“I heard you were back.” His voice is carefully neutral. “Didn’t believe it until I saw for myself.”
I turn to face my brother. He looks the same as always. Tall and broad, dark skin, close-cropped hair. The mirror image of me, minus the scar. The scar he put there.
“I’m not staying,” I say.
“I didn’t think you were.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Mother, what’s going on?”
She looks at me. I nod, giving her permission.
“Your brother has found his fated mate,” she says simply.
Ronan goes still.
I watch his expression shift. Surprise. Disbelief. And then something else, something that looks almost like pain.
Jealousy.
Of course. Ronan has wanted a mate for years. He’s searched, waited, hoped. The Alpha of the Ironwood Clan, with all his power and authority, and Fate hasn’t delivered his woman yet.
But I, the exiled brother, the scarred failure who lives alone on a mountain, I found mine first.
“Well.” Ronan’s voice is clipped. “Congratulations.”
“Ronan.” Mother’s tone carries a warning.
“What? I’m happy for him.” But he doesn’t sound happy. He sounds bitter.
“It sounds to me like a fair trade from Mother Fate,” she says quietly.
Ronan’s head snaps toward her. “What?”
“You got the Alpha position. You won the challenge. You got everything your brother wanted most in this world.” She holds his gaze, unflinching. “But your brother got the fated mate first. The thing you want most. Fate has a way of balancing the scales.”
No one speaks. Ronan’s hands clench at his sides.
Finally, he looks away.
“You said you found her,” he says to me, his voice quieter now. “What happened?”
So I tell him. The shortened version, but honest. The cleaning solution. The cruelty. The fight. The realization coming too late, after I’d already destroyed everything.
“Her scent was masked,” I say. “I didn’t know it was her. By the time I figured it out, I’d already been a monster.”
“The cleaning solution.” Ronan frowns. “From Shadow Suds?”
“Yes. Something in the formula blocks the fated scent.”
“Derrick needs to know about this.” His Alpha instincts kick in, overriding his personal feelings. “We can’t have this happening again. Once the storm clears, I’ll contact him.”
I nod, grateful for his practicality.
“So what now?” he asks. “She’s at your cabin?”
“Locked in the guest room. Probably still crying.” The words taste like ash. “She thinks I’m insane. She called me a psycho and a monster and she’s not wrong.”
“She’s your mate. The bond will?—“
“The bond doesn’t matter if she hates me.” I cut him off, frustration bleeding through. “She doesn’t know about fated mates. She doesn’t understand what’s happening. All she knows is that I screamed at her, destroyed her property, and physically restrained her when she tried to leave. The bond can pull all it wants. If she doesn’t trust me, none of it matters.”
