With a deep breath, I stepped out into the cool air of the hallway. My heels clicked against the stone floor as I made my way to the dining hall where Draven was waiting. The wedding was approaching fast, and tonight, it would be just the two of us. I would act the part of the doting, oblivious fiancée, and Draven… he would fall into my trap, as easy prey always did.
I reached the door and hesitated. The smell of cedar and pine—the scent I once found comforting—was now tainted with memories of whispered conversations, shared between him and Ravenna.
The door creaked open, and there he was. Draven Thornclaw, my mate, sat at the head of the long wooden table, gazing into the fire like a man deep in thought. His dark hair, messy in that effortless way I used to find endearing, and his sharp jawline caught in the flickering light made him look every bit the mate I once adored. But now? Now, he was just a puppet, and I was pulling the strings.