Gareth stared at my bare face, my simple black dress that covered every inch of my skin. No jewels. No red lipstick. Nothing like the confident, fiery woman I used to be.
For a second, just a second, his mask broke. Something uneasy flickered in his eyes, like a warning he didn’t understand.
His gaze dragged over me as if he were staring at a ghost… or watching someone slip out of his hands while standing right in front of him.
“You can send me the location where I have to join you,” he said stiffly.
“I’ll give this to Gwyneth first… then come find you.”
He waited for a response that wasn’t coming.
“Go,” I said quietly.
And he did.
An hour later, I stood in front of the pack cemetery. Behind me, the private carriage that belonged to the Blackwing Pack. It had waited with quiet readiness.
My mother’s picture shone softly on the carved stone. I placed a bunch of blooming red roses on her grave, the color she loved most.
“Mom,” I whispered, tears rolling down my cheeks, “I’m getting mated to the man they call the Dark Alpha and somehow it doesn’t feel as bad as it should.”
I wiped my face.