1
Selena’s POV
Pain rips me from darkness like a boot to the ribs. I land on cold hardwood, cheek pressed flat, every breath a jagged stab.
Electricity jolts through my veins. Pain maps my body like a constellation, each point burning white-hot against the dark. My jaw locks, teeth grinding against each other as my back arches off the floor.
I can’t scream… can’t even breathe… as my fingers claw, nails scraping against the hardwood as they contract against my will.
I force myself up on trembling hands, as my nightshirt clings to sweat and old dust.
Still, something’s wrong. Terribly wrong. My chest tightens with each breath. Ronan. Where is he? The bond between us pulses like an open wound. What if he’s hurt? The pack won’t listen anyway.
“Ronan,” I choke out, tasting metal in my mouth. His name is the only solid thing I have. I stumble from the corner where I’d been curled, each step punctuated by hot, tearing pain in my chest.
In the hallway, pack members scurry, no one asks what’s wrong. No one checks on me. No one cares. Their eyes flash over me, gaze curdled with contempt.
One of them, Margo, an alpha heir-loyal lieutenant, sneers and spits. “Look at her,” she says softly. “Barely human enough to stand.” A rough shove to my ribs sends me reeling to the floor.
Boots find my splayed fingers, my outstretched leg, the hollow between my shoulder blades, deliberate pressure that lingers just long enough to bruise.
Pack members snicker around me. Some avert their eyes, feigning sudden interest in the walls or floor.
Others simply continue their conversations, stepping around me as if I’m nothing but an inconvenient piece of furniture. Like my pain doesn’t exist.
I grit my teeth. The pain leads me like a beacon drawing me down the corridor, toward the east wing, toward my mate, alpha heir, Ronan’s room.
My breaths come in shallow, urgent bursts. I should turn back, but dread, fear, worry, and love pulls me forward faster than hope.
The door stands cracked. Through the gap comes the scent, candle wax, flowers, and sweat, and something heavier, carnal. Soft moans and grunts reach my ear.
I freeze at the threshold, one hand braced against the wall, the other halfway to the door. The pain in my chest squashes my courage, flattens my lungs, makes breathing little more than gasps. The noises from beyond the door, those inhuman, desperate sounds, make my skin crawl.
No. I can’t. I shouldn’t, god, please, don’t let it be what I think.
But I already know.
Every instinct in me wants to run, to curl up and vanish, to let the shame and terror swallow me whole. I stand there, staring through the narrow slit, dreading what’s on the other side even as I inch closer, compelled by a force deeper than survival instinct.
No. I mouth the word, and it comes out a strangled whisper, barely audible over the low, rhythmic moans. No, no, no...
But I have to see.
It’s not hope, but a dreadful certainty that propels me. I want to be wrong, but I’m never wrong when it comes to the bond. The universe never lets me escape my own misery that easily.
My hand pushes the door open.
Time stops. My heart skids to a halt and then plunges.
Ronan lies on the bed, Candice, my best friend, curled beneath him naked. Her legs looped possessively around his waist, her hair fanned across his pillow. He thrusts into her with slow, methodical intent.
The instant I see them, my lungs seize. Ronan’s hands grip Candice’s hips, their bodies tangled, his mouth on her neck, the spot he always claimed was mine.
My vision narrows to just the bed, just them, everything else fading to black. My heart hammers against my ribs while my chest collapses inward, each breath whistling through clenched teeth.
Every heartbreak I’ve ever known detonates at once. Run, I tell myself. Move. But my legs have fused to the floor, my hands trembling uselessly at my sides.
My mind tries to process, then overloads, blank, white-hot, blank again. Each shallow breath tastes like metal. Tears burn at the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
