Chapter 192

Iris

Within a matter of days, Arthur’s upcoming wedding to Veronica is the talk of the town. Every news channel, every magazine cover, every social media feed is plastered with their faces. Their love story—their “true mate bond”—has captured the public’s imagination. They’re being called star-crossed lovers, finally united by fate.

It makes me sick.

I’ve managed to avoid most of it by keeping the TV off and deleting my social media accounts, but it’s impossible to escape completely. Even at the grocery store, their beaming faces smile at me from the magazine rack. Veronica in a stunning white gown. Arthur in his presidential suit.

The citrine ring—my ring—prominently displayed on her finger.

“Werewolf President Finds True Mate: Wedding of the Century Just Weeks Away!”

And somehow worse than all of that: “Former Mate Physically Assaults Future Luna—Is Iris the Jewel Killer?”

I have to turn away and leave the store immediately when I see that one. The Jewel Killer—it’s the moniker people have given to the person who allegedly poisoned Veronica at the Solstice Ceremony.

Of course, all signs point to me although I didn’t do it. My parents have managed to keep me from being arrested thanks to their legal team, social status, and Caleb’s position as Supreme Judge of Ordan.

But the fact that I haven’t been arrested yet has only made things worse. People are calling for action, claiming that if I were poor or a human, I’d already be in prison for life.

The worst part about all this, though, isn’t the tabloids or the gossip or even the lies. The worst part is Miles.

He’s been asking questions. Difficult questions that I don’t know how to answer. Where is Daddy? Why isn’t he coming home? When will we see him again?

I’ve been putting it off, making excuses. Daddy’s busy with work. Daddy has to travel. Daddy misses you very much.

But I can’t keep lying to him. Not when the truth is plastered all over the city. Not when his classmates are talking. Not when he deserves to know why his father isn’t coming home.

It’s a quiet Saturday morning when I finally work up the courage. Miles is sitting at the kitchen island, munching on cereal and watching cartoons on his tablet. His feet swing back and forth, not quite reaching the floor, and milk dribbles down his chin as he laughs at something on the screen.

I sit beside him and gently take his tablet away. “Miles? Can we talk for a minute?”

He looks up, and my heart aches at the shade of green in his eyes that’s so much like Arthur’s. “Sure, Mommy.”

I reach over and gently wipe the milk from his chin with a napkin. “It’s about Daddy.”

Miles perks up immediately. “Is he coming home today? Can we go to the park? He promised to teach me how to throw a baseball last time.”

The hope in his voice makes my throat constrict painfully. “No, sweetie. That’s what I need to talk to you about. Daddy… Daddy isn’t coming home.”

Miles’ smile fades. “What do you mean?”

I take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. How do you tell a child that his father has abandoned him? That he’s chosen another woman over his own family?

“Daddy is going to marry someone else,” I say as gently as I can. “Miss Veronica. And they’re going to live together.”

Miles shakes his head. “No. Daddy lives here. With us.”

“He used to,” I agree. “But things have changed. Daddy and I… we’re not together anymore.”

“But you’re his mate,” Miles insists, his little brow furrowing. “He told me so. He said mates stay together forever.”

A sharp pang of grief shoots through me. “Sometimes, even mates have to go their separate ways.”

“No!” Miles slides off his stool, his face scrunching up with anger. “You’re lying! Daddy wouldn’t leave us!”

“Miles—”

“He promised!” Miles shouts, tears welling up in his eyes. “He promised he’d always be here! He promised we’d be a family!”

I pull him into my arms, but he struggles against me, his tiny fists beating against my shoulders. “I know he did, little wolf. I know. And I’m so sorry.”

“I hate you!” Miles cries, and the words are like tiny daggers to my heart. I know he doesn’t mean it, but it still hurts. “This is your fault! You made him go away!”

“No, Miles—”

Before I can finish, he pulls away from me and runs upstairs. A moment later, I hear his bedroom door slam shut.

For a long moment, I just sit there, listening to his muffled sobs through the door. Each one feels like another crack in my already broken heart. I want to go to him, to hold him and tell him everything will be okay, but I know he needs time.

Instead, I walk to the window, looking out at the city below. From this height, the people look like ants, going about their daily lives, unaware of the pain happening in this apartment.

This apartment that Arthur still owns. That’s been nagging at me since the engagement announcement—why hasn’t he asked us to leave? Is he planning to move in with Veronica instead? The thought of him in her opulent penthouse, surrounded by her expensive things, makes my stomach turn.

But he hasn’t tried to contact us at all. No calls (not that I’d know, since I blocked his number), no texts, no visits, not even so much as a fucking letter. Hell, he hasn’t even tried to get custody rights. It’s like we’ve ceased to exist for him. Like Miles has ceased to exist.

How could he do that to his own son?

Then again, I can’t help but recall the hateful accusation he’d made about me and Ezra. The very thought makes me want to be sick.

After giving Miles some time to calm down, I knock softly on his door. “Miles? Can I come in?”

There’s no response, but I open the door anyway. Miles is curled up asleep on his racecar bed, his face buried in his pillow. Scout is nestled beside him, purring softly.

I sit on the edge of the bed, placing my hand on his small back. “Hey, buddy…”

He stirs, his eyes blinking open. I sigh and say softly, “I know you’re angry, and that’s okay. You have every right to be angry.”

Miles doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t pull away either.

“I’m angry too,” I admit. “And sad. And confused. But no matter what happens between me and Daddy, we both love you—”

“He’s going to come back,” Miles cuts me off, sitting up. “I saw it in my dreams.”

“Your dreams?”

Miles nods. “Just now, I dreamed that Daddy was trapped in a dark place, but then he broke free and came back to us. The same wolf we saw when we were riding the horses helped him.”

My breath catches. The she-wolf.

“She was pretty,” Miles continues, smiling now. “She had eyes like yours, Mommy. And she told me not to worry, that everything would be okay soon.”

My heart skips a beat. Miles had seen the she-wolf too? The same one from my visions?

“She spoke to you?” I ask carefully.

“Uh-huh. She said Daddy isn’t himself right now, but he will be soon. She said we have to be patient.”

I’m stunned. Miles has never mentioned having dreams like this before. But then again, I’d never thought to ask. And now, hearing him describe what sounds like the same wolf from my own visions…

Could it be connected? My mother had called me a “Dreamer” when I told her about my visions, although she hasn’t had a chance yet to explain what that means.

Before I can question him further, there’s a knock on the door downstairs. I bite my lip, briefly considering letting it go—but if Emi let someone come to the door, then it must be important.

For a moment, as I smooth down my shirt and make my way downstairs, a traitorous little flutter rises in my chest. Could it be Arthur, finally coming to make things right?

Could Miles’... visions, or whatever they were, have been correct?

But when I open the door, it’s Ezra who is standing there.