I had an entire speech thought out in my head. I even went so far as to think of what I would say to her, but that went out the window the moment I laid eyes on her; I lost it. I know it’s ridiculous because she doesn’t even resemble her mother in any way. Marissa’s face was all I could see the moment I laid eyes on her.

She is their child. And I can’t see past what they did. I can’t see her, see my mate. All I saw was the enemy and reacted. The moment I glanced at her, I could only see that bitch who mutilated my sister and killed her and her child. For years, we hunted down the wolves that helped the hunters. We wasted years trying to find out who the ringleader was, only to learn she was dead all this time.

I just can’t fathom how she could do it. She had a child herself, and yet she killed a pregnant woman and her unborn baby—killed the Landeena’s and Queen Tatiana’s baby. The same woman helped wipe out an entire village of children before sending them down the river to me in a warning. She was a mother herself yet she killed all those innocent children.

There is no one I hate more than Marissa Talbot. She took everything from me. Everything and everyone I cared about. Pacing my bed chambers, I try to think, try to see past my rage. Her scent is everywhere in this room, lingering on my sheets, her essence filling my sacred space, and it is driving me insane.

Grabbing the chair, I fling it across the room, the wood splinters and cracks against the wall with a loud creaking thud. Despite my hatred and fury, the bond calls for Ivy, and I want her. However, it’s not safe for her to be around me. My mind is warped with uncontrollable anger.

The door opens, and Gannon stalks in. I take him in briefly, noticing the damage I have caused him, before my gaze darts away guiltily. Gannon’s black eyes are cold, hard, and unforgiving. His lips are lifted in a snarl, and his hair is disheveled. He’s shirtless, his muscled chest covered in blood from the various wounds he sustained from our fight.

“Where is Ivy?” Gannon demands, his tone clipped and holds a warning as he peers around the room. “Well, Kyson? I swear to God if you…”

“If I what?” I snarl angrily as I fist my hands. My hand throbs painfully, and I know it is because the bond has awakened after being so near her and is in full swing. I can feel her pain as if it were my own, feel her anguish and confusion. But I have to shake off the look she had given me when I tossed open the door or I’ll be sick. Gannon growls and stalks toward me. Before I can react, I find myself slammed against the wall.

“Where is my fucking queen?” Gannon roars, his hands fisting my shirt as he glares at me. Before I can respond, the door flings open, and I punch him. He grunts, stumbling back before I kick him, sending him flying backward into the bookshelf. A few books tumble off the shelf, spilling onto the floor. With a snarl, I move toward him, but Damian gets between us as we charge at each other. Damian shoves Gannon back.

“Stand down, Gannon!” Damian snaps, his tone telling him he is in serious danger of breaching the pledge he swore to uphold.

Gannon glares at me, pointing an accusing finger. “You have made a fucking mistake, king or not. I won’t stand by this. Now where is our queen?” Gannon bellows. Damian is caught between us, glancing at us both, trying to figure out what the hell happened. We still haven’t told him, I was telling him when Ivy had walked up earlier, making me lose my trail of thought as I became consumed by rage.

“Will someone tell me what has happened and why you just made me put your fucking mate in the damn stables like some wild animal?” Damian demands, looking at a complete loss for words.

“The stables?” Gannon gapes at him, then glares at me.

They both hate me. I hate myself for what I did. I just lost control, and if she had been near me, I may have killed her.

The stables were what came to mind, being the furthermost place from the castle itself while still being somewhat covered from the elements.

“You fucking bastard, you fucking promised. She isn’t her mother. You can’t punish her for something she had no part in,” Gannon snarls. If he were anyone else, I would have killed him for daring to talk back to me, let alone touching me. But Gannon and I grew up together. He is considered family, more than a guard.

“Who?” Damian shakes his head, looking between us. “What in the world happened when you were gone, and who are you talking about?” Damian demands to know. But Gannon and I are too busy glaring at each other to answer.

“Fix it! I swear, Kyson, I have stuck by you for fucking decades, opposed nothing you have asked of me, but if you don’t fix this, I am walking, king or not. I am fucking done,” Gannon spits at me, then stomps to the door.

“Where are you going?” Damian asks, trying to figure out what is going on.

“To find my queen,” Gannon snaps as he rips open the door to my growl.

“Wait, just fucking wait until I know what’s going on,” Damian snarls at us both. Gannon growls but closes the door and folds his arms across his chest.

“Now, explain,” Damian says.

“Marissa Talbot is Ivy’s mother,” I tell him.

“What?” he asks, shocked.

“The werewolf hunter, the one who killed my sister and the other Lycan bloodlines. Her mother was the insider; she was the one who killed them,” I growl. Just speaking that vile woman’s name is like ingesting poison.

“What? How is Ivy connected to this?”

“She’s not. Her mother killed them,” Gannon growls. “Not Ivy, she didn’t kill them, you fucking moron!” he snaps, turning his attention to me, and I press my lips in a line.

“That’s what Alpha Dean had to tell you?” Damian gasps, glancing between us, while I wander over to the bar to drown my sorrows and my guilt.

“Wait, that is why you sent her to the fucking stables, Kyson? For something her mother did?” Damian asks, outraged.

“He fucking said he would leave it, forget it. He agreed she was innocent. She didn’t fucking kill your sister, Kyson,” Gannon snarls.

“You think I don’t know that?” I roar. This is so fucked up. I don’t think I can be around her, not without the risk of hurting her.

“What about her father?” Damian asks.

“They are trying to find his link to all this. We also think he was not aware of the crimes bestowed on his wife. We found nothing on him, that’s why we are late,” Gannon explains.

“And you’re sure it’s her parents?” Damian asks, sitting on the edge of my armchair and rubbing both hands down his face. He looks just as defeated as I feel, dark circles under his eyes and his overall demeanor is drained of life.

“Kyson was supposed to show her a picture to make sure, instead, I come up here and find out she has been taken to the fucking stables like some farm animal!” Gannon growls. “You’re going to have a very hard time walking this back, Kyson.”

“Gannon, enough. It may not be right what he did, but stop. Just let me think,” Damian says. He knows better than anyone how much that woman haunts me. The horrors of finding my sister like that and what that woman did to her. How she could do that to another mother sickened me.

“Go, take a photo to Ivy; verify it’s her mother while he calms down,” Damian says to Gannon, who nods before leaving. He is livid, understandably, but I had kicked Ivy out long before my brain processed what I had done.

“Kyson, you could ruin her by not accepting her, ruin your only chance; bonds are easily damaged,” Damian says, and I look away from him, not able to stand seeing him angry at me. His disappointment is palpable.

“I know,” I tell him, feeling sick to my stomach and staring down at my hand that seems to have grown its own pulse. I flex my fingers, which are still throbbing.

“Maybe you should go for a few days, get away for a bit. I can bring Ivy back up here and watch over her until you get your head around this,” Damian suggests, and I growl.

All I can think about is her intruding in the very place her mother slaughtered my sister mercilessly. “I do not want her in this room,” I snap at him, and he growls, shaking his head at me.

“Well, move fucking rooms, Kyson. It’s depressing as fuck that you use your sister’s old room and that shrine of a room. This isn’t healthy, especially the room you have across the hall full of all Azalea things. You need to get over it, move on, and stop living in the past. Ivy is your chance to do that. She is not her parents, not our past, she’s your fucking future, and you’re about to ruin it!” Damian snaps at me.

How could he say that? Marissa Talbot took everything from me, and now I am supposed to love her spawn, accept her like her mother did no wrong? What cruel fucking fate made me mates with the spawn of Marissa Talbot? It’s a fucking cruel joke, that is!

“What’s done is done. Ivy has paid enough for her parents’ sins. You don’t need to punish her for them, too,” Damian says, standing up.

I know the horrors she has suffered very well, and now I am another one to inflict more pain. Logically, I know this, but the burning hatred of what her parents did overshadows the bond. I can’t let this go. So the safest place for her right now is far away from me. I sip my drink, not bothering to give an answer to his words, it would only end with more arguing.

“I get, Kyson, I do. But you need to find a way to look past who her parents are because if you hurt her…” I glance over at him, and he looks away for a second before sighing heavily. He turns his face back, meeting my gaze. “I am with Gannon. I won’t see you destroy her. I will walk. I know everyone else in this castle will walk for her, too. You are not the only person who has waited for your queen.” He pauses for a second, glancing at the glass in my hand.

“This place has been a shrine for too long. We won’t watch it go back to being a prison of your depression. Fix it, or you are on your own, My King,” he tells me. She has been here five minutes, and they’ve turned on me!

“She isn’t of royal blood,” I tell him.

“No, but she is our rightful queen. The person destined to rule alongside you. You are our king, and we all took the same pact when you appointed us as your guard. We swore that when the time came, we would protect our queen over you. If that means choosing her over you…” Damian says to my growl as he continues giving me a hard look. “...then so be it.” he finishes before storming out.

The moment the door closes, my legs give out. I collapse on the floor. My feet go from under me, and I lean against the small bar. I know they are right. And I know I’ve fucked up, yet I can’t control my anger.

I promised to hurt the people responsible the same way they broke me, but I had no idea the person who would be taking that punishment would be my mate. Feeling for the mindlink, I search for Gannon. He should be with Ivy by now and hopefully have some answers.

He allows the mindlink but growls at me when it is opened. However, he doesn’t try to shove me out.

‘How is she?’ I ask, trying to keep the frustration I feel from my voice.

‘How do you think? She is confused, and you broke her fucking hand,’ he tells me, and I glance at mine; that explains the throbbing sensation I feel.

‘It will heal when she shifts. Did you show her the photo?’ I ask and Gannon growls. I can tell he doesn’t want to answer me.

‘Gannon?’ I snarl.

‘Yes, Marissa Talbot is her mother, but that doesn’t mean she needs to pay for what her parents did, Kyson,’ Gannon finally answers. I kinda hoped she wouldn’t recognize them, but I knew that was wishful thinking.

‘Just stay with her,’ I tell him.

‘I was planning to. Do you think I will leave my queen unguarded?’ he retorts.

I growl at his words. She isn’t even marked yet, and my royal elite guard is already choosing her over me. The pact isn’t in full swing until I mark her; I can still force them against her until then!

‘Are you really going to make her shift on her own?’ Gannon asks me, making me remember she will shift tonight.

‘You’re there,’ I tell him.

‘Kyson, that is not the same. She is petrified, and you fucking promised her,’ Gannon growls. I really need to remember not to tell them so much because now he is using it against me.

‘Kyson! You gave her your word!’

Guilt gnaws at me, and I reach up, grabbing the bottle off the shelf above my head and cracking the lid. I take a swig while trying to decide what to do before answering.

‘Tell me when she starts to shift, and I will come down,’ I sigh, cutting off the link before he can protest. I pull my lips between my teeth before getting up and grabbing a few bottles from the bar. If I am going to keep this promise, it would be best if I am too drunk to shift, knowing I am going down there. At least until I figure out what it is I am doing with her.

I’m taken to the stables, which is by a huge manmade dam. As we approach the stable, I notice a few guards coming out having unlocked it, watching me with curious and awkward eyes. The porch front has a roof that overhangs and a few old rickety rocking chairs that overlook the dam and pier. It’s surrounded by a wide array of plants, flowers, and herbs. The air is moist here and the smell of fresh hay lingers in the air.

Inside the stable, several horses are standing in their stalls. A few of the horses whine in greeting as I walk by. I stop, staring at the huge white one. I reach out my hand to stroke the velvety muzzle of it. The horse pushes its head into my palm as if it wants more when Dustin nudges me forward.

I am mesmerized by the beauty of the horses, yet glancing around, I never pictured I’d be living with them. I guess I can’t truly escape the fact I am a rogue, and this is far more than I deserve. I should be grateful he didn’t kill me because it was clear he wanted to.

“Quick, sit while I try to take care of your hand,” Dustin urges, dragging a cut in half wine barrel over. He flips it over, so I can sit on it. The other guard growls at him before gripping his shoulder, and Dustin glares at the man’s hand touching him. Staring up at the man, he glares at me with so much venom, I instinctively drop my gaze.

“We were told to bring her here, that is all,” he snaps at Dustin. He is only trying to help fix my hand? I steal another peek at the man, who stares back at me like I am the scum of the earth, and I quickly avert my gaze again.

“Remove your hand, Trey, or you’ll fucking lose it,” Dustin snaps at him.

“I’m following orders; the king said bring her here, and that is it, not fucking help her. She doesn’t deserve help after what she did,” he spits, but no one has told me what it is I did yet? If I know, maybe I can correct it or make amends. Did I forget one of my chores?

“Fuck the king,” Dustin snaps, and the man’s grip tightens on Dustin’s shirt, who goes to turn when Gannon walks in.

“Yes, fuck the king. Remember where your loyalties lie, Trey,” Gannon warns him.

“They are with my king. Not with a traitor!” Trey answers.

“That so-called traitor is your queen and the king’s mate,” Gannon snarls at him, and the man whimpers before his eyes go to me.

“You haven’t been here as long as the rest of us, but the king swore us all to choose his queen over him.”

“If so, why is she down here, then?” the man demands.

“Because the king is an idiot. Move, Dustin. I will wrap her hand. Go fix up the old king’s quarters for me,” Gannon says, crouching down in front of me.

“He’s letting her back inside the castle?” Dustin says, looking relieved.

“Hopefully Damian can convince him. This is no place for a queen,” Gannon tells him.

“Just get it ready for me. The moment I can take her back safely, I want it ready,” Gannon explains.

“Yes, sir,” Dustin says, while Trey growls and Gannon glances over his shoulder at him.

“You’re off guard, get out of my face,” Gannon orders him, and I feel his aura rush out and Trey doubles over before hustling out.

Gannon sets to work on cleaning my hand and wrapping it. “It will heal once you shift. Do you think you can hold off a couple of hours?” he asks kindly. My hand is throbbing. Can’t he give me his blood or heal it like the king did my back? Right now, I will try anything if it means the pain will stop.

“Can’t you heal it?” I ask, hopefully. My hand is throbbing to its own beat, my fingers are black and purple, and fragmented bones are pushing beneath my skin like splinters when the frame broke them.

Gannon chews his lip nervously and then sighs.

“I would if I could, but only the king can heal you. My saliva or blood won’t work on you since you aren’t mine,” Gannon tells me, cupping my face with his huge hand. What does he mean? I thought all Lycans can heal.

“Did the king refuse you to?” I ask him and he frowns. “No, Ivy. But Lycans can only heal their mates,” he tells me.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Once the moon is at its highest peak, I will take you outside, so you can shift, My Queen,” Gannon says.

“Please don’t call me that,” I murmur, looking away from him. As he said, this is no place for a queen, a slave maybe, but not a queen, and clearly Kyson doesn’t want me to be his.

“I need to ask you something,” Gannon says, unlocking his phone and scrolling through the pictures. He stops before turning his phone to me.

“Do you know this woman?” he asks, and I take the phone from him. A whimper escapes from my lips when I realize it is my mother. I nod, tears trekking down my face.

“She’s my mom,” I smile, brushing my thumb over the picture of her. She looks a little younger than I remember in this picture, but I know it is her. Gannon hangs his head and shakes it. He sighs heavily before looking up at me.

“He will come around, Ivy. You just need to give him space,” Gannon tells me.

Come around to what? I think. How does everyone seem to know what’s going on except for me?

“What do you mean? I don’t get it. What did I do wrong?” I ask. Gannon frowns when I see his eyes glaze over, and I can tell he is mindlinking. I wait for him to finish, and his eyes flicker before falling back on me.

“You did nothing. It’s what your mother did. She killed the Landeena king and queen; she also killed the king’s sister.”

I blink, astonished, unable to believe what I’m hearing. That would be impossible. She couldn’t have.

“Just try to get some rest. After your shift, I will take you to Kyson’s old quarters, he can’t keep you down here forever, it will drive his Lycan side mad.”

“But my birthday isn’t for another couple of weeks,” I tell him.

“The fact you recognized the king as your mate, Ivy, shows your birthday is today,” he says, just as I hear someone curse.

The stable door opens, and hope bubbles in me at the thought of it being Kyson to tell me this was some sick joke, but it is just Clarice and Abbie. They stop by the door and glance at Gannon, who nods to them before standing and leaving. He stops by Clarice at the door.

“Don’t be long; I don’t want to be dragging you to the cells for disobeying the king,” Gannon tells them. Clarice nods before rushing in with Abbie close behind her. Abbie embraces me, hugging me then checking me over, while Clarice stands with a frosted cupcake in her hand, a deep look of concern on her face.

“You’ve been baking,” I tell Abbie, whose uniform is covered in flour. She shakes her head.

“No, I just spilled the bag on the counter before I came down here. Clarice made a cake for you,” she tells me, dusting herself off.

“Well, I had a cake made, but I couldn’t carry it down,” Clarice says sadly.

Abbie falls to her knees beside me, her eyes wide with excitement. Excitement that quickly dims. “You should have seen it, Ivy. Clarice did a good job. She spent all day making it. It’s so pretty, better than the ones we used to make at the orphanage, it…” Abbie trails off before frowning.

“You enjoy it then,” I tell her, knowing just how much we always wished to celebrate our birthdays but were never allowed. We had been strictly forbidden to make ourselves birthday treats or sample the other treats we made in the kitchen. Abbie and I would stare longingly at them. We never knew if they tasted alright, but the delight on the kids’ faces told us they must have, or maybe they were just being polite.

Clarice nervously glances at the stable doors. “We can’t stay long; Gannon is right; the king is on the warpath, but I couldn’t let you go without wishing you happy birthday,” Clarice says, placing the blue cupcake in my hand. She stabs a candle in it and lights it with a match, while I stare at the flickering flame.

This was never how I pictured my birthday to be, not that I ever saw myself actually celebrating one, the one chance I might have had was now stolen from me once again, yet this one hurts the most. Maybe because for a second, I thought it was going to be a good day.

“Blow it out and make a wish,” Clarice says, and to humor her, I do. Abbie smiles sadly and kisses my knee where she is crouched beside me, her green eyes filled with tears.

“What did you wish for?” Clarice asks, a teary smile on her face.

“I wished to be free,” I whisper, and Abbie sobs.

“Don’t,” she chokes the word as if it strangles her. “Don’t say that,” Abbie cries.

“I think it’s a good wish,” Clarice says, staring in confusion at Abbie.

“Not where we come from. The only freedom rogues get is in death,” Abbie chokes out, and Clarice stares back at me, bewildered, before grabbing my face in her shaking hands.

“You wish for anything but that. Do you hear me? I will not watch my queen die. I have buried enough of them,” she chokes out before letting me go, then leaving out. Abbie watches her go before gazing back at me.

“I wish I could stay to see you shift,” she says, and I nod, terrified of the thought of shifting with no one here, in a stable of all places, surrounded by hay and horses. I think I would have preferred being locked in my room at the orphanage, at least I’d have had Abbie.

“It’s not too bad. We have slept in worse places,” Abbie says, glancing around, trying to uplift my mood.

“I will speak to Beta Damian. Maybe he can convince the king to let me stay here with you, or I can try to sneak down,” Abbie says, and I shake my head.

“No, stay in the castle; you don’t need to be punished, too,” I tell her. Abbie stares at me confused, while chewing her lip.

She sighs heavily and glances around at the horses. “This isn’t how I pictured today being,” she admits.

“Well, I never pictured making it to this day at all,” I remind her and her eyes dart to me.

“More than my life,” she whispers, and I swallow.

“More than my life,” I return to her, and she lets out a relieved breath.

“Abbie, love, you need to go,” Gannon tells her, and I see her cheeks turn a little pink. I chuckle at Abbie, a silly smile on my lips. She doesn’t get flustered much, but just that one endearing word sent her crimson. She nods before standing and kissing my forehead.

“I will try to come back. If I don’t, I will tomorrow,” Abbie says, rushing back to the door. She looks up at Gannon as she passes him.

“I won’t leave her alone. Once she shifts, I will sneak her back into the castle,” Gannon tells her before reaching for a lock of her auburn hair. He twirls it around his finger and then clears his throat before nodding and letting her rush off. I raise an eyebrow at him.

“What, she’s pretty,” Gannon says, shaking his head like he just got caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Yes, she is,” I tell him with a smile, and he blushes slightly, clearing his throat.

The stable door groans open, and our steps are hesitant, our shadows flitting against the wooden walls of the stables when I find Ivy sitting on top of an old wine barrel that has been turned upside down.

The room, dense with the smell of hay and horses, suddenly feels tighter, more constricted when I see the saddened look on her face. They hadn’t told us what happened, only that we could go spend a few minutes with her and wish her happy birthday. I’m so confused… I thought we were safe here.

Gannon, whose gaze remains hardened, acknowledges our presence with a brief nod. He stands, his tall figure casting a long shadow, and murmurs a warning, “Don’t be long; I don’t want to be dragging you to the cells for disobeying the king.” His voice is cold and filled with anger. I have never seen him look angry.

Clarice, her fingers trembling slightly, is the first to approach Ivy. She holds a frosted cupcake as if it’s a lifeline. Yet, it’s Ivy’s gutted expression that draws me in. Her ebony hair, usually vibrant and full of life, lies limp against her pale skin. Her cerulean, blue eyes, usually shimmering with excitement at seeing me, are shadowed with despair and confusion.

“You’ve been baking,” Ivy asks me, and I glance down at my uniform.

Shaking my head, the weight of our predicament hits me anew. “No, I just spilled the bag on the counter before I came down here. Clarice made a cake for you,” I admit, my voice shaking. A cake, such a simple pleasure, feels out of place amidst the palpable tension.

It’s not just the cake or the stable, it’s the unspoken reality that binds us. The chains of servitude, of being mere pawns in a kingdom that’s never truly been ours. But for a split second, we both had hope we’d find home here. Ivy, despite being the king’s mate, is now condemned to these stables, away from the luxury of status she barely had a chance to grasp. Now if a queen has been placed here, what chance do I have, we have? We might have been better off with our fate decided by our old Alpha.

“Well, I had a cake made, but I couldn’t carry it down,” Clarice tells her sadly.

“You should have seen it, Ivy. Clarice did a good job. She spent all day making it. It’s so pretty, better than the ones we used to make at the orphanage, it…” I trail off before frowning.

“You enjoy it then,” Ivy smiles encouragingly, but that wouldn’t be the same thing without her, it was made for her.

“We can’t stay long; Gannon is right; the king is on the warpath, but I couldn’t let you go without wishing you happy birthday,” Clarice tells Ivy, placing the blue cupcake in her hand. I stare at the flickering flame. Ivy’s longing gaze drifts toward the blue cupcake as Clarice places a candle on it before lighting it, its tiny flame flickering brightly.

“Blow it out and make a wish,” Clarice tells her. Ivy blows the candle out without excitement or light in her eyes. I know she only does to please Clarice. I was so excited to help Clarice, and it was all for nothing. I smile sadly and kiss her knee, giving her hand a squeeze from where I sit beside her.

“What did you wish for?” Clarice asks, a teary smile on her face.

“I wished to be free,” Ivy tells her, and a choking whimper leaves my lips.

Such a simple wish, laden with so many complex emotions. The pain of our shared history as slaves, the injustice of it all, wells up. “Don’t,” I choke out, tears threatening hearing her speak those words.

“Don’t say that,” I whisper. Anything but that, she can’t wish for that. This was supposed to be a fresh start.

“I think it’s a good wish,” Clarice says, glancing at me, startled.

“Not where we come from. The only freedom rogues get is in death,” I tell her. I knew precisely what Ivy meant by those words. Clarice stares at her, shocked before grabbing her face in her hands.

“You wish for anything but that. Do you hear me? I will not watch my queen die. I have buried enough of them,” Clarice says before stalking out. I watch her go before turning back to Ivy.

“I wish I could stay to see you shift,” I tell her, and she nods. Glancing around, I see that this place is cold and lonely. Ivy stayed with me, not that she had a choice about being locked in the room with me, but I at least still had her by my side. I wonder if maybe I can convince Gannon to let me come down when her shift starts, so she won’t be alone.

“It’s not too bad. We have slept in worse places,” I tell her, glancing around, trying to uplift her mood, but I might as well have been trying to grasp air with how useless my attempts to cheer her up are. Maybe if I ask the king, he will allow it, or I could deliberately get myself in trouble and hope he kicks me out here with her.

“I will speak to Beta Damian. Perhaps he can convince the king to let me stay here with you,” I tell her, although my chances of even getting close to the king’s quarters to ask Beta Damian are slim. Ivy shakes her head.

“No, stay in the castle; you don’t need to be punished, too,” she tells me.

“Abbie, love, you need to go,” Gannon calls out softly, and embarrassment courses through me at his endearment, and I know my cheeks turn a little pink when Ivy looks at me questionably.

Leaning forward, I kiss her forehead and cheek. I don’t want to go. She doesn’t deserve to be out here with farm animals, but I would rather not ruin my chances at being allowed back.

“I will try to come back. If I don’t, I will tomorrow,” I tell her, rushing back to the door. I look up at Gannon as I pass him.

“I won’t leave her alone. Once she shifts, I will sneak her back into the castle,” Gannon tells me before reaching for a lock of my auburn hair. He twirls it around his finger and then clears his throat before nodding, and I rush out before he does anything else that I would have to explain to Ivy.

Liam is waiting for me when I return to the castle, and I head for the guards’ quarters, hoping to find Damian to see if he will grant me permission to stay with Ivy for the night. The thought of her shifting with no one but Gannon upsets me.

Climbing the stairs, it’s not long before I hear Liam’s footsteps rushing to keep up with me. Reaching the second-floor landing, I see Damian in the hall talking to one of the guards before he turns and goes toward the king’s chambers. Turning on my heel, I go to head down there, only for an arm to wrap around my waist and turn me in the opposite direction.

“Uh ah, can’t let you do that?,” Liam tells me, and I grit my teeth as he walks me toward the guards’ quarters.

I peer up over my shoulder at him as he keeps forcing me in the opposite direction. “Then can you ask Damian if I can stay with Ivy?” I ask him, and he sighs, steering me down the next corridor.

“Gannon is with her. She will be fine,” he says, and I stop.

“Abbie?” he says, and I shake my head, but he rolls his eyes, grips my wrist, and drags me along with him. I try to pull out of his grip, only for it to tighten.

“Abbie, if you go barging in there, you will only make things worse. Leave it be and trust that Gannon will look after her,” Liam scolds me as if I am some disobedient child. Truth be told, I don’t mind him. He seems okay, a little eccentric, but I know he cares deeply for Gannon and, unfortunately, the king, who currently is on my hate list.

“What if she gets cold down there?” I wonder aloud.

“Gannon sent guards to get firewood. Dustin will take her blankets. For now, you need to go to bed,” he says, stopping at my door. He opens it and motions for me to go inside. “In ya go, don’t make me tuck you in,” he warns me. Tears prick my eyes as I step toward my door.

“And don’t think of trying to sneak out. Gannon asked me to watch you. I will be right outside this door, Abbie. Trust me, you won’t get far,” he tells me, and I glare at him.

“But by all means try, I love me a game of cat and mouse, and I could use the entertainment,” he chuckles, shutting the door, and I sigh, moving toward my bed.