It was Gideon.
He appeared like a savior from the clouds. He didn't look angry. He, however, appeared devastated. He pulled my head into the crook of his neck, shielding my face from the cameras with his broad shoulder.
He smelled of expensive sandalwood and the crisp, clean scent of the morning… which was a stark contrast to the dark, spicy storm that was Jarek Ashthorne.
"Please, everyone," Gideon declared in a voice that carried a note of heartbreak.
"My wife is... she is still navigating the profound trauma of her father's passing. The Goldbane loss is deep, and today has been... a lot for her."
A collective "aww" spread through the pack members. I felt the shift in the atmosphere. Their predatory curiosity had transformed into a profound, pitying admiration for the man holding me.
"You're such a good man, Alpha Gideon," an elderly woman called out, wiping a tear from her eye. "To be so patient with her..."
"She's lucky to have him," another added. "The way he protects her. He's the best husband a woman could ask for."
Gideon squeezed me tighter, his thumb stroking my arm in a way that looked tender but felt like a grip of iron. "I must ask you all to excuse us. My duty to the pack is paramount, but my duty to my wife comes first. I need to take her inside."
He guided me away, his arm firmly around my waist. The press parted like the Red Sea, offering respectful nods. To the world, we were the ultimate tragedy: the noble, struggling hero and his broken, beautiful heiress.
The moment we cleared the threshold of the grand foyer, the atmosphere changed. The cold silence of the marble hall replaced the warmth of the sun. Barnaby stood by the door with disapproval on his face while Vector loitered in the shadows of the stairs.
Gideon didn't say a word. He simply marched me toward our private wing, his pace so fast I had to trot to keep up. Marisol followed a few paces behind, her head bowed.
We reached our bedroom, and Gideon kicked the door shut with a violence that made the crystal chandelier overhead shiver. He let go of me so abruptly that I stumbled into the edge of the mahogany bedpost.
"Gideon, thank you," I breathed, clutching my chest. "The crowd, I just—I don't know what happened, I–"
"You stupid, pathetic bitch," he spat.
The words were an unexpected blow.
I recoiled and my heart stopped. I had never heard him use that tone—not to me, not to anyone. "Gideon? What... what did you say?"
Crack.
The sound was louder than a gunshot. My head snapped to the side, my vision exploding into a constellation of white spots. The searing, throbbing heat that blossomed across my left cheek was immediate.
I fell onto the bed, my hand flying to my face. The world tilted. I tasted copper in my mouth. My brain refused to process the physical sensation.
Gideon? Gideon had hit me? My husband, who had spent years telling me I was his light, had just struck the heiress of the House he was only acting for.
"Do you have any idea what you just did?" Gideon roared, looming over me.
He looked like a stranger now. I couldn't fathom how such handsome features sharpened into something monstrous so fast and so suddenly. "I have spent weeks building a narrative of stability! I have the Council in my pocket! I have the press calling me the savior of the Goldbane Pack! And you... you run out of a storage shed like a common whore, screaming in front of the cameras?"
I looked up at him, my eyes wide and swimming with a shock that eclipsed the pain. I wasn't just hurt; I was horrified.
"You... you hit me," I whispered, my voice quivering. "I am the Goldbane heiress, Gideon. This is my house. My father's house. How dare you—"
"This house belongs to whoever can lead it!" He grabbed a handful of my hair, jerking my head back so I had to look at him.
His breath smelled of the coffee we'd just shared, and it made me want to retch. "You are a liability, Elowen. You are an empty vessel. I give you everything. I give you my name, my protection... and you repay me by making me look like the caretaker of a lunatic?"
He shoved me away, and I collapsed against the pillows. I wasn't crying yet; I was too stunned. The man standing before me was a predator who had finally taken off his sheep's skin.
"And I'll do it again if you ever embarrass me like that again," he warned, his voice changing to a calm whisper.
He straightened his cuffs and like smoke, I watched the rage dissipate. "You will stay in this room. You will not see the press. You will not see the pack. Marisol will bring you your meals, and Vector will be in shortly to adjust your dosage. Clearly, the current 'hallucinations' are becoming a public relations nightmare."
He turned toward the door, where Marisol was standing. She wasn't crying, but definitely looked shocked.
"Watch her," Gideon commanded Marisol. "If she so much as looks at a window, tell me."
"Yes, Alpha," Marisol murmured.
Gideon looked back at me one last time with a mocking smirk. "You want to be a Goldbane, Ellie? Start acting like one. Or I'll make sure the only place you ever see the sun again is from behind the bars of a sanitarium. Do I make myself clear?"
He walked out, slamming the door. I lay there in the silence, the side of my face throbbing.
What… what had just happened?