AUBREY

The nightmares are killing me.

Every time I close my eyes, I'm thirteen again, watching my family die in an endless loop of blood and screaming. The memories play with brutal clarity—my mother's head rolling across the grass, my brother's defiant cry cutting off mid-breath, the metallic taste of terror coating my tongue. Night after night, I jolt awake gasping and drenched in sweat, my heart hammering against my ribs like it's trying to escape.

Knox's abrupt departure from the family meeting barely registers through my exhaustion. I catch a glimpse of his rigid shoulders as he storms out, but I can't muster the energy to care about whatever's bothering him. All I want is to drag myself back to my chambers and collapse into bed, even knowing sleep will only bring more horrors.

"Aubrey, wait." Iris's gentle voice stops me before I can escape. She rises from Astor's lap with fluid grace, her green eyes soft with concern. "Can we talk? Just for a minute?"

I force myself to nod, though standing upright feels like a monumental effort. The dark circles under my eyes have deepened over the past week, and I know I look as terrible as I feel.

"You can't keep going like this," Iris says once we're alone in the corridor, her voice filled with sisterly worry. "The nightmares are destroying you."

"I'm fine," I lie automatically, the words tasting like ash.

"No, you're not." She steps closer, studying my face with alarming intensity. "When was the last time you actually slept? And I mean really slept, not just passed out from exhaustion."

I can't remember. The admission sits heavy in my chest, but I refuse to voice it.

"Look," Iris continues, her tone becoming more insistent, "I know you turned down Knox's offer earlier, but maybe you should reconsider. The mate bond isn't just mystical nonsense—it has real, physical effects. Being close to your mate can ease anxiety, promote healing, help with sleep disorders."

The scientific explanation should make the suggestion feel less intimate, but it doesn't. The thought of sharing Knox's space, breathing his scent all night, feeling the warmth of his body beside mine—it terrifies me more than any nightmare.

"Iris, I can't—"

"Yes, you can." Her voice carries the same gentle authority I remember from my mother, and the similarity makes my throat tight. "Whatever's holding you back, it's not worth destroying your health. Knox cares about you, Aubrey. Let him help."

The sincerity in her voice breaks something inside me. This woman has shown me nothing but kindness since I arrived, treating me like the sister she never had. The guilt of my deception sits like lead in my stomach.

"I'll think about it," I whisper, because I can't bear to see that worried expression on her face any longer.

Iris's smile could power the entire castle. "Thank you. Trust me, this will help."

If only she knew how twisted that trust really is.

I make it halfway back to my chambers before exhaustion hits me like a physical wall. My legs threaten to give out, and I have to grip the stone corridor wall to keep from collapsing. The simple act of walking feels monumental when I haven't had real sleep in over a week.

Maybe Iris is right, I think reluctantly. Maybe the mate bond could help.

The scientific explanation she gave echoes in my mind—how proximity to one's mate can ease anxiety, promote healing, help with sleep disorders. It's not about emotion or attachment. It's just biology, werewolf physiology working as the Moon Goddess designed.

Three hours, I bargain with myself. Just a few hours of real sleep, then I can go back to maintaining distance.

The decision feels like surrender, but I'm too exhausted to fight anymore. I drag myself back down the corridor, each step heavier than the last.

"Iris?" I call softly, finding her still in the sitting room with Astor.

She looks up immediately, hope flickering in her green eyes. "Changed your mind?"

I nod, not trusting my voice.

Her delighted squeal could probably be heard three floors down. "Oh, this is wonderful! I'll have the maids help you pack right away."

***

Packing my belongings takes less time than expected, thanks to the efficient castle maids who seem genuinely excited about the move. They chatter happily as they fold my gowns and nightclothes, their enthusiasm infectious despite my growing dread.

"Oh, Your Highness, this is so romantic!" one young maid gushes as she carefully wraps Queen Grace's ring in silk. "Prince Knox has been pacing his chambers like a caged wolf all evening. He's probably beside himself with excitement."

The image makes my chest ache with guilt. Knox, eagerly preparing to share his space with the woman planning his family's downfall. The irony is so bitter I can taste it.

"Just a few more things," I murmur, moving toward the window to collect the small personal items scattered on the sill.

That's when I see it—a massive black crow perched outside, its obsidian eyes fixed on me with unmistakable intelligence. My blood turns to ice. The maids are still chattering happily behind me, completely oblivious to the magical presence that makes my skin crawl.

Jax.

I wait until the servants finish and leave before cracking the window open. The crow hops inside with predatory grace, its talons clicking against the stone sill. The familiar scent of sandalwood and pine fills the room, followed by that darker undertone of magic that always accompanies Avery's spells.

Here's the revised section with Jax being angry about the move:

"Well, well," Jax's voice slides into my mind like ice water, carrying a fury that makes me flinch. "Moving in with the enemy now, are we? How... intimate."

"It's strategic," I reply aloud, keeping my voice low. "Being closer to Knox will give me better access to information."

"Strategic?" His mental voice drips with disbelief and anger. "You already have him eating out of your hand, Aubrey. He accepted your ridiculous conditions, trusts you completely. What more do you need?"

The accusation in his tone makes my stomach clench. "Jax, this will help—"

"This will help you fall deeper under his spell!" His voice rises with barely contained rage. "Do you think I'm blind? I've seen how you look at him, how you respond to his touch. This isn't about the mission anymore—this is about you wanting to play house with your precious mate."

Shame burns in my cheeks because part of me knows he's right. "That's not true."

"Isn't it? Then prove it." His tone becomes dangerously calm. "I need the castle's defense plans. Troop numbers, patrol schedules, and weak points in the fortifications. You've had weeks to obtain this information, and instead, you're worried about where you'll be sleeping."

My stomach clenches. "Jax, the trust they've shown me—"

"Is exactly what we need to exploit! But instead of using that trust, you're getting lost in domestic fantasies." His voice turns cutting. "Tell me what you know. Now."

The weight of his expectation crushes down on me. I think of the warriors who've accepted me as one of their own, the servants who beam when they see me, the family dinners where I'm included like I truly belong.

"I know there are approximately two hundred warriors in active rotation," I say reluctantly. "The shifts change every six hours, with increased patrols along the eastern perimeter—"

"That's it?" Disbelief and fury color his mental voice. "After all this time, that's all you have? What about the fortifications? The armory locations? The emergency protocols?"

"I need more time to familiarize myself with the castle layout," I lie, hating how the words taste.

"Time? You've had plenty of time! But instead of focusing on what matters, you're too busy melting into Knox's arms like some lovesick fool."

The silence that follows is deafening. When Jax finally speaks, his voice carries a dangerous edge that makes my blood run cold.

"You're losing yourself, Aubrey. Forgetting who you serve, who you belong to."

Pain explodes through my skull without warning, sharp and vicious as lightning. I bite back a scream, my hands flying to my temples as agony courses through every nerve ending. The punishment is briefer than before but no less brutal, leaving me gasping and shaking.

"Remember your place," Jax's voice is calm now, almost gentle. "Remember who saved you when you had nothing. Remember who gave your miserable existence purpose."

"I remember," I whisper, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Good. You have three days to get me those defense plans. Don't disappoint me again."

The mental connection severs abruptly, leaving me alone with the crow's pitiless stare. It gives one mocking caw before spreading its wings and disappearing into the night.

I stand there trembling, the aftershocks of pain still rippling through my skull. My fist connects with the stone wall before I realize I'm moving, the impact sending fresh agony up my arm. The physical pain is nothing compared to the weight crushing my chest.

What have I become?

The question echoes in my mind as I stare at my bloodied knuckles. I'm betraying people who've shown me nothing but kindness, people who trust me, people who—

Knox.

His face appears in my mind unbidden—the way he looked at me during that first training session, pride shining in his green eyes. The gentle way he carried me when I was hurt. The flowers he brings every morning, never growing discouraged by my careful distance.

The memory of his touch burns through me like fire. Strong hands mapping my body with reverent care, his voice rough with desire as he whispered my name. The way he held me afterward, like I was something precious worth protecting.

He doesn't know. The thought strikes me with sudden, painful clarity. He has no idea what's coming.

Before I realize what I'm doing, my feet are carrying me down the corridor toward Knox's chambers. My heart pounds against my ribs, each step feeling like walking toward an execution. I don't know what I plan to say, what excuse I can possibly give for seeking him out after rejecting his help so coldly.

I reach his door and freeze, my hand raised to knock. What am I doing? This is madness. I should turn around, go back to my chambers, maintain the careful distance that keeps us both safe.

But just as I turn to leave, the door swings open.

Knox stands there frozen in surprise, and my brain completely short-circuits. He's clearly just stepped out of the shower—water droplets still cling to his dark hair, trailing down the strong column of his neck to disappear beneath the white towel wrapped low around his hips. His chest is bare, muscles defined by years of warrior training, a thin line of dark hair leading down from his navel to where the terry cloth rides dangerously low.

Heat floods my cheeks as my eyes trace the powerful breadth of his shoulders, the way his biceps flex as he grips the door frame. There's a thin scar running along his left ribs that I've never noticed before, probably from some training accident, and suddenly I want to trace it with my fingertips.

Stop staring, I command myself, but my body refuses to cooperate. The mate bond purrs with satisfaction at his proximity, at the sight of all that bare skin just begging to be touched.

"Aubrey?" Knox's voice is rough with surprise, his green eyes searching my face with concern. "What are you doing here? Are you alright?"

The worry in his tone, the immediate assumption that I might need help, breaks something inside my chest. Here I am, standing outside his door like some desperate fool, and his first instinct is still to take care of me.

He doesn't know, I think again, the weight of it crushing. He doesn't know I'm going to destroy everything he loves.