Chapter 90 Be Honest with Me
Aelira’s POV
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Jomic sits hunched at the bed’s edge, his clothes crumpled and his hair unkempt. The angry red marks on his wrists from the silver restraints stand out starkly against his skin. Despite everything, he remains my only family, and witnessing him in this condition pains my heart.
“I told you, they were merely rogue wolves from a neutral area,” Jornic mutters, fixating on the floor instead of meeting my gaze. “I must have unknowingly crossed someone’s path.”
His wolf’s scent saturates the room with a sharp hint of anxiety as he shifts restlessly. Having grown up with him, I can sense when he is not being truthful.
“Cut it out,” I say, my voice growing firmer with each syllable. “Tell me the truth. Did Draven Cook send those men after you?”
Jornic shrugs, still evading my stare. “I don’t know any Draven Cook.”
The blatant falsehood is the final straw. After everything I’ve endured, his relentless deception feels like a betrayal.
“I’m finished,” I say, turning toward the door where Daelor stands patiently. “If you can’t be upfront with me, there’s nothing left to discuss.”
My hand instinctively moves to my belly, where my unborn pup is growing. The tension isn’t healthy for
either of us.
“Wait.”
It isn’t Jornic who speaks but Daelor. His calm voice slices through the tension like a knife as he pulls
a chair directly in front of my brother.
“Mr. Sunmere,” Daelor states, his dominant Alpha presence instantly filling every nook of the room.
“We are aware of your connection with Cyrinne Wynthor.”
Jornic’s eyes widen in disbelief, then quickly narrow defensively. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
TH
“We understand that your relationship started before she severed her mate bond with Draven Cook,‘ Daelor continues, his silver–gray eyes fixed on my brother’s face like a predator sizing up its prey.
The color drains from Jornic’s face at once. His composure disintegrates under Daelor’s intimidating scrutiny.
THE
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“I had no idea she was mated,” he stutters, his wolf’s submissive instincts clearly taking over as he
hunches his shoulders even more. “She never told me.”
“Yet you continued seeing her after learning that,” I interject, the sting of his betrayal cutting deeper than I anticipated.
Jomic quickly averts his gaze, his silence confirming my accusation more effectively than words ever
could.
Daelor leans forward, his potent Alpha scent growing stronger until it fills the entire room. “How did you first encounter Cyrinne Wynthor?”
My brother appears to physically shrink under Daelor’s intense interrogation. Even in the absence of an Alpha command, Daelor’s mere presence is typically enough to compel most wolves to submit.
“Through the territorial pack forums,” Jornic finally responds, his voice almost a whisper. “She reached
out to me first.”
“Why would she specifically choose to contact you?” I query, genuinely perplexed by this revelation.
Jornic shrugs uncomfortably. “We shared certain interests. We traded photos and then began video calls on our phones.”
“When did you realize she was Cyrinne Wynthor, the famous healer?” Daelor continues to press, refusing to let him off the hook.
“After a few weeks,” Jornic confesses, his voice diminishing with each response. “By then, we had
already connected.”
“When did you finally meet face–to–face?” I ask, trying to clarify the timeline.
“Only after she severed her mate bond with Draven,” Jornic maintains, a note of desperation creeping
into his tone. “That was when she returned to Thunder Pack territory.”
My emotions surge uncontrollably, my wolf agitated beneath my skin, fueled by rising anger. “Did your
introduce her to Mom?”
Jornic hesitates noticeably, his gaze flickering nervously between Daelor and me like a trapped
animal.
“Answer her,” Daelor commands, the undeniable authority in his voice reverberating through the space.
Jornic flinches as if struck, the command making it nearly impossible for him to lie. “Yes,” he admits reluctantly. “Once.”
The confirmation strikes me like a physical blow to the chest. So my mother was aware of Cyrinne!
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This fact sheds light on her intense reaction when she encountered the territorial gossip about Cyrinne
and Alarion. It explains why she collapsed upon hearing Cyrinne’s voice on Alarion’s phone during that
pack gathering.
“You brought Cyrinne to meet Mom,” I say, my voice shaking with barely suppressed rage, “knowing
she was pursuing my mate.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Jornic defends himself, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Cyrinne
wanted to meet my family. She seemed genuinely interested.”
But clarity floods my mind now–I see the calculating nature of Cyrinne’s actions throughout the entire
sequence of events. She had intentionally triggered my mother’s heart condition to instigate a mate
bond severance between Alarion and me.
“She manipulated you to reach me,” I state, the insight burning like acid in my chest. “And you allowed
it.”
“No, Aelira, you’re mistaken,” Jornic insists, suddenly rising from the bed with clenched fists.
“Sit down,” Daelor commands sharply, and my brother immediately obeys, the weight of the Alpha’s
authority leaving no room for defiance in a lower–ranking wolf.
I struggle to contain my fury now, my wolf snarling within me, clamoring for release.
“You and Cyrinne are to blame for Mom’s death,” I accuse, my voice quaking with the intensity of my
feelings.
Jornic’s expression twists with anger, his features hardening. “That’s absurd! Mom passed away due
to her silver blood disease. It was a natural progression, nothing to do with Cyrinne.”
“Really?” I challenge, stepping closer to him. “That’s not what you said when you were drunk and placed the blame on me for her death.”
“I was upset,” he mutters, looking away. “I didn’t mean it.”
The hypocrisy is unbearable. Instinctively, I step forward and deliver a hard slap to his face, the sound
cracking like thunder through the room.
The noise reverberates in the still apartment, plunging us into a heavy silence.
Jornic becomes completely still, his hand slowly rising to touch his reddening cheek, disbelief clear on his face. The fur of his wolf bristles beneath the surface of his skin, reacting to the challenge.
“How dare you!” he growls, his tone deepening into something menacing. “How dare you hit me!”
Tears fall from my eyes as I confront my brother, the last family member I have, now feeling like a
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“You and Cyrinne are essentially responsible for our mother’s death!” I yell, my voice breaking with a
mix of anguish and rage.
In an instant, Jornic leaps to his feet, his amber eyes flashing dangerously with the spirit of his wolf.
“No, Aelira. You are the one who killed her!”
“What?” I stammer, shocked by the cruelty of his accusation.
“If you had been a true mate to Alarion,” Jornic snaps, advancing toward me until Daelor steps
protectively by my side, “he wouldn’t have turned to Cyrinne. You couldn’t even hold on to your own
mate!”
His words strike me like blows, each one landing with devastating accuracy.
“Mom saw those photographs of Alarion with Cyrinne on the day of their marking ceremony,” Jornic
continues, his voice escalating. “It broke her heart to witness her daughter being so publicly
humiliated!”
I stand there, shaking with disbelief and sorrow, unable to articulate anything through the pain.
“You failed to defend your role as Luna,” Jornic continues mercilessly, gaining confidence with every
word. “You didn’t fight for your mate. You simply allowed it to happen, and Mom had to suffer watching you go through it.”
His expression twists with a mix of grief and rage as he delivers his final blow.
“If you had been a proper mate to Alarion, he wouldn’t have turned to Cyrinne, and Mom wouldn’t have
become upset in the first place!”
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