Chapter 7

Adrian's patience had worn down to something thin and jagged.

He checked his phone again. Still nothing.

No calls. No texts. No mind-link pulses. Just silence—cold, absolute, infuriating silence—stretching across the days since he had walked out of that bedroom.

He had expected her to reach out by now. Apologize. Beg. Something. She always had before.

But Mira had not.

'She's being stubborn,' he told himself. 'She'll come around.'

But the doubt was already there, gnawing at the edges of his certainty.

He had even allowed his men to send her that video. And still. Nothing.

Adrian's jaw tightened.

Had he truly crossed a line that night? He had only been claiming what was his.

A knock pulled him from his spiraling thoughts.

Ivy slipped through the door without waiting for an answer, a cup of tea in her hands and a sympathetic smile on her lips. She had grown bolder over the past week.

"You look tense," she murmured, setting the tea on his desk. Her fingers brushed his shoulder, lingering. "Is there anything I can do?"

Adrian barely glanced at her. "No."

Ivy's smile flickered—just for a moment—before she smoothed it back into place. "You've been checking your phone all morning. Are you waiting for something? Or someone?"

He didn't answer.

She perched on the edge of his desk, close enough that her knee almost touched his arm. Her voice dropped to something soft and conspiratorial.

"You know," she said lightly, "I've been thinking about what you asked the other day. About what kind of woman would resist her husband's touch?"

Adrian's eyes cut to her.

Ivy tilted her head, all innocence. "There are only two possibilities, really. Either she doesn't love him anymore…" She paused, letting the words hang. "Or her heart belongs to someone else."

The temperature in the room dropped.

Adrian's wolf stirred, hackles rising. "What are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything." Ivy raised her hands in mock surrender. "I'm just saying—three years is a long time to wait. Most women would be grateful for a husband like you. Attentive. Powerful. Patient." She let the last word drip with false sympathy. "If she's still making excuses… maybe she's not the one making the decisions."

Adrian's fingers curled into a fist. Then his screen lit up with a notification.

Mira Vale posted a new photo.

Adrian's thumb stabbed the screen before his brain could catch up.

The image loaded—and his blood turned to ice.

Mira set down her phone and stared at the bracelet on her wrist.

The day still felt unreal.

She had barely stepped out of Evren's corridor when one of his officers fell into step beside her, carrying a small velvet box.

"A gift from His Majesty," the man had said, his face expressionless. "A reminder."

She had opened the box in the privacy of the limousine.

The bracelet inside was unlike anything Adrian had ever given her. Dark metal—forged, not cast—etched with ancient runes that seemed to shift when she looked too closely. At its center sat a single black obsidian stone, polished to a deep, liquid shine. No ostentatious diamonds. No flashy gold. Just quiet, understated power.

It's beautiful, she had thought, and meant it.

She had fastened it around her wrist before the limousine reached the airport.

And then, on a whim she still couldn't fully explain, she had photographed it against the grey velvet of the plane's seat—no caption, no explanation—and posted it to her social media.

'Let him wonder,' she had thought.

She hadn't expected the phone to ring in under thirty seconds.

She ignored it.

Mira arrived home a little earlier than Adrian. She had barely set her purse down on the entryway table when the door slammed behind her.

"Mira."

His voice was low. Controlled. Dangerous.

She turned slowly.

Adrian stood in the doorway, his frame filling the space, his eyes burning with barely restrained fury.

"Where did you get that?" he demanded, his gaze locked on her wrist.

Mira glanced down at the bracelet. "A friend."

"A friend?" Adrian stepped closer, and his scent—sandalwood and pine—flooded the space between them. His wolf pressed against his skin, territorial and raw. "What kind of friend gives a married woman jewelry like that?"

Mira's chin lifted. "The kind who doesn't ask questions he doesn't want answers to."

Adrian's eyes flashed gold.

"Are you seeing someone else?" The words tore out of him, jagged and accusing. "Is that what this is? Three years of I'm not ready, and suddenly you're wearing another man's gift and posting it for the world to see?"

Mira laughed.

It was not a happy sound.

"I'm seeing someone else?" She stepped toward him, her own temper rising to meet his. "You're joking, right? You take Ivy on a romantic beach vacation, you let her post pictures of the bracelet you gave her, you spend every waking moment at her side—and a single photo of me sends you into a rage?"

Adrian's mouth opened. Closed.

"That's different," he said finally.

"Different?" Mira's voice cracked with incredulity. "How, exactly? Because I'm your wife? Because I'm supposed to sit quietly while you play house with a widow who can't keep her hands to herself? You don't get to be jealous, Adrian. You forfeited that right the moment you put her above me."

She turned to walk away.

Adrian's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist—the one with the bracelet.

"Wait—"

A searing crackle of energy erupted between them.

Adrian yelped and released her, stumbling backward, his palm red and blistered. He stared at his hand, then at the bracelet, his expression shifting from fury to confusion to something like fear.

"What the hell is that thing?"

Mira's heart pounded. She hadn't expected that. But she kept her face calm, smoothing down her sleeve to cover the bracelet once more.

"I told you," she said quietly. "A gift from a friend."

Adrian's eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to demand more—

His phone rang.

He glanced at the screen. Irritation flickered across his face, but he answered anyway.

"What?"

Ivy's voice drifted through the speaker, high and breathless and trembling with something that sounded like panic.

"Adrian—the baby—she's kicking. I can feel her moving. I don't know what to do—can you come? Please?"

Adrian's entire body went still.