CIAN
"If this is giving you hope that we’d rekindle anything," I said, "I hate to say it, but it’s not happening."
Madeline’s expression didn’t change. "I didn’t say any of that."
"You know what I mean."
"Do I?" She tilted her head slightly. "You know me, Cian. Do you think I would do anything expecting a prize or a reward? This is your mother’s safety we are talking about."
I looked away. The paintings on the corridor walls blurred at the edges of my vision. "I just want to make that clear. It doesn’t make sense why you would make such a move if you still didn’t care about me."
"I still care about you." Her voice was quiet. Steady. "I still care about you a lot."
The words hung between us. I could feel her eyes on my face, waiting.
"What about you?" she asked. "Do you?"
My throat tightened. I forced myself to meet her gaze. "I have a mate and she is not chosen anymore."
"That’s not an answer."
It wasn’t. We both knew it. I could feel the truth sitting in my chest like something physical. Something I couldn’t swallow down or push away no matter how hard I tried.
"I’m afraid my answer will make you change your mind," I said.
Madeline went still. "So you do love her?"
The question shouldn’t have hurt. I had chosen Fia. I had married her. It might have started with a lot of hate. But things were different now. Somewhere along the way, without meaning to, without even realizing it was happening, I had started to care about her in ways that had nothing to do with mundane duty or the idea that marriage was one of my mother’s wishes.
"It would seem so," I said.
Madeline was quiet for a moment. Then she laughed. It was soft. Surprised. "Well. That wasn’t so hard, was it?"
"Mads—"
"And I still haven’t changed my mind."
She stepped closer. Her hands reached for my jacket, smoothing down the lapels where they’d gotten twisted. The gesture was familiar. Automatic. Like her body remembered doing this a thousand times before even if everything else between us had changed.
Her gaze caught on the aquamarine brooch pinned to my chest. Madeline’s fingers paused there for just a second before she dropped her hands.
"Let us enjoy the party," she said. Her voice was lighter now. More controlled. "You should even introduce me to her. Then we go back to your place and make this right."
I stared at her. "You’re serious."
"I am certain my people will understand when I tell them one of our own poisoned a grand Luna." She straightened my collar one last time. "And I helped prevent future strife and unnecessary bloodshed, which I’m sure you’re keeping tight under lock and key."
"Nobody needs to know my mother’s business." The words came out sharper than I intended. "I don’t want that becoming gossip."
I turned to leave. Started walking back toward the ballroom. Back toward the music and the lights and Fia waiting for me somewhere in that crowd.
"Is it because you care for her?" Madeline’s voice stopped me. "Or because you know the stain it will leave on your leadership and the strength of your pack?"
I looked back over my shoulder. "I don’t think you should be therapizing me, Mads."
"It’s just as depressing as it was before." Her smile was sad. Knowing. "To see that your pack will still be number one priority over everything and everyone in your life."
The accusation hit exactly where she meant it to. Because she was right. She had always been right about that. My pack came first. Skollrend came first. It was the foundation of everything I was, everything my father had built, everything I had promised to protect.
"Your new bride," Madeline continued. "If you had to choose, which would you choose? Skollrend or her?"
The question settled over me like ice water. I knew the answer. I had always known the answer. And the worst part was that Madeline knew it too. She had asked me the same thing years ago when we were still together. When she had begged me to choose her over my father’s legacy. When she had given me that ultimatum that had torn us apart.
I hadn’t chosen her then. I suspected that I wouldn’t choose Fia now.
The realization sat heavy in my gut. Fia deserved better than that. She deserved someone who would put her first. Who would burn the world down for her if that’s what it took. But I wasn’t that person. I couldn’t be that person. Not when Skollrend depended on me. Not when hundreds of pack members looked to me for leadership, for protection, for the kind of strength that meant putting the pack above everything else.
Even above the people I loved.
"Rumors are probably flying about us now," I said. My voice sounded tired even to my own ears. "We should get back."
Madeline smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes. "I guess I have my answer. Skollrend all the way."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her she was wrong. That things were different now. That I was different. But the words stuck in my throat because they would have been lies. She knew me too well for lies to work. She had always known me all too well.
"Come on," I said instead.
We walked back toward the ballroom in silence. The music grew louder with each step. Voices and laughter spilled out through the open doors. The warm glow of chandeliers cut through the dim corridor lighting.
I could see people moving inside. Dancing. Drinking. Pretending that politics and poison and broken promises didn’t exist for a few hours. Julius would be somewhere in there watching me. Waiting to see if his little manipulation had worked. If bringing Madeline here would crack me open the way he wanted.
Maybe it had.
My hands were steadier now than they had been earlier. The shaking had stopped somewhere during our conversation. But my chest still felt tight. My heart still beat too fast. And I knew that the second I walked back into that ballroom and found Fia, I would have to look her in the eyes and pretend that seeing Madeline again hadn’t shaken something loose inside me.
Pretend that I hadn’t also just confirmed that I would still choose my pack over her if it came down to it.
Madeline paused at the entrance to the ballroom. She smoothed down her dress. Checked her reflection in one of the decorative mirrors hanging on the wall. When she looked back at me, her expression was neutral. Pleasant. The mask she wore when she had to be diplomatic.
"Ready?" she asked.
I nodded. Didn’t trust my voice to come out steady.
We stepped into the ballroom together. The noise hit me first. Then the heat of too many bodies pressed into one space. The smell of expensive perfume, champagne and the faint metallic tang of silver that always seemed to cling to formal werewolf events.
I scanned the crowd for Fia.
Faces blurred together as my gaze moved from cluster to cluster. Dresses, suits, familiar pack members laughing too loudly. I caught sight of Elara near the drinks table, her back to me, deep in conversation. Aldric stood closer to the dais, looking perfectly at ease, as if nothing in the world ever touched him unless he allowed it.
But Fia was not there.
I shifted my weight and looked again. Slower this time. More carefully. I checked the edges of the room first, the places she would have gravitated toward if she felt overwhelmed. Near the tall windows. Beside the pillars. Close enough to the exits to leave if she needed air.
Nothing.
A flicker of unease slid through me. I told myself not to overreact. The ballroom was crowded. She could be behind someone taller. She could have stepped aside to speak with someone. She could be anywhere.
I took a step forward, then another, gently easing through the press of bodies. Polite nods followed me. Quiet greetings. I answered them automatically, barely hearing my own voice.
But still, I got nothing.
My chest tightened.
So I immediately reached for the bond without thinking.