~ RONAN ~
Roselle is curled up on the bed, trembling violently as her entire body shakes. My eyes dart from her to Irina, trying to make sense of what the hell is happening. Is she sick? Is that why she’s been so distant lately?
Irina rises to her feet and gives a slight bow. "She’s going to be fine," she says, her voice calm and reassuring. "It’s just an after-effect of her heat. I already gave her an injection to help, and it should start working in a few moments."
She gestures toward the nightstand, where the used syringe lies.
I nod, staring at Roselle, then back at Irina one more time. I move closer to the bed, sitting on the edge and gently pulling her into my arms.
"I’ve got you," I murmur against her hair, holding her trembling body against mine. "I’m right here."
Irina clears her throat. "I’ll have to leave her now in your care... though she’ll need the drugs. I’ll ask Elias to bring them over," she says, and then finally leaves the room, the door closing softly after her.
Roselle leans into me, quivering as she begins to break out into sobs — softly at first, then louder, a raw, broken cry that tears at something deep inside me. I pat her back gently, my hand moving in slow, soothing circles, but it feels useless. Fucking hell, is the hormone that bad to drive her this sober?
"It’s fine... it’s fine..." I try encouraging her, even though I know it’s hurting me deeply to hear her cry while I have nothing to do about it.
Shit.
It takes me seeing her this broken for me to finally realize that I... I’m worse at this relationship thing than I thought. What do I do to stop her... to comfort her?
My brain had only ever registered women as the exact type you flaunt with money, take out shopping, and do all the fun stuff with. But with Roselle, it isn’t that way... and I don’t know what to do in this case.
~ ROSELLE ~
Buried in Ronan’s arms, I listen to every word Irina says... or am I supposed to call her my mother? The mother I only just found out I have.
I have so many questions. Too damn many to throw at her.
How did everyone come to believe she was dead? Why did she leave? Why did she stay away for so long? And...
Fuck. I just can’t bring myself to ask. Because I’m afraid whatever her reason is will only make me even angrier. It just doesn’t sit right with me that while.
I never thought something could be this triggering, so capable of dragging my trauma back to the surface. Not in a fucking million years. I thought I’d moved past it. I thought Dr. Morrison had helped me climb over that wall.
But right now, it feels like a wound that had only just begun to heal has been ripped wide open all over again.
Two months of working on myself—on my emotions, my trauma, and everything I fought so hard to overcome—feels like it’s all gone down the drain.
And it fucking hurts. It fucking stings...
A broken sob tears out of me as I bury my face deeper into Ronan’s chest.
I’m trying to shut out the voices in my head, but they just keep screaming, growing louder and louder.


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