INICIAR SESIÓNHe was supposed to marry for peace. His wolf had other plans. Bron Ashborn doesn't believe in fate. He believes in treaties, bloodlines, and control, right up until the night his mate bond snaps in front of three hundred witnesses, for a girl who isn't even supposed to be in the room. Wren has spent her whole life invisible. No family, no rank, no name worth remembering, just an omega who scrubs floors and stays out of sight, because the alternative is dangerous. She knows what happens to girls the Alpha notices. She never wanted to be noticed at all. But the bond doesn't care what she wants. And Bron isn't a man who lets go of what's his, not for a treaty, not for his father's fury, not for the war it might start. The more he claims her, the more she's marked. And the deeper Bron falls, the more he uncovers a truth buried twenty years deep, one that could burn his family's empire to the ground, with her standing in the middle of the fire. Some bonds are destiny. Theirs might be a death sentence.
Ver másWrenI don't remember the walk back to staff housing. One second we're outside the pack house with the party still glowing behind us, and the next I'm sitting on the edge of my own bed with my shoes still on, staring at a wall I've stared at a thousand times before and somehow don't recognize right now.Briar hasn't stopped talking since we got in the door.“…and I mean it, Wren, I've never seen anything like it. You didn't even flinch. Adrien freaking Conrad, standing right there, and you just looked him dead in the eye and torched the whole thing down. I would've thrown up. I think I actually might throw up right now just from watching it happen. I'm serious, my hands are still shaking…”“Briar." I let out. “…and Serena's face, oh my god, did you see her face? She looked like somebody slapped her; I don't even think she knows what to do with herself right now, and Bron just standing there like…”"Briar."She stops. Finally looks at me properly instead of pacing a track into my floo
BronRejection doesn't feel like heartbreak. I want to be clear about that, because every story I ever heard growing up made it sound like heartbreak, like something soft and sad you cry about in private. It's not that. It's like getting gutted.The second the words leave her mouth, something inside my chest just rips. Not metaphorically. I actually feel it tear, deep under my ribs, right where the bond's been burning since the second I saw her across that ballroom, and my knees nearly buckle right there in front of Adrien Conrad and his security and my own fiancée standing three feet away watching it happen.I don't fall. I refuse to give him that. But I can't speak either. I just stand there while she turns and walks out the door, and every step she takes away from me feels like something's being pulled out of my chest by the root."Well." Adrien's voice cuts through the ringing in my ears, satisfied in a way that makes me want to put my fist through the wall behind him. "That resol
WrenAdrien Conrad fills the doorway as if he owns it, and behind him, I count three more. Two security types in dark suits. And Serena, standing just behind her father with her arms crossed and her face like carved stone, staring at me like she's trying to figure out what kind of insect I am.I step back on instinct. Bron's hand catches mine before I get more than a few inches, pulling me half behind him like his body's a wall he's already decided to put between me and everyone in that doorway."Get out of my study," Bron says. His voice has gone flat and cold, nothing like it sounded five minutes ago."Your study." Adrien laughs, short and humorless. "You mean the study where I just watched my daughter's fiancé put his hands on a member of the kitchen staff.""She's not staff." The lie comes out of Bron so fast and so smooth I almost believe it myself. "She's a guest.""Don't." Adrien's voice cracks like a whip. "Don't stand there and insult my intelligence on top of everything else
WrenI turn around expecting security. A guard. Somebody big, somebody scary, somebody sent to drag me back downstairs and hand me over to whoever wants to yell at me first.I do not expect a woman standing three steps down in a pale blue dress, hands folded in front of her like she's waiting for tea instead of chasing down a servant girl at midnight.She's older, maybe mid-fifties, with silver-blonde hair loose around her shoulders instead of pinned up like every other woman at that party. Her eyes are washed-out blue, and they're locked on me with an intensity that doesn't match how calm the rest of her looks, like she's been waiting her whole life for this exact moment and is somehow still not sure she believes it's happening.Briar steps in front of me anyway, arms out, because Briar doesn't care who you are, apparently, even if you're a middle-aged woman in pearls."You're not taking her anywhere," Briar says."I'm not here to take her anywhere she doesn't want to go." The woman'












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