"Two days, Irina? Two goddamn days and you're already running away?"
Theron walked ahead of her down the hallway with a fury that tensed his back and hardened every step. The guards had stayed behind. Just the two of them and the echo of their footsteps on the stone.
"I told you I would," Irina replied, almost trotting to keep up. "On your throne, to your face. Don't act surprised."
Theron stopped short. He spun around. Irina nearly slammed into his chest.
"Do you have any idea what would've happened if you'd crossed the barrier? Out there, there are no allied packs. No guards. Only humans, hunters, and outlaw wolves like the ones that nearly killed you on the road. Is that what you wanted to go back to?"
"Anywhere that isn't a prison!"
"This isn't a prison!"
"Oh, no? I can't leave. I can't go out. I can't ask anything because nobody answers me. I've got a beast that came into my room last night and a king who ignores me during the day. What do you call that?"
"I call it saving your life, which is exactly what I'm doing even though you don't deserve it."
"Saving me? My father sold me and you bought me. The only difference between you two is that your castle is bigger."
Theron took a step toward her. His eyes flashed with something dangerous.
"Don't compare me to your father."
"Why not? He ignored me for eighteen years. You've been at it for two days and you're already on the same path. You send me to my room like a dog. You don't explain anything. And you expect me to sit still waiting for a ceremony I didn't ask for. How are you any different from Viktor Volkov?"
She saw it on his face: the jaw clenching, the tendons in his neck straining, his hands closing into fists.
"Your father handed you over because he doesn't care about you," Theron said, in a voice so low it cut. "I need you here because if you're not, I die. That's the difference."
"What?"
"The curse is consuming me. Every night I lose more control. The beast is stronger and I'm less me. And the only chance of breaking it is the Red Moon ceremony. With you. Your blood. Your bloodline. If you leave, it's over."
"And you're telling me this now? After two days of treating me like a piece of furniture?"
"How did you want me to tell you? 'Hi, welcome, at night I turn into a monster and you're my last hope'? Would that have made you stay?"
"At least it would've been honest!"
"Honesty is a luxury I can't afford!"
They were half a meter apart. Screaming at each other. Irina with her face red and her fists clenched. Theron with his eyes flickering between gray and something darker.
"Tell me one thing," Irina said. "The beast that came into my room last night. It's you."
"It's part of me."
"It has your eyes. The same beast that found me at the lake before I knew who you were. Before my father signed anything. It found me and it didn't hurt me. Why?"
"I don't know. I don't remember what happens at night."
"Well, I do. And I didn't escape from the truck on a whim. I escaped because nobody tells me the truth and I'm sick of people deciding for me."
The silence stretched like a rope about to snap.
"Don't escape again," Theron said.
"Don't lie to me again."
"I didn't lie to you."
"Omitting is lying. And you know it."
He opened his mouth to respond.
Ezra appeared in the hallway looking like a disaster.
"My king. Your mother just arrived."
Theron's anger evaporated. What remained was something Irina never expected to see in an alpha: panic.
"What?"
"The Queen Mother. She's in the vestibule. With luggage."
"Nobody invited her."
"That's never stopped her, sir."
Theron closed his eyes. When he opened them, the anger was a different kind. More tired.
"Stay here," he told Irina.
"Why?"
"Because what's coming is worse than me."
Catalina Blackmoor entered the castle as if the walls belonged to her. Tall, thin, black hair streaked with gray, gray eyes identical to her son's. Irina didn't stay where she was told. She was in the vestibule when Catalina walked in. The woman saw her and stopped.
"And who's this?"
"Irina Volkov," Irina said before Ezra could intervene. "The offering. The omega. The one nobody wants but everybody needs."
Catalina looked her up and down in three seconds.
"She's got a mouth." She removed her gloves. "Ezra, bring her to the tea room in an hour."
"Today everyone wants to talk to me," Irina muttered. "Yesterday no one would give me the time of day."
Catalina was already walking toward the north wing.
One hour later.
"I'll be direct," Catalina said. "I came because my son is about to make the biggest mistake of his life and someone has to make sure it's at least presentable."
"Am I the mistake?"
"The situation is the mistake. You're the consequence. Do you know what the Red Moon entails?"
"A union ritual before the moon goddess."
"That's what they told you. Now I'll tell you what no one dared to. The Red Moon is a trial. The goddess decides whether the union is legitimate. If she accepts you, you'll be united. If not—"
"What?"
"You die."
Irina felt the floor disappear.
"I die?"
"If the goddess decides you're not the one, the ritual rejects you. And the moon's rejection kills. Every woman who stood before the Red Moon without being the true mate died."
"Your son knows this."
"Of course."
"He just screamed at me in the hallway that he needs me to break his curse. He told me that without me he dies. But he didn't tell me that I can die too."
"If he told you, you'd run. And you already tried, didn't you? The whole castle heard about it."
"At least I tried."
"From today until the ceremony, you'll be under my supervision. Protocol, positions, words. If you're going to die, do it with elegance."
"And if I don't want to?"
"Your father sold you. My son needs you. The moon will decide. The only thing you have left is to pray that the goddess sees something in you that, frankly, I don't."
Irina clenched her fists.
"You know what surprises me? Three people in two days telling me I'm not enough. My father. Your son. You. And yet, the beast that terrorizes everyone walked into my room last night and lay down at my feet. So maybe the problem isn't me. Maybe none of you understand what the moon has already decided."
Catalina looked at her differently.
"The beast went to your room."
"Last night."
"And it didn't hurt you?"
"It licked my face and fell asleep on my floor."
Silence.
"My son's beast hasn't tolerated anyone in years," Catalina said. "Not guards. Not she-wolves. Not even me."
"Does that change anything?"
"It changes the odds." She stood. "Tomorrow at seven. Don't be late." She paused at the door. "And if you tell my son I told you about the risk, I'll deny it."
She left.
Irina sat alone.
I could die. In eleven days I could die. Theron screamed at me that he needed me, but he didn't tell me that needing me could cost me my life.
The rage climbed up her throat. Against Theron for lying to her. Against Catalina for telling her with a cup of tea in her hand. Against her father for selling her without caring if she lived or died. Against the moon goddess and her twisted sense of justice. But beneath the rage, an image. The yellow eyes at the lake. The beast that found her before anyone signed anything.
It found me. It chose me. No debts, no pacts, no obligations. The beast chose me.
The question is whether the moon will agree.
Eleven days.
And if the answer was no, at least she'd die on her feet.
As always.
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