Chapter 207

Arthur

“You sure about this?” Ezra asks from behind me. “You don’t have to go in there alone.”

“I do,” I reply. “She’ll be suspicious if I show up with you. She needs to believe I’m still under her control.”

I hear Ezra sigh. “Fine. We’ll be right behind you. Just give the signal when you’re ready.”

With a nod, I proceed down the hallway. Each step brings me closer to the woman who nearly destroyed my life, who manipulated me into betraying my mate, my son, my Beta, my country. The woman who made me forget who I am.

My rage is about to boil over, but I force it down for now.

I reach the door and pause, inhaling the scent from Iris’s handkerchief once more time. Then, slipping it back into my pocket, I use the key Veronica gave me to enter her penthouse. She never expected her puppet to turn against her, did she?

I’m surprised to find the penthouse in disarray, which is a far cry from Veronica’s usual fastidious nature. Clothes are strewn across the furniture, drawers are hanging open, and several suitcases sit half-packed on the white sofa.

Veronica emerges from another room with an armful of designer clothing clutched to her chest. She freezes when she sees me standing in the doorway.

“Arthur,” she breathes, her initial shock quickly replaced by a smile. “Thank goodness you’re here, darling. I was worried about you after you ran out like that.”

I force my face into neutrality. “I needed to clear my head,” I say, stepping further into the apartment. “But I’m better now. I came looking for you.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, searching my face for any sign of deception. I maintain the vacant, adoring look that I’ve seen in the mirror so many times over the past weeks. Finally, satisfied, she resumes her packing.

“We need to leave,” she says as she stuffs a pile of silk blouses into a suitcase without bothering to fold them. “Tonight. Now.”

“Leave?” I ask, moving closer. “Leave Ordan? Why?”

“Don’t be naive, darling,” she snaps. “After what happened at the gala, people will talk. They’ll question things. It’s better if we just… disappear for a while. Start fresh somewhere else.”

I glance at the suitcases, at the expensive clothes, at the jewelry box open on the coffee table. “You want us to run away together,” I say slowly. “Leave everything behind. Ordan. My position. My son.”

At the mention of Miles, her jaw tightens. “He’s not really your son, remember? You said it yourself.”

The words cut deep, a reminder of the terrible things I said to Iris under Veronica’s influence. But I don’t let my anger show, just nod as if I actually believe her.

“Besides,” she continues, “it’s not forever. Just until things cool down. We can be married somewhere exotic. Somewhere romantic. Don’t you want that, Arthur? Just you and me, away from all these… complications?”

She moves toward me, her hand reaching up to stroke my cheek. I fight the urge to slap her hand away. Instead, I lean into her touch, playing the part of the entranced lover.

“And where would we go?” I ask.

“I have a villa in the southern territories,” she says giddily. “Right on the ocean. It’s absolutely divine. We can live there, at least for a while. No one would think to look for us there.”

“It sounds perfect,” I lie, watching as she resumes her frantic packing. “When do we leave?”

“My private jet is being fueled as we speak,” she replies without looking up. “We’ll leave within the hour. I just need to finish packing the essentials. Oh, and if you could do me a favor and wire me some money, that would be great. I’m afraid I spent my allowance on our last trip; I never expected to have to leave Ordan again so soon.”

“Right,” I say. “I’ll send you the money.”

As if.

Veronica finally glances up at me. Her lips curve. “I promise you won’t regret this, darling.”

“I know I won’t,” I say. I move closer and take her hands in mine. “Of course I’ll go with you, my dear… I just have one thing to do.”

Confusion flickers across her face, her hand reaching toward her pocket. “What thing? Arthur, we don’t have time for—”

Before she can spray me with the perfume she’s now got in her hand, I pull her closer, spinning her so her back is against my front side. I turn us to face the door, knocking the perfume bottle from her hand so it skitters across the floor, and shout, “I’ve got her!”

The front door bursts open, and Ezra strides in, followed by several police officers. Veronica wriggles in my arms, but it’s no use. I’ve got one arm around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, and one around her neck.

“Arthur, what is this?” she demands. “What’s going on?”

“Veronica Willford,” one of the officers announces, stepping forward, “you’re under arrest for embezzlement, fraud, and conspiracy to commit fraud.”

“This is ridiculous!” she sputters, writhing harder against me to no avail. “I haven’t done anything wrong! Arthur, tell them!”

I simply hand her over to the officers so they can cuff her. “It’s over, Veronica. We found the financial records, the offshore accounts. We know you’ve been stealing from charity events for years, including the one Iris organized.”

“That’s a lie!” she hisses, her face contorting with rage. “You can’t prove anything!”

“Actually, we can,” Ezra says as he calmly produces a file from inside his jacket. “Bank records, falsified donation receipts, evidence of luxury purchases made with embezzled funds. It’s all here.”

“And that’s not all,” I add. “I’m also pressing charges for framing my mate, drugging me without my consent, manipulating me, and attempting to coerce me into fleeing the country.”

Veronica’s face pales. “Framing Iris? Drugging you? That’s absurd! I never—”

“The perfume,” I cut her off. “That scent you’ve been using on me since the Solstice Ceremony. I remember everything now, Veronica. Every time you sprayed me with it, every time you used it to cloud my mind.”

“You can’t prove that either.”

“Perhaps not conclusively,” I admit with a shrug. “But combined with your financial crimes and the testimonies we’ll gather, it’s enough to ensure you never hurt anyone again.”

Veronica, desperate now, manages to break free from the officer and lunge toward me with her hands cuffed behind her back. “Arthur, please! You know you love me! We’re mates! You felt it!”

I step back, avoiding her grasp. “We were never mates, Veronica. Whatever I felt was manufactured by you. My only mate is Iris. Always has been, always will be.”

The fight seems to drain out of her then, and she allows the officers to take without further resistance. But as they begin to lead her away, her lips curl into a venomous smile.

“You’ll regret this, Arthur,” she hisses. “You and your pathetic, wolfless mate and that mentally challenged little boy will fade into obscurity before your term as President is even up. Mark my words.”

I don’t dignify her threat with a response. Instead, I reach out and grasp her left hand, pulling the citrine ring—Iris’s ring—from her finger.

“This doesn’t belong to you,” I say quietly. “It never did.”

Her eyes flash with hatred, but the officers pull her away before she can respond. I watch as they lead her away, and each step she puts between us feels like an extra day added onto my lifespan.

When the elevator doors close behind them, I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. It’s over. Finally over.

“You okay?” Ezra asks, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I nod, turning to face my Beta—my friend. “I’m sorry, Ezra,” I say. The words, of course, feel inadequate for all the trouble I put him through. “What I said to you, the way I treated you—”

“It wasn’t you,” Ezra cuts me off with a shake of his head. “I knew something was wrong from the start. That’s why I kept pushing.”

“Still,” I insist, “I should have fought harder against whatever she was doing to me. I should have listened to you.”

Ezra smiles faintly. “If it’s any consolation: shun me again like that, I might just have to kill you.”

I laugh, the sound strange and raw in my throat, as if I haven’t truly laughed in weeks. Maybe I haven’t.

“Deal,” I say, and reach into my pocket. “I believe this belongs to you.”

I hold out the silver Beta pin that Ezra threw down on my desk that day. He looks at it for a long moment, then back up at me.

“You want me back?”

“Of course I do. It was a mistake firing you, Ezra. One I plan to make up for.”

Ezra takes the pin and runs his thumb over the intricate design before attaching it to his lapel, right where it belongs. Then, without warning, he pulls me into a tight hug.

“Welcome back, Alpha,” he murmurs.

I return the embrace, grateful beyond words for his loyalty, his friendship, his forgiveness. When we finally pull apart, I feel as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. But the night isn’t over yet.

“I need to get to the hospital,” I say, already heading for the door. “I need to be by my mate’s side.”