POV: Chloe

The knock hit like a thunderclap.

"Chloe? Baby, are you awake?" Ethan asked. His voice sounded worried, completely clueless that my world was ending on the other side of the door.

Tristan stood perfectly still. His amber eyes were steady in the lamplight, acting like he had all the time in the world. Like his brother wasn't three steps away from blowing this wide open.

"Please." I grabbed his arm, my fingers digging into solid muscle. "Get in the wardrobe, Tris. Please."

Something shifted in his gaze. Not fear. Just cold calculation, like he was weighing the cost of letting Ethan bust the door down versus the sick thrill of watching from the shadows.

"Chloe?" Another knock. Louder. "I heard something. You okay?" Ethan pounded harder.

"Tristan..." I breathed, sounding like terrified prey.

He shot me a lethal glare, then sauntered over to the wardrobe and yanked it open. He cast one last burning look over his broad shoulder, then stepped inside. He left the door cracked. Just a sliver. Just enough to see everything.

He was going to watch...

I pressed my palms flat against my stomach, took a deep breath, and opened the door. Ethan stood there holding a mug, steam curling from the rim. Sweatpants, messy hair, his gaze raking over my face instantly.

"I brought warm milk," he said, offering a sweet smile. "You were tense at dinner. Figured you couldn't sleep."

My chest ached. This was the Ethan I knew. The guy who noticed, who showed up late just to take care of me.

"You didn't have to. I was just about to crash, actually."

"Can I come in?" he asked, perking up.

"No, I'm exhausted," I blurted in a panic, hurting his feelings.

He stepped inside anyway. His nostrils flared. Just once. His jaw clamped tight for a split second before smoothing out.

He was scenting the room. I knew damn well he’d pick up Tristan's thick musk. I kept my face blank, playing dumb. Ethan set the mug on the nightstand and turned around. His gaze snagged on my hand.

The ring.

Tristan's ring, still jammed on my finger where he'd forced it minutes ago. Cheap, worn, and totally unmistakable to anyone who recognized it.

"That ring." His voice was carefully casual. "Where did you get it?"

"I found it on the vanity. Just picked it up." I forced a laugh, the sound pathetic to my own ears. "Bad habit. I always try on random jewelry."

Ethan stared at the metal for a long beat, his eyes flicking to my face like he was doing the math.

"Take it off," he finally commanded.

"Ethan..."

"Please." He closed his warm hand around mine, his thumb rubbing the band. "That's Tristan's."

"Is it important? I didn't realize this cheap ring mattered to him," I lied smoothly.

"It's not that." He dropped my hand and stepped back, rubbing his neck. "Tristan has been alone for seven years. He hasn't dated or let anyone close. Pureblood wolves usually only want their fated mate. Whatever happened back then broke something inside him." He fixed me with an earnest stare. "His things, his scent... he goes feral when people touch them. You should just toss it. If he notices it's gone, he won't care. But if he sees it on you..."

"Fine, I'll take it off."

But my fingers wouldn't budge. Ethan watched me, then closed the distance. His hands gripped my hips, his face dipping toward my throat.

"Ethan." I shoved a hand against his chest.

"I just want to hold you. I missed you," he rasped, dragging me against his hard body.

I knew what this was: pure animal instinct. Underneath the sweet talk, his inner beast was desperate to rub his scent all over me. His brother's lingering scent was making him insanely jealous, and he didn't even know why. He wanted to claim me, to layer his smell over whatever his wolf had detected. He was acting totally blind, which made it worse.

"Not tonight," I murmured softly. "I'm exhausted. It feels weird with your brother right down the hall, especially after those strict rules." I pushed him away gently.

His jaw ticked. He hated the rejection. For a split second, his eyes darkened, his wolf glaring right at me. Then he exhaled and nodded.

"Okay." He pressed a firm kiss to my forehead, lingering to leave his mark, then shoved the mug into my hands. "Drink this before it gets cold," he said with a tight smile.

He walked out, pulling the door shut. I listened until his heavy footsteps faded away.

Three seconds of dead silence. Then the wardrobe creaked open.

Tristan stepped out, and the feral look on his face sucked the oxygen from my lungs. It wasn't just rage. It was something primal. A hungry beast that had been starving for seven years, feeding on secrets, and it was officially done waiting.

He crossed the room in a blur. Before I could flinch, my back slammed into the wall. His thick forearm crashed beside my head, caging me in. He didn't touch me. He just loomed close enough that his body heat scorched me. Close enough that I could inhale his cedar and tobacco—that intoxicating musk that had haunted my wet dreams for seven years.

"Tristan..."

"Seven years," he murmured. A lethal whisper, way scarier than a scream. "I rejected every arrangement the elders pushed. Every female they paraded around. Every pack alliance that demanded a mating." His glowing eyes locked onto mine and refused to let go. "I wore that ring every damn day. And tonight, you strut through my front door holding my brother's hand."

"It isn't..."

"Don't." A deep, rumbling growl. "I watched him put his hands all over you. I watched him sniff your neck. You wore his hickey to my dinner table, Chloe."

The accusation knocked the wind out of me. His wolf was clawing to get out. I felt the heavy pressure in the room, like a massive predator pressing against the inside of his skin. His eyes bled from amber to pure gold.

"Do you have any fucking idea what it does to an Alpha," he asked dangerously, "to see another male's teeth marks on his mate?"

"I'm not your mate," I stammered, trembling. "You don't get to call me that."

"The mate bond doesn't ask permission." His rough thumb pressed against the tender skin of my jaw, right where Ethan's mouth had just been. The touch sent a wicked thrill straight to my soaked core. "It doesn't care how much time has passed or whose bed you've been sleeping in."

"Tristan, stop..."

"When you went on the first date, the second... when you let him call you 'baby'..." He leaned in closer. "Did you ever, even once, think about the knot you left behind?"

The filthy question stripped me bare. Because the honest answer—the one I wouldn't even admit when I touched myself in the dark—was yes. Every single time. In every quiet moment.

"It doesn't matter what I thought," I breathed. "What matters is what I chose. What I'm still choosing."

Something cracked in his expression, then instantly turned to stone. His large hand slid around my throat, his thumb pressing into my pulse point. The dominant grip sent hot arousal shooting straight down to my clit.

His head dipped. Not a kiss, just agonizingly close. His hot breath ghosted my lips before his mouth found the bruise on my neck. He didn't bite me. He just pressed his lips to the throbbing pulse, a deliberate, claiming brand. His alpha wolf dominating the spot, wiping out every trace of Ethan.

I raised my hands to shove him off, but my traitorous fingers curled into his shirt instead. He froze. A hard shudder ripped through his massive frame—the tight restraint of a beast on a very short leash.

A rough, needy sound ripped from his chest. When he lifted his head, his eyes were blinding gold. Then he stepped back, his possessive stare still pinning me to the wall.

"Break up with him." His voice was a gravelly command. "End it."

"He's your brother. He loves you. Do you have any idea what this would do to him?" I pleaded.

"He can love me and still not fuck you," Tristan growled, turning toward the hidden passage. He paused, bracing a hand against the frame, his broad back facing me. "They are not the same thing," he added, pushing the door open.

“Don’t take the ring off,” he said, pausing slightly. “Or take it off. The choice, as always, is yours.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

I stood in the dead silence for a long time. The milk was warm in my hands, the steam totally gone, and Tristan's ring was still securely wrapped around my finger. Outside, the rain lashed against the glass, a brutal reminder that I was trapped in a cage match between two alphas.