003

THE LIE THAT BINDS

~MABLE POV~

The door swings open, and there he is.

No shirt. Just low-slung gray sweats hanging off his hips like they’re barely trying. Black hair still wet from a shower, falling into those stupid, piercing ice-blue eyes.

He’s bigger up close—taller, broader, the kind of build that makes you feel small even when you’re not.

But as my eyes scan the hard lines of his abs, that phantom ache in my lower stomach flares up again. It’s a sharp, stabbing heat, a physical memory of the heartbeat I lost in Life Two. My hand instinctively twitches toward my stomach before I force it to my side.

I swallow. Hard.

“Hi,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “I’m Mable. The… escort? Except I’m not. I mean, I’m not here for that. Obviously.”

He doesn’t move. He just leans one shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed over a chest that looks like it was carved from granite. He’s watching me with an intensity that feels like he’s trying to read my DNA.

“Obviously,” he echoes. His voice is a low, rough rasp that makes my wolf sit up and pace.

He doesn't look bored anymore. He looks... haunted. His eyes flick down to my borrowed dress—too tight, too short—and then back up to mine.

For a split second, the ice in his gaze cracks, replaced by something so raw and agonizing it makes my breath hitch.

I force my chin up. “Can I come in? Or are we doing this in the hallway like weirdos?”

He steps aside. Barely. I have to brush past him to get inside, and the heat rolling off his skin is like a physical wall. His scent hits me—pine, rain, and a harsh edge of old magic.

My skin prickles. My body feels like it’s screaming finally while my brain is screaming run.

The suite is huge. Floor-to-ceiling windows, Silver Ridge lights bleeding across the dark carpet. He shuts the door with a soft click that feels way too final.

“So,” he says, turning to face me. “You gonna tell me what the hell this is, or should I just guess?”

I take a breath, squeezing my purse—and the "glitch" ultrasound photo hidden inside— like protection. “I need a favor. A big one.”

He lifts one brow. “I don’t do favors.”

“You do scandals. And right now, you’re drowning in them.” I nod toward the muted TV—his face frozen on a gossip reel. “I can help with that. Clean image. A stable girlfriend. The press eats that shit up.”

He laughs—a short, humorless sound. “You offering to play house with the pack’s biggest disaster?”

“I'm offering to be your anchor.” I step closer, even though every instinct tells me he’s dangerous. “There’s a mating ceremony coming up. Aiden is going to reject me publicly. I want to walk in on your arm. I want to watch his face when the family ‘god’ shows up for the reject instead of him.”

Darin’s eyes narrow. He takes a step toward me, and suddenly the room feels way too small. “You’re Aiden’s reject. Why me, Mable?”

“Because you’re the only thing in this pack that Aiden is actually afraid of.”

He studies me for a long time. Silence stretches, thick and suffocating. I can feel him fighting something—a pull, a bond, a memory. He looks at me like he’s seen me die a thousand times, and for a second, I wonder if he’s reborn too.

But he doesn't say it. He just smirks, though the expression doesn't reach his eyes. “You’re ballsy. I will give you that.”

“I’m a woman with nothing left to lose,” I correct. “Do we have a deal? You get a PR miracle, and I get my revenge.”

Another beat. His gaze drops to my stomach again, just for a bit of a second, before he masks it. “Fine. One ceremony. One fake girlfriend act. We sell it hard. You don't ask questions. I don't ask questions. Deal?”

My pulse kicks. “Deal.”

He holds out his hand. I hesitate—just a second—then slide mine into his. The second our palms meet, it’s like touching a live wire.

A jolt of pure, electric heat shoots up my arm and slams straight into my chest. My breath hitches. His fingers tighten, pulling me a bit closer. His eyes darken until the blue is almost gone, his pupils blowing wide.

It’s the mate bond. Primal, terrifying, and unmistakable.

My body reacts before I can stop it—a surge of protective, maternal grief for the baby from my past life mixes with the sudden, violent want for the man standing in front of me.

I want to scream at him. I want to kiss him. I want to hide from him.

I yank my hand back as if I’ve been burned. Because I have.

He clears his throat, his jaw tight. He’s hiding the slam of the bond just as hard as I am. “I will text you tomorrow. First ‘date.’ Public. We make it look real.”

I nod, turning for the door before I lose my nerve. I can still feel the ghost-pressure of his fingers on mine.

“Mable.”

I pause, my hand on the knob.

“Don’t get attached,” he says. His voice is low, almost a warning. “People like me... we’re a graveyard for things like you.”

I don't look back. “I’ve already been to my own funeral, Darin. I think I will manage.”

The hallway is freezing after the heat of his suite. I walk fast, my heart slamming against my ribs, pissed at the spark that shouldn’t be there. Pissed that for one stupid second, I felt safe with the man who is supposed to be my weapon.

I make it back to my dorm and collapse onto the bed. I pull out the ultrasound photo, staring at the tiny, blurred shape.

I'm doing this for you, I whisper. Then my phone buzzes.

Lola.

I answer. I don't even hesitate.

“Hey, sis,” she coos, her voice like sugar-coated venom. “I heard a funny rumor. Someone said they saw you at the Salvator hotel tonight. You aren't actually trying to date Darin, are you? The pro-hockey player who eats girls like you for breakfast?”

I grip the phone tight. “Maybe I just have better taste than you, Lola.”

She laughs, a soft, chilling sound. “That’s cute. But if it’s real, prove it. Bring him to the ceremony next week. Show the whole pack that the little reject found a big, bad wolf to protect her. Or just admit you’re still the pathetic girl who loses everything she touches.”

The line goes quiet. She’s waiting for the crack in my voice.

“See you at the ceremony, Lola,” I say, my voice like ice. “Make sure you wear something you don't mind getting blood on.”

I hung up.