CIARA’S POV
The silence stretched too long. Eyes were on us, curious, prying, judging. My heart pounded in my chest, my wolf still reeling from the shock of the bond, the claim Darragh had just made in front of all these people.
I wanted to run. Not from him, but from the attention, from the way Ronan’s eyes darkened, from the sharp way his lips pressed together. My breathing felt unsteady, and I had no idea what to say or how to fix this before it spiraled into something worse.
Before I could gather myself, someone else took initiative. Brigid stepped forward.
“What is happening here?” Her voice carried across the room, calm but firm, the way it always did when she wanted control of a situation.
Darragh’s grip on my wrist tightened slightly before he let go. His voice was steady when he answered. “Do you mind telling your son to back away from my mate.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd. A few hushed voices. The weight of the room shifted. I felt it press against me, heavy with expectation.
My breath caught. I turned to Darragh, staring at him, searching for something—doubt, hesitation, a mistake.
I had been right? Of course I had been right, He felt it too.
The words barely left my lips. It was a whisper from my soul meant for him. Only him. He looked at me, the truth clear in his eyes. There was no mistake.
Ronan's expression didn’t change. His jaw was tight, his fingers curled at his sides, but there was something else. A flicker of something unreadable. He didn’t even look at me. Instead, his gaze flicked toward his mother.
Brigid’s face didn’t betray a thing. Not shock, not anger, not anything I expected. Instead, she smiled. Perhaps it was because I did not know better then. But it was clear to me now that every move she made was calculated and that was downright terrifying.
“This is wonderful news,” she said, voice warm, controlled. “What a blessing for the bond to bring fated mates together in our gathering.”
She stepped closer, her gown trailing behind her, elegant as much as new money tried to be. “My son is a young Alpha, and it is no surprise that he is searching for a strong woman to stand beside him. It is only natural. But I understand now. Fate has spoken. What can we do about it? But we women know,” she said, glancing at Darragh with an almost knowing look, “we know how you males can be.” She chuckled, a light sound that sent an uneasy chill down my spine. “They never back down until someone makes them. I apologize for my son’s behaviour.”
Then she turned to me. “Congratulations, dear.”
Something wasn’t right.
I knew it in my bones. The way she accepted this so easily, how quickly she turned it into something to be celebrated. This was the same woman who had let her son marry me for financial security and a title when his heart clearly resides elsewhere. But it was not like there was anything I could do. Not here or now at least.
I forced a small smile. “Thank you.”
Brigid nodded, then turned to the room, lifting her hands slightly. “This is a night for celebration! On my first ball as hostess, we witness a young Luna meeting her fated mate. How rare is that?”
My mother moved through the crowd before I could even turn to find her. “Goddess,” she breathed, wrapping me in her arms. She smelled of jasmine and honey, familiar and safe. Her hold was warm, comforting, but my body was still locked in shock.
Brigid clapped her hands together. “A toast!”
The energy in the room shifted again. Servants moved quickly, weaving through the crowd, handing out crystal glasses of wine. Darragh looked just as confused. A glass was placed in his hand before he had time to think about it regardless.
Brigid took two herself, turning toward my mother and me. “To the O’Callahans.”
She then handed my mother a glass, then me.
I lifted the glass, my fingers tight around the stem, the cold pressing against my skin.
The crowd raised their glasses. “Cheers!”
I was still caught in the moment, my mind racing through everything that had just happened, the bond, Darragh’s claim, Brigid’s reaction. None of it made sense.
I lifted the glass to my lips, ready to take a sip, when a warm hand gently wrapped around the wrist that had the flute.
I froze.
Darragh.
I blinked up at him, confused, but he didn’t say anything. His fingers didn’t tighten. He didn’t yank the glass away. Just a soft but firm hold, stopping me. His face was unreadable, but his attention wasn’t on me.
It was on Brigid.
I followed his gaze.
Her lips twitched, just barely. A single flicker.
I might have missed it if I weren’t looking.
My stomach clenched.
Darragh had noticed before I had.
I lowered the glass slowly, pulse pounding in my ears.
Brigid’s expression smoothed out, and she turned to the rest of the room, her lips pressing into a pleased smile.
I looked back at Darragh, my breath caught in my throat. The thought on his mind was horrible. I looked back into the fizzy champagne.
Did Darragh really believe that she just tried to—?
No.
No, I couldn’t think about it here. Not in front of all these people. There was no way Brigid would try to poison me. No… That couldn’t be it. But Ronan had tried to give me a drink and his mother shortly just did the same thing. That could not be a coincidence. Especially when the scent of suspicion kept burning from Darragh right into my soul. He did not trust them. Not one bit.
Brigid’s voice carried across the room again, jarring me right out of my train of thoughts. “Let us all enjoy the rest of the night!”
The conversations started back up, music resuming as the tension in the air loosened, but my grip on the glass never did.
Darragh finally let go of my wrist, but his fingers lingered for just a second longer before he pulled away. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “I suggest you do not drink that.”
I nodded, trying to swallow the nausea crawling up my throat. But I had to ask. “Why?”
Darragh exhaled slowly, his gaze flicking once more toward Brigid before settling back on me. “Because you are terrified of them.” His voice was too even, too calm, like he already knew the answer. “And if you tell me why, I’ll tell you why I don’t trust them either.”
My stomach twisted. I forced myself to breathe, to keep my face blank. I should walk away. I should end this conversation now.
Instead, I said, “I don’t think you’ll believe me.”
Darragh tilted his head, watching me like I was a puzzle he intended to solve. “Try me.”
A laugh escaped before I could stop it, soft and humorless. But it was the wrong move. The moment I let my guard slip, I felt it.
A stare.
I turned my head slightly, my fingers still curled around the untouched drink.
Ronan.
He stood near the entrance of the ballroom, his face unreadable, but his focus locked on me. Or rather, on the glass in my hand.
My heart picked up speed.
I knew that look. Calculating. Waiting.
I lifted the champagne flute slightly, letting the golden liquid catch the light, like I was toasting to something. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes tracked the motion.
A challenge.
My pulse pounded as an idea formed.
I turned back to Darragh, meeting his sharp blue gaze. “Dance with me.”
His brow furrowed. “I don’t dance.”
I smirked. “O’Donoghue looks like he’ll take a chance with me.”
Then, before I could second-guess myself, I raised a hand and waved.
Straight at Ronan.
His eyes flashed with something dark.
Darragh inhaled sharply. “You are terrified of him.”
I turned back to Darragh and forced another small smile. “That’s the point.”
His jaw tightened.
“You seem like the protective type,” I continued, lifting the glass again, watching Ronan’s gaze track my every move. I tilted my head, lowering my voice just enough that only Darragh would hear me. “And I’m just a damsel in distress.”
Darragh exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You are different than I remember.”
I froze.
The room felt too loud all of a sudden, the music, the laughter, the clinking of glasses all crashing around me like a wave.
I swallowed. “We’ve met before?”
Darragh’s gaze lingered on me, like he was debating what to say next.
For a moment, he didn’t answer.
Then, finally, he said, “Yes.”
Sure. There was some truth to that. Even if he did not know in this life. But this timeline was before I met Alpha Darragh. I stared at Darragh, searching my mind for a memory that certainly didn’t exist. “We’ve met before?”
His expression didn’t shift, but there was something behind his eyes. Something he wasn’t saying.
“Yes,” he said simply.
My heart gave a small, uncertain thud. “You’re not the kind of person I’d forget.” My voice was quieter than I intended, but the words felt true. There was something about him, something steady and grounded. I would have remembered.
I lifted my chin. “When did we meet?”
Darragh didn’t answer.
Instead, he reached forward and took the champagne flute from my fingers, the warmth of his skin brushing against mine for a second too long. Then, without looking, without hesitating, he let the glass slip from his hand.
The delicate crystal shattered against the marble floor, the golden liquid pooling at our feet.
A few people turned at the sound, but Darragh didn’t care. His gaze stayed on me, unwavering.
“Ooops. Dance with me,” he said.
I flushed.
Everything was moving too fast. The bond. The attention. This shift in the night I had once thought I knew so well.
And yet, I didn’t pull away.
A part of me told me I should have. I should have told him no, should have walked away, should have done anything but what I did next.
Instead, I let out a small, breathless laugh, shaking my head at myself. What did it matter anymore? I had been given a second chance. A fresh start. Did it really matter if I let one dance change the course of everything?
A part of me still wondered if Darragh was actually a good man. I had never had a reason to doubt him before, but I had never had a reason to trust him either.
But what harm could a dance do?
CIARA'S POVThe morning light painted the clearing with hazy gold when I squared off against Noah. My breath clouded in the cold dawn air. Around us, a small circle of sentinels watched, their faces a mix of curiosity and confusion. I knew what they were thinking: why was Noah, the most skilled fighter among them, wasting his time with me—the Alpha's daughter who'd never shown any real talent for combat?I wiped sweat from my forehead and tried to steady my breathing. We'd been at this for nearly an hour, and my muscles burned with exhaustion. Noah stood across from me, barely winded. His posture remained relaxed, casual even. It made my blood boil."Again," he said, gesturing for me to attack.I lunged forward, aiming for his midsection. Noah sidestepped with annoying ease and hooked his foot behind mine. The world tilted, and I hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from my lungs."You're being predictable," Noah said, offering his hand to help me up. "And you're holding back."
BRIGID'S POVI wasn't the kind of woman to forget. I liked knowing what cards to play and somehow I had forgotten that Saraphina Maychild was the daughter of Riona Maychild.The witch was unpredictable and I knew I had to think of something fast to keep my most important pawn in line.The second Ronan left, she moved toward me with a fury I hadn't seen on her in years. Eyes sharp, hands trembling, lips pulled tight like she was holding back an entire storm."That is my daughter," she hissed. "This wasn't the agreement. This wasn't it at all."I didn't flinch. Instead, I watched her with the patient eyes of a predator sizing up wounded prey. How delicious, this maternal rage. How useful. Perhaps my folly wasn't stupid myopia. This was a good thing. Riona was much more invested now."What exactly did you think our agreement was, Riona?" My words slid between us like a blade."I don't want my daughter in your politics.""This is our politics," I said, soft and steady. My voice never rose
RONAN'S POVContent Warning:This chapter contains themes and dialogue that include incest innuendos. Reader discretion is strongly advised.My finger made slow, lazy circles on Ewan’s bare back. His skin was warm under my touch, smooth in the way I liked it. For a while, we didn’t talk. We didn’t need to.Then his voice came, soft and tired. “What now?”I didn’t stop tracing. “We wait. Mother will work something out.”Ewan turned to look at me, the corner of his mouth twitching. “We can still leave, you know.”I stopped moving my hand.He went on, “We don’t have to keep getting dragged into her games. We’re not children anymore.”I pushed myself up on one elbow, eyes narrowing. “Don’t be stupid.”His brows pulled together.“This—this politics—it’s all we have,” I said. “It’s what makes us useful. It’s what puts us in places of power. You think we’d get this far on sentiment?”He looked away.I sat up, letting the sheet fall from my body. I didn’t care that I was bare. He’d seen every
CIARA'S POVThe forest was dark. The kind of darkness that felt alive, crawling across my skin with sticky fingers. My feet were bare, slicing against roots and thorns, but I kept running. I didn’t know where I was going. Just away. Away from them.A twig snapped.My heart stopped.Then I saw them.Ronan. Ewan. Brigid.They stepped out from the trees like they had always belonged to the shadows. All three of them held knives, silver catching moonlight like it wanted to mock me. I stumbled back, but they were already moving. Brigid moved first, her blade slicing my arm before I could scream. I kicked out, punched wildly, tried to run—but they surrounded me.The knives came down again.And again.Hot pain seared through my body. My blood hit the leaves, soaking into the ground like it belonged there.I was losing.I was dying.“Please,” I sobbed. “Please don’t. Please, I’m begging you.”Brigid stepped forward, blood splattered on her face like war paint. She plunged her knife into my th
SARA'S POVI watched my grandfather leave the dining room first. The chill he carried with him vanished, and what settled in its place was heavy. Not grief, not fear—something worse. Alpha Bastien remained seated across from me, but his presence had already consumed the space. The moment Luna Dayo left, the air shifted. The candlelight suddenly felt dimmer. The shadows on the walls stretched longer.I stared down at my half-empty plate, pushing the last bite of bread across it with my fork. Every instinct screamed at me to stand up and leave, to slip out while I still could. I knew the signs. I had learned how to read the room early in this house. You had to, if you wanted to survive it.I stood slowly, careful not to scrape the chair too loudly.“Are you full?” he asked.My spine stiffened.“Yes.” My voice didn’t waver, but it sounded far away. Like it belonged to someone else.He stood too. His steps toward me were slow, deliberate. The faint scent of smoke and forest clung to him,
DARRAGH'S POVThe second the bedroom door shut behind me, I tore open the verandah doors and stepped out into the night. The cold air hit me like a slap but didn’t do a damn thing to quiet the fire burning in my chest. I leaned against the stone rail, gritting my teeth, and let out a scream that ripped from my throat like a wild thing finally let loose.I hated this feeling.This powerlessness.This tight, suffocating rope that came with carrying the Byrne name while my father still breathed.I had tried. Moonveil had almost been different once. When I took over temporarily in my future, when he let go of the reins just long enough for the people to breathe, there was hope. I had cleaned up what I could. Stomped out his worst policies. Stood beside my wolves, not above them. But it didn’t matter. The damage he left behind ran deeper than I could fix in one lifetime.And now here I was. Back again. In this past. This second chance that made no damn sense.Except now I had Ciara.I ran