POV: Chloe
The parking garage was dim, harsh fluorescent lights casting reflections over the hood of Ethan's black Benz. Inside the car, the air felt stifling.
"I can't get enough of you, babe," Ethan murmured against my neck, his arms wrapping around my waist from the driver's seat.
"One more kiss. Just one."
"Ethan, we're already late."
"But you look too gorgeous tonight." His lips skimmed below my ear before he buried his face in my neck. "How am I supposed to control myself?"
"You're impossible."
His grin was shameless. Ethan Blackthorn had always been overwhelming—too affectionate, too hyper, too bright. Like sunlight you couldn't escape. Even after a year together, I still wasn't used to how openly he loved. He treated affection like breathing: effortless and impossible to hold back. Meanwhile, I had spent years teaching myself to feel absolutely nothing.
"Cupcake." He tilted his head, studying me. "You're nervous about meeting my family, aren't you?"
"Wouldn't anyone be?"
Tonight was my first visit to Blackthorn Manor, and my first time meeting Ethan's older brother. The guy Ethan worshipped. He spoke about him with such reverence that the man sounded less like a person and more like a god.
"He isn't scary," Ethan promised. "Okay… maybe he looks intimidating. But he spoils me. As long as it's someone I like, he never objects. And since you're so perfect, he'll love you."
"You're biased."
"I'm correct." He stole one final kiss before starting the engine. As city lights blurred past the window, cold dread crawled beneath my skin.
Ever since agreeing to come, I'd carried a sick feeling that something was waiting at the end of this road. Something I wasn't ready to face. I shoved it down and blamed my nerves.
Half an hour later, the iron gates of Blackthorn Manor parted, and my breath hitched. The estate stretched beneath the dark sky, illuminated by golden lights lining a winding road.
The manor sat atop the hill like something out of a gothic painting—massive, elegant, untouchable. This wasn't just wealth. It was legacy. Ethan rushed around to open my door, offering his hand with a theatrical bow.
"Welcome home, future Mrs. Blackthorn," he teased.
I rolled my eyes, but my fingers slipped into his anyway. The moment my heels hit the pavement, an icy chill ran down my spine. Instinctively, I looked up.
A tall silhouette stood on the upper balcony. One hand rested against the railing; the other pinched a cigarette between long fingers. The ember glowed red in the dark. He stood perfectly still, watching us.
He was too far away to see his face, yet the moment my eyes landed on him, my heart skipped a beat. Something about that figure felt terrifyingly familiar—cold, distant, and unforgettable.
“No...”
"Brother!" Ethan shouted, waving. The man paused, crushed the cigarette out, and melted into the shadows.
Inside, the manor felt cold despite the warm lighting. The crystal chandelier threw silver light across the marble foyer. Every footstep echoed.
Then I heard them. Slow, heavy steps descending the stairs, commanding absolute silence before the owner even came into view.
"Why are you shouting the second you walk in?" The voice hit me like a punch to the gut. I snapped my head up.
A man stood halfway down the staircase, adjusting the cuff of his black shirt. Tall. Broad. A sharp jawline and dark eyes. And right near the corner of his eye, a tiny mole I would have recognized anywhere.
My vision blurred.
“Tristan...”
Seven years had changed him completely. The reckless boy who used to kiss me breathless and finger my soaked core against dormitory walls was gone. This Tristan was hard, cold, and downright lethal. Power radiated from him, heavy enough to crush the air from my lungs.
His eyes locked onto mine with violent intensity, and the room vanished. Recognition flashed across his face, followed by shock, rage, and pure possession. Ethan, totally clueless, grinned beside me.
"Brother, this is Chloe." He squeezed my hand proudly. "And before you say anything, yes, I'm serious. I want to marry her."
The air shifted instantly. Invisible claws tightened around my throat.
Tristan descended the remaining stairs slowly, never taking his eyes off my face. His familiar scent—cedarwood and smoke—hit me, dragging up memories I'd spent seven years trying to bury.
Late nights tangled in dark sheets. A deep love that felt unbreakable. Thoughts of his heavy cock filling me while his rough voice whispered ‘mine’ like a filthy prayer against my bare skin.
He stopped right in front of me. Way too close. My gaze dropped to his hand, and the floor dropped out from under me.
A worn ring sat on his finger. Cheap and small, bought from a roadside stall while I laughed and shoved it onto his knuckle.
"You're never allowed to take this off," I had said.
"Then I'll wear it until I die," he had replied, kissing me deep.
I thought he'd trashed it the second I left. Instead, he had worn it for seven years. A painful lump rose in my throat—one I had absolutely no right to feel.
"Ms. Chloe." His voice was low and controlled, but underneath, something savage strained to break free. He extended a hand.
"Nice to meet you." The words sounded polite, yet they felt like a death threat. My fingers trembled as I placed my palm in his. The second our skin touched, a violent shock jolted through my body.
Tristan's grip tightened. Not enough to hurt, just enough to trap me. His jaw clenched. He looked at me like he wanted to drag me into a dark room, rip my panties off, and fuck me until I couldn't remember his brother's name.
POV: Tristan
Mate.
The word detonated in my skull the second our skin touched.
Seven years. My wolf recognized her before I even took a breath. Every primal instinct snapped awake, and for one dangerous second, I nearly shifted right in front of my brother.
Ethan stood beside us, bright and clueless, while my aura turned quietly murderous.
My eyes stayed glued to Chloe's face. She looked shattered, like she couldn't believe I was real. Good. Because I couldn't believe it either.
Seven years ago, she vanished. No goodbye. No explanation. Nothing. I hunted for her until I nearly went insane. And now here she was, standing in my foyer, reeking of my brother's scent, introduced as his future wife.
Dark rage flooded my chest as Zain snarled beneath my skin.
She is your mate, not his. MINE! my wolf roared furiously.
I looked down at our joined hands. These were the same fingers that used to dig into my back when I drove deep inside her, the same lips that promised never to leave. When I finally let go, my eyes stayed locked on hers.
She wore her overwhelmed look—wide eyes, shallow breaths, trembling hands. I hated her for leaving me. But I still wanted to bend her over the nearest table and claim her. That was the worst part.
"We're getting married after graduation," Ethan beamed.
My vision went black. He wanted to knot her. Mark her. Claim my female. The urge to rip his throat out flooded my veins so fast it scared me.
I had walked through blood without flinching. I had fought Alphas twice my size. But watching my own brother touch her shattered every wall I had left. And still, I smiled. A cold, faint, composed smile.
Only Chloe saw the lethal threat underneath. I watched it register in her hitched breath and the terrified flicker in her eyes.
Ethan lowered his head, casually fixing her collar. His fingertips brushed her neck—skin still red from his mouth. My jaw locked. I saw the hickey. The bruise.
It was proof of his mouth on flesh that had belonged to me long before he even knew her name. Zain surged so violently I had to grind my teeth to keep from shifting.
Ethan glanced at me over her shoulder. He gave me that same look he’d used since childhood. Wide eyes. A silent please. He had no fucking clue he was asking me to surrender my soul. I exhaled slowly.
"You're right, forgive me. Long day," I sighed.
Ethan relaxed instantly, his sunny grin returning.
"See? I told you he was nice. Worst case, he just broods. He's harmless," he bragged to her.
Harmless. My jaw ticked with rage. Chloe still wouldn't look at me. She stared past Ethan's shoulder, wearing that blank mask I knew too well—the one she wore when she was fighting not to feel.
The mate bond didn't care that she ran. It didn't care about the last seven years. It hummed between us like a live wire, relentless and hot, and I knew she felt every single spark.
Coward, Zain sneered in my head. I didn't correct him.
"Mrs. Hale said dinner's at eight," Ethan chirped, steering her toward the hall. "Tris, you coming?"
"Of course." I smiled, following at a safe distance. Close enough to look polite, far enough that her sweet scent wouldn't completely wreck me. It didn't help. She filled the entire house just by breathing, same as always.
As they turned the corner, she glanced back. Just once. Our eyes met for a single heartbeat, and I saw it all. The guilt. The fear. The unspoken apology.
And underneath it all, buried deep where she prayed I wouldn't find it, I saw the one thing that made my rage burn hotter.
She still felt it too.
She felt our bond, and she still walked in here anyway. She still craved me, yet she reeked of my brother's scent. Fucked and marked by my own flesh and blood.
I shot my cuffs, rolled my neck, and followed them to dinner wearing the mask of a man who felt absolutely nothing. It was the most dangerous lie I had ever told.