Chapter 204

Arthur

Veronica and I emerge from the small office just as the police officers march Iris and Ezra through the crowd in handcuffs. Watching Iris throw one last desperate look over her shoulder at me makes something stir in my chest.

Iris. My mate.

Before I can grasp the thought, Veronica takes my face in her hands and kisses me deeply. Her scent envelops me, drowning out everything else. The crowd around us murmurs and gasps, and when we pull apart, I feel strangely dizzy.

“Don’t worry about them, darling,” Veronica whispers, adjusting my tie. “They got what they deserved.”

I nod automatically, but something feels off. Wrong. The way Iris looked at me as they dragged her away—not with hatred or anger, but with a deep, profound sadness. But there was something else there, too.

A meaning. As if she were trying to convey something to me.

“Come, let’s get a drink,” Veronica says, taking my hand and leading me toward the bar. “We have something to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” I repeat.

“Of course,” she laughs lightly. “The Jewel Killer has finally been caught. Now I can stop looking over my shoulder, afraid for the next attempt on my life.”

I follow her obediently, but my eyes keep drifting to the door where Iris disappeared.

As we reach the bar, Veronica turns to me. “Wait here. I’ll get us something special.”

The moment she steps away, I feel a slight weight in my pocket. Frowning, I reach in and pull out a small, embroidered handkerchief—one I didn’t have before. The initials I.W. are stitched in one corner in delicate gold thread.

Iris Willford.

How did this get in my pocket? Did Iris slip it there before she was arrested?

I bring it to my nose without thinking, and instantly, her scent floods my senses.

My mind clears instantly, like a curtain being drawn back to reveal the morning sunlight. Memories come rushing back—not just fragments, but whole scenes. Iris in my arms. Her lips on mine. The countless times I’ve held her, kissed her, promised to love her forever and never hurt her again.

And what I’ve done to her since then. The cruel words, the engagement to Veronica, the betrayal. None of the words mine, but rather forced out of me like a puppet.

And the puppetmaster…

I glance over at Veronica, finding her talking to a man at the bar that I don’t recognize. He’s older and graying, with a crisp black suit. He’s nodding profusely at something she’s saying.

Gritting my teeth, I grip the handkerchief tightly and inhale deeply two more times. Each inhale clears the fog even more. I know, then, that as long as I can smell Iris, I can fight Veronica’s influence. I can remember who I really am and what I really want.

Just as Veronica begins to saunter back toward me, I quickly tuck the handkerchief into my sleeve, making sure it’s easily accessible.

Sure enough, when she stops in front of me with two champagne flutes, the fog begins to creep in once more. I discreetly press my sleeve to my nose, inhaling Iris’s scent, and my mind clears just enough for me to maintain my composure and not become her thrall again.

“A toast,” Veronica says, handing me a glass. “To justice.”

I take the glass but don’t drink. “What exactly are they charging Iris and Ezra with?” I ask.

Veronica’s smile falters slightly. “Attempted murder, of course. They tried to poison me, remember?”

“Right. And the evidence? The sapphire from Iris’s necklace?”

“Precisely.” She sips her champagne, watching me over the rim of her glass. “They thought they were so clever, but they didn’t count on the police finding that fake gem.”

“And you think Miles is Ezra’s son?” I ask.

Veronica’s eyes narrow slightly. “I know he is. You said it yourself, Arthur. You caught them together, remember?”

Did I? I try to recall the memory, but it feels fabricated, like something planted in my mind rather than something I actually experienced. Miles has my eyes, my stubborn curl, my temperament. He’s mine. I knew it in my bones the very moment I met him.

I’m about to question her further when she suddenly turns toward the center of the gallery, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she announces. “I have a wonderful surprise for you all tonight!”

The crowd quiets, turning to face her with curious expressions.

“My fiance, Alpha President Arthur, and I have decided not to wait any longer to start our life together,” she declares, beaming at me. “We’re getting married. Tonight. Right here, right now!”

The crowd gasps, then breaks into excited murmurs and applause. I stand frozen, unable to process what she’s just announced. Married? Tonight?

“Veronica,” I begin, but it’s too late. The man she was just talking to makes his way through the crowd. Veronica grins and touches his arm, then turns to me. “Arthur, this is Father Buckingham. He’s going to officiate our wedding.”

So she was planning this. I should have run when I had the chance.

I lift my arm to smell the handkerchief again, but Veronica is too smart for that, and I’ve pushed my luck now. Before I can react, she reaches out and snatches the handkerchief—the edge of which was sticking out of my sleeve ever so slightly—and drops it on the tray of a passing waiter.

“No—” I growl, but it’s too late. The waiter is gone, and no one seemed to notice the brief exchange. Veronica smiles up at me, her eyes flashing with a challenge.

“Come, darling,” she says, and her perfume makes my head cloud over again as she leads me away. “Everyone’s waiting.”

The crowd has parted, forming a makeshift aisle in the center of the gallery. At the end stands the officiant. Veronica is already taking her place in front of him.

No. This isn’t right. This isn’t what I want. Or is it?

Either way, my feet carry me forward anyway. The fog in my mind thickens. Yes. Veronica is my fiance. I want this—we planned this.

Didn’t we?

Somehow, I find myself standing before the officiant, with Veronica beaming at my side. The ceremony begins, but I can barely hear the officiant’s words, can barely comprehend what’s happening.

Veronica says her vows before I know it. She says “I do” without hesitation. And then the officiant turns to me.

The crowd holds its breath. Veronica’s scent overwhelms me. At the edge of my consciousness, there’s a face… I recognize it. Amber eyes, golden hair… Paint splotches. A yellow cardigan with a hole in the sleeve.

“I…” I begin, but the words lodge in my throat. Something’s wrong. All of this is wrong.

The silence turns thick. People shift and whisper. Veronica’s smile begins to crack.

“Arthur?” She tilts her head. “Say ‘I do,’ darling.”

I nod. Right. Our wedding. The yellow cardigan… it was just a fantasy. I open my mouth to make my vow.

“Arthur!” a voice suddenly shouts from the crowd. Veronica and I whirl around to see Alice pushing her way to the front. “Don’t do it! You love Iris, not this woman! She’s manipulating you!”

Veronica hisses and moves to block my view of Alice. But other voices join in, people I don’t even know, faces in the crowd.

“She’s right! Veronica is not your true mate!”

“Go back to Iris!”

“Wolves only get one mate!”

“Do the right thing, Alpha President!”

Suddenly, Alice launches something toward me. Instinctively, I catch it—the handkerchief. Iris’s scent reaches my nostrils again, and the fog begins to dissipate. I take a step back, shaking my head.

“No,” I say. “No, I don’t… I don’t want this.”

Veronica’s eyes widen in shock, then narrow dangerously as she glances at the handkerchief. “Arthur,” she says, taking a step forward, that fake smile still plastered across her face, “you don’t know what you’re saying, darling. Come back here.”

She reaches for the handkerchief, but I hold it out of her reach. “No. I know exactly what I’m saying,” I reply more firmly now. “I don’t want to marry you, Veronica. I never did.”

“Don’t be absurd,” she hisses. “Of course you want to marry me. I’m your mate.”

“No. You’re not. Iris is my mate. My only mate. Whatever you’ve been doing to me… it’s over.”

The crowd gasps again, and whispers sweep through the gallery. Veronica’s face contorts with rage, all pretense of sweetness vanishing in an instant.

“You ungrateful—” she starts, but I don’t hear the rest—because a sudden urgency has gripped me, a pull so strong I can’t deny it.

Iris. I need to find Iris. Now. Something is wrong, and she needs me.

Without another word, without even a backward glance at Veronica or the shocked crowd, I turn and bolt for the exit.