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“I can and I will,” I respond with conviction.

“No, she’s right,” Soren cuts in, standing and taking a step closer. “You can’t. Not yet, at least.”

“What—”

“We have no idea how that will affect Idril,” Soren says, cutting me off. “Believe me, I understand your impulse to tell those fuckwits to get bent, but until we know more about her Bonds—and what she’s capable of in general—severing a Fated Bond that happens to run parallel with her Scent-Match Bonds is fucking stupid.”

Fuck.

I never… I hadn’t even considered the possibility. What if Soren’s right? What if part of our Scent-Match Bond is dependent on our Fated Pack Bond? It’s no coincidence that Scent-Matches are always Fated to Packs with a Fated Bond—the Bond threads may be different colors, but they’re connecting the same individuals with a Bond from the same source.

And yet the thought of spending the rest of my life Bonded to the two men who betrayed me—and more importantly, our Fated Mate—makes me want to fucking rage.

“There’s no proof that Fated Pack Bonds can be severed, Caelan,” Idril points out. “I know I was sheltered for most of my life, but I did online courses in college, and one was an AP History of Supernatural Species and Fate. It was in the text. My professor discussed it at length—there was even a story about twin brothers who were separated at birth and grew up in opposing kingdoms back in the 16th century.”

“The Graves twins,” Soren nods. “Wolven. Fought on opposing sides of a multi-generational war. One twin found his Fated Omega, but she was taken captive by the opposing army. An army led—unknown to them both—by his twin brother. The Omega fell for both Alphas, but when they discovered each other and the Fated Pack Bond…”

“I know all about the Graves twins,” I sigh.

“Then you know they spent an entire decade searching for a way to sever their Fated Pack Bond,” Soren responds pointedly. “And you know that in the end, the search was fruitless.”

“What happened to them?” Idrik asks. “The book never said, and my professor didn’t know.”

“No one knows for sure,” Soren answers. “Of course, there are plenty of stories. Rumors. I imagine all three are probably dead. That, or they fucked off somewhere they could live in peace. Somewhere no one would ever find them.”

“That sounds amazing,” I grumble, crossing the room toward my closet and flicking on the light. “I vote for that option.”

I grab shorts and a t-shirt and contemplate grabbing something for Soren, but even as the closest in stature, I don’t think my clothes would fit the Viking bastard.

I do grab a sweatshirt of mine for Idril, though, and my Alpha preens at the mental image of her wearing my clothes.

“So, what do you think, Idril?” I peek my head out of the closet as I pull on my jeans.

“About the Graves twins?”

“About the plan,” I correct, and grin when I see the teasing glint in my Omega’s eyes.

“I think that’s as good an idea as any,” Idril replies, breaking me out of my thoughts. “I don’t want to lie to them. They’re still my Mates, and it doesn’t feel right to lie. The thought of it makes my insides itch.” She gives an exaggerated shiver for emphasis. Soren smirks.

“But also… maybe it makes me a bad person, but I mean what I said earlier. I won’t spend my life wondering if the Alphas I’m Bonded to are only around because of a Scent-Match.”

She bites her bottom lip, and I have to force myself to look literally anywhere but her mouth. Fates, I don’t know how long I'm going to last without having her in my arms. All I want to do is hold her, kiss her, bring her pleasure.

I want to be mindful of her emotional state, but I also don’t want her to feel like she can’t come to me for physical comfort.

“It’s not a lie if you’re withholding information to protect yourself,” Soren argues.

“It just feels hypocritical after weeks spent insisting I’m not a liar,” Idril sighs. “Just to turn around and lie about something so serious.”

I straighten. “With all due respect, fuck them. They don’t get to say shit about how you respond to their cruelty. Would you have kept this from them if the last two weeks never happened?”

“No!” Idril shakes her head so emphatically her messy braid starts to unravel. “Of course not!”

I nod emphatically. “You’re not lying to them, Idril. You’re respecting yourself enough not to hand your heart over to males who have proven exactly how easy it is for them to hurt you.”

I lean in, placing my hands on her shoulders. “They made their choices. They fucked up. Now you get to decide what happens. They had no problem proving they could hurt you. Now they’ll have to work harder to prove they can be worthy of you. Make them, Idril. Make them fucking prove it. And until they can, there is nothing wrong with protecting yourself.”

“What if they never do enough to prove it?”