Chapter 5: Hearbreak

LIAM

The reception tent buzzed with life, the sounds of clinking glasses and laughter ringing in my ears, but it all blurred into nothing. All I could focus on was her. Maeve. Standing just across the room, wearing Isabelle's too-tight wedding dress, the fabric clinging awkwardly to her frame. It should've been her day with me. The image seared into my mind like a branding iron. Maeve was supposed to be mine. The laughter that should have been ours drifted between her and Ronan, and it felt like a slap in the face.

I clenched my jaw, struggling to maintain the facade. I had to. It was what was expected of me, wasn't it? The dutiful younger brother, always standing beside the Alpha, never in front of him. My grip tightened on the champagne flute, the glass biting into my palm. If I wasn't careful, I'd shatter it in my hand, but that would only draw attention. No one could know what I was feeling—least of all Ronan or Maeve.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Maeve and I had been together for years. We'd made plans, whispered about the future in the quiet hours of the night when it felt like the world belonged to just us. I had the ring, a small box hidden away, waiting for the right moment. I'd planned to ask her to marry me after Ronan's wedding. She was busy with the preparations—four years of planning the damn thing—and I'd been ready to propose weeks ago. But no, Mother had suggested I wait.

She'd sat me down, all composed and practical, as usual. "Give Maeve time," she'd said. "She's overwhelmed right now with the wedding planning. Once Ronan and Isabelle are married, she'll have more time, and it will be perfect. You don't want to add more to her plate." It made sense then, didn't it? Why pressure Maeve during such a chaotic time?

But now, standing here, watching her with Ronan, I realized I'd been played. My mother, Jean Westwood, always thought first about Ronan—never me. Always about what was best for him, for the pack, for politics. Not her own damn kids. And now, look where it had gotten me. Maeve was wrapped up in a political nightmare, and I was left choking on my own regret.

Ronan stood close to my girl now, his presence a constant shadow, always hovering. Protective. I hated it. The way he couldn't seem to let her out of his sight, like she was already his. As if the wedding hadn't just bound them together in name, but in something deeper. The fertility ritual. The power-sharing ritual. I could feel the dark energy from them lingering in the air, wrapping around them like invisible chains. No one else seemed to notice, but I did. And it gnawed at me, tearing me apart from the inside.

I drained the last of my champagne, trying to swallow the bitter taste of jealousy that had been lodged in my throat all night. I should've been the one at her side. Maeve and I had a future planned out, something simple and real. Now, I was forced to watch as she played the role of Ronan's bride. His bride. My wolf growled beneath my skin, restless and agitated, but I pushed it down. I couldn't afford to lose control. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

But every time I looked at them, my control slipped a little more.

And tonight? Tonight, it was worse. The full moon burned overhead like a blood-red eye, watching, waiting. It wasn't just any full moon; it was a Blood Moon, and the power it radiated was more intense than anything I'd ever felt in my life. I'd seen dozens of full moons, shifted under their light, but tonight... it was different. It clawed at me, pulling at my wolf, dragging it closer to the surface with every passing second. I could feel it, just beneath my skin, wild and feral, ready to break free.

The Blood Moon demanded something primal, something violent. And all I wanted to do was tear Ronan apart.

The thought hit me like a punch to the gut, and I gripped the edge of the nearest table, trying to steady myself. My hands trembled with the effort of keeping my wolf at bay. It was the moon, I told myself. The moon was messing with my head, amplifying the jealousy and anger that were already bubbling up inside me. It had to be.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

I wanted Maeve. I wanted to take her, claim her as mine, and run to the ends of the earth where no one could find us. No pack. No Coven. No Ronan. Just her and me, the way it was supposed to be. The urge was so strong, so overwhelming, that it nearly drove me to my knees.

I clenched my fists, feeling the sharp sting of my nails digging into my palms. The pain helped, but it wasn't enough to drown out the roar of my wolf inside me. It howled for freedom, for blood, for Maeve. The Blood Moon only made it worse, feeding the beast, driving it to the edge of madness.

I glanced across the room, my vision tinged with red. Ronan's hand brushed against Maeve's arm again, and I could feel my control slipping. My brother, the Alpha. The one who always had everything. And now, he had her, too. My wolf snarled inside me, and for a moment, I considered it—giving in, letting the wolf take over. I could leap across the room, tear Ronan's throat out before anyone had a chance to stop me. I could grab Maeve and run, leave all of this behind.

The image flashed in my mind, vivid and sharp. Maeve in my arms, her body pressed against mine as we ran through the forest, the moonlight guiding us. I'd take her far away, somewhere no one could touch us, where no one could take her from me again. She'd be mine, like she was always meant to be.

But that was a fantasy. One I couldn't afford to indulge in.

I slammed the glass down on the table, ignoring the sharp stares from some of the pack members. Let them watch. Let them judge. I needed air. Space. Anything to clear my head before I did something stupid—something I couldn't take back.

As I pushed my way through the crowd, I caught a glimpse of Ronan's hand sliding down to rest at the small of Maeve's back, just below her waist, guiding her through the reception like she was his to protect. His to own. My vision tunneled for a moment, anger flashing white-hot in my chest. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.

I didn't even know if Ronan was doing it on purpose or if it was just instinct, but the way Maeve responded to him—it was like watching someone slowly pull the ground out from beneath my feet. She looked at him like he was her anchor, the one keeping her steady in the chaos.

And then it happened.

The fleeting touch. Her hand brushed against his, and it wasn't an accident. It couldn't have been. It was too deliberate, too real. For a split second, their fingers intertwined, and I felt my heart shatter in my chest.

The connection was undeniable.

I staggered back, the air knocked out of me as if I'd been punched. This was more than just a political alliance. The rituals had changed something, deepened something between them. It wasn't just physical anymore. It was emotional, magical, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I stood there, frozen, watching as Ronan leaned down, his mouth close to her ear, whispering something I couldn't hear. Whatever it was, it made Maeve smile—a soft, genuine smile that sent a wave of nausea rolling through me. That smile used to be mine.

But now it was his.

A hand clapped down on my shoulder, jolting me out of my trance. I turned to see Cillian, one of Ronan's inner circle, giving me a look of cautious sympathy. "Liam," he said quietly, his voice low enough that no one else could hear. "You okay, mate?"

No. I wasn't. But what could I say? That I was watching the love of my life slip away into my brother's arms? That every second I stood here felt like a slow, torturous death? That I wanted to rip Ronan apart for taking what was mine?

I forced a grin, one that didn't come close to reaching my eyes. "Yeah, just needed some air."

Cillian raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced, but he didn't push. "You sure? Because if I were you, I'd be hitting the whiskey by now."

I almost laughed, but the sound came out more like a hollow cough. "Maybe later."

He gave me a nod, his expression softening. "Look, I know this whole thing's a mess, but... it'll settle. Ronan's just trying to keep the peace, yeah? You know how he is."

Yeah. I know how he is. Always the protector. Always the Alpha. And now Maeve was part of that protection, wasn't she? She was bound to him now in ways I could never compete with.

I nodded, more to get him to stop talking than anything else. Cillian patted my shoulder once more before heading back into the crowd, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I took another glance toward Maeve and Ronan, just in time to see him pull her a little closer as they walked. My heart clenched painfully in my chest. They were bound together now, whether they wanted it or not. And no matter how much I tried to deny it, I could see it in her eyes, in the way she looked at him.

I was losing her.

And the worst part? There was nothing I could do to stop it.

For the first time in my life, I wasn't just standing in Ronan's shadow.

I was being crushed by it.