Chapter 3

The silver blade pressed against my throat, its cold edge a promise of peace I desperately craved. The moonlight streaming through the cabin windows seemed to mock me—the Moon Goddess's light illuminating my final act of defiance against a world that had taken everything from me.

"Calvin," I whispered to the empty room, my son's name a prayer on my lips. "I'm coming, baby."

The blade trembled in my grip as I prepared to draw it across my neck, to sever the mate bond that had become my prison and end the agony that consumed every breath. But before I could complete the motion, strong hands seized my wrists.

"No!" Westley's voice cracked with desperation as he wrestled the knife away from me. "Aria, stop!"

I fought against him with the fury of a cornered wolf, my grief giving me strength I didn't know I possessed. "Let me go! Let me go to him!"

"I won't let you do this." His arms wrapped around me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides as I thrashed against his hold. "I can't lose you too."

Something in his voice—raw, broken, terrified—made me still. Through my tears, I became aware of his scent surrounding me, woodsmoke and pine and something indefinably warm that made my wolf stir for the first time since Calvin's death.

"You don't understand," I sobbed, my body going limp in his embrace. "He's gone. My baby is gone, and Magnus—Magnus doesn't even care. He's relieved, Westley. I saw it in his eyes."

"I know." His voice was barely above a whisper, his breath warm against my ear. "I know what kind of monster my brother has become. But ending your life won't bring Calvin back."

I turned in his arms, and the moment our eyes met, something electric passed between us. My wolf, who had been silent and withdrawn since Calvin's death, suddenly lifted her head with interest. Westley's pupils dilated, and I caught his scent again—stronger now, more intoxicating.

"Your scent," I breathed, confusion cutting through my grief. "It's... different."

Westley's hands trembled as they cupped my face, his thumbs brushing away my tears. "Aria, there's something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you years ago."

The air between us seemed to shimmer with an energy I didn't understand. My mate mark, which had been cold and lifeless since Magnus's public rejection, began to warm.

"That's impossible," I whispered, even as my wolf began to pace restlessly in my mind. "I'm already mated. The Moon Goddess doesn't make mistakes."

"She doesn't," Westley agreed, his voice thick with emotion. "But sometimes her plans are more complex than we understand."

His wolf began to surface, and I gasped as amber bled into his dark eyes. The scent that had been teasing at the edges of my consciousness exploded into full awareness—mate. True mate. The recognition hit me like a physical blow, stealing my breath and making my knees buckle.

"No," I shook my head, backing away from him. "This can't be happening. You're his brother. This is wrong."

"Is it wrong that I've loved you from the moment you walked into our court nine years ago?" His voice broke on the words. "Is it wrong that I've watched you suffer in silence, knowing you were meant to be mine?"

The mate bond snapped into place with such force that I cried out, doubling over as waves of connection and recognition flooded through me. My wolf howled with joy even as my human mind reeled in shock and denial.

"I don't understand," I gasped, clutching at my chest where my heart felt like it might explode. "How is this possible?"

"Sometimes the Goddess gives us what we need, not what we expect," Westley said softly, reaching for me again. "You were never truly his, Aria. The bond you shared with Magnus was forced, political. This—" he gestured between us as the air crackled with mate energy, "—this is real."

I stared at him through my tears, seeing him clearly for perhaps the first time. The way he'd always watched me with such careful attention. The way he'd appeared at my side during the darkest moments. The way he'd fought to save me from myself just now.

"Nine years," I whispered. "You've known for nine years?"

Pain flickered across his features. "Every day has been torture, watching him treat you like you were nothing when you're everything."

The confession hung between us like a bridge I wasn't sure I was ready to cross. My grief for Calvin still consumed me, but underneath it, something else was stirring—a connection that felt more real than anything I'd ever experienced with Magnus.

But as the initial shock of recognition faded, questions began to surface. If Westley had known I was his true mate, if he'd been watching and waiting all these years, what else did he know? What other secrets were hidden in the shadows of the royal court?

And most importantly—if Calvin's death wasn't the random rogue attack it appeared to be, if someone had orchestrated it for political gain, then who could I trust to help me find the truth?

I looked into Westley's amber eyes, seeing love and devotion and years of patient suffering reflected there. But I also saw something else—a knowledge that ran deeper than he was letting on.

"Westley," I said slowly, my voice steadying as purpose began to replace despair, "what else aren't you telling me?"