IVAN’S POV
The next few days were bearable only because they had to be.
I forced myself back into the rhythm of council etings, paperwork, endless reports—anything that gave the illusion of control.
The council hearing had permanently left a bad aftertaste in my mouth. Though the days dulled the mory of its finer details, it wasn’t so easy to erase the grueling weight of the council’s collective eyes on .
They watched like I was a ticking tibomb, and with every bloody second, I played the part of the soft-smiling, decent Alpha—sweet to his mother, a gentleman to his supposed Luna, and painfully sober.
It seed my active presence was enough to quiet the rumors for now. No one dared ntion the Rabid Wolf to my face, though I could still feel the whispers floating behind closed doors whenever I passed.
The maids still scattered when they saw coming. The guards stiffened so hard they forgot how to breathe. Just what exactly had Nina told them?
Of all the things that had occurred within the chambers of the council hearing, she was the puzzle I had no answer to.
The moonstone, in all its supposed excellence, hadn’t picked up on the lies she spewed in my na—all without a clear motivation I could yet discern.
I hadn’t summoned her, as Francis had advised, to lock her in a cell and grill her until she revealed if she was a spy or a witch.
Instead, I’d tasked Francis with running a thorough background check: who she was, where she ca from, when she t Maeve, and what kind of threat she might pose to Ash Creek.
Even then, knowing Francis was on top of the situation wasn’t enough to quiet the itch gnawing at the back of my mind. Call it an Alpha’s instinct—or that of a paranoid man—but it told I was missing sothing.
Maybe I feared more what that sothing might be, because I ignored it, shoved it off the lens of my existence rather than dig too deep.
But ignoring it never eased the itch. It never quieted the question that repeated endlessly in my head: was Maeve involved in this sohow?
When I wasn’t with the council, I buried myself in my study. Page after page, parchnt after parchnt, as though endless ink and signatures could outweigh the clawing in my chest.
Serena had been the happiest I’d seen her in weeks, breezing into my office more tis than I liked, bringing tea and coffee, and all sorts of concoctions brewed from expensive herbs—none of which ever offered the soothing effect she promised.
I hated every second of the tight smiles, the perfectly tid hums of agreent, the too-loud laughter. Nothing grated my tongue worse than pretending to laugh at Serena’s godawful jokes.
But Francis swore every bit of this hell was required. Humor the council, humor Vance Montrose, and when you sit on the throne, their rules be damned.
It was tedious. Suffocating. But each ti I nearly ripped Serena’s fingers off for grazing my cheek, I reminded myself that even patience was a blade when manned with strategy.
Too often, though, my mind wandered to Asha. I’d stayed away from him for a while, refusing to subject his innocence to the scrutiny I was under by dragging him into the lilight with .
Still, he was the tether that kept steady—the one who, without even knowing it, brought streaks of sunlight into my cloudiest monts. The one who lit up my face with a smile in the most idle of tis.
I missed him fiercely. Missed the way his laugh could split the heaviness in my chest. Missed the simple act of holding his small hand in mine.
I’d have endured Maeve’s sweet bites of acid and her colder stares if that was what it took to be with him longer. As long as Asha was close, I could survive anything.
But I’d also been keeping my distance from Maeve—by choice. Staying half a dozen feet back, walls raised high, eyes fixed coldly ahead whenever we crossed paths in the hallways, pretending her presence didn’t send my blood rushing hot and cold at once.
Ignoring her was safer. For both of us. It kept her from lashing out, spitting words that cut deeper than silver. It kept from hoping for things I had no right to.
And most of all, it kept things peaceful—for now.
Still, thoughts of her crept in when I least wanted them.
Her refusal. Her second-chance mate, waiting sowhere the longer I wasted ti. The possibility that she might take my son and vanish the mont the bond finally broke.
The kind of thoughts that made my fists clench tight enough to ache.
So I shoved them down. Thought of Asha instead.
My eyes landed on the gift waiting at the corner of my desk—a wooden craft board shaped for children.
I’d ordered it days ago, a small thing that had made think of him instantly when I’d seen it in the catalogue.
The board had arrived this morning, complete with corny little fish keychains dangling from its hook string.
I picked it up, running my fingers over the polished surface. It was ridiculous, really, how sothing so small could stir warmth in .
But I could already see his smile—the unguarded, bright one that belonged only to him.
I wanted to give it to him now.
The warmth it sparked in my chest was too soothing to resist. It couldn’t hurt to leave my desk, sneak in a little ti with my little boy.
Hopefully, he’d be happy to see . Hopefully.
I rose, carrying the board with down the corridor, following the familiar pull of his presence. But when I reached his chambers, I slowed.
Maeve’s door was wide open. Normally, it was locked.
She wasn’t inside—I couldn’t feel her presence. But Asha was. And he wasn’t alone.
I stepped past the threshold, careful, my eyes scanning the room, claws on the verge of unsheathing at the slightest hint of danger. A few paces in, and I froze.
There were voices. An argunt. One that was growing heated by the second.
Slowly, with stealth, I watched the horror unfold.
A maid, dressed to royal perfection, stood glowering furiously down at a trembling Asha, whose soulful eyes brimd with unshed tears.
My wolf surged up, but not in the wild rage I expected—it was anguish, a desperate howl clawing at as our little pup was cornered like prey in a predator’s den.
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