The timing feels wrong.Conall chose his words carefully.First the real Nadine shows up with accusations about pack traitors.Then we’re attacked by tactical teams.Now someone sends in a fake to frame us for her father’s murder—but with the exact same accusations as the real Nadine made.
Connected events,Anders agreed.Someone’s orchestrating this.The question is who, and what they hope to gain.
They walked in silence.Footsteps muffled by sand and scattered pebbles.The moon hung low on the horizon, casting everything in silver light that reminded Conall of—
Stop.
You planning to go looking for her?Anders asked suddenly.
The question struck Conall hard, but he found himself trying to avoid answering.Why would I do that?
Because you’ve been distracted since the encounter.Because you keep scanning the eastern borders like you’re searching for something specific.He stopped walking, turned to face Conall directly.Because you recognized that woman was fake the moment you saw her.
Heat crawled up Conall’s neck.Professional assessment.Nothing more.
Uh-huh.Anders didn’t look convinced.Just remember, sometimes the connections that challenge us most are the ones we need to understand.
With that, he headed back toward the meeting hall.Left Conall and Quinton alone under the desert stars.
What was that about?Quinton asked.
Conall started walking again.He needed movement to think.Anders thinks I should actively hunt down a woman who wants us dead for crimes we didn’t commit.
Is that what you want to do?
The question stopped Conall cold.Because the answer—the honest answer—terrified him.
Yes.
God help him, yes.
I want answers,he said instead.
Quinton studied him in the moonlight, their identical features reflecting back at him like a mirror.There’s something you’re not telling me.
They’d never kept secrets.Not real ones.The twin bond between them had always been built on absolute trust.Complete transparency.
But how could Conall explain that he’d been mated to their potential enemy?How could he admit that every cell in his body craved connection with a woman who saw him as a murderer?
She’s…Conall struggled for words.There was something about her.In the ravine.A connection.
What kind of connection?
She’s my mate.
The words dropped into the desert silence like stones into still water.Quinton went completely motionless.His shock radiated from him.
Your what?
You heard me.
That’s impossible.Quinton started pacing, agitation clear in every line of his body.She wants us dead, Con.She thinks we murdered her father.
I know.
The mate bond doesn’t activate between enemies.It connects compatible souls, people meant to—
I know!The words came out harsher than Conall intended.You think I wanted this?You think I asked to be bound to someone who hates everything I am?
