Chapter 92

Arthur & Iris

Arthur

I scan the crowded ballroom, searching for Iris. I shouldn’t have left her alone for so long, especially at her first public event as my mate. The call took longer than expected—a minor diplomatic crisis with Bo’Arrocan that couldn’t wait—and now I can’t find her anywhere.

I spot Beta Ezra by the far wall and make my way to him. “Have you seen Iris?”

He shakes his head. “Not for the past twenty minutes. She was talking to Countess Blackthorn earlier, but I lost track of her after that.”

Countess Blackthorn. Shit. That woman has one of the sharpest tongues in Ordan high society, and she’s one of Selina’s closest friends. I should never have left Iris alone. The Countess probably ripped her a new one.

“Arthur.”

Just as I’m about to send Iris a text, I turn to find Caleb standing behind me, a champagne flute dangling from his fingers.

“Caleb,” I nod curtly. The last time we spoke was at Selina’s hospital bedside, and it wasn’t exactly friendly. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Diplomacy and all that. With everything going on with Selina, I need to keep up a positive image.” His eyes scan the room. “I notice your mate is here tonight. The human.”

I feel my jaw tighten. “Her name is Iris.”

“Yes, Iris,” he says, nodding. “That’s actually why I wanted to speak with you.”

“If you’re here to criticize my choice of mate—”

“Not at all,” Caleb interrupts, surprising me. “Quite the contrary. I find your… Iris… quite fascinating.”

The emphasis he places on her name strikes me as odd. Something about his tone puts me on edge.

“In what way?” I ask carefully.

Caleb glances around, then gestures toward a quieter corner of the ballroom. “Perhaps we could speak somewhere more private?”

Reluctantly, I follow him. I still need to find Iris, but Caleb’s unusual behavior has me curious.

“I felt a connection to her,” Caleb says once we’re away from prying ears. “When we met at the hospital. Something…familiar.”

I frown. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s difficult to explain,” he admits, swirling his champagne thoughtfully. “But when I scented her, there was something there. Something that reminded me of my own bloodline.”

I can’t help but scoff. “You think you’re related to Iris? That’s absurd. She’s a human.”

“Is she?” Caleb asks, his eyebrows raising. “Are you absolutely certain of that?”

“Of course she is,” I say, but a flicker of doubt surfaces in my mind. The way she healed after the accident, much faster than any human should have—even with my blood. The doctors had been baffled.

“She submitted a DNA test, you know,” Caleb continues, watching me closely. “For our family’s search.”

This information catches me off guard. “She what?”

“You didn’t know?” Caleb looks genuinely surprised. “Yes, she was tested the day before yesterday. The results haven’t come back yet, but…”

“But what?”

Caleb leans in slightly. “The timing fits, Arthur. The infant switch would have happened just over twenty-six years ago. I’ve looked into the orphanage where Iris was raised—she was left there as a newborn, with no record of her birth parents. And then there’s her—your—son.”

“What about him?” I ask sharply.

“A fully-fledged Alpha wolf born to a supposedly human mother? When has that ever happened before?”

Never, as far as I know. Hybrid children born to human mothers typically show minimal werewolf traits, if any. They certainly don’t manifest as full Alphas.

“You’re suggesting that Iris might be…” I can’t even finish the thought. It’s too outlandish.

“The missing Willford heir? Yes, I am.” Caleb’s expression is dead serious. “I believe my sister—my real sister by blood—has been living as a human her entire life, with no knowledge of her true nature.”

I shake my head, trying to process this. “If Iris were a werewolf, she would know by now.”

“Not necessarily,” Caleb counters, giving me a meaningful look.

Before I can respond, a strange sensation ripples through my mind. A soft voice—Iris’s voice—echoing inside my head. It’s quiet, almost too quiet to hear, but it’s there.

“Arthur! Help!”

I freeze. That was definitely Iris, but it can’t be. Humans can’t Mindlink. It’s biologically impossible. Only werewolves have the neural pathways necessary for telepathic communication with their mates.

But right now, that doesn’t matter. Iris is clearly in distress.

I have to find her.

…

Iris

The tall she-wolf yanks hard on my dress, tearing a large hole right down the front. The silk gives way easily under her extended claws, exposing my skin. One centimeter further, and she would tear right into my flesh.

“Stop it!” I cry, trying to pull away, but the woman behind me has a vise-like grip on my shoulders.

“Why should we?” she hisses in my ear. “You don’t belong here. You don’t belong with him.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” I say, struggling against her hold. “We’re mates.”

This earns me a harsh laugh from the third woman, who circles to face me. “Mates? A human can’t truly mate with a werewolf. It’s just a pale imitation of the real thing.”

“Poor Alpha President,” the tall one says with mock sympathy. “Trapped with a weak little human when he could have had a proper werewolf mate. One who could actually bear him strong Alpha children.”

“My son is an Alpha,” I snap, anger momentarily overriding my fear.

“A fluke,” the woman behind me dismisses. “Or a lie. No human mother has ever birthed a true Alpha.”

The tall one reaches for my dress again, this time going for the bodice. I twist desperately, trying to evade her claws, but I’m no match for werewolf strength and reflexes. The delicate material parts easily, the tear extending down to my waist.

“Such a shame,” she drawls. “This dress was wasted on you anyway. You can’t even walk in it properly.” She emphasizes her point by shoving me hard, and I stumble back against the bathroom counter.

I manage to catch myself, but the impact sends a sharp pain through my hip. “What did I ever do to you?” I demand, struggling to hold what’s left of my dress against my body.

“You existed,” the third one says simply. “Your very presence here is an insult to werewolf tradition. The Alpha President needs a proper Luna, not some human charity case.”

The tall one moves closer, her claws extending again. “Maybe we should give him a reason to reconsider his choice.”

Fear spikes through me as I realize she’s not just talking about ruining my dress anymore. I glance desperately at the locked door. It’s solid wood, and too far from the main hall, where the party is still in full swing—no one would hear me over the music and voices if I screamed.

“He won’t want you after we’re done,” the one behind me breathes, her claws nearly digging into my shoulders hard enough to draw blood. “Not when we mark that pretty face.”

I lash out instinctively, driving my elbow back into the stomach of the woman holding me. She grunts in surprise, her grip loosening just enough for me to twist away. But the tall one is already moving, impossibly fast. Her claws catch the side of my arm, leaving burning lines of pain in their wake.

I cry out, stumbling back against the wall. The three of them close in. The tall one grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back painfully to expose my throat.

“Hold her still,” she commands the others. “Let’s see what the Alpha President thinks of his human pet when we’re done with her.”

I struggle, kick, scratch, but it’s no use. Their werewolf strength is overwhelming. The tall one brings her claws toward my face, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

In desperation, I do the only thing I can think of—I call out to Arthur in my mind, the way I’ve seen him communicate with Ezra. It’s ridiculous, I know. I’m human. There’s no way he can hear me. But I’m out of options.

“Arthur! Help!”

The claws graze my cheek, not deep, but enough to sting. A warning. A promise.

“Stop squirming,” the tall one growls, her grip tightening painfully in my hair. “This will hurt less if you hold still.”

I want to spit in her face, to tell her I’m not afraid, but that would be a lie. I am afraid. I’m terrified.

They’ve managed to tear most of my dress to shreds. The beautiful emerald silk that made me feel so pretty just hours ago now hangs in tatters around me, leaving me exposed and humiliated, which I suppose is exactly what they wanted.

The one who had been holding my shoulders now grabs my arms, pinning them against the wall behind me. The third woman moves to help her, effectively immobilizing me as the tall one raises her claws again.

“Let’s start with something subtle,” she purrs. “Something that won’t heal properly, even with werewolf medicine.”

I brace myself for the pain, for the feeling of claws cutting into my skin. But before she can strike, a tremendous crash shakes the bathroom door. The three women freeze, heads turning toward the sound.

Another crash, and the door visibly splinters. One more, and it bursts from its hinges, crashing inward and clattering to the floor in several pieces.

And there, filling the doorway, eyes blazing red with fury, is Arthur.