<h4>Chapter 56: Chapter 56: HER CHOSEN MATE</h4>


    <strong>IVAN’S POV</strong>


    Maeve’s poisoned words left a bitter taste in my mouth—and worse than my mouth, they did something to my chest.


    Something that constricted my lungs and made it almost impossible to breathe. It felt like I was bleeding, yet there were no physical wounds.


    Her words were cutting—possibly the kind no father wanted to hear. But it wasn’t so much the things she had said; it was the way she had said them.


    She actually seemed to believe her convictions about me.


    To be fair, she had every reason to perceive me in an unforgivable light. I had been pretty shitty to her.


    Regardless of my reasons, and how justified I’d felt at the time, it didn’t change the fact that I had been horrible.


    I had treated my destined mate like scum and might as well have kicked her out the door myself.


    But I was willing to make up for it now. It was what I had been trying to tell her all along. The stubborn wolf, however, was firm and dead set in her ways.


    I could see it for a fact now—there was no changing her mind, not in the way I had hoped.


    If I truly meant what I said about wanting to fix things with her, then I was going to have my work cut out for me.


    She had made it clear on more than one asion that she was no longer the same simpering, innocent woman who had made everything easy for me.


    This new version of her was hellbent on giving me a hard time, making sure I fought for every single thing I wanted from her.


    As usual, it left me conflicted—annoyed and yet wildly attracted and enamored.


    Maeve was already walking away from me, her forceful steps carrying her back to Asha’s side.


    Asha. My chipper, utterly delightful boy.


    He was the reason I wasn’t going after Maeve right now—the reason I wasn’t dragging her back and demanding she give me a chance to fix the mess between us.


    I doubted he wanted to see a terse, heated scene, especially after I’d promised him I’d act with a better sense of self-control.


    It was a promise I vowed to try to uphold. Not that it would be easy—not when it came to a woman as unpredictable and infuriating as Maeve.


    Earlier, she had known exactly where to cut with her words—how deeply to cut. And then she had turned her back on me, leaving a dry, papery taste in my mouth.


    I couldn’t even bring myself to throw a mouthy retort at her retreating figure, not when she was that angry.


    As I turned my back on her, my nostrils red. I was finding it hard to wrap my mind around the fact that she had turned me down.


    Even after every ounce of vulnerable shit I’d spewed, it still hadn’t gotten through to her.


    Fuck. I had practically groveled at her shiny, polished feet. Still nothing. She had held no mercy as she all but ripped my ball sack off.


    Francis was waiting for me in my study when I returned to the packhouse. I pulled the doors open and stalked across the carpet, ignoring him.


    I gravitated toward a bottle of whiskey and nearly broke the bottle’s neck in my haste to get the cork off.


    My beta worked his jaw, a low growl rumbling in his throat.


    "Judging by the look on your face, I can’t quite tell if your trip with Asha went well or not." He was doing that thing where he let his words hang heavy in the air between us.


    Knowing Francis, he wouldn’t say another word until I was ready to talk.


    "We had a good time," I pushed the words past my dry throat.


    I drank a mouthful of whiskey, barely registering the usual harsh burn in my chest. I felt numb. More than that—I felt cold all over. And angry.


    Maeve made me angry. She drove me insane with her frothy words and rigid demands.


    "It was all going pretty well until Maeve showed up, raining brimstone and thunderstorms." I couldn’t speak without shaking with the force of my annoyance and indignation.


    "She did?" Francis grimaced, clearly picturing how horribly the exchange had gone.


    "Apparently," I stressed, dragging the word out. "I’m not supposed to take Asha out without her consent. Can you believe that? Where the fuck does she get the balls to act all prissy and domineering with me? He’s my son too. I could name him officially as my heir today and take him away from her, but you don’t see me doing that."


    "Maeve would probably set Ash Creek on fire if you tried," Francis said. He didn’t mean it as a joke—he actually sounded serious.


    I pinched the bridge of my nose, recalling everything I’d said to her on the tarmac.


    It had never been my thing to open up and be vulnerable, but I’d done it.


    For her.


    How could she so easily conclude that I was being insincere?


    Sure, I’d made mistakes—judging her hastily, branding her as a drunken monster in the past. And yes, I deeply regretted it now.


    Somehow, I believed there was truth in the answers she had given me. While the picture still stood as damning evidence, I wasn’t going to overlook my gut feeling this time.


    Until the mess of the past was sorted out, I intended to make our shared present bearable. Happy, even.


    Why was it so hard for her to give me a chance to prove myself?


    Why did her rejection still hurt so much?


    Speaking of rejection, she probably still wanted to proceed with the separation ritual. I knew she did.


    With how furious she’d sounded, she most definitely wished she never had to cross paths with me again.


    And there was that one wolf out there—her chosen mate. The one she imed to have feelings for now.


    In this moment, I would have done anything to know his identity. Who he was. Why he was so special to her. Why she felt like she could rece me with him.


    But the truth was that if I found out whom he was, I’d probably arrange for his funeral.