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“Please,” Bellamy implored her. “There are pieces of my mother I don’t know because she was taken from me too early.”
The appeal worked because her eyes softened. “He was a wolf called Kipling.”
Bellamy’s vision swam. He was completely thunderstruck by the answer. He felt Ashwood squeeze his shoulder, but he barely registered the action. He was too busy attempting to breathe and piece together the shocking threads of information.
“Kipling is the wolf that killed her,” he heard Ashwood say. “Do you know why he would do such a thing? Did he have some vendetta against her?”
Again, he was appreciative that Ashwood had the clearer head to get to the bottom of this.
“She would not bend to his will, nor join him in his endeavors, and had been hiding from him for years,” she replied hesitantly, perhaps afraid she would confess too much. “And of course, she was afraid he would request the same of her child.”
“Fucken hell,” Ashwood said just as Bellamy gasped. Now it made sense why they lived in various places with practically nothing to their name. His brain was reeling.
“How do you know of this Kipling?” she asked warily.
“He also made me,” Ashwood said. “And I was part of his pack until I escaped.”
Ashwood looked at him, possibly wondering if Bellamy expected him to say more—about his deceit and betrayal—but Bellamy was honestly done rehashing it, and besides, what good would it do them now?
He did find it remarkable that Kipling had turned into wolves the two people he cared about most in the world, and it certainly connected them even more.
“I see,” Lady Osborn replied, sympathy in her eyes as she looked between them. “Wait right here.”
When she disappeared into another room, he felt the pressure of Ashwood’s shoulder against his own. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, just a lot to take in. I cannot wrap my head around it.”
“Understandable. It’s shocking to me as well, so I can only imagine…” He trailed off as Lady Osborn returned, carrying a small wooden box.
“During one of her visits, your mother had me hold on to her most treasured possession,” she explained, thrusting the box in his direction. “She used it as indemnity if you will.”
“What is it?” Bellamy asked, carefully lifting the lid, his fingers shaking. He didn’t know how many more surprises he could take.
“It’s her wedding band. She told me her husband, your father, died of consumption, as did much of her family.”
Bellamy nodded as he lifted the small rose gold band, then cupped it tightly in his hand and held it to his chest, as if it were a small part of her—of them—he could still feel. He didn’t remember it missing from her finger, so he must’ve been too young to notice.
“She was bitten before she was married and kept it from your father as well. She’d always wanted to be with child and desperately tried to keep you safe.”
He felt Ashwood’s hand on his lower back, offering him much-needed support. He thought he might collapse from shock. His mother had no one to confide in besides this powerful witch standing before them. She must’ve felt so alone… His heart ached for her.
“Why haven’t you sold the ring?” Ashwood asked in a suspicious tone.
“I liked her, and I’d hoped for the opportunity to return it someday.”
“And what do you need in return now, in order for him to keep it?” Ashwood asked, narrowing his eyes.
“I give it to him free of any debt. He should have it in memory of her.” She shrugged, then looked at Bellamy. “He’s quite protective of you. And now I see why. You are fated.”
“We are,” Bellamy admitted, and for the first time considered that maybe she would have something to help. “Do you know of a way to break the bond?”
“Bellamy, don’t—”
“Why would you want such a thing?” Her eyebrows drew together.
“To make life easier for him,” Bellamy admitted as Ashwood looked away, his cheeks coloring, either in anger or embarrassment.
“You don’t want to be bonded?” She stared at them a long moment before realization dawned. “Ah, you have a painful past together.”
“I don’t want him to suffer.” Bellamy’s heart beat hard in his throat. It was the truth, but it affected him as well.
“Fated wolves have become rare since the lupine annihilation,” she told Bellamy. “And unfortunately, there’s no way to break the connection. Unless, of course, you suppress your wolf, which I assume you’re already doing. I feel more wolf energy from him.”
“He has only shifted once,” Ashwood said. “Will the suppressant still work?”
“It should. But the more time you spend in wolf form, the less effective it will be.”
As they stood to leave, Ashwood reached for his elbow to steady him.
“Thank you for entertaining our questions…and for my mother’s ring.”
“Here,” she said, removing one of the long gold strands from around her neck. She detached the crystal pendant, slid the ring through the necklace—which was likely made of a cheaper metal, otherwise he didn’t think she’d part with it—then slipped it over his head. “Keep her close to your heart.”
