Chapter 187

Bianca

The next morning, I woke up with a crick in my neck from a fitful night’s sleep and burning eyes from crying. Before I even registered the pale sunlight creeping over the horizon, I recalled yesterday’s events.

Isaac had met Callum for the first time.

And it had gone… so much better than I ever could have hoped for.

Then, of course, there was everything else. The tense dinner. The evidence. The letter.

After quickly throwing on a pair of leggings and a warm sweater to ward off the early morning chill, I found everyone gathered in the kitchen—Clara was making coffee, Benjamin was reading the newspaper, Zane was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.

To my surprise, relief, and frustration all at once, Isaac was sitting at the table with Ethan and Zelda, all three of them looking like they’d been up talking half the night. It seemed that they had come up to the house from the inn first thing. I supposed I wouldn’t get a moment of peace before I had to face more of my ghosts this morning.

“Morning,” I mumbled, heading straight for the coffee pot and keeping my head down.

“We need to discuss what happens next,” Clara said before I even poured my coffee. Always straight to business, even more so lately.

My jaw clenched, but I took a long sip of coffee and nodded. “I figured. Obviously, things have…” My eyes flicked to Isaac for the briefest of moments. “...Changed.”

Zane’s jaw was tight. “Not in my book. Bianca’s still in danger if her identity gets out, and no offense, Your Majesty, but how can we trust you?”

“Zane,” I warned.

“No, I’m serious.” Zane looked positively thunderous, that protective streak shining through like a bolt of lightning. “Do you really think we’re just going to believe you when you say the evidence we spent five years collecting was forged?”

Isaac was on his feet now. “Oh, so I take it you, the man who professed his love to a married woman five years ago, are suddenly now the voice of reason—”

“Enough.” I slammed my hand down on the table hard enough that everyone jumped. Even Isaac. “Sit down, Zane. You too, Your Majesty.”

They glared at each other for another few seconds before reluctantly taking their seats.

“We’re not here to have a pissing contest,” I growled. “We’re here to figure out how to move forward. And that means everyone needs to check their egos at the door.”

Zelda cleared her throat. “Well, since we’re being practical, the first question is whether we should reveal Bianca’s identity now or wait.”

“Wait,” Isaac said immediately. “We don’t have enough evidence against Oliver yet. Bianca, you should keep running as Ashlyn Rivers. Of course, I can help you win behind the scenes. Make sure you have the resources you need to—”

“You want to help me win?”

Isaac furrowed his brow. “Well, yes. I only ever ran for Werewolf President to gain the strength I needed to expose your father for his crimes. Now that we’re working together, I don’t need to win. You’d be more suited to it. Besides, I’ve already got a kingdom to run.”

“No,” I said firmly. “I don’t want your help winning.”

Isaac blinked. “What?”

“I want to win fair and square. On my own merit.” I met his gaze coolly. “I’m not going to let you pull strings for me again.”

Understanding dawned in his eyes. The Shelter Project. When he’d gone behind my back to convince the Alpha Council to support my proposal without telling me. He’d thought he was helping, but it had made me feel like he didn’t trust me to succeed on my own.

“Bianca, that’s not what I meant—”

“You’ve always had a habit of doing things for me without asking. I won’t have that anymore. Pull out of the election if you really don’t want to become President, but don’t pull out because of me, and don’t you dare try to manipulate the results.”

Isaac’s jaw worked, but he nodded. “Fine. Fair and square.”

“Good.” I looked around the room. “After the election, we’ll reveal everything. My identity, the evidence against my father, all of it. But in the meantime, we have to work together to gather more proof.” I shot Zane a warning glare when I said ‘work together’, and he snapped his mouth shut.

“We’ve got a good amount of evidence—” Isaac began, but I cut him off with a raised hand.

“Whatever you have, I’ll guarantee we’ll need more. I know my father. We have to cover all of our bases, thoroughly, otherwise he’ll slip through our fingers.” I paused and added, “Besides, I haven’t even seen what evidence you have yet or if it’s viable.”

To my surprise, Isaac nodded understandingly. I let out a small breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

“So we’re doing this,” I murmured. “We’re finally taking down Oliver Ravenwood for killing my mother.”

Isaac’s eyes flashed. “For ‘killing’ you.”

My throat bobbed, but he was right. If it was true… then that meant that my father had not only succeeded in killing my mother but had tried to do the same to me. The very thought made me sick.

The meeting broke up after that, with everyone heading off to make phone calls or start researching. But as Isaac and his group prepared to leave, Ethan lingered behind.

“Bianca,” he said, waiting until the others were out of earshot. “We need to talk.”

I braced myself. “If this is about—”

“You hid from me.” His voice was quiet, but there was pain underneath. “For five years, you let me think you were dead. I mourned you too, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I couldn’t risk—”

“I know.” He held up a hand. “I understand why you did it. But it still hurts. Especially because I’ve had businesses running here, businesses that have helped Silvermist come back from nothing, and you let me continue to run them while you were living a lie.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again, and I really meant it.

Ethan sighed. “I know you had your reasons. Just… don’t do that again. To any of us.”

I swallowed hard and nodded, unable to speak. Saying nothing more, Ethan turned and started to walk away, then I took a step forward, blurting out, “Ethan, does Isaac really intend to marry Ella?”

My eyes widened as soon as I said those words; they’d slipped out before I could think twice. Ethan froze, shoulders tensing, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Finally, he looked over his shoulder and said, “You know what, Bianca? That’s something you should figure out for yourself.”

And with that, he walked away.

Twenty minutes later, I found myself on the front porch, watching as Isaac’s group loaded into the Cessna. Zelda waved at me from the passenger seat, while Ethan climbed into the back.

Isaac was the last to get in. He paused by the cockpit and looked back at me.

Even from across the yard, I could see those blue eyes clearly. The same eyes I’d fallen in love with all those years ago. The same eyes that had looked at our son with such wonder and love last night.

My heart started to ache. I reached through the bond we shared, hoping to feel the tiny beat of his pulse even if only for a moment, but was met with a brick wall. He was blocking me out, I realized with a sickening feeling.

Then, with only a nod, Isaac climbed into the cockpit and the plane began to taxi down the runway. I watched until it lifted off the ground and disappeared into the morning sky, and not once did I feel a returning thrum from his end of our mate bond.