Chapter 117: Irina Lies
~ ROSELLE ~
"I had to do it," Irina says quietly, her expression hardening. "It’s not like I had a choice. Tell me, Roselle... what do you think would’ve happened if Ronan eventually found out you were a Lycan? Do you honestly believe he would’ve looked at you the same way?"
A hollow laugh escapes her lips, one that sends a chill crawling down my spine.
"Oh, sweetheart... keep being delusional if that helps you sleep at night. I was delusional once too." Her blue eyes meet mine without a hint of remorse. "One way or another, Ronan had to die."
The words hit me like a physical blow. My face flushes with disbelief as I stare at her. Did she really just admit that?
She wanted Ronan dead... not because he attacked her or because he deserved it, but simply because he stood in the way.
"You’re a monster," I whisper, my voice trembling before it rises into a scream. "You’re a fucking monster!"
She doesn’t even flinch.
"No..." I shake my head violently as tears sting my eyes. "You’re not dragging me into whatever twisted fucking war you’re fighting. You’re leaving this pack, and if I have to, I’ll tell everyone exactly who you are and what you’ve done."
Irina sighs, almost as if she’s disappointed in me.
"You still don’t understand, do you?"
"Don’t patronize me!" I snap, cutting her off before she can continue. "I understand enough."
I take another step toward her, anger and heartbreak burning together inside my chest.
"I understand that you abandoned me as a baby. I understand that you somehow found your way back into my life, wrapped yourself in a beautiful story, and made me believe I’d finally found my mother." My voice breaks as I struggle to keep the tears from falling. "And the moment I trusted you... the moment I finally let my guard down... you shoved a knife straight into my back."
I shake my head, looking at her as though I’m seeing her for the very first time.
"I don’t care whether we share the same blood anymore."
My breathing becomes uneven as I force the next words out. "I know enough to know that you’re nothing but a monster."
"You’re going to need me more than you think," Irina says, her voice unnervingly calm. "Your Lycan wolf is already trying to surface. Sooner or later, it’ll break free, and when it does... you’ll need me if you want to understand what you’re becoming."
I let out a bitter laugh.
"You seriously expect me to trust you after everything you’ve done?"
"You don’t have to trust me." She shrugs. "But you will need me. No one in Blackshadow knows anything about Lycans. They fear them. They hunt them. The moment your wolf awakens, they’ll see you as a threat before they ever see you as Roselle."
"Shut up."
"I’m telling you the truth."
"The truth?" I scoff, shaking my head. "You lied to me from the very beginning, manipulated me into betraying the man I love, and now you expect me to believe you’re suddenly telling the truth?"
Her gaze softens, but it does nothing to ease the rage clawing at my chest.
"You can hate me all you want," she says quietly. "You probably should. But hate won’t stop what’s coming. Your Lycan instincts are waking up. Your senses will sharpen. Your strength will grow. Your emotions will become harder to control. And when your wolf finally demands control..." She pauses, her blue eyes locking onto mine. "You’ll have no idea how to survive it."
I refuse to let the fear creeping into my heart show on my face.
"I’d rather figure it out on my own than owe you another fucking thing."
A faint, almost pitying smile tugs at her lips.
"You say that now."
"I mean it."
She studies me for a long moment before speaking again.
"The day your Lycan fully awakens, Roselle... you’ll remember this conversation. And when that day comes, I only hope you find me before your own power destroys everything—and everyone—you love."
My mouth parts to say something, but the words die in my throat as I sense someone standing behind me.
"What’s going on in here?"
Dr. Elias steps into the office, his gaze narrowing from me to Irina. His brows knit together as he takes in the shattered flower vase scattered across the floor.
I force a smile that feels anything but genuine and shrug one shoulder.
"Nothing." I glance at Irina, my eyes locking onto hers with barely concealed venom. "Irina was just telling me she needs to head back to her pack... right?"
A beat of silence passes.
"Well..." Irina begins carefully.
"She says something urgent came up," I cut in smoothly, never taking my eyes off her. "I wouldn’t want to keep her any longer."
The warning beneath my words is unmistakable.
Irina holds my stare for a long moment, her expression unreadable, before the corners of her lips lift into the faintest smile.
"Yes," she says at last. "Something... urgent."
Dr. Elias glances between the two of us, suspicion evident in his eyes.
"I’ll walk you out," he offers.
Irina nods once, but before she turns away, her gaze lingers on me.
"Take care of yourself, Roselle."
My throat is painfully dry, every breath scraping against the rage lodged inside my chest. I hate myself for being so fucking stupid. A part of me wants to hunt Irina down, wrap my hands around her throat, make her pay for every lie she fed me.
A shaky breath leaves me as I wipe the tears streaking down my face with the back of my hand. Crying won’t fix anything, and kt definitely won’t undo my mistakes.
Squaring my shoulders, I make my way back to Ronan’s room, our room.
The moment I push the door open, my steps come to an abrupt halt. A deep frown settles on my face.
Of all the people I expected to find, the last one was the person guaranteed to make this already miserable day infinitely worse.
Mara. She’s sprawled across our bed like she owns the place, dressed in nothing but a robe, lazily popping cherries into her mouth from the bowl resting beside her.
My eyes narrow. When the fuck did she get out of the dungeon?
She looks noticeably paler than before, but otherwise perfectly comfortable. Her clothes are strewn carelessly across the floor, and the familiar scent of my shampoo lingers in the air.
My shampoo. That bitch took a shower in our bathroom.
Every muscle in my body tenses. "What the fuck are you doing here, bitch?"
She lazily tosses another cherry into the air, catching it effortlessly between her lips before flashing me a smug grin.
"What does it look like, loser?"
A laugh bubbles out of me.
Not because she’s funny.
Because the sheer audacity of this woman is almost impressive.
I slowly close the bedroom door behind me and fold my arms across my chest.
"You’ve got a lot of nerve making yourself comfortable in someone else’s room." My gaze drifts deliberately over the discarded clothes on the floor before returning to her smug face. "Tell me, did you raid my shampoo too, or was violating my privacy just a bonus?"
Mara scoffs, setting the bowl of cherries aside before rising gracefully to her feet.
"You’re awfully mouthy for someone who’s about to be thrown out."
"Oh?" I arch a brow. "And who’s throwing me out? You?"
She steps closer, her lips curling into a smug smile. "Just in case you’ve forgotten..." She smooths an imaginary wrinkle from her silk robe. "I’m Ronan’s fated mate."
My jaw tightens.
"This"—she gestures around the room with a lazy sweep of her hand—"is our room. Not yours."
The words make my blood boil.
"So here’s what’s going to happen." Her smile widens. "You’re going to pack your things, crawl back to Westbrook, and stay there."
She tilts her head, looking at me as though she’s already won.
"We’ll do everything we can to bring Ronan back. And when he wakes up..." She shrugs, her smile turning downright vicious. "Everything will go back to the way it should’ve been."
Her eyes rake over me with open contempt.
"Without you in it."
Silence stretches between us.
"Pack your bags," she says, pointing toward the door. "And leave."
She saunters toward me with slow, deliberate steps, her lips curled into a smug smile that makes my skin crawl.
When she’s close enough, she lifts one hand, extending her claws with a slow, metallic scrape.
"You wouldn’t want a taste of these claws, would you?" she purrs. "So leave while I’m still giving you the chance."
She leans in until her face is inches from mine.
"Mute."
The insult lands like acid.
"Or else..." Her smile widens. "I’m going to tear you apart, and there’ll be no one left to save you."
Her eyes gleam with cruel satisfaction. "You’re nothing but a pathetic, wolfless mute."
I see red. Every ounce of restraint I’ve been clinging to since leaving Irina’s office snaps clean in half.
Before I can think twice, my arm swings.
Smack!
The crack of my palm against her cheek echoes through the room. Her head whips violently to the side, strands of blonde hair flying across her face as the force of the slap staggers her backward.
For a heartbeat... Everything is silent, even I hadn’t expected to hit her that hard.
Slowly, Mara turns back toward me. A bright red handprint blooms across her cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"You..." she whispers, touching the mark with trembling fingers.
My chest rises and falls rapidly as I glare at her without a shred of regret.
"You’ve been asking for that since the day we met," I spit. "And if you call me mute one more fucking time, I’ll make sure that slap is the least painful thing that happens to you today."
A dangerous smile slowly spreads across Mara’s face.
"Oh..." she murmurs, her claws extending another inch. "Now you’ve really done it."