Page 256 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

He paused.

“You saved us too,” I said. “At the end.”

His face went still.

“I know you almost didn’t,” I added, because apparently I had chosen honesty as my new bad habit. “I know you had already decided where the line was. I am not forgiving that today.”

“I would not ask you to.”

“But you stepped over it eventually.”

He looked toward the closed terrace doors. Toward the room where Ian was somewhere inside, alive because Ronan had stopped the pack instead of letting old law finish what Silas started.

“I should have stepped sooner,” he said.

“Yes.”

He nodded once.

Then he went back inside.

That evening, I saw Evelyn. I had been moved to a smaller sitting room off the old library because Sava claimed I needed quiet, which she seemed to define as a place where she could glare at me privately. Ian sat beside me, one hand on my thigh, his thumb moving slowly back and forth like he had discovered the motion helped both of us breathe.

Through the open door, two wolves escorted Evelyn down the hall.

She was in silver cuffs.

Her hair was still beautiful because some women were punished by the universe less efficiently than others. Her face, however, had lost its bright cruelty. She looked pale, furious, and afraid in a way she didn’t want anyone to notice.

I noticed.

She saw me. Her eyes flicked to Ian’s hand on my leg. Then to the mark hidden beneath my fresh bandage and her mouth tightened.

I smiled.

“Oh, Evelyn,” I said, sweet enough to rot teeth. “I hope you enjoy your trip.”

Sava, behind me, made a sound so close to a cackle she had to turn it into a cough.

Evelyn’s eyes flashed. “You think you won.”

“No,” I said. “I think you lost. I’m still forming an opinion about the rest.”

Ian’s hand tightened on my thigh. Evelyn looked at him. For one second, I saw the thing she had wanted. The weapon. The leash. The status of having a wolf like Ian answer through her hand.

Then Ian looked at her with no rage at all, only dismissal, and that hurt her more.

Good.

The guards moved her on.

Sava stepped into the doorway and watched them disappear. “Northern tribunal,” she said. “Cold cells. Worse food.”

“I hope they have rash cream.”

This time, Sava did cackle.

Ian looked between us.