Beverly's POV

I woke to the weight of Bruce's arm across my ribs. His breath warmed the back of my neck. For three perfect seconds, I forgot everything—Marcus, the party, the cameras. Then reality crashed in, we weren't business partners anymore. We were something else.

Bruce was already awake. I felt his eyes on me before I turned. When I did, the way he looked at me stopped my heart. He wasn't looking at me like a contract wife. He was looking at me like I was air and he'd been drowning.

"Morning," he said. His voice was rough, unguarded. He brushed a strand of hair from my face and pecked me softly.

I couldn't speak. My chest felt too full. Then I felt it—a hum beneath my skin, a warmth that wasn't mine. I felt all of his emotions, relief, his want, and his worry. All of it flooding into me like a second heartbeat.

"What is this?" I whispered.

"The bond." Bruce's thumb traced my jaw. "It's complete now. You'll feel what I feel. I'll feel you." His eyes darkened. "There's no hiding from each other anymore."

Ebrytigk was happening too fast, this wasn't the agreement.

Terror sliced through me. He would now know every one of my doubts, every fear, every moment I wanted to run. I pulled back, sitting up, clutching the sheet to my chest.

Bruce sat up slowly. "Beverly—"

A knock cut him off. Margaret entered without waiting, carrying a breakfast tray. Her knowing smile made shame flood my face. She set the tray down, eyes twinkling.

"Congratulations," she said softly. "The house feels different this morning."

She left before I could respond. I stared at the door, mortified. Bruce's amusement rippled through the room, warm and teasing. I glared at him. He didn't even try to hide his grin.

My phone buzzed. Then again. And again. I grabbed it from the nightstand. Forty-three missed calls. Sixty-seven messages. My stomach dropped.

Mom: BEVERLY MARIE HARTLEY CALL ME NOW

Mom: The news is saying your husband's ex publicly accused him??? What is happening???

Mom: This is a disaster. A DISASTER.

I scrolled through the rest. Screenshots of trending topics. Marcus's face is everywhere. Headlines screaming betrayal, scandal, werewolf politics. Video clips of last night's disaster are looping endlessly. My hands shook.

"How bad is it?" Bruce asked quietly.

"Very bad." I showed him the screen. His jaw tightened. That fury I'd felt last night—it was back, cold and controlled. Dangerous.

"My PR team is already working on it," he said. "Marcus won't get away with this."

"He already has." I dropped the phone. "The damage is done. Everyone thinks—"

"I don't care what they think." Bruce caught my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "I care what you think. Do you regret last night?"

The question hung between us. I felt his fear through the bond—real, raw fear that I'd say yes. That I'd walk away. But the truth was worse than regret.

"I'm terrified," I whispered. "This feeling of you in my head—I can't breathe."

Pain flickered across his face but he nodded slowly, letting me go.

"It gets easier," he said. "I promise."

Before I could answer, the bedroom door flew open. Victoria stood there, already dressed for training, her expression sharp.

"Get up," she said to me. "We're starting now."

"Now?" I pulled the sheet higher. "Victoria, it's barely seven—"

"Now." Her tone left no room for argument. "The longer we wait, the more dangerous this gets. You're coming with me."

Bruce stood, moving between us. "She just woke up. Give her time."

"There is no time." Victoria's eyes flashed. "Half the pack saw what happened last night. Questions are being asked. If Beverly doesn't learn control—"

"One hour," Bruce said firmly.

Victoria's jaw clenched. For a moment, they stared at each other. Then she nodded once.

"One hour. My car. Don't be late." She left, slamming the door.

I looked at Bruce. "She's scared."

"I know." He ran a hand through his hair. "Get dressed. I'll have Margaret pack you something to eat."

Forty-five minutes later, I was pulling on shoes when I heard Bruce's voice from his office. The door was cracked. I shouldn't have listened. But something in his tone stopped me.

"—containment protocol won't work if they find out before she's ready," he was saying. "The Council will…" He paused. "I know the risks. But if they discover her bloodline now, we're both dead."

My blood turned to ice. The Council. The same name from the files I'd found. The same organization that had ordered surveillance on me. And Bruce knew about them. Had always known.

I backed away from the door, my chest tight. More secrets. Always more secrets.

Victoria's car horn blared outside. I grabbed my bag and ran, the bond stretching painfully as I put distance between Bruce and me. He felt it too—I knew from the spike of alarm that shot through our connection.

In the car, Victoria drove in silence. Her hands were white-knuckled on the wheel. We were halfway to wherever she was taking me when I couldn't stand it anymore.

"What's the Council?"

Victoria's foot slammed the brake. The car screeched to a stop on the empty road. She turned to me, her face pale, eyes wide with something that looked like terror.

"Where did you hear that name?"

"Bruce was on the phone—"

"Damn it." Victoria gripped the steering wheel. "Listen to me very carefully, Beverly. The Council is the ruling body over all werewolf packs. They maintain order, settle disputes, and they have one absolute rule." She took a shaking breath. "Luna bloodlines are extinct. If the Council discovers you're a Luna before you're trained, before you're strong enough to prove your worth—" Her voice cracked. "They'll take you from Bruce. Or they'll kill you both."

My world tilted. I felt Bruce's panic through our bond. He knew. Somehow, he knew I'd found out. And his terror was greater than mine.