POV: Ronan Montague

Juliana appeared at the foot of my bed every night at 3 AM.

Not physically. I knew she was dead, knew the mate bond had been severed permanently. But her ghost haunted me anyway, a manifestation of grief and guilt my brain couldn't process any other way.

"You let them get away with it," she said in the voice I'd loved. "You let them kill me and face no consequences."

"Ian's in prison. Your father abolished arranged marriages. Justice was served."

"Ian was just the ...