Chapter 61 The Déjà Vu Dance

Chapter 61 The Déjà Vu Dance

The heavy iron bolt slid into place, and for the second time in two lives, I was a prisoner in the Northern Alpha’s suite.
Only this time, I wasn't weeping into the silk pillows or wondering if I’d ever see a cheeseburger again. I was leaning against the balcony railing, counting down the seconds in my head. In the original Chapter One, this was the moment the "Romantic Tension" peaked. Kieran was supposed to burst back in, smelling of pine and fury, to demand I "accept the bond." Then Rowan would intervene, leading to a shirtless brawl that ended with me fainting in a heap of lace and drama.
But I had already disrupted the spy plot. The "Author" was probably up there in the clouds, screaming at her celestial keyboard because I wasn't following the prompts.
"You're very quiet," Rowan said. He was sitting in the high-backed velvet chair, his long legs crossed at the ankles. He looked like a painting of a prince, but I knew that under that tunic, he was ready to spring. "Usually, by now, you’ve told me three times that I’m 'stifling your agency' or some other word I don't understand."
"Agency is a good word, Rowan. You should learn it," I said, not turning around. "But I'm just waiting."
"For what?"
"For the door to fly open."
BAM.
Right on cue. Kieran didn't just open the door; he nearly took it off its hinges. He was flushed, his chest heaving, his eyes that terrifying shade of "I'm-about-to-shift" amber. This was the 'Mate Confrontation' scene.
"The guards found the trail," Kieran growled, stalking toward me. He ignored Rowan entirely, which was a classic Alpha move. "A merchant's wagon was abandoned at the south gate. Empty. Just like you said."
He grabbed my shoulders, his fingers digging in just enough to be possessive but not painful. "How did you know, Iris? Speak. No more riddles."
In the first life, I had stammered and cried. Now, I looked him dead in the eye. "I knew because you’re predictable, Kieran. You and Rowan are so busy measuring your shadows that you didn't notice the sunlight hitting the back door. I’m not a prophet. I’m just someone who’s actually looking."
Kieran’s jaw worked. This wasn't the "wilted flower" response he was programmed for. Behind him, Rowan stood up, his face darkening.
"She’s right, Kieran," Rowan said, stepping into the light. "We were distracted."
"Distracted by you!" Kieran spun around, his hand going to his dagger. "You shouldn't even be in this wing! You're a guest, Rowan. Not a co-mate!"
"I am her first love," Rowan countered, his voice like silk-covered steel. "The bond you claim is just biology. What we have is history."
Here it was. The "Two Alphas, One Choice" trope.
In the original book, this was where the clothes started coming off and the "explicit content" warnings kicked in. Kieran would pin me to the wall to "mark his territory" with a kiss, and Rowan would pull him off, leading to the aforementioned shirtless wrestling.
I decided to skip the wrestling.
"Stop," I said, my voice cutting through their posturing like a knife.
I walked between them, putting a hand on each of their chests. Kieran’s heart was drumming a frantic, wild rhythm; Rowan’s was steady but fast.
"You both want to know what happens next?" I asked, a small, dangerous smile on my face. "Kieran, you’re going to try to kiss me to 'prove' the bond. Rowan, you’re going to try to 'save' me to prove your nobility."
They both blinked, looking caught out.
"But here’s what’s actually going to happen," I continued, stepping back and sitting on the edge of the bed, looking perfectly bored. "Kieran, you’re going to go back to the Great Hall and actually interrogate the people who let that wagon in. And Rowan, you’re going to go to the library and look up the 'Shadow Mark'—because if that spy was here, he wasn't just looking for wine; he was looking for the Anchor."
The mention of the "Anchor" made Rowan stiffen. It was a term from Act 3 that shouldn't have been in my vocabulary yet.
"How do you know that word?" Rowan whispered.
"I’m a very fast learner," I said, leaning back on my elbows. "Now, go. Both of you. If I’m still locked in this room when the sun goes down, I’m going to start throwing the 'sacred' vases off the balcony. And trust me, I have excellent aim."
Kieran looked at Rowan. Rowan looked at Kieran. For the first time, they weren't looking at me as a prize to be won, but as a person who knew something they didn't.
"She’s… different," Kieran muttered, his amber eyes fading back to brown.
"She's a hurricane," Rowan agreed.
"Out," I pointed to the door.
They actually went. Kieran paused at the threshold, his hand on the frame. "I'll be back, Iris. We aren't done with the 'Mate' talk."
"I'm counting on it, Alpha Daddy," I muttered under my breath.
The door closed—not locked this time, just shut.
I flopped back onto the silk sheets and let out a long, shaky breath. I had successfully derailed the "Fainting and Fighting" scene. I had sent the Alphas to do actual work instead of brooding.
But as I stared up at the canopy, a cold chill washed over me. The air in the room suddenly felt static-heavy, like a storm was brewing indoors.