Page 21 of Luna's Forgotten Vow

"The summit," I start, fingers thrumming along the mahogany desk. "You'll have my response at the summit tomorrow." I lean closer to the screen, bracing my elbows on my knees. "You touch even one hair on Tova's head and I'll make sure your filthy bloodline ends with you. Painfully, piece by fucking piece."

Ronan sits back in the rotating chair. "How's Rayne these days?"

I stiffen, and clamping down on it does not stop the images from assaulting my mind. Years, and it is still as vivid as it was that evening. Sometimes, I wondered if he left the front door open just so I could find them fucking on the counter of the houseI bought her. And I stare at him, the shock of blonde hair and brown eyes that often deceived. The misleading smile that is often misunderstood as kindness.

Hate churns deep in my gut and I find that I despise him for a lot more reasons now. Namely, Seraphina. That he had her first, held her first, touched her first and didn't cherish her like she deserved to be. That he managed to carve himself a place in her heart when all she does is look at me with suspicion. That even her subconscious remembers him, still loves him.

Eric slams his fist against the red button, terminating the screen call. "You said she was leverage."

I run my fingers through my hair. "She is."

He comes around my desk and falls into a chair. "Then why the hell won't you use her? Tova can't stay with him. He's sick in the head. He'll break her and then kill her, just because he enjoys it! Perhaps you'd understand if it were you who lost a fucking finger just because!" Eric roars, waving his right hand from which Ronan had carved out his middle finger and sent to me.

"I will kill him for what he did to you," I promise, anger making my ears ring. "But now is not the time to act irrationally."

"Irrationally?"Eric blinks at me. "You're fucking Ronan's bitch? Is that why you won't make the exchange?"

I bare my teeth in a feral growl that has him blanching. "You will not speak of her in that manner! She is my mate!"

"Tova is our family and Seraphina is an outsider! You heard her when you saved her that night. She called for him, would still be in love with him if she didn't lose her memory?—"

I do not register moving until I am inches away from breathing down his neck. "Seraphina isn't up for discussion. She is leverage and will be used as such. Until we understand how much Callahan is willing to give for her, she stays."

Eric doesn't back down, for good reason. It is Tova we are talking about, after all. I raised them both like siblings. They're thick as thieves. "How long? Every second we leave Tova in the Red Wolf Pack, Ronan sinks his claws deeper into her mind and grooms her even further."

Tova. Seraphina. The choice is heavier than it should be and I despise myself for even hesitating when it comes to the life of the woman I practically raised. I grit my teeth, straightening. "Seraphina will accompany us to the summit tomorrow. Ronan will meet her there, and he'll understand that he has no power here."

Eric lets out a relieved sigh, dropping his dark head against the chair. "I understand that this must be difficult?—"

"You understand nothing," I growl, walking out the office and slamming the door shut behind me.

Leverage? Fuck that. I've never been a man known to lie to himself. I'd known she was trouble the moment I touched her hair. And it's too fucking early to lose my mind over a pretty face and a godsdamned beautiful body.

Tomorrow, everything will be as it should, everything restored to its original state. Tomorrow, Tova will be back home and my borders closed. Tomorrow, Seraphina will be gone and I'll be free of this bond that has clouded logic with irrationality. I've worked too hard to get here and jeopardize everything for one woman.

The Summit is a fucking waste of time.

Every year, one unfortunate Alpha is saddled with the task of hosting the meeting meant for diplomacy but often devolving into shouting matches, shattered furniture, and, on particularly eventful occasions, bloodstains that never quite come out of the walls. The only thing that makes it bearable is the revelry that follows.

I rarely ever attend these things, having no interest in mingling or forming alliances that take more than they give me.

My territory isn't just the largest or the wealthiest. It is the strongest. The North is the only region that can withstand an assault from all three territories combined and still hold. That kind of power breeds more enemies than allies, more fear than respect. I've never minded. Fewer alliances mean fewer obligations, fewer engagements.

Which is why I'm in such a shit mood. I took it upon myself to host, to get Callahan where I wanted him.

But the Summit ended over an hour ago. Callahan never showed, and Seraphina did not get her chance to function as a bargaining chip. But the cowardly sense of relief I felt at his absence has soured into something else. Something darker.

Because Seraphina has been asked to dance more times than Kaelin can tolerate, and she hasn't turned them down.

It's the light in her that draws them in. The way she tilts her head as she listens, unwavering in her attention, as if every wordmatters. The way she offers that small, polite smile, making it impossible to tell if she enjoys the dances or simply endures them because she is my wife. And her laughter—soft, lilting, impossibly beautiful—makes the violet in her eyes gleam like starlight.

It fucking guts me every time.

And Baldwin must think so too, because he hasn't taken his eyes off her. He leans in close, whispering something that makes her smile stretch wider than it ever has for me.

"You're glaring hard enough to set the geezer on fire," Eric says, materializing beside me. I hadn't even noticed him approaching. He follows my gaze, then lets out an amused snort. "Now, that's a rare sight. She looks like she's actually enjoying herself. I hear Baldwin has that effect on women."

The fuck he does.

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