Chapter 22
The moment I arrived back at the estate, I knew something was wrong.
Killian stood outside the entrance, arms crossed, his face carved from stone. The torches lining the path flickered, casting eerie shadows across his sharp features. His eyes—dark, piercing, and filled with something dangerous—locked onto me the second I dismounted my horse.
I barely had the energy to deal with him. My mind was a storm of betrayal and confusion—Amaya, my father, the lies, the secrets. It was too much. I just wanted to go to my room, take a long shower, and pretend I hadn’t seen what I saw tonight.
But Killian wasn’t about to let that happen. Just as I’m about to go to bed, he came to my room without knocking.
“I heard you were meeting Tyler in the woods.”
His voice was calm—too calm. The kind of calm that sent warning bells ringing in my head.
I frowned, shaking my head. “What? That’s ridiculous.”
Killian let out a slow, humorless chuckle. “No, it’s not. I had someone follow you.” He tilted his head slightly, studying me. “And guess what they saw?”
My heart clenched. He had me followed. Of course, he did. Killian never trusted anyone, least of all me.
I forced my expression to remain neutral. “So you’re spying on me now?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t you trust me, my dear mate?”
His eyes darkened. “Trust is earned, love.”
And then—he moved.
Faster than I could react, his hand shot out, wrapping around my throat. I gasped, my hands flying to his wrist, my pulse hammering against his grip. He didn’t squeeze. Not yet.
He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “You belong to me,” he murmured, his voice deadly soft. “You’re my Luna. Do not disappoint me. Do not embarrass me.”
My breath came in shaky bursts. The old Aurora—the one who had once been weak, who had once accepted cruelty—might have trembled beneath his touch.
But I wasn’t that girl anymore.
Slowly, I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze head-on. “And what if I do?”
His grip tightened—just for a second. A warning. “Then you’ll regret it.”
He let go, stepping back, tilting his head toward the stairs. “Go to your room.”
I should have fought back. I should have clawed his face, screamed at him, reminded him that I was not some weak, submissive Luna.
But my mind was too full. Too exhausted. So I turned and walked away, my body buzzing with anger, frustration, and something else I couldn’t name.
The hot water cascaded over my skin, washing away the dirt, the tension, the coldness of Killian’s hands on my throat.
I closed my eyes, pressing my forehead against the tiled wall. Breathe, Aurora. Just breathe.
My best friend was sleeping with my father.
My father—who I hadn’t seen in years—was alive.
Tyler had known.
And Killian? He had never trusted me, never truly wanted me as his Luna. He wanted a pawn, a trophy. A womb to carry his heir. I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. What kind of fucked-up life was this?
A noise behind me made my eyes snap open. The bathroom door had creaked. Someone was in my room.
I turned off the water and grabbed the silk robe hanging nearby, tying it tightly around my waist before stepping out into the bedroom.
Killian was sitting on the edge of my bed, completely at ease, watching me with that same unreadable expression.
I crossed my arms, my patience long gone. “What are you doing here?”
He smirked. “I thought you were giving me an heir.”
I scoffed, shaking my head. “I never agreed to that.”
Killian leaned back, resting on his elbows. “No, but it was implied.”
My jaw clenched. “Well, let me make myself clear—I don’t care what you implied. I’m not having your child.”
He sighed, standing up, closing the distance between us with slow, deliberate steps. “Not producing an heir is just going to put your father’s plan into motion.”
