Chapter 30
Chapter 30
WADE
This isn’t how I remember it. This is not it at all.
What used to be a riot of whites, yellows, soft pinks–lilies and ptunias, the ones my mother planted with Sorin years ago- are gone. They’re all wiped out. Every last goddamn one replaced with blood–red roses standing tall like arrogant soldiers.
The scent hits me first, it’s extremely sharp and cloying, suffocating instead of soothing. Roses. Always roses. Ariel’s signature stamp of ownership, as if she can just erase history with petals and thorns.
My fists curl before my brain even catches up. “What the fuck is this? ” My voice carries across the courtyard, sharp enough to slice through the chatter of the Omegas still fussing over the flowerbeds.
They all freeze. A few glance at one another nervously. Someone mutters, “The Luna wanted to surprise you, Alpha p>
I step closer, boots crunching over petals that never should’ve been torn up in the first place. “Surprise me? By gutting my mother’s garden? By ripping up the only goddamn thing left of her and…” Sorin? Was what I was supposed to say, but what can it do when I’m ought to marry another woman.
The Omegas shrink back. None of them answer. One finally gathers the courage to mumble, “What’s wrong with the Alpha? Luna Ariel’s doing this for him, and he screams like p>
“Get the fuck out.” My voice booms, final and unforgiving.
They scatter like frightened birds, skirts swishing as they practically run for the gates.
Silence. The kind that gnaws at your ribs. I crouch down and grab one of the roses by its stem, thorns biting into my palm until blood beads between my fingers. I rip it straight from the soil and fling it across the stones. Another follows. And another. My hands don’t stop tearing, destroying, until the place looks like carnage.
I don’t care. Let it look ruined–because it already is.
My throat tightens as memory slams into me. My mother’s voice soft and tired from a life of holding too much together. “When you marry Sorin, I want these in her bouquet. All of them. Every lily, every petunia. Promise me, Wade p>
And I had promised. Christ, I had.
I swallow hard, forcing the burn down, and straighten up, wiping my bloodied hands against my trousers. The roses mock me from every corner. They don’t belong here. She doesn’t belong here.
I don’t even think as I storm across the packhouse, feet eating up the corridors. I know exactly where to find her.
The door slams open under my hand, crashing into the wall.
Ariel turns from the mirror, silk spilling around her in a white cascade. A wedding dress. Her hair pinned up, pearls glinting
at her ears. For a split second–just one agonizing, cruel split second–my mind betrays me.
It’s Sorin. Standing there. Those green eyes, soft smile, with flowers in her hair.
Then it’s gone, Just Ariel. Always Ariel, because Sorin’s not here. And maybe never will be again.
The air leaves my lungs in a rush.
She tilts her head, lashes fluttering like she’s posing for a painting “Why do you look so angry, Wade p>
I shut the door with my boot, the bang echoing through the chamber. My jaw clenches. “Why did you change the flowers p>
Her brows lift, feigning innocence. “Flowers p>
“The garden,” I bite out, crossing the room toward her. My reflection in the mirror looks wrecked, bloodied hands against black clothes. “Those were my mother’s lilies. My mother’s and “I stop. The word catches.
Ariel’s lips curl, finishing it for me, “Sorin’s p>
The sound of her name in Ariel’s mouth is poison.
She sighs, turning back to admire herself in the mirror, smoothing her hands over her stomach–her swollen, pregnant stomach–as if that excuses everything. “They were dull, Wade. They looked washed out. This house deserves life. Color. Not… old, drooping memories p>
My nails dig into my palms. “They weren’t just flowers p>
“They’re weeds now.” She flicks her fingers like she’s dismissing a servant. “And I replaced them with something better. Roses are timeless. Bold. Strong. Just like what our union should be p>
Union. The word makes my skin crawl.
I bark a humorless laugh, stepping closer until I tower over her reflection. “You think a rose makes you my Luna? That ripping out what mattered to me is gonna change the fact you’re just p>
Her hand flies to her stomach again, cutting me off with a pitiful gasp. “Careful, Wade. Don’t forget who I’m carrying. You’d risk upsetting your heir over flowers p>
I stare at her. My pulse pounds. My chest feels like it’s being split in two.
Because once again, she’s right.
And once again, I hate her for it.
Ariel’s perfume clings to my shirt, the expensive floral crap she drenches herself in until it makes me lightheaded. She walks over across the velvet couch like she owns the place, her fingers lazily trailing across her swollen stomach though the world should stop just because she’s incubating a brat.
I walk over to the nearest table and take a sip of whiskey, let the Burn coat my throat, and try to convince myself that this- her–is the easier choice.
Sorin was never easy.
She always made me fucking work for everything. Her respect. Her touch. Her smile, With Ariel, I don’t need to do a damn thing. She worships the ground I walk on, hangs on every word ke I’m her god. With Sorin… nothing I did was ever enough. Not the titles, not the promises, not the wars I fought in
And maybe that’s why I chose Ariel. She’s simple. Predictable. She doesn’t make me feel like I’m constantly coming up short. She doesn’t look at me with those sharp silver eyes like she’s waing for me to be someone better than I am.
Yeah. That’s the reason. That’s the story I’m sticking to.
A knock rattles the heavy oak door. I set the glass down with a dil thud. “Enter”
An Omega slips in, head ducked low, hands clutching a cream–lored envelope sealed with wax. He crosses the marble floor, sets it on the table, and bows so deep I almost hear his spie crack.
“An invitation, Alpha,” he mutters, eyes still on the floor. “From the Imperial Palace p>
My brows pinch. “The hell does the King want with me?” I pick the envelope, break the seal, and unfold the parchment. Thick gold lettering, obnoxious as always.
You are cordially invited to attend the Full Moon Ritual.
I huff out a bitter laugh. “Thought the bastard hated my guts p>
Ariel leans forward, hair spilling over her shoulder in a calculate move. Her lips curl into a sweet, poisonous smile. “Alaric Hayes could never stay mad at you, darling. You’re too valuable. le knows it. Everyone knows it p>
I glance at her, unimpressed. “That so p>
She rises, crossing the room in that slow sway she thinks is seductive, and drapes her arm around my shoulders. “Of course. He respects you. Even if he doesn’t show it p>
Respect. Right. That’s a fucking stretch. If anything, the Lycan King would rip my spine out the second he got the chance.
Still, the ritual… it’s not just some random gathering. It’s tradition. A show of strength. An event that drags every Alpha, Elder, and high–ranking parasite out of their holes to bow before him.
Ariel beams at me like she’s already picturing herself center stage. “We’re going. Obviously. I’ll need a new dress p>
Of course she will.
I sink back in the chair, folding the invitation closed. My mind drifts–unwanted–back to Sorin. The Lycan King still believes she’s alive. He won’t say it, but I know it. Even when we hid that mangled body at the borders, his eyes said it all. He didn’t buy it. Didn’t believe she was gone.
Stupid. He’s holding onto a ghost.
And yet–fuck–it twists in my chest that a man like him refuses to let go of her… when I did.
“I want something dazzling,” Ariel interrupts my thoughts, her veice sharp with excitement. “Silk. Jewels. Something no one can take their eyes off. It has to fit the occasion perfectly. And since it’s a masquerade ball, I’ll need a mask as well p>
I blink, snapping back. “A masquerade p>
She nods eagerly, clapping her hands like a child. “Yes! Didn’t you read it? The King’s idea. Isn’t it marvelous p>
Marvelous, my ass. The King throwing a masquerade for a sacred ritual is the kind of wild, rule–breaking shit that would only ever come from Sorin’s mouth. She used to plan events for our pack–always out of the box, always making people gape like they’d never seen creativity before.
This feels like her.
I drag a hand down my face. Don’t think about her. Don’t you fuking dare.
“The Omega will sort your wardrobe,” I mutter, waving a hand. Pick the best dresses. I don’t care what it costs. ”
Ariel’s lips twist into a smile that’s too sharp to be sweet. “Then want the wardrobe Sorin used to have p>
Silence,
The air leaves the room in one vicious pull. My body locks, whiskey glass frozen halfway to my lips. I turn to her slowly, blood pounding in my ears.
“What?” My voice is low, dangerous.
Ariel just tilts her head, eyes glittering like she’s testing me, waiting for a reaction.
I set the glass down, grip tightening around the stem until I heart crack. “Say that again p>
Her smile widens, almost daring
The Omega flinches by the door, eyes darting between us like he knows he’s trapped in a scene he shouldn’t witness.
My chest tightens, rage crawling up my throat, because that one game–that one fucking name–shatters the lie I’ve been feeding myself since the moment I let Sorin go.
The room feels too small, too hot, and Ariel’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade poised for my jugular-
“I said I want SOrin’s wardrobe p>
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