He ran his fingers through his hair, clearly at a loss. His wolf stirred within him, sensing mine’s pain.
Because she was still mourning.
Still breaking.
Our bond was threadbare now—on the verge of snapping.
And he knew it.
“I’m sorry,” he said at last.
Sorry?
A bitter laugh burst out of me.
“Sorry?” I repeated, my voice cracking under the weight of fury. “You might as well have killed him yourself.”
His eyes darkened. “Don’t say that.”
“You did kill him!” I screamed, my entire body shaking. The pain, the grief—it all surged out of me in one violent wave.
That’s when he lost control.
He gripped my arm roughly, his emerald eyes blazing. “Don’t go there, Selene. Don’t you dare. You’re lucky I even saw him as my own.”
Time stopped.
I froze.
My lungs refused to pull in air.
“What the hell did you just say?”
Ronan slammed a folded document against my chest.
“I had Elior’s DNA tested,” he said, his tone devoid of warmth. “This proves everything.”
He let go abruptly, and my hands trembled as I opened the paper, my pulse thundering so loudly it drowned out every coherent thought.
It was a DNA test.
His name. Elior’s name.
A paternity report.
My limbs went rigid. My vision swam as I read the lines.
No.