Chapter 8

Knox POV

Sloane shoved me away, stumbling backward like a sinner caught in the light.

My Inner Wolf rumbled, a deep, vibrating purr of satisfaction at the flush staining her cheeks. I watched her tremble, thoroughly enjoying the chaotic aftermath of my wager. Then, my gaze shifted to the doorway.

Finn stood there, reeking of sour rain and heartbreak. His scent, usually just a pathetic whisper of wet grass, spiked into something sharp and acrid with sudden anger. He looked at us with those wide, accusing eyes-our mother's eyes-filled with a jagged disbelief.

"What is going on here?" Finn demanded, his voice scraping like sandpaper.

Sloane, my brave but terrible little liar, panicked. "I-I tripped," she stammered, her voice a breathless squeak. "I lost my balance, and Knox just..."

Her defense sounded like the whimper of a cornered kitten. My Inner Wolf found it incredibly amusing. I didn't expose her lie. Instead, I stepped closer, deliberately positioning my massive frame half-in-front of hers in a blatant display of possession.

"She needed someone to catch her," I drawled, my tone dripping with dark mockery. "You weren't here."

The words hit exactly where I aimed. Finn flinched, the reminder of his absence and inadequacy striking him like a physical blow. His fragile sanity began to crumble.

Desperate to change the subject, Sloane looked at Finn. "What happened outside? Is Delilah..."

"The wedding is still on," Finn choked out, his fists trembling at his sides.

A microscopic sigh of relief slipped past Sloane's lips. She tried to hide it, but Finn caught it. That tiny, involuntary reaction was the final straw for his fragile Inner Wolf. He glared at her, his chest heaving.

"Go upstairs, Sloane," Finn ordered, his voice trembling with a pathetic attempt at authority. "I need to speak with my brother. Alone."

Sloane shot me a terrified, warning look before hurrying up the grand staircase. The moment she was out of sight, Finn turned his pathetic fury on me.

"Stay away from her," Finn snarled, though he wisely kept his distance. "I know what you're doing. You're trying to use her to get to me. Just like Lydia."

The name grated against my wolf's patience. He was so incredibly blind. He thought this was about our ugly history. He thought Sloane was just a pawn.

I took a slow step forward, letting the crushing weight of my Alpha aura flood the Great Hall. The scent of a violent thunderstorm and spent gunpowder swallowed his weak rain scent whole. Finn's knees buckled slightly, his Inner Wolf whining in immediate submission.

"You don't see her, little brother," I growled, my baritone vibrating in the floorboards. "You see a wolfless pet to lick your wounds. I see a queen."

Finn's eyes widened in sheer terror as the truth finally penetrated his thick skull.

"I am going to pursue her," I continued, stepping into his personal space. "I am going to claim her. And I am going to ruin her for anyone else until she forgets your name entirely."

Utterly defeated by my aura and my declaration, Finn let out a frustrated, strangled sound. He spun on his heel and stomped up the stairs like a petulant child whose toy had just been snatched away.

My goal had never been clearer: win the wager, claim my Fated Mate, and shatter my brother's pathetic delusions in the process.

Thirty minutes later, I parked my Shelby outside a high-end hotel in downtown Asheville. The sterile, human scent of carpet cleaner in the hallway did nothing to mask the sweet, calculating orchid perfume leaking from the presidential suite.

I knocked once. The door swung open.

Delilah stood there in a sheer silk robe, her scent laced with a bitter edge of fear. She tried to block the doorway, offering me a sultry, practiced smile that made my Inner Wolf bare its teeth in disgust.

"Knox," she purred, though her eyes darted nervously down the hall. "If you're here to tell Hunter about Finn, let's make a deal. I can make it worth your while."

I didn't waste my breath. I hit her with a fraction of my Alpha aura, forcing her to stumble back, and strode into the suite.

"Mating Ceremonies are sacred," I said coldly, staring down at her. "You defiled yours two days before it even began."

Before she could beg again, the bathroom door opened. Hunter Strickland walked out, a towel slung low on his hips, his hair damp. Delilah instantly slithered to his side, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing a kiss to his chest, playing the perfect, devoted Luna.

"Knox," Hunter said, his brow furrowing in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Get dressed," I told him, ignoring the venomous glare Delilah shot me. "We need to talk."

Once Delilah was banished to the bedroom, Hunter poured us both a glass of whiskey. I looked at my best friend, seeing the exhaustion beneath his Alpha exterior.

"You know she doesn't love you, right?" I asked bluntly. "Her scent is a lie."

Hunter stared into his glass, his jaw tight. "I'm not a fool, Knox. I know about her history with Finn. But my wolf... my wolf chose her. The alliance makes sense."

He was blinded by a false bond and pack politics. Direct intervention wasn't going to work. If I wanted to save my friend-and win my wager for Sloane-I needed to force his hand.

"Then let's celebrate your impending doom properly," I said, downing my whiskey. "I'm taking you to Obsidian tonight. There's one on the edge of the neutral zone. A real bachelor party. Just you, me, and a place where primal instincts don't lie."

Hunter hesitated, then nodded. The trap was set.