Arthur
Veronica and I emerge from the small office just as the police officers march Iris and Ezra through the crowd in handcuffs. Watching Iris throw one last desperate look over her shoulder at me makes something stir in my chest.
Iris. My mate.
Before I can grasp the thought, Veronica takes my face in her hands and kisses me deeply. Her scent envelops me, drowning out everything else. The crowd around us murmurs and gasps, and when we pull apart, I feel strangely dizzy.
“Don’t worry about them, darling,” Veronica whispers, adjusting my tie. “They got what they deserved.”
I nod automatically, but something feels off. Wrong. The way Iris looked at me as they dragged her away—not with hatred or anger, but with a deep, profound sadness. But there was something else there
