to say it," I replied, voice low. "But I do."
She stared at for a long mont. Then the fire returned—hotter this ti, crueler.
"Then you’re dumber than I thought," she said, cold. "Because even if I believed you... I don’t want you anymore. I have a mate. I have a family of my own now, Ivan. Get over yourself—and let go."
And still—still—I couldn’t.
Because even in her fury...
Even when her eyes scread hate and her words were like acid... I had no fucking idea how to stop wanting her.
And instead of doing the one thing that could give us both peace—walking away—I did the one thing that would ruin it further.
I leaned in and kissed her.
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