Page 34 of Ruthless Moon

All this beauty, these people with their families and homes, this thriving land...my father craves it all. And so does my uncle. This marriage, the lie that there’s a real romance between Aiden and me, is the only thing keeping Uncle Dave from outright going to war with my father and taking everything the O’Connors call their own.

And now I understand the draw.

Aiden maneuvers the truck down a long driveway, flanked on either side by forest. A couple miles later, I glance at him.

“Welcome to my home,” he says, and there’s a note of pride in his voice that makes me smile despite myself. He points ahead, drawing my gaze to a house materializing from the sea of towering pines.

Half house, half cabin, it is a rustic marvel of stone and wood, resting comfortably amid the whispering pines. A huge contrast to the sterile, modern fortress I reluctantly call home. Aiden’s house radiates a sense of warmth, a promise of a sanctuary, contradicting the gnawing dread nested in my heart.

No, this place...it hums with an essence, a soul. It pulses with the warmth and allure of what I’ve always imagined a home should be. It doesn’t stand as a dazzling facade for the world to admire or fear; it promises comfort, familiarity.

Aiden parks right in front of the cabin, springing out of the truck before my thoughts can latch onto any form of coherence. His hand, a lifeline, extends to me again and its familiar heat curls around my fingers as I slide out of the truck.

Suddenly, the front door of his cabin bursts open and a wave of people spill out.

My body instinctively recoils, pulling against Aiden’s steadfast hold.

“It’s okay. I promise.” His deep voice soothes the momentary panic and I fall into step with him again.

A flurry of faces, names, and greetings engulf me. They are his family, his pack, his tribe. They’re kind, friendly, and I can see the esteem and respect they hold for Aiden.

It’s not the fearful, enforced reverence birthed from fear that my father commands. It’s earned and genuine and freely given. And that alone warms my soul. My father could’ve given me to anyone. But Aiden is a good man, a good leader.

It’s just...he’s not the one I want.

And the one I really want to see is nowhere to be found.Probably for the best.

“My dear,” a nurturing voice lilts, breaking through the ambient noise. A petite woman, clad in a blue T-shirt, jeans, boots, and a smile bright enough to chase away some of the anxiety threatening to choke me. “I’m Aiden’s mother, Eleanor, and I’ve been waiting very impatiently to meet you. Welcome to the family.”

She embraces me like I really belong to her. Not like this is an arranged marriage. Not like they’re taking me because this is the best deal for them at the time. She embraces me like she really wants to. Like she really meanswelcome.

Tears burn behind my eyelids, threatening to overflow. “I—thank you.”

“Mom, would you chase off everyone for now? I want a little time with Gen. I’ll bring her over for lunch in an hour or so.”

“Yes, yes. Of course. So good to finally meet you, Imogen. The last time I saw you, you were a tiny bundle in a blanket.”

Blanket.She’d seen me as a baby? The question hangs in the air, but before I can untangle my thoughts, she’s whisked herself away, a bustling matriarch herding her flock away from the house. They pile into various cars parked on the side of the house and leave without resistance.

Her brief interaction leaves me with so many questions. Had she known my mother? What could she tell me about her?

My father never talks about my mother and refuses to say anything about her when asked other than that she had been the love of his life and losing her had broken his heart.

It’s hard to reconcile that sentiment with the Oliver Gallagher I know—the one seemingly incapable of loving anything beyond himself.

“Sorry about that, they all insisted on getting to see you in person. Everyone understands our marriage is arranged. But they want you to know that you’re part of the pack, no conditions.” Aiden gestures toward the front door of the cabin. “Please?”

His home. A sanctuary. A haven. I can navigate this labyrinth of unknowns. I can weather this storm. I can.

“It’s okay and thank you. I do appreciate you trying to make this as pleasant for me as you can. I know my father is...very unsettling.”

“Unsettling.” Aiden’s tone curls around the word, shaping it into something harsh. “That’s an understatement if ever there was one.”

“True, but I’ve survived so far.” I want to laugh but I can’t find it inside me.

Aiden opens the door and ushers me into his domain. The scent of the house surrounds me, a tangible reminder of its occupant. It smells of worn leather, of pine whispering tales of the mountains, and of him—an enticing blend of commanding masculinity interlaced with the soft sweetness of honey and the clean aroma of soap.

It’s a comforting smell. Living with this wouldn’t be so terrible. His chunky leather couch and worn wooden coffee table look homey. I itch to grab the cream-colored blanket from the corner and curl up with a book.

---