Chapter 8

Veda’s POV

My room in the East Suite was a gilded cage, silent enough to let the echoes of Julian’s rejection play on a loop in my head.

"Veda? Please, it's me."

A soft scratching at the door broke the silence. I sat up, my bandaged hand thumping against the heavy duvet. Lila slipped into the room, her eyes red-rimmed and her breathing shallow. She was the only one who hadn't looked at me like I was a plague victim during the ceremony.

"Lila," I whispered, the name cracking in my throat.

She rushed over, throwing her arms around me. "I had to sneak past the guards. Rowan’s enforcers are everywhere, Veda. They look like they’re waiting for a war to start."

"Maybe they are," I said, leaning into her familiar warmth. "Everything is gone, Lila. My home, my rank... my mate."

"He doesn't deserve the title," Lila hissed, pulling back to look at me. "The whole pack is talking. They’re saying Rowan is going to break you, but Veda... I saw the way he carried you out of that hall. It wasn't how you handle a prisoner."

I looked down at my hand. The ache in my palm was nothing compared to the hollow cavern in my chest where the bond used to live. Before I could respond, a knock at the door—this one sharp and official—made Lila jump.

One of the house staff entered, carrying a stack of designer boxes wrapped in black silk. "These just arrived from the Palace, Miss Bennett. For you."

My stomach turned. I knew that wrapping.

Lila helped me open the top box. Inside lay a stunning, floor-length gown of black lace, the kind worn for mourning. Tucked into the folds was a card in Camilla’s elegant, loopy handwriting.

‘Congratulations on the merger, sister. I thought you might need something appropriate for your upcoming funeral. I’ll make sure Julian wears gold to the service.’

– C.

"That bitch," Lila breathed, her face pale.

I stared at the lace, the intricate patterns looking like spiderwebs. She wanted me to know that even though I was in Rowan’s house, she still had the power to reach out and twist the knife. I reached out to shove the boxes off the bed, but the door to the suite swung open again.

Lila scrambled to her feet, ducking her head. I expected to see Rowan, his grey eyes judging my weakness.

Instead, it was Julian.

He looked different without the lights of the gala hitting him. He looked haggard, his golden hair disheveled, his eyes bloodshot. He didn't belong in this fortress of stone and shadow. He looked like a trespasser.

"Leave us," Julian commanded Lila.

Lila looked at me, terrified. I gave her a small nod, and she scurried out, closing the door behind her.

"What are you doing here, Julian? You have a Luna waiting in your bed," I said, my voice cold, though my heart was betraying me by leaping at the sight of him. The remnants of the bond were like phantom limbs, they didn't exist, yet they still hurt.

"Veda, listen to me." He stepped toward the bed, his hand reaching out as if he still had the right to touch me. "The Council... they pushed for the rejection. Camilla’s father has too much leverage. I did what I had to for the pack."

"You humiliated me," I snapped, standing up to face him. "You tore our souls apart in front of everyone. You gave me to Rowan."

"I thought you’d just be a ward!" Julian’s voice rose, a flash of his usual arrogance breaking through the regret. "I didn't think he’d actually claim you. Rowan doesn't want a wife, Veda. He’s using you to get to me. He knows I still... I still want you."

He reached out, his fingers catching my chin. "Come back with me. I’ll fix it. I’ll tell the Council it was a temporary severance for political stability. Rowan can’t keep you if I demand you back as my concubine."

"Concubine?" I laughed, a jagged, ugly sound. "You want me to be the hidden shame while my sister wears my crown? You’re a coward, Julian."

"Veda, don't be difficult," he hissed, his grip tightening on my jaw. "You’re an omega. You need protection. You think Rowan is going to give you that? He’s the Butcher. He’ll use you until there’s nothing left and then he’ll discard you in a way that makes my rejection look like a mercy."

He leaned in, his scent—once my favorite thing in the world—now smelling cloying and wrong. He moved to kiss me, a desperate attempt to reclaim what he had thrown away.

"Get your fucking hands off her."

The voice didn't come from the doorway. It seemed to come from the shadows themselves.

Rowan was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, his presence so massive it seemed to suck the oxygen out of the room. He didn't look angry; he looked bored, which was a thousand times more terrifying.

Julian jumped back, his face flushing crimson. "Uncle. I was just—"

"You were trespassing," Rowan said, stepping into the room. He didn't walk; he prowled. Every step was a calculated threat. "And you were touching something that doesn't belong to you."

"She’s my fated mate!" Julian yelled, his Alpha pride flaring. It was a pathetic spark compared to the wildfire of Rowan’s aura.

Rowan stopped a foot away from Julian. He was taller, broader, and carried the weight of a thousand battles Julian had never seen. "You lost the right to approach her the moment you rejected her, Julian. You stood before the Goddess and the Pack and declared her a defect. You severed the thread."

Rowan turned his gaze to me, his slate-grey eyes scanning my face for any sign of compliance. Then, he looked back at his nephew.

"In this house, she is my consort. In two weeks, she will be my wife. If you enter these grounds again without my express permission, I won't just reject you from my territory. I’ll strip the Kingsley name from your back myself."

"You wouldn't dare," Julian breathed, though he was already backing toward the door. "The Council wouldn’t dare."

"The Council works for me, boy," Rowan rumbled. "Now get out before I lose my patience."

Julian looked at me, a flash of pure, possessive rage crossing his face. He looked like he wanted to scream, to fight, but the sight of Rowan standing between us was enough to break his resolve. He turned and fled, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

Silence settled over the room, heavy and charged.

I sat back down on the bed, my legs finally giving out. I felt small. I felt like a prize being fought over by two predators, neither of whom truly cared about the meat on the bone.

Rowan didn't leave. He walked over to the bed, his boots silent on the carpet. He looked down at the black lace dress Camilla had sent, his lip curling in a faint sneer.

"Your sister has a flair for the dramatic," he observed.

"She wants me dead," I whispered.

"Most people do when they’re afraid of what you might become."

Rowan sat on the edge of the bed, much closer than he had been earlier. He reached out, and for a second, I thought he was going to reprimand me for Julian’s visit. Instead, his large, scarred hand came up to rest on my thigh.

It wasn't a gentle touch. It was heavy. Possessive. The heat of his palm seared through the thin fabric of my nightgown, making my breath hitch.

"Did you want to go with him?" Rowan asked. His voice was low, a dangerous vibration that seemed to settle in the pit of my stomach.

"He wanted me to be a concubine," I said, looking up at him. "He wanted me to be his secret."

"And you?"

"I'd rather be your monster than his secret," I breathed, the honesty of it surprising even me.

Rowan’s eyes darkened, the silver in them swirling like a storm. His hand moved up, his thumb grazing the line of my hip. It was the first time he had touched me without the excuse of a wound to tend to. It was deliberate. It was a claim.

The door to the suite hadn't been fully closed. Julian had stopped in the hallway, looking back one last time through the gap.

I saw him there—the future Alpha, the man who had broken me. He was frozen, his eyes wide as he watched his uncle’s hand move over my body. He saw the way I didn't pull away. He saw the way I leaned into Rowan’s strength.

Rowan knew he was there. He didn't look at the door, but he shifted, pulling me closer until my side was pressed against his chest. He looked directly at me, but his hand moved higher, his fingers splaying over my waist in a clear, undeniable show of ownership.

Julian’s face twisted in agony and realization. He had thrown away a servant, but he was watching a queen being forged in the hands of his greatest rival.

"Two weeks, Veda," Rowan murmured, his lips inches from mine. "Two weeks, and the whole world will know who you fucking belong to."

As Julian turned and sprinted away, the sound of his heartbreak echoed in the hallway, but all I could hear was the heavy, steady thrum of Rowan’s heart against my own.