CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
I wake to the sound of movement in the sitting room, but Knox's side of the bed is already cold. The sheets still carry his scent—cedar and storm rain mixed with the lingering musk of last night's passion—but his absence feels deliberate. Pointed.
Shame and panic war in my chest as memories of the previous evening flood back.
Not just the way I used our intimate moment to distract him from his questions about finding me at the lake—but how desperately I responded to his touch.
How right it felt to be claimed by the son of my family's murderer.
The guilt is layered now, cutting me from multiple angles.
I betrayed my mission by almost getting caught. Then I betrayed my family's memory by craving Knox's touch.
I slip into a silk robe and pad barefoot into the sitting area.
Knox stands with his back to me, already dressed in formal attire—dark navy jacket with gold threading, leather boots polished to mirror brightness.
He's arranging a breakfast spread on the low table with meticulous precision, but there's a tension in his shoulders that wasn't there before last night.
He knows I was lying about something. The mate bond works both ways, and my deception left cracks he can sense even if he can't identify them.
"Good morning," I say softly, studying his profile for any hint of warmth.
"Morning." His tone is polite, distant—the voice he uses with visiting dignitaries, not his mate. He doesn't look up from adjusting the placement of delicate china plates. "I had the kitchen send up breakfast. Figured you'd be hungry after your... midnight swim."
The slight emphasis on those last words makes my stomach clench. He's probing, looking for cracks in my story. I force my expression to remain neutral even as my pulse quickens.
"Thank you," I manage, settling into one of the leather chairs. "That's thoughtful."
Knox finally meets my gaze, and what I see there makes my chest ache. Not anger—that would be easier to handle. Instead, there's a carefully controlled disappointment mixed with confusion that cuts deeper than any fury could. He wants to trust me, but something about last night left him unsettled.
Good. Let him be unsettled. His father deserves to have his family tormented by uncertainty.
The vindictive thought should satisfy me, but instead it makes me feel sick.
"Sleep well?" he asks, taking the chair across from me rather than beside me. The physical distance feels symbolic—a barrier he's erected since sensing my deception.
"Yes," I lie, because I actually spent most of the night staring at the ceiling. Torn between hating myself for enjoying his touch and panicking about how close I came to being discovered in forbidden territory. If he'd arrived at the Ancient Heart five minutes earlier...
Knox pours coffee with the same meticulous care he showed arranging the food, but I notice how he watches me from the corner of his eye. Looking for tells, for signs of whatever I'm hiding. The calculating observation reminds me so strongly of his father that my breath catches.
The same eyes that gave the order to kill my family.
"We have a council meeting this afternoon," he says suddenly, setting down the silver coffee pot with deliberate precision. "I want you there."
I blink, caught off guard by the announcement. "A council meeting? Already?"
"It's time the kingdom's advisors officially meet their future Luna Queen." His tone is matter-of-fact, but there's steel underneath. "The binding ceremony is approaching. They need to understand you'll be involved in governance moving forward."
My pulse quickens, but not from nervousness.
This is exactly what I need—access to the kingdom's inner workings, to the councils where real decisions are made.
Where I might learn about other "threats" they've eliminated, other packs they've destroyed.
Jax will be pleased when I report this development.
But the thought of using this opportunity—this gesture of trust from Knox—makes guilt twist in my stomach again.
"I... I don't have anything appropriate to wear for something that formal," I admit, genuinely flustered by the conflicting emotions warring in my chest.
Knox's expression softens slightly, the first crack in his composed facade. "I'll handle it. Iris can help with preparations."
As if summoned by her name, a sharp knock interrupts us. Knox calls for entry, and Iris bounds in with her usual infectious energy, carrying what looks like an elegant gown draped over her arms.
"Perfect timing!" she declares, seemingly oblivious to the tension crackling between Knox and me. "Knox asked me to bring something appropriate for this afternoon's council meeting."
She holds up the garment—a stunning creation in deep sapphire blue silk that shimmers like starlight. The cut is elegant but powerful, designed to command respect in formal settings. It's exactly what a future Luna Queen should wear to her first council meeting.
The perfect costume for infiltrating their power structure.
"Iris, it's beautiful," I breathe, running my fingers over the exquisite material. "But I couldn't—"
"Don't be silly," she waves off my concern with characteristic warmth. "You're family now. Besides, a future Luna Queen needs attire befitting her station."
Family. The word hits like a physical blow.
This woman treats me like a beloved sister, completely unaware that I'm the daughter of people her father ordered killed.
The irony is so bitter I can taste it, yet her genuine kindness makes my chest ache with something dangerously close to affection.
How can she be so warm when she carries his blood?
Knox moves toward the door, gathering papers from his desk with brisk efficiency. His movements are controlled, but I catch the way his gaze lingers on me—still searching for answers I can't give him.
"I have matters to attend to before the meeting," he says. "Iris will help you prepare."
He pauses at the threshold, his green gaze finding mine for just a moment. Something flickers there—affection mixed with frustrated confusion—before the walls slam back up.
"I'll see you this afternoon, my Lady," he says with formal courtesy that feels like punishment. Then he's gone, leaving me alone with Iris and the weight of my multiplying deceptions.
"Well," Iris says cheerfully, apparently missing the undercurrents entirely, "let's get you ready to make your official debut. The council will be so impressed."
I hope so. For all the wrong reasons.
Two hours later, I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror, barely recognizing the woman looking back at me.
The sapphire gown fits like it was crafted specifically for my body, the silk flowing around my curves in elegant lines that speak of power and grace.
Iris has arranged my hair in a sophisticated updo worthy of court, leaving strategic tendrils to frame my face.
I look every inch the future Luna Queen—the perfect spy positioned to tear down everything they've built.
The thought should thrill me. Instead, it makes me feel like I'm wearing a costume that's becoming too real.
"Perfect," Iris declares with satisfaction, making final adjustments to an already flawless appearance. "You look like you were born for this."
Born to destroy it, maybe.
The genuine pride in her voice makes something twist painfully in my chest. Here she is, helping me prepare to take my place in their family structure, treating me with such kindness. All while being completely oblivious to who I really am or what I'm planning.
"You could still stop this," Aria whispers in my mind. "Tell Knox the truth about last night, about what you were really doing at the lake."
"And ruin everything? Jax is counting on me."
"Jax sent you to spy on them, not fall for them. Look at yourself—you're more conflicted about hurting Knox than you are about betraying your mission."
The accusation hits too close to home. I am conflicted, torn between my growing feelings for Knox and my loyalty to the man who saved me. Between my desire for justice and my traitorous heart that races every time Knox looks at me with those green eyes so like his father's.
A soft knock interrupts my internal conflict. Knox's voice carries through the door, carefully neutral: "Are you ready? The carriage is waiting."
Iris practically bounces with excitement as she opens the door. "What do you think?"
Knox freezes in the doorway, his eyes widening as they take in my transformed appearance.
For a moment, his composed mask slips completely, revealing something raw and hungry that makes my pulse quicken despite my better judgment.
His gaze travels from my carefully arranged hair to the elegant drape of silk, drinking in every detail.
"Beautiful," he breathes, then seems to catch himself. The formal distance slides back into place, but not before I catch the flash of possessive pride in his green eyes. "Absolutely beautiful."
The same eyes as his father. The same aristocratic features. The resemblance should make my skin crawl, should remind me of everything I'm fighting for.
Instead, my traitorous heart skips a beat at his approval.
"Doesn't she look perfect?" Iris gushes, clearly delighted by Knox's reaction. "I told you that color would be ideal."
"Indeed." Knox offers his arm with courtly grace, but I feel the lingering tension in his muscles when I take it. Whatever doubts plague him about last night, they haven't disappeared. "Shall we? The council doesn't appreciate being kept waiting."
As we make our way through the castle corridors, I'm hyperaware of both Knox's protective presence and his continued wariness.
He positions himself slightly in front of me when we encounter other nobles, his hand covering mine on his arm with gentle possessiveness.
But I also catch the way he watches me in reflective surfaces, still searching for answers about what I was really doing at that lake.
He knows I'm hiding something. He just doesn't know what.
The thought should terrify me. Instead, I find myself almost wanting to tell him the truth—not about my mission, but about the nightmares that drove me from his bed, about how desperately I'm fighting feelings I shouldn't have.
"Because you're falling for him," Aria observes as we settle into the luxurious carriage. "Despite everything you believe about his family, despite your mission—you're falling for Knox."
"He's the enemy," I remind her fiercely. "His father murdered my parents, my brother—"
"And yet you melt every time he touches you. You come apart in his arms like you were made for him."
The truth cuts like a blade. No matter how much I remind myself of what his family did, my body recognizes Knox as its match. Every cell in my being responds to him like he's necessary for survival, craves his touch even as my mind screams that I'm betraying everything my family died for.
I'm falling for my family's killer's son, and I don't know how to stop it.