Veronique slid the file across the desk like it was a peace offering.
"This," she said, tone clipped, "is a compilation of every suitable, unmated wolf in Wintercrest. Bloodlines, status, genetic compatibility, even temperant assessnts. In approximately a week, we will find a mate. She will marry him for legitimacy and bond with him."
I did not spare the file a glance. I just watched her.
Just like with the Seer, she had taken too much initiative. I let her talk.
"And just like most hard-headed halflings..."
So that was where Lilith had gotten the slur from. I steepled my fingers in front of , my stare piercing.
"She will most probably resist. I will ensure the mate we choose for her is willing to force the bond if we have to."
The words were still leaving her mouth when the low growl coiled up from the back of my mind. Zver.
"Too much is at stake here for that pig to have her, so we will have to achieve this by any ans necessary. Even if the hybrid has sothing to say." She smiled, her expression smug. "It’s not like she has a say anyway. She is just property."
As far as our history went, Veronique was important to . We were not blood, but we bled beside each other. We clawed our way through exile and unfathomable loss. By her help alone, Wintercrest Pack had been built back to its forr glory. Her father was the only reason why it was only my arm I lost in that Alpha Duel. History was the only reason I let her speak.
She must have noticed my silence. She stopped speaking, then chuckled lightly. "I apologise, I got carried away. Like I always do." Her gaze turned expectant, tucking her hair back. For a mont, I saw the little girl I used to share my worn blanket with.
It wasn’t until I wanted to speak that I realised my jaw was locked. "Veronique, I found a mate for her already."
She reeled a little, surprised. "Really? That quick? You want to get rid of her quicker than ." She smiled, but it waned when she noticed I was not sharing in her amusent. It faded completely, her spine straightening, shoulders squaring. "I will not like this. Let guess—we will still have to live with her. We will have to move this guy in too so you can keep an eye on her. I can see your thought process. It’s highly likely that Kustav will pull sothing to undermine the mission." The words poured out in a torrent.
"I will be her mate," I finally said, the words falling like a nuke.
The silence that followed pressed in, dense enough to taste.
Veronique’s mouth parted but no words broke the quiet. Her pupils constricted slowly to pinpricks. "You..." she stuttered. Veronique did not sputter. "You’ll be her mate?"
My silence was answer enough.
She rose, the force launching the chair back. "This is a joke. You are joking."
"I am not," I replied plainly.
She ground her teeth—sothing she had done since we were little, whenever things did not go her way. "You can’t do that." She hung on to the veneer of calm that had long since crumpled.
"Your approval is not needed," I said.
"It never is," she countered.
"Yet, you still act like it is."
The tension rose, heat along with it. "This is madness. Maybe you think that no one can force the bond, but we can..."
"I am marrying her," I dropped the final bomb.
And it detonated.
The façade fell. "No," she shrieked, getting right in my face. "You can’t make her your fucking wife. You can’t do this. She is not worthy—she is beneath us, beneath you. Just fuck her, I will forgive that. Force that ascension, rip the power to the surface. If the bitch resists, I will hold her down myself—"
I snapped to my feet. "Finish that sentence," I growled, utter disbelief curdling to disgust and rage. "I dare you."
She froze, her mouth agape. Her eyes darted about my face, searching for sothing she would never find. Again, I saw the little girl she had been, before all this. After everything, this was what she would offer?
My eyes zeroed in on her, piercing, almost hateful. "Give an excuse." I snarled. "You say that, even when you know..."
She backtracked. "That’s not what I ant. I ant—"
"Don’t lie to ."
Her eyes widened suddenly—recognition, regret, maybe even fear flickering there. "Vladimir..." Her voice cracked. "That’s not what I ant—"
I cut her off with a look sharp enough to skin her alive. "I can’t even recognise you right now." The words landed flat and cold, not shouted, but carved with precision.
She flinched, shoulders dropping, but then she straightened again, forcing a brittle smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "You’re making a mistake," she said, her tone trembling in that dangerous way that ant she was trying to convince herself as much as . "It’s the mate bond, Vladimir—it’s making you say things you don’t an."
I blinked, the words snagging sowhere between disbelief and fury. "The hell are you talking about?"
Her gaze softened—no, it yearned, like she was pulling the veil off sothing she’d kept hidden for years. "I know," she whispered. "I’ve always known. We’re mates—fated ones. I’ve been waiting for you to realise it, to see . To understand that you love ... and that we’re ant to be."
For a long beat, I could only stare at her. The words didn’t just surprise —they knocked the air from my lungs like a well-placed blow. My mind scrambled for an anchor, sothing that could make sense of what I’d just heard, but all it found was the sharp edge of disbelief.
"You think..." I started, then stopped, shaking my head. "You think I love you because of so... bond?" My voice was low, asured, because anything louder might have been a snarl.
Her lips parted, and for a mont there was that vulnerable flicker again, like she believed I’d finally say the thing she’d been waiting years to hear.
"I do love you, Veronique," I said. "I would give my life for you without hesitation." Her expression lit for half a heartbeat—before I crushed it. "But I would do that for any of my siblings."
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