Iris
“He’s my brother,” I announce, my throat sore and raspy from the lingering effects of anaphylactic shock. “I’m the lost Willford heir. And I’m a werewolf.”
The silence that follows my revelation is deafening. Arthur stares at me as if he’s seeing me for the first time—which, in a strange sort of way, I suppose he is. His face cycles through shock, confusion, and then something that makes my heart shatter: betrayal.
“What?” The word comes out strangled. He looks between Caleb and me, searching for any sign that this is some kind of joke. But our faces remain deadly serious.
“Arthur, please,” I say weakly, reaching for him despite the IV tugging at my arm. “Let me explain—”
“Explain?” He takes a step back, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Explain how you
