ONE

CIARA’S POV

I led the last group of guests to the door, my feet aching from hours of walking in heels. The celebration had been grand, just like everything else in the O'Donoghue mansion. Five years since I'd first met Ronan at my debut. Five years of what was perfect happiness.

"Oh wait!" Sarah Morgan grabbed my arm. "I think I left my phone upstairs. In the blue guest room, I think? I was touching up my makeup there earlier."

"I'll get it," I offered, already turning toward the stairs. "You should stay here so you can head home faster. It's late."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I can flash there and back in no time."

I climbed the stairs, grateful for a moment alone. The party had been beautiful, but exhausting. Playing the perfect Luna always was. I reached the second floor and headed toward the east wing where the guest rooms were.

My wolf abilities let me move silently through the halls. I tried flashing to find Sarah's phone, but picked up nothing electronic nearby. Strange.

That's when I heard the whispers.

I froze. The voices were coming from further down the hall, past the blue guest room. I recognized Ronan's deep rumble immediately. My feet moved before my brain could catch up, drawn by the sound of my mate's voice.

The door to the green guest room was cracked open, spilling a thin line of light into the dark hallway. I inched closer, telling myself I was being silly. Ronan probably just needed a quiet moment to...

My thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm.

Through the gap in the door, I saw them. Ronan had Ewan pressed against the wall, one hand down the front of his brother's pants. They were kissing. Not the quick peck of siblings, but deep and hungry, like lovers who'd been starved for each other's touch.

"Someone could hear us," Ewan gasped between kisses.

Ronan grinned against his neck. "That's why I brought us to the empty wing. No one will think to look here. We have plenty of time to do whatever we want."

Ewan's smile was soft, intimate. "I missed you."

A sound escaped my throat before I could stop it. Half cry, half whimper. Their heads snapped toward the door and I stumbled backward, my heart trying to hammer its way out of my chest.

I ran to the nearest room - the blue guest room - and shut the door as quietly as I could with trembling hands. Footsteps approached in the hallway.

"Who's there?" Ronan called out.

I pressed my hands over my mouth, tasting salt. When had I started crying?

My mind raced in useless circles. How long had this been happening? How had I never noticed? What else had I been blind to?

Something caught my eye. A glint of metal on the floor by the vanity. Sarah's phone. The universe had a sick sense of humor.

The door opened. Light flooded the room and I pressed myself deeper into the shadows behind the wardrobe, praying my scent wasn't too strong. Ronan stood in the doorway, scanning the room. After what felt like forever, he closed the door.

"Maybe we should leave," he said to Ewan. "My study is better. I can lock the door."

Their footsteps faded down the hall. I counted to hundred before I dared to move.

I retrieved Sarah's phone with numb fingers and made my way back downstairs. My legs felt like they might give out any second.

"Here," I said, handing the phone to Sarah. My voice sounded strange even to my own ears. "Drive safe."

I locked the front door after they left, my movements mechanical. Like a puppet going through the motions.

"That was exhausting." Brigid appeared beside me, carrying a plate of leftover anniversary cake. "Beg your husband not to do this again next year. My head and hands are killing me."

I forced out a dry chuckle, but it must have sounded as hollow as I felt.

Brigid's sharp green eyes fixed on my face. "What's wrong?"

Wrong? Everything was wrong. The mate bond that was supposed to be sacred was a lie. My marriage was a sham. My husband was... was...

"Nothing," I said. "Just tired."

"You don't look tired. You look ill." She set down the plate and pressed her cool hand to my forehead. The same way she'd done countless times over the years, mothering me like I was truly her daughter.

I pulled away. "I'm fine. Really."

"Ciara." Her voice was firm. "Tell me what's bothering you."

I looked at her then, really looked at her. Did she know? Had she always known? How could she not have noticed in all these years?

"I should check on Erin," I said. My daughter. Oh god, my daughter. What would this mean for her?

"She's sound asleep. I just looked in on her." Brigid said and that is when she noticed I was starting to cry now. Brigid's hand caught my wrist. "Ciara? What is going on?"

"Nothing," I lied. Badly.

"Talk to me, dear. Whatever it is, we can fix it."

Fix it? How could anyone fix this?

My ears attuned with my werewolf heritage caught the sound of footsteps upstairs. Two sets, moving in perfect sync. Like they'd had years of practice sneaking around together.

"I need some air," I choked out, pulling free from Brigid's grip.

"Ciara!"

I was already running for the garden door. I needed to think. I needed to breathe. I needed...

I needed this all to be a nightmare I could wake up from.

The night air was crisp, wrapping around me as I stepped onto the stone pathway of the garden. The moon hung low, casting silver beams onto the carefully pruned hedges and the intricate stone fountain in the center of the courtyard. I barely noticed its beauty. My mind was a battlefield of questions and disbelief.

Had any of it been real?

The past five years unraveled in my mind, every cherished moment turning into something twisted, something false. I had met Ronan at the Full Moon Ball, my heart filled with dreams of romance and destiny. I had been raised with tales of fated mates, of love that burned brighter than any human emotion. I had entered werewolf society as the prized Luna Blood of the Blackthorne Pack. My lineage was sacred My future was unquestionable. When the goddess had matched me with Ronan, I had felt like my fairytale was unfolding. He had been charming, kind, everything I had dreamed of. What else was there to question?

Now, the weight of the truth settled deep in my chest, pressing against my ribs like an iron grip. Ronan had never been considered for the Alpha title of his birth pack, Silvercrest. His mother had not been a Luna by birth. His father had already been bound to a born Luna, leaving Ronan a son of an imperfect union, always a step removed from true legitimacy. But our marriage had changed that. The goddess had granted him a path to power… through me. A born Luna. A direct link to what he had been denied his entire life.

Had that been why we were together? Had I been nothing more than a means to an end?

The memory of our first meeting, our first touch, our first kiss… Each one flickered through my mind, poisoned by the thought that it might have been built on something other than love. Had Ronan wanted me? Or had he only wanted the title, the position, the status our union had granted him?

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to ward off the chill that had nothing to do with the night air. The bond between mates was supposed to be unbreakable, a sacred tie forged by the goddess herself. But was it? If he had truly been mine, then why had he given himself to someone else?

To Ewan.

My breath hitched as the image of them together seared into my mind. The way Ronan had looked at him, the way their bodies had molded to each other, desperate and knowing. That was not the touch of someone denying themselves. That was not the touch of someone trapped in duty. That was the touch of lovers who had craved each other for years.

I had never questioned him. Never doubted that he loved me. But had he? Or had he only loved what I could provide?

My fingers trembled as I traced the edge of my wedding ring. It was supposed to be a symbol of fate, of devotion. Now it felt like a chain, binding me to a life that had never truly been mine.

The sound of footsteps from the house brought me back to the present.

A sharp inhale, a rapid pulse in my ears.

How long had this been happening?

I had always believed that the goddess did not make mistakes. That mates were meant to be together. But now doubt slithered into my thoughts like a serpent. What if the goddess had made a mistake? What if the bond had been nothing more than a biological pull, a cruel trick of nature rather than a divine match? If the goddess had truly chosen Ronan for me, then why did his heart belong to someone else?

I pressed a hand to my stomach, bile rising in my throat. Erin. Our daughter. What did this mean for her? She had been raised believing in the sanctity of the mate bond, the same way I had. How would I ever explain this to her? That her father had never truly been mine, that our family had been a lie?

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe. I could not break. Not here. Not now.

The rustling of leaves behind me made me turn sharply. Brigid stood there, her green eyes shadowed with worry.

"Ciara, what is going on?" she asked again, her voice softer now.

I opened my mouth, but the words stuck in my throat. What could I say? That the perfect marriage, the perfect mate, the perfect life—it had all been built on a lie?

I swallowed hard. "Ronan is gay."

"What?" Brigid stepped closer, her brow furrowed. "What did you just say?"

"Ronan is gay," I repeated, my voice stronger now. "Or maybe he's not. I don't know what to call it. But I saw him with Ewan. They were..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

Brigid's face went white, then red. "That's impossible. You must be mistaken."

"I'm not mistaken. I saw them kissing. His hand was..." I choked on the words. "They were intimate, Brigid. Very intimate."

Her eyes flashed with something dangerous. "We need to go inside. Now."

"Brigid, please!"

But she was already storming toward the house, her back rigid with fury. I hurried after her, panic rising in my chest.

"Brigid, wait! Erin is sleeping. Please don't make a scene—"

She flung open the door with enough force to rattle the hinges. "Ronan! Ewan! Get down here this instant!"

I cringed at the volume. "Please, you'll wake Erin."

The sound of footsteps on the stairs made me look up. My heart stopped. Ronan and Ewan descended side by side, both wearing only hastily donned pants. Their hair was mussed, their lips swollen. It couldn't have been more obvious what they'd been doing.

Ronan's eyes locked on mine, and I saw the moment he realized. His face went completely blank, that same mask he wore at pack meetings when dealing with unpleasant business.

Brigid looked from her sons to me, then back again. "Your wife said something disturbing to me just now." Her voice was ice. "She said she saw you kiss your brother. Tell her it's not true."

Ronan looked at me for a long moment. "If I lie, the bond will tell her," he said quietly.

Brigid's hand flew to her mouth. "No... no... this cannot be true."

Ewan wouldn't look at any of us, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"I need some water," Brigid mumbled, pushing past me toward the kitchen. "I need to think."

I followed her, heart hammering in my chest. "It's true," I said, watching her fumble with a glass at the sink. "I wanted him to lie so badly. I wanted this all to be some horrible mistake."

Brigid turned to me, tears streaming down her face. She looked broken, vulnerable. She walked toward me with open arms.

"I cherished you as a daughter-in-law," she said, pulling me into a tight hug. "You've been perfect. This is such a shame."

I stiffened in her embrace. It was the way she said it. "What is?"

The pain hit me before I registered the movement. Sharp, burning agony bloomed in my stomach. I looked down in shock to see a handle protruding from my belly, Brigid's hand still gripping it.

"Know that this is hard for me," she whispered, twisting the blade deeper.

I screamed and shoved her away, stumbling backward. Crimson spread across my dress, warm and wet. I grabbed the edge of the counter to stay upright, my knees threatening to buckle.

"Help!" I tried to shout, but it came out as hardly more than a wheeze. "Ronan!"

I lurched toward the doorway, one hand pressed to my stomach. Silver. The wound wasn't healing. The pain was too specific, too intense. She'd stabbed me with silver.

"You don't understand, dear," Brigid said, following me with measured steps. She didn't need to hurry. We both knew I wasn't going far with a silver blade in my gut. "Some secrets must be protected at all costs."

I made it to the hallway before my legs gave out. I fell hard against the wall, leaving a smear of blood as I slid to the floor. Through the haze of pain, I saw Ronan and Ewan standing at the foot of the stairs, watching.

"Ronan," I gasped. "Please. Help me."

His face was still that perfect, emotionless mask. He didn't move.

Brigid knelt beside me and brushed the hair from my face with gentle fingers. The tenderness of the gesture made bile rise in my throat.

"It's better this way," she murmured. "Quick and clean. No scandal. No shame for the pack. Erin will grow up proud of her father's name." She looked up at her sons, her eyes hardening. "I told you both to be more careful. I've spent years protecting you, covering for you, and now look what's happened."

The realization hit me like a second blade. She knew. She had always known.

"How long?" I wheezed, blood bubbling at the corner of my lips. “How long have you known about them?”

Brigid sighed, stroking my cheek. "Since they were teenagers. I caught them once. I should have put a stop to it then, but..." She glanced at her sons with a strange mix of love and resignation. "A mother protects her children. No matter what."

I turned my head to look at Ronan again. The man I'd loved. The father of my child. My divine mate. He stood there watching me die, his brother's hand clasped tightly in his.

"Was any of it real?" I asked him, my voice barely a whisper now.

I saw something flicker across his face. A part of me wanted to believe it was regret. But it was probably just impatience for this messy business to be over.

"I needed a pack to lead," he said. "You were a born Luna with no sibling vying for the title of Pack Alpha. The mate bond was... convenient."

Goddess!? Convenient? Five years of my life, Having a daughter was just…all just convenient political maneuvering?

I thought about Erin. My baby. I tried to rise again but couldn't find the strength. The silver was working its way through my system, burning through my veins like acid.

"Why?" I asked, not sure who I was asking anymore. Brigid? Ronan? The Moon Goddess who had cursed me with this mate bond?

Ronan finally spoke, his voice flat. "Security. Power."

Of course. The mighty Alpha couldn't risk his secret getting out. Couldn't risk losing his position, his respect. Better to lose a mate than face the truth.

The room was growing dim around the edges. I could feel my wolf whimpering, retreating deeper inside me as the silver poisoned us both.

"I loved you," I whispered, my eyes fixed on Ronan.

He met my gaze without emotion. "I know."

That was all. No apology. No regret. Just acknowledgment of a fact that no longer mattered.

Brigid stroked my hair as darkness crept in from all sides. "Shhh. It'll be over soon."

My last thoughts were of Erin. My daughter sleeping peacefully upstairs, unaware that her mother was dying on the floor below. That her grandmother was a murderer. That her father and uncle were…

If only I had seen the signs sooner. If only I had been stronger. If only I had another chance.

I coughed, tasting copper. The silver was burning through my insides now, eating away at my wolf, at my very soul. Each breath was harder than the last.

"Erin," I managed to say. "Promise me you'll—"

"Erin will be fine," Brigid cut me off. "I raised these two, didn't I? I know how to raise a child."

Screw this, I wanted to scream. "If only..." I whispered, my last words lost even to my own ears as darkness claimed me.

If only I had seen the signs sooner. If only I had been stronger. If only I had another chance.