TEN

RONAN'S POV

Sara was still talking, her words sharp and smug, but I barely listened. My mind drifted back to a conversation I’d had with my mother not long ago, when we had first set our eyes on Darragh’s obsessive cousin.

Brigid had been the one to point her out, watching her from across the room like a hawk assessing its prey. She had seen something in Saraphina Maychild that I had overlooked—an opening, a way in.

“The smart thing to do,” she had mused, her voice smooth with certainty, “would be to involve the girl in our future plottings.”

I had frowned, swirling the drink in my hand, barely sparing a glance at the redhead who had attached herself to Darragh’s side. “I don’t want to make her my mate.”

Brigid had scoffed, giving me a sharp look. “Don’t be stupid, Ronan.”

I had sighed, dragging a hand through my hair, but my mother had only leaned in closer, lowering her voice.

“The girl is part witch,” she had continued, her eyes glinting with something cold and knowing. “Even if her witch heritage is dormant, she will still be sensitive to magic. There will be no forging a mate bond with her.”

She had lifted a glass of wine from the table, careful, precise. From the inside of her sleeve, she had produced a vial—the last of the potion she had gotten from her witch—and tipped it into the drink.

The liquid shimmered, glowing warm before settling back to its normal color.

Brigid had smirked, turning the glass slowly between her fingers.

“But that is what we are counting on,” she had murmured.

I had watched the wine shift and swirl, feeling the weight of my mother’s scheme settle into my bones.

“She has to be the one to choose us,” Brigid had said. “She has to think she is the smart one. And she definitely looks the part.”

My grip had tightened around my own glass, but I hadn’t argued.

Because she was right.

Now, standing here, watching Saraphina throw her little jabs at me, I understood just how valuable she could be.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead with you,” she sneered, dragging me back to the present, “even if I were under the worst of spells.”

I smirked. “That’s a shame.”

Her lips curled, but before she could spit something else at me, she exhaled sharply, tilting her head.

“But,” she drawled, “that doesn’t mean we can’t be partners.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “I’m not certain I get what you mean.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “I’ll dumb it down.”

She stepped closer, her gaze steady, assessing.

“I’ll join hands with you because we have similar goals,” she said, voice firm, deliberate. “You want the tramp that has latched herself to Darragh, and I want Darragh.”

A slow grin stretched across my face.

I liked a woman who got straight to the point.

She lifted her glass, swirling the remnants of her drink, then shoved it back into my hand with a smirk.

“But don’t you ever,” she said, voice smooth, “try to juice me in your pathetic life.”

She turned on her heel, not waiting for my response, her gown flowing behind her as she walked away.

I chuckled, watching her go.

Interesting.

Very, very interesting.

Once Sara was gone, Ewan came marching. It was clear he had something vile to say.

Ewan’s skepticism didn’t bother me. He had always been the cautious one between us, the one who questioned, the one who hesitated. But that was why I led, and he followed.

I watched him carefully, waiting for the inevitable resistance. It came, just as I expected.

"You look cherry," he muttered, arms crossed, his face tight with something close to frustration.

I chuckled, the sound low and pleased. "Mom’s plan was right. She was easy to convince, and soon, she’ll be working for us."

Ewan shook his head. "The girl is already mates with an Alpha, and she seems to actually like him. Do you not think fixating on her is stupid? There are other targets that haven’t become untouchable in seconds."

I turned to him slowly, meeting his gaze. "Where is this coming from?"

His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

Then it clicked, and I couldn’t help but smirk. "You’re jealous."

His scoff was immediate. "Forget the girl and get your pick from the litter. Others will be easier."

I let his words settle for a moment, then smiled, amused by his short-sightedness.

"Others?" I repeated. "Yes, some might be 'only children'. Some might be born Lunas. But the Blackthorne Luna?" I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "She has something else. It’s not just the legitimacy of her birth, not just the lack of siblings making her an easy claim."

I let the words sink in, watching Ewan’s face carefully.

"She is a Blackthorne, Ewan. That is fucking legacy."

I saw the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He knew I was right, but he wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

I placed a firm hand on his shoulder, forcing him to meet my gaze. "I want that. And if you care for me at all, you would want it for me too. For us. Remember, I am doing this for us."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his hesitation lasting a moment longer than I liked. Then, finally, he nodded. "Of course. Of course, if that’s what you want, you have my support."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across my face.

"That’s all I want."

I gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping back, feeling a rush of victory.

She would be mine.

I always got what I wanted.

And this time would be no different.

I barely had time to bask in my victory before the commotion started.

A high-pitched gasp rang through the hall, followed by the sharp clatter of heels against the marble floor. Heads turned. Whispers started. My name fluttered between lips like wildfire.

"It's you!"

The voice was familiar. Sweet, honeyed, and just theatrical enough to make my spine stiffen. I turned, already knowing what I would find.

Saraphina Maychild.

She pushed through the crowd with wide, shimmering eyes, her chest rising and falling dramatically as if she had just run a mile. Every movement was deliberate, calculated for attention. And oh, did she have it.

Before I could speak, she threw herself forward, her hands landing on my chest like she was about to collapse. A collective gasp rippled through the gathered crowd.

"It's you," she whispered breathlessly, loud enough for every single person in the room to hear. "Oh, Goddess, it's really you."

I arched a brow, momentarily thrown off by the theatrics. Was always dramatic? She looked like the kind who would play such a wild card if it was in her interests. But this? This was another level.

"You're my mate!" she exclaimed.

The hall erupted. Gasps, murmurs, shock—all the reactions she wanted.

Ewan stiffened beside me, his sharp intake of breath the only indication that he, too, was blindsided by this spectacle. But unlike him, I adapted quickly. Because once again, the hybrid had proven mother right. Ambitious, hungry for power, and desperate to win. The perfect ally I needed.

So this was her angle.

Publicize. Make a scene. Make it real in the eyes of everyone watching.

Clever.

I exhaled slowly and let my lips curl into a slow, lazy smirk. Fine. If she wanted a show, I'd give her one.

"Fate works in strange ways, doesn't it?" I mused, my voice smooth, just loud enough for the onlookers.

Sara's eyes darted over my face, probably trying to gauge how much I was willing to play along. I could see the nervous flicker beneath the confidence, the uncertainty behind her perfect performance. But she had set the stage, and now she had to see it through.

"You felt it too, didn't you?" she pressed, stepping even closer, her fingers grazing my collar. "The bond, I mean."

I tilted my head, letting my gaze roam over her carefully composed expression. I had played this game longer than she had. I knew how to make a crowd believe anything.

I lifted a hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She shivered at the contact, eyes going half-lidded. More gasps. More murmurs.

"Sara," I murmured, making it sound almost affectionate. "What an unexpected turn of events."

A well-timed pause.

Then, I nodded, just once.

"Yes," I said, my voice laced with something deep, almost reverent. "I felt it."

The hall exploded.

"Oh... My goddess.." "Two mates in one night?" "Something must be in the wind."

Sara let out a relieved laugh, as if she had just won the lottery, as if this was real and not the most transparent show I'd ever seen.

I let my fingers trail down her jaw before dropping my hand altogether. She clung to my arm, her grip ironclad, like she thought I might disappear if she let go.

Ewan was glaring at me. I ignored him.

A familiar face in the crowd caught my eye—Ciara O'Callahan, watching with narrowed eyes. Good. Let her watch.

Sara had made a bold move. A reckless one. But in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t the worst strategy.

She had just tethered herself to me in the eyes of several packs and on one of the most important nights.

Now, we just had to decide how long we wanted to play along.