My Convicted Wife is My Mate (Bella and Kane) novel Chapter 3

chapter 3

KANE’S POV

I came back to consciousness slowly.

The first thing I registered was the bandaging. Someone had packed my side wound properly, wrapped my shoulder with enough technique to tell me they knew exactly what they were doing, and covered the back wound cleanly. The bleeding had stopped. My body was warm in a way it had not been an hour ago, and my healing was running again - not at full capacity yet, but close enough to feel the difference.

My wolf was awake.

He surfaced quietly at first, shaking off the suppression the way a wolf shook water from its coat - then stopped. His attention locked onto something - The bandaging.

He pressed forward and inhaled deeply. I felt the recognition move through him like a current.

Mate, he said.

The scent clinging to the bandages was a woman's. He pushed against me, suddenly agitated, urgent in a way he rarely was.

She was here. Find her. She is ours.

I sat up, pressing my hand against the freshly bandaged wound and waited for the dizziness to pass.

"No," I said flatly.

My wolf went still with disbelief, then started again, louder. He reminded me of the fiancée - the woman I had been politically matched to three years ago, who had died at a banquet, poisoned, before we ever exchanged a single real word. He had grieved that. He reminded me that he had endured one hollow political arrangement that ended in death, that he had waited, that this woman's scent was real, that I needed to listen to him.

I knew what the mate bond was. I also knew what it had done to my mother.

She had loved my father completely. She had trusted the bond, built her entire existence around it, believed in what it promised. My father had thanked her for that trust by taking everything she offered, using her for political advantage. She had died because of the bond.

I was never going to make that mistake.

"She is a stranger," I told my wolf. "I am not following a scent."

He howled in protest. I ignored him.

My earpiece crackled. Then a voice - Jayden my second-in-command.

"Alpha Stonewood. We have your location. Are you injured?" he asked.

"Previously," I said. "Report."

"The rebel faction has been neutralized. All twelve confirmed. The operation is clean." A brief pause. "There is also the matter of the wedding."

I said nothing

"Three days," he continued "Your father's arrangement. We completed the background check on the bride. She is not - the profile is not favorable. Reports describe her as frivolous, poorly mannered, and motivated entirely by status. Sir, should we proceed?"

My wolf got angry as he spoke. No. Find our mate. I will not do this again. I will not-

"Proceed," I said.

"Alpha-"

"She is a piece on a board," I said. "That is all. I don't care who she is. Confirm the date and move forward."

My wolf went silent in a way that was worse than the howling.

I stood up and walked out of the alley.

BELLA’S POV

When I got home, I stopped dead in the doorway.

The house was transformed. Candles lined every surface, their flames flickering against walls draped in white silk. Roses petals—hundreds of them—scattered across the floor like a path leading deeper inside. Everything gleamed. Everything whispered celebration.

My heart stumbled.

I thought of three years ago. Of Damien's voice through the prison glass, tired but certain: When you get out, we'll get married. You'll see her again.

I'd held onto those words like a lifeline in drowning darkness.

Was this... for me?

I stepped inside, following the petals. My torn shirt hung loose on my shoulders. I probably looked like garbage next to all this beauty, but I didn't care. If Damien had kept his promise—if after everything, he still wanted me—

I reached the living room entrance.

And stopped breathing.

Damien was on the couch, his back to me, body moving over someone. Between them, a bare leg curled against the red leather—slim, pale, twisting with pleasure. I heard her moans before I saw her face. Heard the words falling from his lips like honey.

"God, Kathy. You feel incredible."

Kathy.

My sister's face appeared over his shoulder. She saw me. Her eyes met mine—and she smiled. Deliberate. Triumphant. Then she pulled him closer and moaned louder.

"I'm better than her," she breathed. "My body, my taste—you know I am. She never knew how to please you, did she? Always so cold. So broken."

"She was," Damien agreed, his voice rough. "I don't know why I waited so long."

I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. The room spun around me.

She never knew.

So broken.

They kept going. Right there. Like I wasn't standing ten feet away.

When they finally finished, Damien turned. Our eyes met. For one second—one tiny second—I saw something flicker in his face. Guilt? Shame?

Then it was gone.

"Bella." He reached for his pants, pulling them on without hurry. "You're out."

You're out. Like I'd been on vacation.

"Damien." My voice came out wrong—too high, too thin. "What... what is this?"

Kathy stretched on the couch like a cat, not bothering to cover herself. "What does it look like, sister?"

"Don't call me that." I stepped forward. My legs shook. "Damien. We're mates. You promised—"

"I promised a lot of things." He wouldn't look at me now. "Before."

"Before what? Before she spread her legs for you?" The words came out ugly. I didn't care. "Damien, I had your child. Where is Ezra? Where's my son?"

The room went quiet.

Damien's jaw tightened. Kathy's smile flickered—just for a moment.

Then Damien said, flat as stone: "The child didn't make it."

The floor dropped beneath me.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify