"Who's even scared of death?" Dakota continued, and then that laugh bubbled up again, that broken sound that had nothing to do with humor and everything to do with a mind fracturing under pressure it couldn't withstand. "Hahaha..."
She swayed on her feet, the world tilting around her in ways that had nothing to do with physical balance and everything to do with the complete destruction of everything she thought she knew about her life. Before the man could respond, before he could process what was happening, Dakota moved past him toward the car that had nearly killed her moments ago.
She pulled open the back door without hesitation, without thought, without caring who owned this vehicle or where it might take her. All that mattered was movement, was distance, was running from a reality she couldn't bear to face.
She wanted to move, to run away, to disappear completely from existence. To stop being Dakota Winters, the woman who'd just discovered her entire life was a lie built upon tragedy and betrayal. How was any of this real? How was she supposed to process that her life had turned out like this?
How could she even begin to explain to her family, to Maya, that before losing her memories she had mated and given birth to twins? That Cooper, sweet, innocent Cooper with his silver eyes and his stuffed wolf toy, was her son? That she'd abandoned him in grief so profound it had nearly killed her, and then spent three years falling in love with his father all over again while he planned to marry her sister?
And worse.... so much worse, how was she going to tell anyone that she'd gone against everything, against family and duty and honor, to get herself pregnant with the man who had been betrothed to Maya since they were children? Because the pieces were clicking into place now with horrible clarity. Maya had mentioned it before, in passing conversations that Dakota couldn't fully remember, that she'd been engaged since childhood to another royal, pure-blood family. An arranged marriage that was supposed to unite powerful packs.
Ethan.
It had been Ethan all along.
Maya's childhood betrothal had been to Ethan all along, and Dakota had....
"Hahaha... Who cares about life?" The words spilled from her lips as she climbed into the car, her wolf rising with violent intensity, clawing at her control with desperate fury. The heat was building under her skin, that unmistakable burning that came when a wolf was losing control, when instinct was overriding reason and civilized behavior.
Her eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the vehicle, and that's when she realized with a startle that there was someone already in the back seat. A man sat in the shadows, his head leaning back against the headrest, eyes closed as though he'd been resting or perhaps dealing with his own exhaustion. The scent of him hit her immediately, wolf, powerful, dominant, carrying an authority that spoke of high rank.
You could tell from the scent that he wasn't someone to mess with!
But Dakota was too far gone to care about propriety or danger or consequences. Her wolf was demanding release, demanding something to anchor to, demanding anything that wasn't the pain tearing her apart from the inside. Without wasting time, without thinking through what she was doing, she moved with the fluid grace of someone whose wolf was dangerously close to the surface.
She climbed onto his lap with deliberate sensuality, her body settling against his with practiced ease despite never having met this man before. Her hips began to sway with slow, deliberate movements, grinding against him in an unmistakably provocative way.
"Gentleman," she said, her voice taking on a sultry quality that sounded foreign even to her own ears, "I don't mind being a mistress. I guess I have been one once!" She laughed again, that broken sound mixing with something darker, more bitter. "Oh no, not once... Twice..."
Because that's what she'd been, wasn't it? The other woman. The secret. First, she'd been the forbidden lover who'd gotten pregnant by her sister's childhood betrothed, breaking sacred agreements and family honor. And then, after losing her memories, she'd been the mistress again, the woman Ethan kept hidden while he built a public life with Maya, the secret he maintained for three years while courting both sisters simultaneously.
Always the hidden one. Always the one who didn't get to exist in daylight.
"Who told you I need mistresses?" The voice that responded was rough and deep, carrying a quality of exhaustion that suggested this man had his own demons to battle. He still hadn't opened his eyes, hadn't moved except for the slight tension that had entered his body when she'd climbed onto him.