⊰ 114 ⊱ A Blood Oath

⊰ 114 ⊱ A Blood Oath
| Penelope |

I can’t stop thinking about what Jax said in the garden yesterday. His words have taken root in my mind, sprouting uncomfortable questions I’ve been trying to ignore.

“Without Elio, Malachi wouldn’t be in your life at all. You wouldn’t be together if you had never gotten pregnant.”

I pace the length of my room, Elio cradled against my chest. He’s been fussy all morning, as if he can sense my inner turmoil. The truth is, Jax isn’t wrong. Malachi and I began as a one-night encounter, a moment of vulnerability. The baby came first. Love followed.

But does that make our love less real?

I pause at the window, looking out at the endless ocean surrounding this island fortress. The sun glints off the water, creating countless shimmering diamonds on the surface—beautiful, but impenetrable. Much like the truth I’m trying to uncover within myself.

What do I want?

A sharp knock interrupts my thoughts. When I open the door, a guard stands at attention.

“Alpha Rook requests your presence immediately.”

Something in his tone sends a chill down my spine. “What’s this about?”

“I wasn’t informed of the details,” he says, though his eyes flick away briefly—a tell that he knows more than he’s saying. “Only that it’s urgent.”

I glance down at Elio, who has finally drifted into a peaceful sleep. “I can’t leave my son.”

“I’ll watch him.”

I turn to find Kira in the doorway of the connecting room, a gentle but unreadable look on her face. These days, I find it harder to determine who I can trust.

“I don’t know—”

“I promise he’ll be safe with me,” she says, stepping closer. “You should go. Rook wouldn’t summon you without reason.”

Reluctantly, I transfer Elio to her arms, a physical ache forming in my chest at the separation. “I won’t be long,” I tell her, though I have no idea if that’s true.

“Take your time,” she says, already swaying gently with Elio. “We’ll be fine.”

The guard leads me through a maze of corridors I haven’t explored before. We descend several flights of stairs, the air growing cooler and damper with each step. The elegant trappings of the upper levels give way to stark stone and iron—utilitarian, intimidating.

The dungeons.

My pulse quickens. 

Is this where they’re keeping Malachi indefinitely? Has something happened to him?

Finally, we stop before a heavy wooden door reinforced with iron bands. The guard knocks once, then steps aside as the door swings open.

The room beyond is sparsely furnished—a table, several chairs, and not much else. Rook stands with his back to me, his attention focused on someone seated across the table. When he turns, I see a cold calculation in his eyes that reminds me he’s not just my brother but a ruthless Alpha.

“Penelope,” he says, gesturing for me to enter. “Thank you for coming.”

I wasn’t given much of a choice.

As I step into the room, I finally see who’s seated at the table, and my breath catches.

Jackson.

His once-immaculate appearance is a distant memory. His face is a map of bruises, one eye swollen nearly shut. Dried blood cakes the corner of his mouth, and his hands are bound to the chair with what I recognize as silver-infused restraints.

Despite his condition, his good eye lights up with interest when he sees me, and a slow, painful smile spreads across his battered face.

“Well, well,” he drawls, his voice hoarse but still carrying that aristocratic edge I remember from our first meeting at his mansion. “If it isn’t the Luna herself. Or is that former Luna now?”

Rook’s expression tightens. “Careful.”

But Jackson’s attention remains fixed on me, his eye drifting to my neck where Jax’s mark sits over Malachi’s. His smile fades, disappointment or disgust—I can’t tell which—taking its place. “How interesting.”

“What is this about?” I ask Rook, ignoring Jackson’s obvious baiting. “Why am I here?”

“Jackson has been reluctant to share certain details about his alliance with Malachi,” Rook explains. “I thought your presence might… encourage his cooperation.”

I remember Jackson all too well from before. The powerful Alpha who came to Malachi with a proposal—an arranged marriage between our unborn children. A proposal that Malachi neither accepted nor rejected in my presence, promising me later he would never make such decisions without my input.

“I promise you, I won’t make any decisions about our son's future without talking it through with you first.”

That promise had meant everything to me then. A recognition that our son deserved the freedom to choose his own path.

“I’m not sure how I can help,” I say cautiously. “Jackson and I barely know each other.”

Jackson laughs. “Oh, but we almost became family, didn’t we? Or rather, our children did.”

A chill races down my spine at his words. “What are you talking about?”

“You look well,” Jackson continues as if I hadn’t spoken, his gaze assessing. “Settled. Content, even. How quickly you’ve adapted to your new... situation.”

I feel color rising in my cheeks, both from anger and unwanted embarrassment. “You don’t know anything about my situation.”

“I know enough.” His gaze flicks to my neck again. “I know you wear another wolf’s mark now. And not just any wolf—a true mate. I can sense it.”

Rook steps forward, his posture tense. “That’s not why we’re here, Alpha Jackson.”

“Isn’t it?” Jackson counters. “Isn’t everything connected? The alliances, the betrayals, the... adjustments we all make when circumstances change?”

There’s something in his tone—a vicious undercurrent that puts me on edge. I’ve dealt with enough manipulative men in my life to recognize when someone is setting a trap.

“If you have something to say, say it,” I challenge him. “Otherwise, I’m leaving.”

Jackson’s smile drops. “Do you know what Malachi did to find you?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and loaded. I don’t answer, can’t answer, because a part of me is afraid to know.

“Do you know what he was willing to sacrifice?” Jackson presses. “While you were getting comfortable with your new mate?”

“That’s enough,” Rook warns, but Jackson ignores him.

“I’m saying that your mate—your first mate—came to me for help,” Jackson continues, his tone shifting to something more businesslike. “He needed resources. Warriors. Intelligence. Things only another Alpha of my standing could provide.”

My heart pounds so hard I feel it in my temples. “And?”

“And I gave him what he needed.” Jackson’s expression is one of simple calculation now, not malicious glee. “For the price I had originally offered before your disappearance.”

I know what’s coming before he says it. I know, and yet I’m powerless to stop the words that shatter everything.

“Our children will be joined in marriage when they come of age,” he states plainly, as if discussing a business transaction. “A traditional alliance between two powerful bloodlines. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The room seems to tilt beneath my feet. I reach for the edge of the table to steady myself. “No… That can’t be right.”

“Circumstances have a way of changing priorities,” Jackson says with a shrug that pulls at his restraints, a knowing gleam in his eye. “Malachi understood what needed to be done.”

Memories flash through my mind—Malachi’s earnest face as he promised never to make decisions about our son’s future without me, the relief I’d felt knowing our child would have choices I was afraid he wouldn’t.

“He wouldn’t do that,” I whisper, but even I hear the doubt in my voice.

“He did,” Jackson says simply. “Our agreement is sealed with a formal blood oath. Binding in our world. Shame he agreed to save you when it seems you didn’t need saving.”

My hand flies to my neck, covering Jax’s mark in a futile gesture. “You don’t understand what happened—”

“I understand business,” Jackson interrupts, his tone cooling further as he looks at my neck. “And I understand that I fulfilled my end of our bargain, despite the... unexpected complications I found when we arrived.”

Rook steps forward, his posture tense. “That’s enough, Jackson.”

“Merely stating facts,” Jackson says, leaning back in his chair with a wince. “My daughter and her son. A fair exchange for my resources and men. Many of whom died in the attempt, I might add.”

“You can go, Penelope,” Rook says, something almost like sympathy flashing in his eyes. “We’re done here.”

I stare at him, unable to process what’s happening. “Is it true?” I ask, my voice barely audible. “Did Malachi really arrange Elio’s marriage?”

Rook hesitates, then nods once. “He’s not lying.”

The confirmation nearly knocks the breath from my lungs. The one promise Malachi made to me about our son—the one thing I asked of him—and he broke it the first chance he got.

I turn to leave, my movements mechanical, disconnected from my spinning thoughts. Before I reach the door, Jackson speaks one more time.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, his voice lacking its earlier edge, “he did it for you. He was desperate to find you.”

I pause, my hand on the door. The fact that Jackson thinks this somehow makes it better only twists the knife deeper.

That doesn’t make it right.

I make it into the corridor before my legs give out. I sink to the cold stone floor, my back against the wall, as the reality of what I’ve just learned washes over me.

He broke his word. He sold our son’s future.