Chapter 218
Arthur
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The hospital corridor is blissfully quiet and empty as I pace up and down it. The only sound other than my rapid footsteps is the buzzing of a fluorescent light flickering annoyingly at the end of the hall, as if it’s mocking me. Iris is a werewolf. A fucking werewolf. And not just any werewolf–a Willford. The lost Willford heir.
My mate.
The woman I’ve loved for years. The mother of my child. The woman I thought I knew.
How did I not see it? How did I miss something so fundamental about her?
Footsteps approach from behind, and I already know who it is before he speaks. My wolf bristles beneath my skin just at his presence.
“Arthur.“.
Caleb’s voice makes me tense. I don’t turn around.
“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” I growl.
“I don’t care what you want,” Caleb says, stepping closer. “This isn’t about you or me. It’s about Iris.”
Her name stabs at my heart. I whirl around, ready to tear into him, but he stands his ground, proud as ever. As if he didn’t try to put himself between an Alpha and his mate.
“You’re really going to lecture me about what’s best for my mate?” I snarl, stepping forward until we’re almost chest to chest. “After you convinced her to lie to me for a week?”
“Yes,” Caleb says simply, adjusting the wire–rimmed glasses on his nose. “Because right now, you’re acting like a child.”
My fist clenches reflexively. I’ve wanted to hit Caleb for years, and tonight, it might actually happen. “Watch yourself, Willford.”
“She needs you in there,” Caleb continues, ignoring my warning. “Not out here sulking because your feelings are hurt.”
“My feelings are-” I start, then cut myself off with a bitter laugh. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to find out your mate has been keeping something this massive from you? That she’s been confiding in another man–in you, of all people?”
For a split second, something like genuine regret flashes across Caleb’s face. It’s so unexpected that it momentarily takes the wind out of my sails.
“It’s my fault,” he says, and the admission sounds like it pains him. Has Caleb ever admitted to being in the wrong before? Certainly not in front of me, he hasn’t. “I convinced her to wait. I told her we needed more time to figure things out. I was… being overprotective.”
I stare at him, trying to decide if this is another one of his games. But I don’t see any of Selina’s calculated manipulation in his expression, which surprises me. Those two were always like peas in a pod Selina might not be a Willford by blood, but she had to have learned her mannerisms from somewhere.
“Why?” I finally bite out. “Why would you do that?“.
Caleb shrugs. “I’ve only known about Iris for a week myself” He looks at me directly. “It’s a major risk to have
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Chapter 218
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her identity revealed to the public before we’re ready. Hence all of the etiquette lessons–I wanted her to be prepared so no one can go after her. Your parents being concern number one.”
The honesty in his words catches me off guard. My parents are certainly shrewd and judgmental, and that’s putting it lightly. They’ve always had issues with the Willfords; they really wanted me to become the Supreme Judge of Ordan, which is technically more powerful than the President, but Caleb got the position before I did. Alpha President was just a backup plan, and they’ve been bitter about it ever since.
Regardless, they only tolerated my arrangement with Selina because she made a perfect Luna. On the outside,
anyway.
If they were to find out about Iris’s identity before she’s prepared, they might use it as an excuse to start a real feud with the Willfords.
“I know we’ve never gotten along,” Caleb continues. “I know you think the worst of our family because of what happened with Selfna. But Iris is different. She’s special. And the idea of her being put in the spotlight, open to criticism when she’s not ready, especially knowing just how brutal this life can be…” He shakes his head. “I wanted to protect her.”
“She’s my mate,” I say, but the anger is draining from my voice. “It’s my job to protect her. Not yours. You should have told me.‘
“No offense, Arthur, but you and I don’t exactly have a shining degree of trust between us.”
I study his face for a long moment. I hate that I’m thinking this, but he’s not wrong. If I had been in his position, I might have done the same.
“Anyway, you need to talk to her,” he adds when I don’t respond. “It’s about the kiwi drink. Something about your father being involved…?”
For a moment, I want to laugh. The idea is absurd. My parents might be cold, calculating, and overly focused on bloodlines, but attempted murder? That’s a stretch.
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