The thought should make me turn around, should send me fleeing back to my chambers where I can maintain the safe distance that protects us both. But standing here, seeing the genuine concern in his green eyes, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin—it makes Jax's cold commands feel like poison in my veins.

I'm so tired of being a weapon. So tired of calculating every move, every word, every breath around this man who looks at me like I'm something precious. For just one moment, I want to forget the mission, forget the nightmares, forget everything except the way Knox makes me feel when his walls are down and mine haven't been rebuilt yet.

Just once, I tell myself desperately. Just once, let me feel something real instead of this endless guilt. I step forward and press my lips to his.

Knox freezes for a heartbeat, clearly caught off guard by my sudden aggression. But then his arms come around me, pulling me closer as he responds to the kiss with a hunger that matches my own. His skin is still warm and damp from the shower, the scent of his soap mixing with his natural cedar and storm rain to create an intoxicating combination.

I lose myself in the sensation—the firm pressure of his mouth, the way his hands tangle in my hair, the solid warmth of his chest pressed against mine. For a moment, the guilt and confusion and crushing weight of my mission all fade away. There's only this—only Knox, only the way he makes me feel alive instead of like a weapon aimed at innocent people.

But just as I'm sinking deeper into the kiss, Knox's hands move to my shoulders, gently but firmly pushing me back. The rejection hits like ice water, and I stumble backward, heat flooding my cheeks.

"Aubrey, wait." His voice is gentle but firm, concern etched across his handsome features. "What's wrong? This isn't like you."

This isn't like you. The words hit harder than they should. Because he's right—aggressive seduction isn't my style. I've been maintaining careful distance, keeping him at arm's length even as I play the devoted fiancée. So what changed? What drove me here tonight?

The answer sits heavy in my chest like lead. Jax's punishment. His reminder that I belong to him, not to the man standing before me with worry written across every line of his face. The pain still echoes in my skull, a dull ache that makes me want to forget everything—my mission, my loyalties, the impossible position I've put myself in.

"I..." I start, then stop, struggling to find words that won't reveal too much. "I'm sorry about earlier. In the family meeting. You were trying to help, and I—"

"Hey." Knox steps closer, his expression softening. "You don't have to apologize for that. If you weren't ready—"

"But I was wrong," I interrupt, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "Iris was right. The nightmares are getting worse, and I can't keep pretending I can handle this alone."

Something shifts in Knox's expression—relief, maybe, mixed with determination. "Tell me about them. The nightmares."

My throat tightens. How do I explain the horror of reliving that night over and over again? How do I describe watching my family die in vivid, brutal detail without breaking down completely?

"It's always the same," I say carefully. "The night my pack was massacred. I watch them die, and there's nothing I can do to stop it." The truth tastes bitter on my tongue, even if it's not the complete truth.

Knox's face darkens with protective fury. "How often?"

"Every night," I admit. "For the past week, maybe longer. I wake up screaming, drenched in sweat, and then I can't fall back asleep."

"Christ, Aubrey," he breathes, stepping closer. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? You've been suffering like this for a week?"

The genuine anguish in his voice catches me off guard. This isn't political concern or dutiful care—this is a man who's genuinely upset that his mate has been in pain.

"I didn't want to burden you," I whisper. "But Iris was right. I can't keep going like this." I take a shaky breath. "The maids are already packing my things. If the offer still stands."

Knox's smile could power the entire castle. "Of course it stands. I was hoping you'd change your mind."

Relief floods through me, warm and unexpected. Maybe this will help. Maybe being close to Knox will ease the nightmares, give me the rest I desperately need. And if it also serves Jax's purposes—if proximity gives me better access to information—well, that's just a convenient side effect.

Keep telling yourself that.

"Come on," Knox says, stepping aside to let me enter his chambers. "Let me show you around properly."

I follow him through the doorway, and my breath catches. Knox's chambers are magnificent—far larger than I'd imagined, with soaring ceilings and tall windows that overlook the castle gardens. Rich tapestries in deep blues and golds line the walls, depicting scenes of royal hunts and ancient battles. Carved wooden furniture fills the space with elegant precision, each piece clearly crafted by master artisans.

An ornate fireplace dominates one wall, its marble mantelpiece decorated with intricate carvings of wolves in various poses. Above it hangs a portrait of a younger Knox in formal ceremonial armor, his expression serious and regal. Personal mementos scatter the shelves—books, small sculptures, what looks like a collection of polished stones.

"This is the sitting area," Knox explains, gesturing toward a grouping of leather chairs arranged around a low table. "I spend most of my time here when I'm not sleeping or bathing."

The casual way he mentions sleeping makes my pulse quicken. In a few hours, I'll be sharing this space with him. Breathing his scent all night, feeling the warmth of his body beside mine, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Focus, I remind myself. This is strategic, nothing more.

But when Knox leads me into the bedroom, all rational thought evaporates.

The room is dominated by a massive four-poster bed draped in midnight blue silk, easily large enough for three people. More tapestries line the walls, these depicting scenes of romance and courtship that make my cheeks burn. Moonlight streams through tall windows, casting everything in silver relief.

And Knox is still wearing nothing but that damned towel.

My gaze travels over his form involuntarily—the broad shoulders, the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen, the way the terry cloth clings to his narrow hips. Memories surface unbidden: touching that same back during our bonding, feeling those muscles flex beneath my hands as he moved inside me, the way he whispered my name like a prayer.

"Oh, this is much better," Aria purrs with satisfaction. "Look at all that delicious bare skin just waiting to be touched."

I try to push her voice away, but she's right. Knox is magnificent, every inch of him designed to drive me to distraction. When he notices my reaction, his lips curve into a wicked smirk.

"Like what you see?" he asks with deliberate teasing, his voice dropping to that rough timber that makes my knees weak.

The Alpha presence radiating from him is overwhelming—raw, masculine power that calls to the deepest parts of my wolf. My body responds instinctively, heat pooling in my core as the mate bond recognizes its match. I feel dizzy, unsteady, like the room is tilting around me.

"I—" I start, then stop, my voice coming out breathier than intended. "I think we need some ground rules."

Knox raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by my flustered state. "Ground rules?"

"A fourth condition," I say quickly, trying to regain some semblance of control. "No flirting. No inappropriate behavior. This is purely practical—roommates sharing space for convenience."

Knox's laugh is rich and dark, sending shivers down my spine. "Absolutely not."

"Knox—"

"We're mates, Aubrey. We're going to be married in days. You can't seriously expect me to ignore the attraction between us." He steps closer, and I automatically back away. "Especially not when you came to my door tonight."

My retreat continues until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed. The contact makes me stumble, and suddenly I'm falling backward onto the soft mattress, silk sheets cool against my skin. Knox follows me down, his hands braced on either side of my head as he leans over me.

"This is exactly what I was talking about," I protest, though my voice lacks conviction. "No inappropriate—"

"Nothing inappropriate about a man wanting his mate," Knox murmurs, his face inches from mine. His scent surrounds me, cedar and storm rain mixed with something purely masculine that makes my head spin.

His lips find my throat, pressing soft kisses to the sensitive skin there. I try to push him away, but my hands betray me, sliding over the warm expanse of his chest instead of creating distance. A soft sound escapes my throat—half protest, half invitation.

"Give in," Aria whispers urgently. "Stop fighting what you want. Stop fighting what we both need."

Knox's mouth trails lower, finding the hollow at the base of my throat. His tongue darts out to taste my skin, and electricity shoots through my entire body. My back arches involuntarily, pressing me closer to him despite my mental protests.

This is wrong. I shouldn't be here, shouldn't be melting under his touch like some lovesick fool. I have a mission, responsibilities, a debt to repay. But his hands are so gentle, his kisses so reverent, and I'm so tired of being alone with my guilt and confusion.

Just as I'm about to surrender completely, the images hit me like a physical blow.

Screams explode in my mind—the sound of my pack being slaughtered, my family's voices raised in terror and pain. Blood soaks the grass beneath my knees as I watch my brother fall, watch my mother's head roll across the ceremonial grounds. And above it all, that cold, commanding voice: "Kill them all. Leave none alive."

Reality crashes back with brutal force. I shove Knox away with all my strength, scrambling off the bed so quickly I nearly fall. My chest heaves as I struggle to breathe, the nightmare images still dancing behind my closed eyelids.

"Aubrey!" Knox's voice is sharp with concern as he reaches for me. "What happened? What's wrong?"

But I'm already moving, fleeing from the room before he can stop me. His calls follow me down the corridor, but I don't turn back. Can't turn back. Not when the weight of what I almost did—what I almost forgot—sits like acid in my throat.

I make it to the hallway outside his chambers before my legs give out completely. Leaning against the cold stone wall, I slide down to sit on the floor, my body still trembling from Knox's touch and the violent return of memory.

What is wrong with me?

How can I let myself get so lost in his embrace when I know what his family has done? How can I respond to his touch with such desperate hunger when his father's voice still echoes in my nightmares, commanding the deaths of everyone I loved?

The mate bond is a cruel joke—making me crave the very person I should despise, making my body sing with pleasure at the touch of my enemy's son. And the worst part is how easy it would be to forget. How simple it would be to lose myself in Knox's arms and pretend none of the rest matters.

But it does matter. My family's blood demands justice, and I'm the only one left to see it done.

Even if it destroys me in the process.