The Banned Daughter

My Fiance's Beta

The lie tastes bitter.

It is also, in a way, true.

Because the boy I knew would never have disappeared in the middle of the night.

The boy I loved would have fought for me.

And this man—this stranger with Jace’s face and Jace’s eyes—has no place in the life I’ve spent seven years rebuilding without him.

Jace flinches.

It is small. So small that no one else would catch it.

But I do.

His shoulders go tight. The blood on his hand drips onto the pale wood floor. His eyes darken, and for one ugly, satisfying heartbeat, I’m glad I hurt him.

Then guilt slides in behind the anger.

I hate it.

I hate that I still care whether he hurts.

Rowan turns slightly toward me, blocking some of the room from my view without making a show of it. His thumb brushes once over the back of my hand.

“Do you want to step outside for a minute?” he asks under his breath. “We can talk.”

The gentleness in his voice nearly undoes me.

Not because I want to talk. I don’t. If I start talking, I might tell him everything. I might tell him that Jace once knew every dream I had. That I used to believe he would be my husband. That seeing him now feels like discovering a ghost has been living in the walls of my new home.

And I can’t do that.

Not while I’m still trying to prove I’m not broken.

Not while I’m still trying to convince myself I deserve Rowan’s kindness.

“No.” I force my fingers to relax around his. “I’m fine.”

Rowan studies me for a long moment.

He doesn’t believe me.

Of course he doesn’t. Rowan isn’t stupid, and I’ve never been particularly good at lying to him. He knows when I’m upset. He knows when I’m pretending. He knows me well enough to hear everything I’m not saying.

But he doesn’t push. Not here. Not in front of the pack he knows I need to appear strong in front of. Not when he can see I’m hanging on by a thread.

“All right,” he says softly. “But we’ll talk later.”

It isn’t a question. Still, I nod once.

Across the room, Jace finally bends to pick up a cloth napkin from the table. He wraps it around his bleeding hand, but his eyes stay fixed on me.

I want to look away. I don’t. I want him to see what he did.

I want him to understand that he doesn’t get to walk back into my life now, when I’m already drowning beneath the weight of what I did to my mother. He doesn’t get to make me remember the girl I was before everything fell apart.

Rowan clears his throat, drawing the room’s attention back to him.

“Everyone,” he says, his voice taking on that warm, steady authority that makes wolves listen, “this is Libbie Hawkins. My fiancée. My Luna Your future Alpha female.”

A murmur moves through the table.

I can feel Jace staring at me.

Rowan lifts our joined hands and presses a kiss to my knuckles. The gesture is familiar. Sweet. A quiet reminder that I am not alone.

But when I glance back at Jace, his gaze has dropped to the ring on my finger.

The color drains from his face.

For one terrible second, he looks like I did the morning his family disappeared. Like the world has ended and he’s the only one who knows it.

I should feel victorious.

Instead, something twists low in my stomach.

“Jason is my beta,” Rowan continues, oblivious to the wreckage unfolding between us. “We went to college together. He’s been with me for the last few years.”

My head snaps toward Rowan.

“Your beta?”

Rowan’s brow furrows. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

A dozen answers rise to my tongue.

Yes, because your best friend is the boy who broke my heart.

Yes, because I don’t know how I’m supposed to live in the same house as him.

Yes, because if he has been with you for years, then he could have found me. He had to have known his best friend was dating me. He could have called. He could have written. He could have done anything except disappear.

But I swallow every one of them.

“No,” I say, though my chest feels too tight. “No. Of course not.”

Jace’s jaw flexes. He knows I’m lying. Rowan knows I’m lying.

And suddenly, I’m exhausted from being the only one in the room pretending nothing is wrong.

Jace steps forward at last, stopping a careful distance away from us. He is close enough that I catch his scent—rain-soaked earth, cedar, something warm and achingly familiar beneath it.

My wolf stirs.

I hate her for it.

“Libbie,” he says quietly.

I look at him.

He looks wrecked.

Good.

“Welcome to the pack,” he says.

The words are polite. Empty. Exactly what strangers say to one another.

I almost laugh.

Instead, I lift my chin and give him the same smile I would give anyone else.

“Thank you.”

Then I let Rowan lead me toward my seat. My legs feel unsteady beneath me, but I don’t let anyone see. I sit beside the man who has loved me faithfully for seven years. Across from the boy who left me without a word.

And as dinner begins around us, I realize the safest place I have ever known has just become the most dangerous. Because Jace Weaver is no longer a memory. He’s here.

And I have no idea what he wants from me now.