Five Years Later

MAEVE

Five years. That was how long it had been since I was unceremoniously kicked out, shattered, and left for dead. Now, I stood in the middle of a bustling, noisy airport collection center back where it all began. The overwhelming clamor of rolling suitcases, blaring intercom announcements, and reuniting families faded into a dull roar as my eyes locked onto a familiar, grizzled figure in the crowd.

Gideon. One of my father's oldest, most loyal guards.

I walked straight up to him, a genuine smile pulling at my lips. I expected recognition, maybe a little shock. What I got instead was a polite, entirely dismissive brush-off.

"I'm sorry, miss," Gideon grunted, his eyes scanning right past my shoulder to search the throngs of arriving passengers. "But I'm here on duty. I'm supposed to be picking someone up, so I can't give you a free ride, if that's what you're asking."

I pressed my lips together, struggling hard to hold back a bubbling laugh. "I know why you're here. You've been sent to pick up Maeve Winslow, right? It's me, Gideon."

The older man stopped craning his neck and finally focused fully on me. His bushy brows crashed together, eyes narrowing in deep, unyielding suspicion. "How do you know my name?" he demanded gruffly. "And... there's absolutely no way you're Maeve. What you're claiming is physically impossible." He shook his head, looking at me like I was playing a cruel prank. "The Maeve I know is..."

His voice trailed off. Even now, even facing a stranger he thought was messing with him, he couldn't bring himself to say the cruel word.

"Ugly?" I finished for him, offering him a broad, confident smile.

He frowned, clearly thrown off, but the hesitation lingered in his posture. Back in the day, Gideon was the only person in my father's estate who refused to call me that vile word. He actually cared about my feelings, and even to this beautiful stranger, he refused to use it.

I let out a soft laugh. "Well, would it help if I reminded you that your absolute favorite meal is butternut squash soup? And that you and little Maeve used to spend hours sitting on the floor playing endless games of chutes and ladders?"

Recognition struck him like a physical blow. The old guard's jaw dropped in utter astonishment, his eyes blowing wide as he took in the unblemished, smooth skin of my face.

"Seraphis have mercy!" Gideon gasped out, his voice cracking with pure emotion. "Maeve? Is it really you?"

He threw his arms open, and I didn't hesitate for a single second. I stepped forward and let him pull me into a tight, warm hug. He smelled like pine and old leather, exactly as I remembered. He was the closest thing I ever had to a real parent in that cold, unforgiving house.

"How is this even possible?" he stammered, pulling back to look at me at arm's length. "Your face... my goodness, Maeve. You look gorgeous. Flawless. You've only been gone in Aethelgard for five years, and... I just can't believe this."

"It's a long story, Gideon," I replied, a soft sense of triumphant confidence washing over me. "Let's just say the fates finally decided to smile on me."

"Oh, Maeve! You have no idea how happy I am to see you. Your father is going to be absolutely astounded to see that you're not... un-beautiful anymore."

I chuckled at his stubborn refusal to use the word ugly. "Here, let me take that to the car," he offered eagerly, grabbing the handle of my main suitcase.

"Thanks. Go ahead, I'll meet you outside. I just need to fetch my extra luggage from the oversized carousel. Don't worry, I'll be quick."

I turned on my heel to head toward the collection area. I hadn't even taken three steps when Gideon called out behind me. "Hey, you dropped something."

I paused and glanced down at the scuffed airport floor. My heart instantly leaped into my throat, slamming against my windpipe in pure panic. Fluttering gently to a halt near my boot was a highly sensitive item that had slipped right out of my back pocket. A scanned ultrasound image of a fetus.

Cold dread spiked through my veins. Under Gideon's intensely surprised and questioning gaze, I frantically crouched down, snatching the black-and-white scan off the linoleum floor. I could feel his eyes boring into my back. He had clearly seen what it was and was undoubtedly wondering why the hell I was carrying around a fetal ultrasound in my jeans.

"It's—it's not mine," I stammered out, forcing a clumsy, desperate lie through my tight throat. I cleared my throat, silently praying the lie sounded somewhat plausible. "I just... picked it up by mistake. Somewhere else."

Before he could ask another question or push for the truth, I shoved the crumpled image deep into my front pocket. "I really need to get my bags!" I tossed over my shoulder, practically hurrying away from him to avoid any further interrogation.

By the time I reached the luggage collection center, my newly restored peace was completely shattered. Waiting idly by the slow-moving carousel, dark, disturbing thoughts began to heavily cloud my mind. The panic over the ultrasound brought all the trauma rushing back to the surface. I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, staring blankly at the revolving conveyor belt.

I wasn't here for a happy family reunion. I had returned for one singular, painful reason: to permanently and legally cut ties with my abusive ex-mate, Cormac.

In our world, severing a mate bond wasn't as simple as a verbal rejection. Years ago, when we first mated, a union ribbon had been tied and physically stored in the temple. Even though Cormac had cruelly denounced me, thrown me away, and banished me, that damn ribbon remained physically intact. To completely sever the tie, both mates had to denounce the bond verbally and then physically cut the ribbon together. Because of my sudden departure, we never finished the process. Now, five years later, the asshole had apparently found a new mate, but the temple strictly prevented him from officially accepting her while our ribbon still existed.

I was more than ready. I couldn't wait to take a pair of shears to that lingering thread and be completely done with the monster who had ruined my life.

"Excuse me, miss. I need a moment of your time."

The sudden, rough voice directly behind me snapped me out of my bitter reverie. I turned around to find a burly, intimidating guard looming over me. He wore a sharp black suit and dark sunglasses, projecting an air of absolute authority.

I furrowed my brows. "Can I help you?"

The guard didn't even bother to be polite. He lifted a thick finger, pointing toward a dimly lit mini-bar a short distance away. "The Alpha over there is demanding an audience with you."

I barely glanced in the direction of the bar. Over the past few years, ever since my face healed, I was constantly exhausted by the endless, unwanted male attention my stunning new looks attracted. It felt like I couldn't walk into a single public space without some entitled man thinking he had a right to my time. I didn't care if he was an Alpha. I was done being submissive.

"I'm in a hurry," I coldly dismissed the guard, turning my attention back to the empty luggage belt. "Tell him no."

The burly guard's jaw tightened visibly. He practically bristled, thoroughly offended that a mere woman would dismiss a powerful rank so casually. He took an aggressive step closer, attempting to intimidate and entice me into compliance.

"You really shouldn't do that," the guard pushed harder, his voice dropping into a proud, warning growl. "You don't understand who you're rejecting. That man is Alpha Cormac of Duskwood."

The name hit me like a devastating physical blow.

All the air rushed right out of my lungs. My eyes immediately flicked toward the bar. Even though his face was partially obscured by the counter, the broad shoulders and the dark, arrogant posture were unmistakable. It was my ex-mate. The very monster I had traveled all this way to finally divorce.

My chest instantly tightened with a vicious, suffocating rush of old pain. The memories of his disgust, his cruel words, and the way he discarded me threatened to drown me right there in the terminal. It took every single ounce of my willpower to keep my facial expression completely intact. I dug my fingernails so painfully deep into my palms that the skin nearly broke.

"That identity," I gritted out, my voice trembling with suppressed rage as I turned my back on the guard, "is even more reason not to see him."

Desperate to escape the impending confrontation, I practically lunged toward a nearby airport worker who was holding a clipboard. "Excuse me!" I demanded, my heart hammering violently against my ribs. "I need an immediate update on the oversized luggage for Aethelgard arrivals. Where are my bags?"

"T-they should be out any minute, ma'am," the worker stuttered, taken aback by my frantic tone.

I silently prayed to the Seraphis to make the bags appear instantly so I could make a quick exit. Unfortunately, the airport staff was nowhere near fast enough.

As I stood there waiting, completely exposed and trapped by the slow machinery, a heavy prickle of awareness danced down my spine. My blood ran completely cold. I forced my gaze up, looking past the worker's shoulder.

I watched in absolute horror as Cormac personally stepped away from the mini-bar. His dark, predatory eyes were locked dead onto me. He was deliberately closing the distance, his long, confident strides eating up the terminal floor as he approached me directly.

He had no idea who I was. He was walking right toward the beautiful stranger he was so desperately trying to summon, completely unaware that she was the very same ugly mate he had so brutally rejected five years ago.