Page 89 of Ruthless Moon

We will face it together.

He takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine, and we watch in reverent silence as the second bond bracelets ink themselves around our wrists.

“They’re beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you.” He pulls my hand to his chest and rolls toward me, tucking my head beneath his chin. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my back. His contentment and satisfaction are right there on the surface, but above everything else love. A love so deep and profound it’s seeped into my very bones.

This was what was always meant to be. With Liam. My mate. My heart and soul. My everything.

He kisses the top of my head and whispers my very favorite words. “I love you.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

We Couldn’t Possibly Catch a Break

IMOGEN GALLAGHER

The soft light of the purple dawn casts a golden hue over the Banfield Court. A magickal safe place hidden from the world. Liam and I stand side by side, the warmth of our intertwined fingers doing little to chase away the cold pit in my stomach.

Last night we found solace in each other’s arms. A love so intense, so consuming it makes any romance novel I’ve read pale in comparison. Our souls have joined. Every touch, every whisper means so much more.

Now, the world has come crashing back down around our shoulders, and our blissful cocoon shatters.

Witches dressed in flowing robes move gracefully around Jackson’s funeral pyre, their chants filling the air with an eerie melancholy. Their voices weave a haunting lullaby, meant to guide his spirit to the afterlife and into the arms of Fate.

It’s beautiful and sad and painful.

Beside Liam, Bast stands rigid, his face a mask of stoicism. Yet the trembling of his jaw betrays his anguish. The same pain that thrashes and writhes inside my mate’s heart.

Their mother stands, silently crying on Bast’s other shoulder. Eleanor and Aiden stand a few feet behind them. Another small group of men—wolves—stand in solidarity with them.

Liam squeezes my hand, pulling me closer. The bond we share pulses with comfort and strength. He shouldn’t be comforting me at his own brother’s funeral, but I admire the strength he possesses that gives him that ability.

We stand for hours honoring Jackson’s sacrifice. The mournful singing never stops and the wild flames leap into the sky, turning his body from flesh and blood to ash.

When the embers of the funeral pyre have been reduced to a soft glow and the sweet scent of burning herbs and incense fills the air instead of the smell of death, the song stops. Liam’s emotions intertwine with mine through our bond—a mix of sorrow, love, and an unyielding determination to protect those he holds dear.

Bast and their mother trail a few paces behind us. Before we get very far down the path back toward the village, Aiden approaches, his face etched with unease. The natural authority he usually carries seems to waver, replaced by an uncomfortable hesitance.

“Bast, Liam,” he begins, voice thick with emotion. He clears his throat, searching for words. “I wish I could give you both more time, truly. Grief is not something to be rushed.”

“Jackson wouldn’t want us to sit around where there are threats to our family,” Bast says, standing a little straighter. “What’s going on?”

Aiden nods in agreement and continues, “There’s been a message sent to Gen.”

Liam stops and fixes his gaze on Aiden, the raw pain in his eyes momentarily shifting to sharp alertness. “From?”

He looks at me this time. “Your brother Lucas wants to talk to you.”

A cold shiver runs down my spine at the mention of my oldest brother. I haven’t spoken to Lucas in over two years. Maybe three. And like Finn, he never seemed to care about me at all or even try to protect me from our father.

Liam tightens his grip on my hand and I can feel the protective and possessive surge in him, ready to shield me from any threat.

“What could my brother possibly want with me?”

Aiden frowns. “There’s been a lot of movement at your uncle’s place. We saw Lucas there yesterday. Also, no one’s been able to find your father’s body in the rubble or Meredith’s, and all of Oliver’s surviving enforcers seem to have dropped off the radar. None of them are talking. Moving. Nothing. But I have no idea what the message from Lucas is about.”

“My brothers don’t and haven’t ever cared about me.” Liam’s thumb rubs soothing circles over the top of my hand. The level of solitude I’ve felt in my family is overwhelming.

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