Chapter 15
· King Soren ·
The sun rises over the castle, casting long shadows as I pace my room, trying to make sense of Bree’s abrupt decision to end our engagement.
It doesn’t sit right with me; there has to be a reason, something deeper than just her fears.
My thoughts churn as I step out of my room, heading toward the dining room for breakfast, I find it eerily empty.
The staff usually bustling about are nowhere to be seen.
I peer around, confused. Where is everyone?
I call out, but there’s no answer. I take a step back; something’s wrong. I turn on my heels and head toward the lounge, where I find my parents, and Damian gathered around the television, their expressions tense.
“What’s going on?” I ask, stepping inside. The moment I see the news anchor on the screen, my heart sinks. The banner at the bottom reads:
“King Soren’s Fiancée Exposed as Rhett Miles’s Mate: The Shocking Truth About the King’s Fiancee, Bree.”
I feel my stomach drop as I listen to the report unfold.
My gaze darts between my family’s worried faces and the screen.
“This woman, believed to be an up-and-coming member of the royal family, has been linked to a robbery and violent altercation at the Miles pack,” the anchor states, her tone grave.
“Concerns are growing over her deception and the implications for the kingdom.” A mix of disbelief and betrayal sits heavy in my stomach, my mind racing to process the revelation.
How could Bree have kept such a significant part of her life hidden from me?
Anger bubbles up inside me, but beneath it lies a profound sadness at the thought of losing the future we had envisioned together.
As the footage plays, I see Bree’s face—my Bree—alongside Rhett’s image.
They show clips from the day of the attack, painting her as a criminal, as the anchorwoman continues to speak about how a thief cannot be expected to become a queen.
My blood boils. This is how they want to portray her?
I struggle to reconcile the woman I fell in love with and the one being portrayed on the screen.
Our entire relationship feels like it’s under scrutiny, each memory suddenly tainted with doubt.
“What the hell is this?” I explode, my fists clenching at my sides.
Stepping forward I snatch the remote, flicking the channel and finding every single one reporting similar.
Is this why she sent those messages? How was I not informed about this last night?
My mind is a whirlwind of confusion and anger, battling with the love and trust I thought I knew.
Each breath feels heavier, laden with the weight of betrayal and disbelief.
I want to defend her, to shout that this isn’t the Bree I know, but doubt gnaws at the edges of my mind, leaving me paralyzed with uncertainty.
Damian smirks, a look of smug satisfaction on his face.
“Told you so,” he says, crossing his arms. “I knew there was something off about her.” Without thinking, I lunge at Damian, my anger taking control.
My fists swing wildly, driven by a need to defend Bree and silence his gloating.
Our father steps in before I can land a blow, pulling us apart with surprising strength.
“Stop this!” he commands, his voice stern. “This isn’t the time for fighting amongst ourselves.”
“This isn’t just gossip—this is Bree’s life!”
“Aubrey, Brielle is dead and her sister. I warned you. Did you know she was the same girl who saved Max that morning?” Damian asks.
“What?” I ask him. Damian steps forward with another news report on his phone, one from last night, revealing footage of Max nearly being hit by a car and the woman saving him.
It suddenly hits me why she always felt familiar despite not smelling the same.
She was no longer surrounded by Rhett’s pack scent, she changed her hair color, and looked normal rather than the well made woman back then.
The revelation leaves me reeling, struggling to comprehend how she managed to hide her true identity for so long.
The woman who saved Max was confident and carefree, exuding a sense of fearlessness that Bree never showed.
Bree was always reserved, cautious, as if haunted by shadows of a past she never spoke about.
How could they be the same person? The disparity between the two personas is jarring, and I find myself questioning everything I thought I knew.
She’s Rhett’s mate, the one who robbed his pack. It all clicks into place. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. All those secrets, all those fears, it all makes sense now.
“Where is she?” My demand hangs heavy in the air, punctuated by the frustration coursing through me. I fumble to dial her number, but it goes straight to voicemail—her phone still switched off, amplifying my rage.
“Damian, pull up the tracker on her car. We’re going to find her,” I command, my voice cutting through the tension.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” His serious expression mirrors the gravity of the situation we find ourselves in.
“She’s in danger,” I respond, urgency lacing every syllable. “If this information has leaked, she could be at risk from Rhett’s pack and anyone who sees her as a threat. I need to know she’s safe.”
Damian’s growl reverberates through the room, but my mother steps forward, her presence calming yet resolute. “Damian, despite your reservations about her, Soren is right. She is more vulnerable than ever.”
“She lied!” His accusation echoes off the walls.
“I don’t believe that. I suspect Rhett is behind this leak.” My mother’s explanation causes a lump to form in my throat.
“That’s why Rhett had her cornered at the council.” Damian’s words a mere whisper, the edges of his voice tinged with regret and guilt. His eyes flicker with a muted fear that I seldom see in my brother.
“Excuse me?” I respond, my tone sharp as a blade. Surprise evident in my voice; I feel as though I’d been doused with ice-cold water. A surge of adrenaline courses through my veins as I reach out, grabbing Damian by the scruff of his shirt, the fabric bunching under my clenched fingers.
“I didn’t think much of it,” he mumbles, his gaze focused on the floor, unable to meet mine. His words are a feeble attempt to defend his lack of action. “She looked… scared. But when I asked her, she said he was just showing her back to the meeting room.”
“You didn’t think to mention it!” I roar and he flinches.
There is a palpable unease that etches itself onto our faces.
My mind races with a flurry of thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last. Each word Damian utters feels like a blow to my chest, punctuating my heart with an unbearable weight.
How did I not see this? How did I fail to protect her?
“Damian, the AirTag now!” My command echoes through the room, sharp and urgent. My grip on his shirt loosens as I push him away, desperately needing him to act. Every second wasted is another second Bree is in danger.
With a resigned sigh, Damian reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. His fingers dance over the screen urgently, typing something into an app. A digital map materializes on his screen, a small blinking dot pulsating at a location that makes my heart sink.
Without wasting another moment, I move toward the coat rack, yanking my jacket off its hook. My movements are swift, fueled by fear. I sprint toward the front door, the cold, metallic handle biting into my palm as I fling it open.
My mother’s alarmed voice echoes behind me.
Her words are a desperate plea for me to stop, and listen, to think with reason but they fall on deaf ears.
There is no room in my mind for anything except Bree.
The urgency of the situation propels me forward, each stride echoing with a singular focus - find Bree and bring her home.
Though, I have no clue what I will do with her once I do.
Shoving the castle doors open, I step outside and rush down the few steps, my guards all glance at me nervously as I move toward the car.
The night air is thick with tension, and my heart races in my chest. I pause as I hear Damian’s footsteps behind me, his voice catching up to me.
“Wait! You can’t drive in this state!” he shouts, rushing outside and toward me.
I am furious and I turn sharply, frustration bubbling inside me.
He is half to blame for this mess, he could have done so many things differently, his constant pestering of the council and her, has driven her to keep these secrets.
Had she not feared repercussions, perhaps she would have told me.
“I am going to get my fiancée!” I insist, ready to jump into my car.
Damian’s face hard, his teeth clenched as he reaches me.
He grabs my arm firmly. “Then let me drive.” His eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that cuts through my desperation but I shake him off still furious with him.
“You’re in no state to drive. I’ll take you. Just get in the passenger seat.”
Reluctantly, I comply, sliding into the car as he takes the driver’s seat. My mind races with thoughts of Bree, her safety, and the implications of what might happen if I don’t reach her in time.
As we speed down the road, my thoughts drift to Jacinta, the anguish of her loss creeping back into my heart.
I remember the betrayal I felt, how I had failed to protect her from those who sought to do her harm.
The pain of that loss lingers in my chest, mixing with my current fear for Bree.
I can’t let history repeat itself. Though it feels like it is.
I don’t think I would live through another loss like that.
“Do you think Rhett is behind this?” I ask, breaking the silence that hangs heavily in the car.
“I wouldn’t put it past him. How else would that information be leaked?” Damian replies, his voice grim. “He’s ruthless, and now he has the opportunity to leverage your fiancées past against you.”
I know Rhett has always been unpredictable, “And Jefferson’s sudden illness—something feels off about that,” I mutter, remembering how the container’s discovery aligns so closely with Jefferson’s unexplained condition, which worries me to no end now I know Jefferson is Bree’s father.
“What do you mean?” Damian glances at me, curiosity piqued.
“Jefferson has had nothing but issues with Rhett; I thought he was being unreasonable at first when Rhett didn’t meet his contracts.
I thought it odd Jefferson was so quick to cut him out when Jefferson worked with his father for years.
If he’s incapacitated right now, it raises questions about what he knows and how involved he might be in this situation. ”
“You think Jefferson is behind the container that washed up?”
I shake my head. I have no idea where I am going with this. “I’m missing something.”
Damian nods thoughtfully, and the tension in the car thickens as we drive through the night. The road blurs past us, each mile closer to Bree. I will not lose her, not now, not ever.