Chapter 4: Little Wolf

Maeve 

Ronan Caine was taller than I expected.

That was my first thought, and I hated myself for noticing.

He stood at least a head above me, with shoulders broad enough to block my view of the entrance doors behind him. His black coat hung open over a charcoal shirt with the top buttons undone.

Nothing about his clothing was ceremonial.

Nothing about him suggested he cared that dozens of people were watching.

His dark hair was slightly too long, falling across his forehead in uneven waves. A scar cut through his left eyebrow and disappeared into his hairline. Another, thinner mark ran from beneath his ear toward the edge of his jaw.

Mara had written about that scar. She said he received it the night he killed his brother.

My gaze traveled to his eyes.

Gold.

Not brown touched by amber. Not hazel. Gold. The color of flames reflected against a blade.

They were fixed entirely on me.

He knew. The realization struck with such certainty that my breath caught. He knew who I was before he read the book.

Ronan’s eyes moved slowly over my face. His expression gave away nothing. No surprise. No confusion. Only a terrible, patient interest.

As if he had waited years for me to turn around.

I lifted my chin. “Alpha Caine.”

“Maeve Cross.” My name sounded wrong in his voice. Too familiar.

My wolf shifted beneath my skin. I forced her down.

“We haven’t been introduced.”

“No.” His gaze dropped briefly to the fresh blood beside my signature. “But I know exactly who you are.”

Anger burned through my chest. “Then you know why I’m here.”

The registrar’s head snapped up. Several women nearby moved farther away.

Ronan did not react. His eyes remained on mine. “Do I?”

“My sister.”

Something flashed across his face. Gone too quickly for me to name.

“Mara.” The way he said her name made hatred crawl through my stomach.

“You remember her, then.”

Ronan leaned one hand against the desk beside me. His body did not touch mine, but his presence surrounded me anyway.

“I remember every person responsible for slaughtering my family.”

The lie came so smoothly that for a second I nearly admired it.

“According to Mara, you slaughtered them yourself.”

The room fell silent.

Even the servants stopped moving.

The registrar closed her eyes briefly, as though she had decided she did not want to witness my death.

Ronan looked at me.

For the first time, emotion broke through his control. Rage. It sharpened his face and turned the gold of his eyes almost luminous.

The pressure of his Alpha power crashed through the entrance hall. Two women near the staircase dropped to their knees. A servant fumbled the tray he carried. Glass shattered across the marble floor.

My wolf bowed instinctively.

I did not.

My knees trembled beneath my skirt, but I locked them.

Ronan noticed.

His gaze dropped for half a second, then returned to my face. “You should be careful repeating stories you don’t understand.”

“I understand enough.”

“No.” His voice softened. “You understand what she wanted you to believe.”

My heart pounded. “She wrote to me.”

“I know.”

The answer came too quickly. Cold spread through me. He had read the letters. Mara had warned me.

“You admit it?”

“I admit nothing.”

“You kept her beneath your home.”

“Yes.”

A ripple of shocked whispers moved through the hall.

Ronan did not look away from me.

That single word destroyed every desperate possibility that Mara’s letters had been wrong.

He had her. He had always had her.

My hand moved toward the hidden blade beneath my skirt.

His gaze followed the movement. A faint smile touched one corner of his mouth. It held no warmth.

“Not yet, little wolf.”

The nickname made my anger flare hotter.

“Call me that again and you’ll lose your tongue.”