Chapter 181

Bianca

The woman looking back at me from the bathroom mirror was a stranger and an old friend all at once. I’d removed the colored contacts, revealing my gray eyes. I’d washed off the makeup, removed the hat and sunglasses, and let my hair fall loose around my shoulders. It was still blonde, but I felt a little bit more like me.

Like the woman who had once been in love with a prince.

A knock at the bathroom door made me jump.

“Bianca?” Zane’s voice called through the wood. “It’s almost midnight. We should go.”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “Coming.”

Zane was waiting by the door with his mouth pressed into a thin line. He’d been against this meeting from the start, convinced that Isaac was luring me into a trap. And maybe he was right. Maybe I was being a fool.

But my wolf wouldn’t let me rest until I heard Isaac out. He was my fated mate whether I wanted him to be or not. And a small, hopelessly romantic part of me was thrilled that the man I’d once loved was my mate after all.

Still, I shoved down that part of me once again. I needed to be practical tonight.

The location Isaac had chosen was a seedy dive bar on the outskirts of the city—the kind of place with dim lighting, smoke hanging in the air, and patrons who couldn’t give less of a shit as to who walked in or out the door. Perfect for a secret meeting between a supposedly dead princess and the Lycan King.

Upon entering, I hesitated and glanced around. It didn’t take long to spot Isaac and Ethan sitting in the back corner, at a booth far from the windows.

Even in the dim light, I could see the shock on both of their faces as they took in my undisguised appearance. He was looking at me like I was a ghost.

And I supposed, to him, I was.

Zane trailed me, his eyes locked warningly onto Isaac, as we approached the booth. Ethan quietly returned Zane’s glare. I slid in opposite Isaac, and Zane sat beside me, poised to jump out if he needed to act quickly.

For a long moment, nobody spoke. Isaac just stared at me, like he still couldn’t believe I was real.

“You came,” he finally whispered.

“I said I would.” I somehow managed to keep my voice neutral despite the way my pulse was jumping in my throat. “But you should know I’m not here to reminisce. I’m here for answers.”

Isaac nodded, tearing his eyes away from me to glance at Zane. A flash of something that looked an awful lot like jealousy crossed his face before he composed himself. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, recalling all too well the amount of times he had accused me of having feelings for Zane in the past.

“Because he’s our fated mate,” my wolf purred, reading my thoughts. “Even when I was dormant, I bet he felt the mate bond. You felt jealous, too, when he was with El—”

“Shut up.”

Isaac leaned back in his seat and folded his arms. “Alright. But I want answers, too. Why did you fake your death?”

For five years, I hadn’t told a soul outside my pack of my faked death or my reasons behind it. I’d expected it to remain that way for a very long time, if not forever. But within a span of weeks, Isaac had discovered me.

My wolf chuffed. “You willingly revealed yourself. You know why? Because he’s your—”

“Shut up!”

Zane shifted beside me, touching my arm beneath the table. When I glanced at him, his eyes seemed to say, “Just let me know when I should kill him.”

But I shook my head faintly. No more hiding. No more ways to weasel myself out. Maybe this was for the best. Get everything out in the open and then take my next steps.

“Very well,” I said, straightening. “I faked my death because, five years ago, I was kidnapped from my palace bedroom. A man in a mask drugged me and took me to the morgue, and when I woke up, he was attempting to cut my baby out of me. He implied that it was your doing.”

Isaac’s eyes went wide. Beside him, Ethan cursed under his breath.

“Clara and Zane arrived just in time and fought him off,” I continued. “But I knew I couldn’t stay. Not when you wanted me dead. So I ran.”

“Clara’s alive, too—” Isaac started, but I cut him off with a raised hand.

“Ella came to me that night and warned me that you would do anything to get your heir—the pawn you always wanted, the child with ties to both Werewolves and Lycans. She told me that you intended to take my baby because you had no claim to the throne.”

Isaac paled.

“At first, I thought she was lying,” I went on. “But I did my own digging and found out that, yes, you were an illegitimate child born of the King and a servant. The Queen had your mother killed or sent away, I’m not sure which. But you were raised as a Thorne, and Thornes always value their crown above all else.”

“So you thought I only wanted our baby to solidify my claim.” Isaac’s face blackened. “You actually fucking thought I would kill you and take our baby just so I could become King.”

The tone in his voice made my heart twist painfully. “You hurt him,” my wolf whined, but I shoved her down once more.

I shrugged. “I took all of the precautions necessary to protect my son.”

Isaac sat ramrod straight at the mention of our child. “Our son,” he whispered. “Bianca, he’s alive?”

Zane tensed beside me. My heart thudded wildly, but I nodded. “Yes.” I said nothing more.

Isaac sat silently for a moment, and I swore I could see tears shimmering in his eyes in the dim light. But then he seemed to steel himself and leaned in, whispering, “Bianca, I didn’t try to have you killed. Your father did.”

“What?”

“Oliver Ravenwood,” Isaac spat. “He’s the one who wanted you dead. He’s the one who hired the assassin.”

My mind reeled. My father? I’d spent years investigating, and none of the evidence had ever pointed to him. Only Isaac.

“Why would my father want me dead?” I blurted out.

“Because you were carrying my child,” Isaac said. “A half-Lycan heir. A threat to his power. And because you were married to me, strengthening the alliance between our kingdoms. An alliance he never wanted. He killed your mother to destroy that very alliance.”

“But I have evidence that you did it. Letters, bank notes, photographs—”

Isaac laughed bitterly. “What makes you think that evidence wasn’t forged by the very man who always sought to ruin our marriage?”

My mouth snapped shut. Without a word, Isaac reached into his jacket and pulled out a manila folder. He opened it and spread several documents across the table.

“After you… died,” he said, the word catching in his throat, “I launched my own investigation. I needed to know what happened. Who was responsible. These are what I found.”

I leaned forward, scanning the papers. Phone records showing calls between my father and a Lycan area code. Bank transfers from one of my father’s shell companies to an account in the Lycan Kingdom.

And most damning of all was a photograph of my father’s Beta meeting with two people: one tall and broad-shouldered, built like a bear, while the other was slender and modelesque. I didn’t recognize either of the people, as their hair and faces were covered, but it looked… suspicious.

“And finally, I have this.” Isaac pulled out one last document. It was an unsigned note outlining a plan to “eliminate the problem” before “the heir is born.”

My breath caught. I knew my father’s handwriting as well as I knew my own. There was no mistaking it. He had been the one to teach me how to write like an aristocrat; I used that very same swooping script for my ‘a’s.

“Why should I believe you?” I managed to choke out. “This could be forged, too. If it’s true that you tried to have me killed, then how can I be certain you’re not just here to finish the job?”

Isaac’s eyes guttered once more, shifting from that vibrant blue to that stormy ocean. He looked down at his palms, his fingers clasped on the table in front of him. For a long moment, his mouth opened and closed as if trying but failing to speak.

Beside him, Ethan’s face was darker and angrier than I’d ever seen it. Those eyes, which had once been so kind, now burned into me with the kind of vengeance that could only come from hurting his dear friend.

“I held your—” Isaac swallowed and shook his head, brow furrowing. “That woman’s body. I thought it was yours. I held it until the medics had to pry it away. Then I buried it. I slept next to the grave every night for a month, digging my fingers into the dirt like your hand might reach up through the soil and grasp mine.”

My throat closed up. My wolf howled. I had to grip the edge of my seat to keep from jumping across the table and throwing myself into his arms.

“I never stopped mourning you,” Isaac murmured, practically choking on the words, still staring down at his hands. “Or our son.”

I couldn’t speak. Isaac slowly lifted his head to look at me, and the pain in his eyes, the haunted look to him, was too much to bear. My vision began to blur with tears.

“Bianca, I would never have hurt you,” he murmured. “I loved you.”