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"I'll never love you. You'll never be my true mate. This arrangement is a joke. An insult." My husband sneered. "Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I'm not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I'd have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue." "Feisty," he said. "I like that. Quick-tempered too." "As long as you don't try to bully me, we won't have a problem. If your father really did buy me, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you'll release me." I said flatly. He chuckled then—low and bitter. "You still don't get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I'll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You'll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently." Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. He told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice. ***** That actually made me smile. It was such a him thing to say. “That’s so cool, Rowan,” I said, wide-eyed. Then, on impulse, the words slipped out before I could second-guess them. “Do you mind if I come?” Rowan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at Darian, almost like he needed permission. And Darian—bless him—gave me that soft smile again. “If you go with him,” he said, “who’s going to be my friend and keep me company here?” I knew the answer. We all did. Tiffany. Tiffany would. But if I said that out loud, it would expose everything—my jealousy, my feelings, my pain. It would ruin whatever fragile friendship we still had. So I said nothing. Just sat there, heart breaking quietly behind steady eyes. Mara “I’m sure you’ve got other friends to keep you company,” I said, keeping my voice calm, eyes steady on Tiffany. “Better—and maybe more interesting—company than I could ever be.” Tiffany caught the meaning instantly and smiled, smug and satisfied. “That’s right, Darian,” she purred, looping her arm through his. “I’m all the company you’ll need.” Then, like it was some kind of private joke, she leaned in and licked his earlobe again. I looked away, jaw tight. She wanted to be Luna so badly it was dripping off her. Most of the girls who threw themselves at Darian did. It wasn’t about him. It was about the title, the power, the image. But not me. Even if Darian wasn’t going to be Alpha, I’d still feel this way about him. That was the difference. “I want to come with you, Rowan,” I said suddenly, turning to him. My voice was clearer than I expected. Firm. I needed distance. Space. A whole dam continent between me and Darian if I was going to get over him. He would never see me. Never choose me. And I had to stop holding out hope like it was some kind of twisted comfort blanket. “This trip... it’ll be good for me,” I added, mostly to myself. Darian smiled, watching me a little too closely. “Maybe I’ll come too.” And just like that, the air left my lungs. No. No, he couldn’t. That would ruin everything. I’d just end up exactly where I was—his loyal shadow, his best buddy, watching Tiffany swallow his attention whole. “You’ll bring me along?” Tiffany asked, all wide eyes and sugar-laced eagerness. I could almost hear the flutter of her lashes. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. If she came too, I’d lose my mind watching her cling to Darian like a barnacle in heat. Her tongue alone would be enough to make me puke somewhere around the border of the first town we hit. “I’ll think about it,” Darian replied, and Tiffany's face fell. She frowned, and then her eyes flicked to me, sharp and accusing, like it was my fault. She wasn’t entirely wrong. But also not right. I didn’t want Darian to come—not because I wanted to hoard him for myself, but because I needed to finally let go of him. We stayed a little longer, had a couple drinks, careful not to go overboard. It was a quiet ending to a loud night. Eventually, we all called it and got ready to leave. “Let’s go hunting tomorrow morning,” Darian said casually as we stepped out into the night. His voice was light, but his eyes were on me. I hesitated. Waiting. Because, of course, I needed to hear what she would say. “I want to come too,” Tiffany piped up, bouncing slightly in her heels like she was volunteering for a game of tag. I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. Darian caught it and laughed. “I guess the three of you will have to go without me,” I said flatly, already turning away. Darian frowned. “Come on, Mara. You and I—we’re a good team.” Oh, how I wished that was true. But in reality? It was just another sweet lie I’d told myself over the years. “You, Rowan, and Tiffany will be a formidable team,” I replied, eyes on the pavement, not bothering to look at her. I could already feel the weight of her glare. I didn’t blame her. If I were her, I wouldn’t like me either. Not when the guy I wanted kept paying attention to someone else. Darian told me to think about it. I wouldn’t. I didn’t need to. I already knew I wasn’t going. When I got home, the house was quiet—everyone asleep. I slipped inside like a ghost and made my way to my room, shutting the door behind me without making a sound. I didn’t want to wake anyone. I didn’t want to talk. All I wanted was to stop loving someone who would never love me back. Morning came too fast. I sat on the edge of my bed, still wrapped in the fog of everything I was trying to forget. The hunt was supposed to be today. Part of me wanted to go—just to breathe outside this house, outside of him. But the thought of Tiffany tagging along made my stomach twist. I already knew she’d spent the night at the Nighthorn mansion. There was no way Darian would leave her behind now. Not after that. I dragged myself downstairs, hungry but not in the mood. I hated shifting when I hadn’t eaten—it made me edgy, short-tempered. I didn’t want to lose it in the woods and end up looking unhinged. What I didn’t expect was to find my parents waiting in the kitchen. They weren’t eating. They weren’t smiling. They were just… there, sitting stiffly at the table with this look in their eyes that made something inside me tighten. My mother, usually bright-eyed and warm, gave me a small, nervous smile. “Morning, Mara. How was your night?” I forced a shrug. “Great,” I lied, trying not to read too much into their mood. She just nodded. My father cleared his throat, and the sound already made my heart beat faster. “Sweetheart, we need to talk to you about something important.” And just like that, my stomach dropped. They didn’t speak in the kitchen. My dad gestured toward the living room, and we all moved, silent as ghosts. I sat on the couch across from them, trying not to let my mind spiral. Then they looked at each other. That kind of look—the silent, mind-link kind of conversation they always had when something was wrong. Something they didn’t want to say out loud. I wasn’t part of it. Not yet. Not until they decided I had to be. “Mara,” my father said slowly, “you know how much we love you, right?” Wrong way to start. My pulse spiked. I swallowed hard. “Yes,” I said, and my voice cracked. He looked down for a moment, then back up at me with tired eyes. “We’ve always wanted the best for you. But… we also have duties to the pack. Responsibilities. And—” “We should’ve told you sooner,” my mother cut in, her voice trembling. “But we wanted you to have your graduation, your moment of celebration, before we… before we said anything.” Her eyes welled up with tears. That’s when I started crying too. Because whatever could make my mother cry like that—whatever they were about to say—it was going to rip something out of me. “Mara,” my father said again, quieter this time, “Alpha Vander Nighthorn has chosen you to be joined with his eldest son, Lucian.” My breath caught. “He’s decided,” he continued, “that since you finished second overall in the academy, top among the female wolves, and since you’re known for your strength, your discipline… that you’re the best choice for Lucian. He believes your character will help shape him into a man fit to stand beside his brother when Darian becomes Alpha. He also believes that your friendship with Darian will help settle the conflict between the brothers and bring unity to the future leadership of this pack.” I was frozen. The words didn’t even register at first. It didn’t feel real. “It’s not a suggestion, Mara,” my father added. “It’s an order. One we had no power to refuse.” That was it. The sound that left my throat wasn’t even human. I screamed. A raw, guttural cry that tore from my chest like something inside me had shattered. Mara “This must be a joke,” I whispered, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. My eyes burned, and the tears wouldn’t stop. My mother shook her head slowly, her face soaked with grief. “It’s not a joke,” she said, broken. I choked on a sob. “Lucian? Lucian?! He’s a monster. A cruel, vicious bаst3rd. He lies, cheats, bullies anyone weaker than him—and he killed someone, an innocent person. And now you want me to what? Play house with the devil?” I knew they didn’t have a choice. I knew it wasn’t really their fault. But I needed someone to blame, and they were standing right in front of me, and I was drowning. “We had no say,” my father said, voice low and defeated. “They said you’re the strongest female of your generation. They believe you’ll match him. Tame him.” “Enough!” I snapped, standing up so fast the room spun. “You can’t tame people, Dad. You don’t ‘fix’ someone like Lucian. He’s not broken. He’s rotten. He was born that way.” My breath came fast, too fast. My chest felt tight like I was suffocating. “I’m supposed to be Darian’s Gamma! That job—our futures—they’re built on trust, on teamwork. How am I supposed to do that while being shackled to a psychopath?” They had no answers. Just silence. My mother’s silent weeping. My father’s helpless stare. “I’m done. I’m leaving. I don’t want the Gamma position. They can keep it—and let them gift someone else to that monster.” I turned, storming toward the stairs. I didn’t know where I’d go, but anywhere was better than here. Anywhere but thislife. “You can’t leave, Mara,” my father called after me, voice desperate. “If you refuse the bond, Alpha Nighthorn will cast us out. We’ll become rogues. Once the mark of Mooncrest fades, we’ll lose everything—our protection, our humanity. You know what happens to rogues. You’ll turn feral. We all will. They rule this entire country, Mara. There’s no where for you to go,” I stopped in my tracks. Feral. Cast out. Doomed. I turned slowly and looked at my mother. Her shoulders were trembling. She couldn’t even look me in the eyes. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?” I said, my voice shaking with fury and despair. “You’re asking me to throw my life away. You’re asking me to bind myself to someone who might kill me in my sleep.” She nodded through her tears. “I’m sorry.” Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. Even Alpha Vander didn’t trust him to lead, which was why Darian had been groomed from day one to take over. Darian, with his calm and strength and sense of duty. Meanwhile, his older brother was out there, spiraling, and now they wanted me to steady him. They wouldn’t have picked me if I wasn’t so perfect—so well-behaved, so disciplined, so obsessed with Darian that I molded myself into the model warrior. Maybe if I’d been reckless, mean, or a bitter b1tch, they wouldn’t have even considered me. But no. I had played the part. And now, this was my reward: unrequited love, a forced marriage, a future I couldn’t escape. I hated my life in that moment. I was about to turn away again when the doorbell rang. We all froze. My mother rose to answer it, and the scent hit me before she opened the door—him. Darian. He stepped inside, and I almost didn’t recognize him. His eyes were red, brimming with tears. His hands trembled. He looked like someone had carved a hole into his chest and left it gaping. “Mara,” he said softly, his voice cracked and hoarse. He opened his arms. He didn’t need to say anything else. I walked into him, into the arms I had longed for more than I ever admitted, and he held me—tight, like he was the one about to fall apart. My parents quietly stepped away, leaving us in the silence of shared pain. And I broke. I cried, and this time, it wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t polite. It was everything I had been holding in—fear, betrayal, grief, hopelessness—all pouring out while he held me. And still, I knew… even this wouldn’t change anything. “I’m sorry, Mara,” Darian whispered against my hair, his voice thick with something heavier than guilt. “I didn’t know they would do this. I didn’t know he would do this.” And I broke again. “I don’t want to be with Lucian,” I cried, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring me. “I hate him, Darian. I can’t do this. Please… help me.” His arms tightened around me like he wanted to, like he wished he could fix it all with the way he held me—but he didn’t answer right away. When he did, it was barely above a whisper. “I’m not Alpha yet, Mara. My key mark isn’t active yet. I don’t have the power to stop this.” And that—that—hurt more than I expected. Not because he admitted he was powerless but because of the way his voice cracked. There was grief in it. Regret. Something deeper than duty. “I thought…” he started, then paused. “I thought we had time. I thought there’d be more time.” I pulled back just enough to look at him. “Time for what?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mara. I didn’t know.” I stared at him, trying to piece together what he meant. Time for what? Was he finally saying what I’d always hoped he felt? But now wasn’t the time. Not with everything crashing around us. The hug faded. Slowly. Reluctantly. We stood there, inches apart, staring into each other’s tear-streaked faces, both too full of words we couldn’t say. “Listen to me,” Darian said, his voice low but firm. “I will always be there for you. I won’t let him hurt you, Mara. I swear it. If you ever feel unsafe, if he crosses a line—call me. I don’t care what I’m doing. I’ll come. I will come. You are not alone in this.” I blinked back another wave of tears. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to thank someone for a promise that shouldn’t have to exist. “I wish I’d never trained to be your Beta,” I muttered, my voice barely a breath. “If I’d just taken medical classes instead… Alpha Vander wouldn’t have noticed me. He wouldn’t have picked me for his deranged son.” I looked at Darian again. My heart swelled painfully, and I opened my mouth. “Darian…” He met my eyes, hope flickering there. “What is it, Mara?” I hesitated. I wanted to say it. Gods, I wanted to scream it—I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I didn’t. Because now he wasn’t just the boy I trained beside. He was about to become my brother-in-law. And whatever chance there might have been, it had died the moment his father bound my future to Lucian’s. “Nothing,” I said instead. “Nothing but fear.” He pulled me back into his arms without hesitation. I buried my face in his chest and breathed in his scent one last time like it might be enough to last me forever. I didn’t dare ask for more. I didn’t dare reach for what I truly wanted. Not now. Not when I was about to be forced into the hands of someone I despised. Not when Darian had no power to save me. He held me tight, as if letting go would break him, too. Then he kissed the top of my head—soft, lingering—and pulled away. “We’ll still be best friends,” he said gently. “I don’t care what the pack says. You’re still my best friend, Mara. No one’s replacing you.” And there it was. The final nail. Best friend. The words were supposed to be comforting, but they landed like a blade in my chest. His father thought that same friendship was the key to taming Lucian—like I was a tool, a bridge, a sacrificial peace offering. I didn’t want to be Darian’s best friend. I wanted to be his everything. His Luna. His love. His home. But instead, I got Lucian. Unwanted. Unchosen. Trapped. Maybe being feral wouldn’t be so bad. At least then I’d be free. I could run, disappear, let the wilderness swallow me whole. Anything would be better than this slow suffocation. I wanted to leave. I needed to leave. Mara Darian followed me upstairs to my room. For the first time, it felt… wrong. Foreign. Like something had cracked in the familiar walls we’d built around each other. It had always been a little awkward since I started falling for him, but now—now it felt unbearable. I didn’t know what it would be like living in their house. The Nighthorn mansion. Sharing space with Lucian. Walking the same halls as Darian, seeing him every day while wearing the title of someone else’s mate. His brother’s mate. The thought made me feel sick. I didn’t trust my heart not to betray me in some devastating way. “I’ll wait here,” Darian said softly, settling into the chair by my desk while I headed into the bathroom. As soon as the water hit me, the tears came. I sank to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, sobbing so hard my ribs ached. I cried for the life I almost had. For the love I could never confess. For I was being handed like some twisted reward for being too good. And in that cracked, broken place, I thought about running. Disappearing. Going rogue. Letting the world forget I ever existed. But then I remembered what that meant. What it would do to my family. What it would do to me. I dressed in the bathroom, even though modesty had long since evaporated between Darian and me during years of shifting and training together. But things were different now. Everything was different. Even standing in front of him felt like holding a glass that could shatter if either of us moved too fast. “How are you feeling?” he asked when I stepped back into the room. I just nodded, unable to trust my voice. His eyes were still tinged with crimson, like he’d been holding back more tears of his own. “Lucian doesn’t want the union either,” he said suddenly. I looked up, startled. “What?” “That’s how I found out,” he continued. “I overheard him yelling at our father. He was furious. Said he didn’t want you. Didn’t want any of it. And honestly… that’s what scares me the most.” I understood what he meant before he said it. Lucian didn’t want me. Which meant he’d resent me. And with the kind of man he was—violent, spiteful—that resentment wouldn’t just sit quietly in the corner. He’d find a way to punish me for it. “Then why won’t he reject it?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. Darian exhaled slowly, like the weight of it all was dragging him under too. “Because ever since Father chose me as Alpha instead of him, Lucian hasn’t dared to oppose him. I think the shame crushed something inside him. He’s quiet now, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. And…” He hesitated. “Lucian’s in love—with someone else. Has been for a while.” I swallowed hard. That somehow made it worse. I wasn’t just being forced into a bond with a monster—I was a wedge, a weapon used to separate him from someone he actually cared about. A curse he’d wear every day. “This isn’t fair,” I said bitterly. “Not to me. Not to her. Not to anyone.” Darian didn’t argue. “Will I still be your Gamma?” I asked, knowing it was selfish but needing to ask anyway. Because even if I couldn’t be his mate, I still wanted to stand by his side in some way. Any way. “Yes,” he said softly. “Unless you choose to step down, you’ll remain my Gamma.” I shook my head. I couldn’t make that decision yet. Not when everything inside me felt broken and scattered. I just needed time. Space to breathe, to mourn, to accept the weight of what had been forced on me. Darian left quietly, carrying his own sadness like a wound. I watched him go and felt another piece of me fall apart. I stayed in bed the rest of the day. Staring at the ceiling. Crying into my pillow until it was soaked. My parents tried to check on me—brought food, soft words, empty comfort—but I ignored them all. I didn’t want kindness from the people who had let this happen. I didn’t want anyone. If the Alpha had chosen to bind me to Darian, I would have said yes without hesitation. I would have given him everything. But instead, I was being handed over to his brother. Why Lucian? Of all the wolves in this pack, why did fate—or power, or cruelty—choose him? And what the hll was I supposed to do now? Two weeks. Two long, miserable weeks of crying, sulking, and avoiding the world like it had personally betrayed me—because in a way, it had. I refused to go to any gatherings, skipped every function, and barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t Darian. Not that I saw him much. He’d gotten himself into trouble more than once that week, and Alpha Vander had taken it as an excuse to load him up with responsibilities. I missed him. But missing him was a dangerous thing now. Luna Martha Nighthorn came by twice to speak with my parents about the “arrangements.” She was Darian’s mother—not Lucian’s. Lucian’s biological mother had died when he was young. Alpha Vander had bonded with Martha later, and ever since, everyone just assumed she was the mother of both boys. Everyone except Lucian, who never missed a chance to correct them. I didn’t care for the politics of it. I didn’t care about her visit, her soft reassurances, or the way she avoided looking me in the eye. I didn’t care about any of it. I just wanted to disappear. Burn the whole d'amn future and vanish into ash. But I couldn’t. I was sitting on the patio, trying to catch my breath from another heavy day of doing absolutely nothing, when a sleek black car pulled into our driveway. I squinted at the figure stepping out. A young woman—tall, porcelain-skinned, striking brunette. And angry. I stood slowly, assuming she was lost and needed directions. She didn’t waste time. “Are you Mara Thornridge?” she asked, sharp and cold. I nodded, guarded. “You gold-digging b1tch,” she snapped. “What do your parents have on Alpha Vander? Huh?” I blinked, stunned. What? “Do you know how long Lucian and I have been together?” she choked out, her eyes welling up with tears. “We were sweethearts for years. And now I find out you—you’ve been chosen for him? You?” I stood there, frozen, every cell in my body screaming for a break. I had no words. I was still trying to process this marriage from hll myself, and now this? She stepped closer, her voice low and trembling with rage. “How dare you, Mara? I swear, we will make your life a living hll.” And that was it. I snapped. “Watch it,” I growled, the shift stirring beneath my skin. “I don’t give two fks about Lucian. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want this. So maybe aim that rage where it belongs—at him, or at his father, or at the Moon Goddess herself. Not me.” She blinked, caught off guard. “If you’re so mad, tell your beloved boyfriend to grow a spine and say something to his father. Trust me, you’d be doing me a huge favor. Because let’s be honest—Lucian isn’t exactly a prize. He’s an entitled, violent аs hole, and I wouldn’t want to be bound to him if he was the last breathing wolf in existence.” She stepped toward me like she was about to swing. I didn’t even flinch—I welcomed it. Hll, I needed it. I let out a low, warning growl, eyes locked on hers. “You need to f'k- off, now. While I’m still being nice. Because if you don’t, I swear on every ancestor in my bloodline, I will tear you apart. And right now? I wouldn’t even regret it.” Something in my voice must’ve landed. She backed away slowly, fury still burning in her eyes, but something else too—fear. She slid into her car and slammed the door, then peeled out of the driveway without another word. I stood there breathing hard, body trembling with all the rage and frustration I’d buried these past two weeks. Now I had to deal with Lucian’s girlfriend too? I wasn’t even officially mated to him yet, and already the drama was spilling into my yard like blood on the snow. And Lucian—he hadn’t shown up. Hadn’t spoken to me. Hadn’t so much as sent a message. I guessed the feeling was mutual. This was going to be hll. And it hadn’t even started yet. Mara “Mara!” my mother called from downstairs. Since the day they dropped the bomb about the arrangement, I’d barely left my room. What was the point? Everyone probably knew by now. The whole pack, maybe even the entire dam country. Mara Thornridge, gifted to Lucian Nighthorn like a prized lamb to the family wolf. And just like that, the threats had started rolling in—anonymous messages from a number I didn’t need to trace. I knew exactly who it was. Lucian’s little banshee. The same girl who’d parked in my driveway and tried to claw my face off with words she probably rehearsed in front of a mirror. None of her threats got to me. Not one. If she ever followed through on a single one of them, I might actually respect her. But I knew the truth—lashing out at me was easier than facing Lucian or confronting Alpha Vander. I was the easier target. The quiet one. The one who hadn’t asked for any of this. I got out of bed wearing the same old pajamas I’d worn for two days. It was already afternoon. I didn’t care. My hair was a mess, my eyes were swollen from days of crying, but the tears had stopped. I wasn’t sad anymore. Just empty. Numb. And numbness? It was better. Numbness didn’t ask questions or demand hope. Darian and I still talked every night. His voice was soft, his words kind, and I hated every second of it. He meant well. He was trying. But I didn’t want kindness from him. Not anymore. I wanted what I could never have. Every call was another reminder that I'd never be more than his best friend. So no, the support wasn’t helping. Not even a little. I shuffled downstairs, preparing to grab something quick and head back to my quiet cave of self-pity. But I froze at the bottom step. Alpha Vander Nighthorn and Lucian were in my living room. Just sitting there. Like this was normal. Like they belonged. I felt my parents' disappointment immediately. The way they looked at my unwashed hair and oversized sleep shirt said it all. But maybe, just maybe, the Alpha would take one look at me and change his mind. Maybe I looked pathetic enough to kill this deal. I stepped into the room, lifting my chin, even though my body screamed to turn and run. “Good afternoon, Alpha. Mr. Nighthorn,” I said evenly, voice dry but polite. Alpha Vander sat upright on the couch, perfectly composed. For a man in his early fifties, he looked ten years younger. Thick dark hair, sharp brown eyes, a well-groomed beard. He radiated power and vanity, and somehow it worked. No wonder women in the pack still swooned over him. He had that whole silver fox, age-like-wine aesthetic locked down. And Lucian? He looked like sin incarnate. Dark hair, frost-blue eyes that could pierce through bone, and a jawline that might have been carved from stone. His shirt clung to his body like it didn’t want to let go—tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, tracing the edges of muscle sculpted to perfection. He wasn’t bulky, not like some of the other warriors. He was lean, cut, deadly. His skin was sun-kissed and flawless, his stare unreadable and cold. Everything about him screamed danger, power, trouble. Everything about him made my skin crawl. And yet… he was undeniably beautiful. If I hadn’t known what was behind that face, I might have stared. Might have been flattered. But now? All I saw was the cage I was about to be locked inside. And he hadn’t even bothered to look at me yet. I swallowed hard when I saw him. It had been a while since I last saw Lucian Nighthorn in person, and I hated myself for even noticing how he looked. His presence was magnetic—he didn’t just walk into a room, he took it. He looked like something out of legend: all dark edges, piercing frost-blue eyes, and sculpted features that belonged on a statue. But no matter how stunning the exterior, it couldn’t mask the ugliness I knew sat underneath. Looks didn’t make a man worth loving. And I didn’t want this union. But what I wanted didn’t matter. “Mara,” Alpha Vander said, dragging my attention away from his son. I stood upright and gave him the proper Gamma salute. My posture stiff, my insides screaming. “Congratulations on your future position as Gamma. Mooncrest and Darian are blessed to have you in the ranks.” “Thank you, Alpha,” I replied, my voice steady. “Lucian,” he said, turning to his son, “get to know your mate. Take a walk while I speak with the Thornridges about the event.” Lucian didn’t respond. He just stood and walked outside, offering no glance, no gesture, no courtesy. The kind of silence that dared you to follow—and warned you not to speak. I didn’t want to go with him. He hadn’t asked. But I wasn’t foolish enough to disobey an Alpha’s command. I followed him out. He was sitting on the patio, staring down the street like the world bored him. I didn’t sit. “Don’t get any ideas, little girl,” he said finally, his voice deep, sharp, arrogant. “This arrangement is a joke. An insult. I’ll never love you. You’ll never be my true mate. Let’s get that straight before the wedding so you don’t embarrass yourself hoping for more.” I cleared my throat, keeping my voice even. “Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I’m not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I’d have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue. I expect nothing from you. And I will give you nothing in return.” He finally turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. “You really have no pride, do you?” he said. “You think this is some noble sacrifice? My father’s paying your family a fortune for this. You and your parents—just more middle-class shovel-holders, ready to dig for gold.” I inhaled sharply. My hand twitched. Don’t hit him, I told myself. Not yet. His smirk widened. “Feisty,” he said. “I like that. Quick-tempered too. I’m honestly surprised you made it as Gamma. What did you do? Sleep your way there? Must’ve been quite the climb—though Darian doesn’t fancy you, so maybe you figured you’d settle for the older brother. At least then you get the name, the money, the power. That’s what this is about, right? Being a Nighthorn?” He waited for me to crumble. I didn’t. Instead, I leaned in, voice low and laced with venom. “At least I earned my place in this pack. I’m Gamma because I bled for it, not because I was born into a name. You? You’ll always be the brother of the Alpha. Nothing more.” That hit him. His jaw tightened. His hand lifted halfway, shaking—just a breath away from slapping me. His eyes burned, not with fury alone, but with something deeper. Shame. Insecurity. I flinched, but only slightly. Mara Lucian was stronger than Darian. That much was clear. Where Darian led with loyalty, Lucian ruled with intimidation. His presence filled the air like a storm. And for a moment, just a moment, I felt what it would be like to be tied to this man. Not protected. Not cherished. Owned. Lucian dropped his hand, clenched it into a fist instead. Good. I’d struck the nerve I wanted. And I wouldn’t stop there. “We are not equals,” Lucian said coldly, his voice like ice cracking beneath pressure. “You better watch your mouth, Thornridge, or this arrangement will turn ugly real fast.” He dropped back onto the bench like he owned the space, like even sitting was a statement of dominance. I stayed standing, watching him from above, refusing to shrink. “I came here only to lay down a few ground rules,” he continued. “First, you will never be my mate. So don’t expect affection, don’t ask for loyalty, and don’t even think about what mates are ‘entitled’ to. I already have someone. Someone I actually care about.” I laughed—just once, dry and sharp. “You mean the one who threatened me in my own driveway?” I said. “Tell your little girlfriend that as long as she keeps her claws to herself and stays out of my way, we’ll have no problems. I don’t care what you two do behind closed doors.” He went quiet. I could tell he didn’t like my answer. It wasn’t what he expected. But it was the truth, and I wasn’t here to coddle his ego. “In public, we’ll play the part for my father,” he said, voice dropping lower. “Behind closed doors, we’re strangers. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.” “Fine by me,” I said flatly. “As long as you don’t try to bully me, we won’t have a problem. If your father really did buyme, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you’ll release me.” He chuckled then—low and bitter. “You still don’t get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I’ll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You’ll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently.” Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. I flinched without meaning to, but I didn’t let him see more than that. “What about your girlfriend?” I asked quietly. “She understands,” he replied, surprisingly calm. “I’ll never be Alpha, and I don’t want the job. We’ll find our way around this. She’ll still have my heart. She’ll have my children.” I stared at him, trying to understand how a person could speak of love and cruelty in the same breath. “I guess you’ve got your future mapped out,” I said. “Good for you. But what about me?” He blinked, caught off guard. His tone lost its bite. “What do you mean?” “I mean, you’ve got the girl. The family plan. The political cover. What about my life? My future?” I asked, voice low but unshaking. He looked at me for a long second. Then gave a dismissive shrug. “You’ll figure it out. If you meet someone, fine. Scr'w whoever you want. Just don’t get pregnant and embarrass me. Keep your mess private.” I stared at him, stunned. He wasn’t done. “I’m sure you already have a few boyfriends on the side. Maybe some officials from the academy you spread your legs for—because no woman’s ever made it as Gamma before. So whatever you did to get there, just keep doing it. That’s the only way you’ll hold onto that title. If someone stronger comes along, you’re out.” I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t need to. Let him think what he wanted. Let him imagine a version of me that matched his twisted assumptions. I wasn’t going to defend my body, my choices, or my worth to him. But inside, something cracked. I’d waited. Saved myself. Dreamed of Darian—not for lvst, but for love. And now I was bound to a man who assumed the worst of me. Who would use me as a shield, a pawn, and nothing more. And yet I didn’t cry. Not anymore. The tears were done. Now, there was only fire. “Well,” Lucian said, brushing imaginary dust from his pants like the conversation was just business. “Since everything’s ironed out, I guess we won’t have issues living as husband and wife.” I gave him a nod. Flat. Numb. Resigned. “Do we sleep in the same room?” I asked, not because I wanted to—but because I needed to know what kind of Hll I’d be walking into. He shook his head. “Not exactly. My room has a conjoined space. You’ll sleep in the one I’m not using.” A connected room. No door. No barrier. Just a wall, maybe some air, and all the silence in the world between us. “I’ve fixed it up for you,” he added. “Just don’t expect luxury. It’s the poorer wing of the mansion. My father doesn’t dote on me the way he does on Darian.” I almost laughed. The poorer wing? I would’ve gladly slept in a shed if it meant not sharing space with the man who thought I’d slept my way into the Gamma rank. “I don’t care about the room,” I said simply. And I didn’t. What I cared about was distance. Physical, emotional, spiritual. As much as I could carve out for myself in a life I never asked for. We headed back into the house. Alpha Vander stood, looking pleased with himself—like a man who had just orchestrated a perfect deal, unaware—or perhaps entirely aware—of the people he was crushing in the process. “Ah, I see the lovebirds have come to an understanding,” he said with a smug grin. “I suppose I’ll see you both at the wedding.” My father stepped forward to shake his hand. “Thank you, Alpha. We are honoured.” Alpha Vander turned to him with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Aiden, Arya—you’ve raised a strong, beautiful daughter. I originally wanted her for Darian, you know. She’s Luna material, no doubt about it. But in the end, I knew she’d have more impact on Lucian’s life.” Every word scraped against me like sandpaper. “Darian is already gentle,” he went on. “Lucian needs someone like Mara. Someone sweet, with a steady hand. She’ll soften him. She’s perfect.” And that was the moment I felt it—self-loathing. Deep, hot, gnawing. I should’ve seen it sooner. This wasn’t about love or bonds or the Universe’s will. I’d been chosen because I was safe. A tool. A soothing balm they could apply to their most volatile son. I should’ve been reckless. Cold. Difficult. A bad girl. Maybe then I would’ve been considered for Darian. Maybe then, I would’ve stood a chance. But Lucian—he didn’t let his father get away with it. “It’s not about what you want, Father,” he said suddenly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clean through the room. Alpha Vander turned to him slowly, like a man used to obedience. “Don’t lie to them,” Lucian continued. “This wasn’t your idea. This was Martha’s doing. Luna Martha didn’t want Darian choosing Mara. She didn’t want him with a Thornridge—didn’t want him marrying middle-class. She wants a girl with money. Status. This whole thing? It’s her fix. Her solution.” The air in the room turned sharp. Lucian kept going. “You’re not doing this to help me,” he said. “You’re doing it to ruin me—and Mara. All to clear the path for Darian to marry someone Martha approves of. You paid them off. That’s not honor. That’s manipulation.” Then he turned and walked out without another word. And I stood there—stunned. Not because I was angry at what he said. But because it was true. So painfully, clearly true. Luna Martha didn’t want me in her family. I wasn’t polished enough. Rich enough. Enough of anything, really. And Darian… he never even had a chance to fight it. I never had a chance at him. No matter how hard I trained, no matter how loyal I was, no matter how much I loved him quietly from a distance—I never stood a chance. Lucian was many things—cold, cruel, arrogant—but in that moment, I saw something else too: honesty. Brutal, unfiltered honesty. And it told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice. Mara Four days had passed since Lucian and his father came to the house, and I still hadn’t found my way out of the haze. I sat in the garden behind our home, staring at nothing. Not the flowers. Not the trees. Just the empty space ahead of me, like it might hold some kind of answer if I looked long enough. Lucian’s words still echoed in my mind—cold, cruel, and then, strangely, honest. The truth was a blade that hadn’t stopped cutting. It wasn’t about me being Luna material or helping Lucian. It was about Darian. About removing me from the equation so his mother could shape his future without interference. I didn’t even hear him approach. “You’ve lost weight,” Darian said softly, sitting beside me. I didn’t reply. What was there to say? He sighed and stood again, pacing. Frustrated. Restless. I knew he wanted to talk. He always did. But I couldn’t give him what he was looking for—not when I felt like my whole life had been bargained away by people who never even asked me what I wanted. “Why didn’t you tell me Lucian came to see you?” he finally asked. I looked up at him, calm on the surface, hollow underneath. “I didn’t think it was necessary.” He stopped pacing. “We’re friends, Mara. Everything is necessary. Everything matters.” He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders were tense. I could see the guilt in the way he carried himself, but he didn’t understand. Not yet. “Help me, Darian,” I said, my voice cracking. “Please.” He came to a stop in front of me, eyes full of sorrow. “If I were Alpha, I’d cancel this madness. I swear I would.” “But you’re not,” I whispered. Then I looked him in the eyes, and I said the one thing that had been building in my chest like pressure before a storm. “Your mother set this up.” He frowned, his expression hardening. “Lucian said it in front of your father. And your father didn’t deny it. She was afraid that you and I… that we might end up together. She didn’t want her son marrying someone from a middle-class family. So she pushed this union, forced it, to get me out of your orbit.” Darian’s jaw clenched. “That’s not true. She knows we’re just friends. That there’s nothing between us.” His words landed like stones in my chest. “If I wanted to date you, Mara, I would’ve.” That hurt. I expected it, but it still hurt. “She doesn’t see it that way,” I replied. “To her, I’m a threat to your future. So she ruined mine.” I paused, voice low and shaking. “Please talk to her, Darian. She’s destroying two lives out of fear. Lucian has someone he loves. And me?” My voice broke. “She’s condemning me to a loveless, miserable life. All because I was your friend.” I looked down at my hands, trembling now. “I’ll give up the Gamma position. I’ll leave. Just… help me get out of this.” Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and helpless. “I don’t want to marry your brother. Please.” He sat down beside me again, silent for a long moment. His hand found mine, hesitated, then held it gently. “I’ll talk to her,” he said at last, voice low. “I can’t promise anything, Mara. But I’ll try. I’ll beg her if I have to.” I nodded, even though I wasn’t hopeful. At this point, I just needed to know someone tried. That not everyone stood by and watched my future burn. If Darian hadn’t offered, I might’ve buried myself in silent acceptance. Might’ve forced myself to walk into that cold, loveless match. But Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. He was a murderer. An irresponsible drunk. A walking storm I’d be expected to share a life with. The thought of binding myself to him permanently… it made my skin crawl. We sat in silence for a while after that. Just breathing the same air. Just existing in the same space. Eventually, Darian left. And I was alone again. Sitting in a garden, surrounded by life, while mine slowly withered away. Two days passed. Nothing from Darian. No call. No visit. Not even a message. Just silence. I lay on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling like it might offer some kind of escape. It didn’t. All I saw was the countdown—days slipping away until the wedding. Until my funeral. Because that’s what it felt like. The day I married Lucian would be the day I buried the last of myself. I didn’t know if I’d take the Gamma position when the time came. I doubted it. The fire in me—the one that once pushed me to be the best—was nothing but ash now. Resignation tasted bitter, but it was starting to feel like the only thing I had left. There was a knock at my door. I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. I could already smell her—my mother. And the food tray she was balancing in her hands. I didn’t move, didn’t speak, and just like I knew she would, she let herself in. “Mara,” she said gently, placing the tray on the table. “You need to eat something.” I didn’t even look at the food. I looked at her. Cold. Angry. Broken. “How can you and Dad live with yourselves after selling your daughter?” I asked, my voice flat, my expression disgusted. She froze by the table, her eyes lowering, as if even she couldn’t bear to meet mine. “He gave us no choice, Mara,” she whispered. “The money was to ease his conscience.” “And you took it.” My words were a blade. “Spent it, I’m sure. Did it ever occur to you that Lucian might call it off? That Alpha Vander might want his money back?” She turned to face me slowly, her expression tired and tight. “We had no choice,” she repeated. “It was take it… or be cast out. ‘Take it or get out,’ that’s what he said. We were drowning, Mara. The house, the loans—we were about to lose everything.” I blinked, stunned. “So you sold me to pay off your debts? The loans you took for my education?” “No,” she said quickly. “We were ready to let the house go. We planned to move in with my sister. We didn’t expect Alpha Nighthorn to show up. But when he forced the union, when he said it was happening whether we liked it or not... we took the money. We used it to survive.” “And you used me to survive,” I said bitterly. She flinched. I sat up, my eyes sharp now. “What happens if the deal falls apart? If Lucian calls it off and his father wants the money back?” “Why would he?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Because I told Darian,” I said. “I told him what Lucian said. About the truth—how this wasn’t about Lucian needing a wife but about his mother wanting me out of Darian’s life. He promised he’d talk to her. Try to get her to stop this madness.” My mother’s eyes widened, shocked. She hadn’t expected me to do anything. Maybe she thought I’d just quietly crumble. She slowly sat beside me, her body folding like something had broken inside her. Tears slid down her face. “Mara, my darling…” my mother’s voice cracked as she sat beside me. “I didn’t know you would take it this hard.” I didn’t answer. She reached for my hand, but I didn’t move. My eyes stayed locked on the ceiling, dry now, but only because I had nothing left in me. “I’m hurting too,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I need you to be strong. You’re tougher than this.” I didn’t look at her. “Darian and Rowan left yesterday,” she added carefully. “They won’t be back until it’s time for him to take over the pack.” The words sank in slowly, like poison soaking through my veins. They went on the trip. Without me. Without a word. Darian—the one person I still believed would try to help me—was gone. He didn’t even call. Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t tell me that he had failed or that he’d tried at all. The silence in my chest cracked. My heart broke without sound. “I know what you’re thinking,” my mother said, almost defensively. “It was Luna Martha. She forced the trip.” I turned to her now, eyes stinging again. “She forced him?” I asked, though I already believed it. “Yes,” she nodded. “Jason—Darian’s butler—he came by for a check-up. He told me Darian had a terrible argument with Martha. About Lucian. About you. About how unfair this is. And when she couldn’t control the conversation, she controlled him. She made him leave. Told him it was to ‘gain experience.’ Said he’d return a better Alpha.” My lip trembled, but I didn’t speak. It was my fault. I asked him to intervene. I pulled him into this. And now he was gone. Banished under the guise of training. And nothing had changed. Lucian was still my future. And Darian… Darian had become part of the past. I sat in silence as the tears returned—slow, steady, quiet. “I’m sorry, baby,” my mother whispered. “But please… eat something. Don’t let this kill you. You’re one of the strongest wolves this pack has ever seen. A woman winning Gamma? That’s not luck. That’s grit. That’s fire. You will find a way to cope.” I didn’t believe her. Not even a little. She pulled me close, kissed my forehead, then left the room without waiting for a response. I stared at the food. The smell turned my stomach. Fear had coiled itself so tightly around my gut I could barely breathe, let alone eat. I picked at the plate. Flushed it all down the toilet. Washed the dishes in silence. I wanted to fade out of existence. But I couldn’t. I was still here. Trapped in a body with no escape, in a life that no longer felt like mine. They hadn’t even set a date yet. That should’ve been a good thing—more time, more room to plan, to hope—but instead, it made it worse. The anticipation, the waiting. The illusion of freedom. Alpha Vander was “putting things in order,” whatever that meant. Maybe planning some extravagant public affair to mask the fact that the union was a sentence, not a celebration. Forced marriages weren’t supposed to be grand. But this one was. Because it wasn’t about love—it was about control. I climbed back into bed, curled beneath the blanket, and tried to breathe past the panic rising in my throat. Please, I thought. Let time fly. Let it fly fast. Lucian My father was a weak man. Spineless, really. Letting his Luna orchestrate the ruin of two lives just to soothe her own insecurities? That wasn’t leadership—that was cowardice dressed in politics. Where does Martha’s manipulation stop? It was bad enough she turned my father against me—made sure I was never considered fit to be Alpha. But now? She’s bound me to a girl I barely know, all because she couldn't stomach the idea of Darian marrying someone who wasn’t bred from power or money. Mara Thornridge and I? We were just casualties of her fear. Collateral damage in her obsession with keeping Darian’s path clean and elite. When my father dragged me to the Thornridge house, I said what I needed to say. Cold, cruel, calculated—because I needed to understand. Martha told me the Thornridges requested the union, claimed they believed their daughter was too strong not to be Luna. Claimed they wanted her to take her “rightful place.” Said they had agreed to settle for me instead of Darian. All of it? Complete bullsh1t. Everyone knew Mara had a crush on Darian. It wasn’t some secret scandal. Even Darian knew—he just ignored it. Let it stew. Let her orbit him for years. A harmless crush, people said. But what that girl gave up for him wasn’t harmless. She left her original path. Signed up at the academy. Trained harder than anyone expected. Finished second. All for a boy who didn’t have the guts to be honest with her. At first, even I assumed her ambition was calculated—that finishing second was her power play to get chosen as Luna. But after speaking with her, however awkwardly… I realized how wrong I was. She didn’t chase power. She chased purpose. And maybe, quietly, she chased hope. The way she looked at me—guarded, hurt, angry. That wasn’t the gaze of someone who’d schemed her way up. That was someone trying not to drown in something too big for her. And I hated it. I hated how Martha had spun this lie and dragged me into it. I hated how my father let her do it. I hated that Mara—this tough, stubborn, determined girl—was being broken apart by people who claimed to protect the pack. So when we went back inside, I told the truth. I was done playing along. Let the Thornridges hear it all—how this wasn’t about what was best for me or Mara or even Darian. It was about Martha’s ego. About keeping “middle-class blood” away from her precious son. I almost told Mara that Darian had known. That he could’ve stopped this earlier. But I didn’t. Because she already looked like she was barely holding it together. That truth would’ve shattered her. But I blame him too. He knew how she felt. He saw it in her eyes every Dam time she looked at him. And instead of setting her free, he kept her close. He strung her along, let her believe maybe… maybe one day. I heard him brag once—to his friends—that she’d made passes at him. After meeting her, I knew that was a lie. Mara Thornridge doesn’t beg. She’d rather die than admit she’s vulnerable. She would’ve made a great Luna. Not just to Darian—but to the pack. She’s sharp, strong, and smarter than half the men who outranked her. And instead of letting her shine, Martha decided to bury her. Tie her to me. Punish her for something that never even happened. And now they expect her to stand at Darian’s side as Gamma? To give her best while living half-alive? Unbelievable. No one’s asking what this will do to her. No one’s thinking about what she’s being forced to give up just to survive. I didn’t know what to do with Mara. I didn’t want to touch her. I didn’t want to claim her—not because I hated her, but because I respected her. She didn’t ask for this, and I’m not the kind of man who takes what isn’t given freely. I wouldn’t mate with her against her will. I wasn’t like Darian. He wore his charm like armor and left a trail of wreckage behind him—wolves he used, hearts he broke, girls who wound up pregnant and scared. And every time, Father and Martha cleaned it up quietly, buried the mess, and painted him as the perfect heir. Looking back now, I saw it all more clearly than I ever had. Darian—the golden boy, the spoiled prince. Martha’s precious son, her ticket to power, the puppet she dressed up as a leader. And then there was me. An accident at the wrong time, the wrong place, gave her everything she needed to destroy me. The biker didn’t die because of me—not really. My brakes failed. There was silver in the wreckage, and to this day, I still don’t know how it got there. The biker would’ve survived without it. But no one listened. No one cared. My father didn’t even pretend to investigate. He just... wrote me off. They said I was drunk, been partying all. Night but that was a lie, yet no one cared. Martha escalated the fallout like she’d been waiting for it. And Darian? He got a free pass. Over and over. “They wanted him,” my father would say. “He didn’t stand a chance. Every girl wants the Luna title. It’s not the same.” It wasn’t the same because Darian was untouchable. I’d only ever loved one girl. Tina Livingston. I’d been loyal, careful, focused. But now, thanks to Martha, I had to break her heart. Just another name sacrificed on the altar of Darian’s future. Martha had destroyed three lives. Maybe four, if Mara had someone before all of this—someone she never got to choose. And yet, I couldn’t even bring myself to hate her. Not fully. She was protecting her son. Ruthless, yes—but my real anger was reserved for the man who allowed her to do it all. My father. The Alpha. The coward. If my mother had lived… maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe she would’ve fought for me. For balance. For justice. But she was gone. And in her absence, Martha filled the void with poison and control. Now here we were. A forced union. A fake marriage. A girl who didn’t want me, and a pack that would celebrate it anyway like it was some kind of alliance—when in truth, it was just another silent war. I moved my things into the smaller of the conjoined rooms and fixed up the larger one for Mara. I wanted her to be comfortable. Or at the very least, able to cope. She wasn’t what I’d accused her of—she wasn’t a gold digger or a social climber. I said those things to provoke, to test, to understand. But now I knew better. She was nineteen. A kid, really. Brave as hll, smart, and stubborn. And stuck. Her parents weren’t to blame either. They had no power, no rank, no options. The offer from my father wasn’t an opportunity—it was a threat in disguise. Because being cast out wasn’t just exile. It was death by slow erasure. When a wolf is stripped of their pack mark, it fades over time. And once it’s gone, they lose their human form. They go feral. Wild. Forgotten. That’s what happens to rogues. There’s no mercy in that system, no redemption. A wolf only belongs to one pack in their lifetime. One. And if that bond is broken, there’s no going back. It was a cruel mechanism, a brutal leash disguised as tradition. One the Alpha family had full control over. And my father wielded it without hesitation. Mara was a victim. Just like I was. But unlike me, she didn’t even have the illusion of choice. Lucian I was just adjusting my cufflinks, getting ready for my date with Tina, when Austin, my butler, stepped into the room with his usual composed tone. “Master Lucian, the boutique is here to deliver your bride’s clothes.” My bride. The words felt like gravel in my mouth every time I heard them. I stood and walked into the master bedroom I’d had prepped for Mara. I’d never used it. It was larger, more extravagant, more central—but I’d always preferred the smaller room. Quieter. Less suffocating. But now, someone would finally be living here. Sleeping in a bed under this roof because she had no other choice. “Have them arrange her things in the walk-in closet,” I said. “Move my things to the wardrobe, and put the rest of my stuff in storage. I don’t use most of it anyway.” Austin nodded, ever the quiet professional. “Your father has invited you to a late lunch in the breakfast room,” he added. “It starts in fifteen minutes.” I checked the time, irritated. Great. I had plans with Tina—plans that actually mattered to me—but as usual, Father’s whims trumped everything. If he wanted something, it was dropped on my lap like gospel. No warning, no regard. I left without responding, heading toward the right wing of the mansion—the golden, polished side of the estate where Martha, Darian, and Father lived. Everything there was curated, flashy, fake. Just like them. Martha loved the money. Loved the title. The image. She wore luxury like armor. And yet she had the nerve to call otherwomen gold diggers, while she pretended to play noble Luna. The real digger in this house wore silk and control like a second skin. And Darian? He was a walking performance. The dutiful heir, the golden child. The pack believed in him like he was some messiah. But only those of us who’d seen behind the curtain knew the truth. The girls. The lies. The messes swept under thick rugs of privilege. He got away with everything. And me? I was the one they all whispered about. The drunk. The murderer. The irresponsible son. I stepped into the breakfast room and found them both—Father and her—eating like nothing was wrong in the world. “Have a seat, Lucian,” my father said with a manufactured smile. There was a thick folder on the table. Blank on the outside. I eyed it but said nothing. This was a game, and I already knew I was a piece. “Have you finally accepted the union?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. It was a test. And I already knew what the right answer was. “Yes,” I said smoothly, swallowing down my resentment like it was ash. Martha didn't miss a beat. “Make sure you keep her out of Darian’s hair.” I wanted to speak. Gods, I wanted to snap. But I bit down on the urge. “She’s already out of Darian’s hair,” my father said before I could respond. “She has been, ever since her parents told her about the arrangement.” Martha rolled her eyes, dismissive as always. “So she sent my son to fight me?” she asked, mouth tight. “That was Darian’s choice,” Father said. “Stop trying to pin this on Mara. Did it ever occur to you that maybe—just maybe—Darian genuinely liked the girl and only stayed away because of you?” I nearly laughed. Darian like someone? Please. The only person Darian had ever truly loved was himself. He kept Mara close because she worshipped him. He fed on that loyalty, that quiet hope in her eyes. And when she finally became inconvenient, he let Martha clean it up. But I stayed silent. “Anyway,” my father said, suddenly annoyed, “I didn’t call Lucian here to discuss Darian. You somehow always find a way to bring it back to him.” Martha turned her head away, eyes cold and narrowed. I stared at the file again. And for the first time, I truly realized how deeply buried we all were in this family's lies. We were weapons. Symbols. Bargaining chips. Everything but people. “Take this,” my father said, sliding the thick folder across the table toward me. I didn’t move immediately. “Sign them and keep a copy,” he added. “My signature is already there.” I stared at the folder. “What is it, Father?” He sighed like he was finally ready to put something to rest. “Since you won’t be succeeding me as Alpha,” he said, “it’s only fair I hand the company over to you.” Martha slammed her hand down on the table. “Impossible!” she snapped, venom lacing her voice. My father didn’t flinch. “The deed is done, Martha. I can’t undo it.” He looked at me again. “After your honeymoon, you’ll begin working in the company from the ground up. Learn it. Earn it. But you’ll own it, Lucian. That signature makes it official. Everything tied to the family business is yours.” Martha reached for the folder like a predator going for prey, but I was faster. I snatched it before she could even touch the corner. “If you give him everything,” she hissed, turning to my father, “then what’s left for me and my son?” My father’s face hardened.
"I'll never love you. You'll never be my true mate. This arrangement is a joke. An insult." My husband sneered. "Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I'm not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I'd have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue." "Feisty," he said. "I like that. Quick-tempered too." "As long as you don't try to bully me, we won't have a problem. If your father really did buy me, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you'll release me." I said flatly. He chuckled then—low and bitter. "You still don't get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I'll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You'll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently." Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. He told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice. ***** That actually made me smile. It was such a him thing to say. “That’s so cool, Rowan,” I said, wide-eyed. Then, on impulse, the words slipped out before I could second-guess them. “Do you mind if I come?” Rowan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at Darian, almost like he needed permission. And Darian—bless him—gave me that soft smile again. “If you go with him,” he said, “who’s going to be my friend and keep me company here?” I knew the answer. We all did. Tiffany. Tiffany would. But if I said that out loud, it would expose everything—my jealousy, my feelings, my pain. It would ruin whatever fragile friendship we still had. So I said nothing. Just sat there, heart breaking quietly behind steady eyes. Mara “I’m sure you’ve got other friends to keep you company,” I said, keeping my voice calm, eyes steady on Tiffany. “Better—and maybe more interesting—company than I could ever be.” Tiffany caught the meaning instantly and smiled, smug and satisfied. “That’s right, Darian,” she purred, looping her arm through his. “I’m all the company you’ll need.” Then, like it was some kind of private joke, she leaned in and licked his earlobe again. I looked away, jaw tight. She wanted to be Luna so badly it was dripping off her. Most of the girls who threw themselves at Darian did. It wasn’t about him. It was about the title, the power, the image. But not me. Even if Darian wasn’t going to be Alpha, I’d still feel this way about him. That was the difference. “I want to come with you, Rowan,” I said suddenly, turning to him. My voice was clearer than I expected. Firm. I needed distance. Space. A whole dam continent between me and Darian if I was going to get over him. He would never see me. Never choose me. And I had to stop holding out hope like it was some kind of twisted comfort blanket. “This trip... it’ll be good for me,” I added, mostly to myself. Darian smiled, watching me a little too closely. “Maybe I’ll come too.” And just like that, the air left my lungs. No. No, he couldn’t. That would ruin everything. I’d just end up exactly where I was—his loyal shadow, his best buddy, watching Tiffany swallow his attention whole. “You’ll bring me along?” Tiffany asked, all wide eyes and sugar-laced eagerness. I could almost hear the flutter of her lashes. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. If she came too, I’d lose my mind watching her cling to Darian like a barnacle in heat. Her tongue alone would be enough to make me puke somewhere around the border of the first town we hit. “I’ll think about it,” Darian replied, and Tiffany's face fell. She frowned, and then her eyes flicked to me, sharp and accusing, like it was my fault. She wasn’t entirely wrong. But also not right. I didn’t want Darian to come—not because I wanted to hoard him for myself, but because I needed to finally let go of him. We stayed a little longer, had a couple drinks, careful not to go overboard. It was a quiet ending to a loud night. Eventually, we all called it and got ready to leave. “Let’s go hunting tomorrow morning,” Darian said casually as we stepped out into the night. His voice was light, but his eyes were on me. I hesitated. Waiting. Because, of course, I needed to hear what she would say. “I want to come too,” Tiffany piped up, bouncing slightly in her heels like she was volunteering for a game of tag. I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. Darian caught it and laughed. “I guess the three of you will have to go without me,” I said flatly, already turning away. Darian frowned. “Come on, Mara. You and I—we’re a good team.” Oh, how I wished that was true. But in reality? It was just another sweet lie I’d told myself over the years. “You, Rowan, and Tiffany will be a formidable team,” I replied, eyes on the pavement, not bothering to look at her. I could already feel the weight of her glare. I didn’t blame her. If I were her, I wouldn’t like me either. Not when the guy I wanted kept paying attention to someone else. Darian told me to think about it. I wouldn’t. I didn’t need to. I already knew I wasn’t going. When I got home, the house was quiet—everyone asleep. I slipped inside like a ghost and made my way to my room, shutting the door behind me without making a sound. I didn’t want to wake anyone. I didn’t want to talk. All I wanted was to stop loving someone who would never love me back. Morning came too fast. I sat on the edge of my bed, still wrapped in the fog of everything I was trying to forget. The hunt was supposed to be today. Part of me wanted to go—just to breathe outside this house, outside of him. But the thought of Tiffany tagging along made my stomach twist. I already knew she’d spent the night at the Nighthorn mansion. There was no way Darian would leave her behind now. Not after that. I dragged myself downstairs, hungry but not in the mood. I hated shifting when I hadn’t eaten—it made me edgy, short-tempered. I didn’t want to lose it in the woods and end up looking unhinged. What I didn’t expect was to find my parents waiting in the kitchen. They weren’t eating. They weren’t smiling. They were just… there, sitting stiffly at the table with this look in their eyes that made something inside me tighten. My mother, usually bright-eyed and warm, gave me a small, nervous smile. “Morning, Mara. How was your night?” I forced a shrug. “Great,” I lied, trying not to read too much into their mood. She just nodded. My father cleared his throat, and the sound already made my heart beat faster. “Sweetheart, we need to talk to you about something important.” And just like that, my stomach dropped. They didn’t speak in the kitchen. My dad gestured toward the living room, and we all moved, silent as ghosts. I sat on the couch across from them, trying not to let my mind spiral. Then they looked at each other. That kind of look—the silent, mind-link kind of conversation they always had when something was wrong. Something they didn’t want to say out loud. I wasn’t part of it. Not yet. Not until they decided I had to be. “Mara,” my father said slowly, “you know how much we love you, right?” Wrong way to start. My pulse spiked. I swallowed hard. “Yes,” I said, and my voice cracked. He looked down for a moment, then back up at me with tired eyes. “We’ve always wanted the best for you. But… we also have duties to the pack. Responsibilities. And—” “We should’ve told you sooner,” my mother cut in, her voice trembling. “But we wanted you to have your graduation, your moment of celebration, before we… before we said anything.” Her eyes welled up with tears. That’s when I started crying too. Because whatever could make my mother cry like that—whatever they were about to say—it was going to rip something out of me. “Mara,” my father said again, quieter this time, “Alpha Vander Nighthorn has chosen you to be joined with his eldest son, Lucian.” My breath caught. “He’s decided,” he continued, “that since you finished second overall in the academy, top among the female wolves, and since you’re known for your strength, your discipline… that you’re the best choice for Lucian. He believes your character will help shape him into a man fit to stand beside his brother when Darian becomes Alpha. He also believes that your friendship with Darian will help settle the conflict between the brothers and bring unity to the future leadership of this pack.” I was frozen. The words didn’t even register at first. It didn’t feel real. “It’s not a suggestion, Mara,” my father added. “It’s an order. One we had no power to refuse.” That was it. The sound that left my throat wasn’t even human. I screamed. A raw, guttural cry that tore from my chest like something inside me had shattered. Mara “This must be a joke,” I whispered, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. My eyes burned, and the tears wouldn’t stop. My mother shook her head slowly, her face soaked with grief. “It’s not a joke,” she said, broken. I choked on a sob. “Lucian? Lucian?! He’s a monster. A cruel, vicious bаst3rd. He lies, cheats, bullies anyone weaker than him—and he killed someone, an innocent person. And now you want me to what? Play house with the devil?” I knew they didn’t have a choice. I knew it wasn’t really their fault. But I needed someone to blame, and they were standing right in front of me, and I was drowning. “We had no say,” my father said, voice low and defeated. “They said you’re the strongest female of your generation. They believe you’ll match him. Tame him.” “Enough!” I snapped, standing up so fast the room spun. “You can’t tame people, Dad. You don’t ‘fix’ someone like Lucian. He’s not broken. He’s rotten. He was born that way.” My breath came fast, too fast. My chest felt tight like I was suffocating. “I’m supposed to be Darian’s Gamma! That job—our futures—they’re built on trust, on teamwork. How am I supposed to do that while being shackled to a psychopath?” They had no answers. Just silence. My mother’s silent weeping. My father’s helpless stare. “I’m done. I’m leaving. I don’t want the Gamma position. They can keep it—and let them gift someone else to that monster.” I turned, storming toward the stairs. I didn’t know where I’d go, but anywhere was better than here. Anywhere but thislife. “You can’t leave, Mara,” my father called after me, voice desperate. “If you refuse the bond, Alpha Nighthorn will cast us out. We’ll become rogues. Once the mark of Mooncrest fades, we’ll lose everything—our protection, our humanity. You know what happens to rogues. You’ll turn feral. We all will. They rule this entire country, Mara. There’s no where for you to go,” I stopped in my tracks. Feral. Cast out. Doomed. I turned slowly and looked at my mother. Her shoulders were trembling. She couldn’t even look me in the eyes. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?” I said, my voice shaking with fury and despair. “You’re asking me to throw my life away. You’re asking me to bind myself to someone who might kill me in my sleep.” She nodded through her tears. “I’m sorry.” Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. Even Alpha Vander didn’t trust him to lead, which was why Darian had been groomed from day one to take over. Darian, with his calm and strength and sense of duty. Meanwhile, his older brother was out there, spiraling, and now they wanted me to steady him. They wouldn’t have picked me if I wasn’t so perfect—so well-behaved, so disciplined, so obsessed with Darian that I molded myself into the model warrior. Maybe if I’d been reckless, mean, or a bitter b1tch, they wouldn’t have even considered me. But no. I had played the part. And now, this was my reward: unrequited love, a forced marriage, a future I couldn’t escape. I hated my life in that moment. I was about to turn away again when the doorbell rang. We all froze. My mother rose to answer it, and the scent hit me before she opened the door—him. Darian. He stepped inside, and I almost didn’t recognize him. His eyes were red, brimming with tears. His hands trembled. He looked like someone had carved a hole into his chest and left it gaping. “Mara,” he said softly, his voice cracked and hoarse. He opened his arms. He didn’t need to say anything else. I walked into him, into the arms I had longed for more than I ever admitted, and he held me—tight, like he was the one about to fall apart. My parents quietly stepped away, leaving us in the silence of shared pain. And I broke. I cried, and this time, it wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t polite. It was everything I had been holding in—fear, betrayal, grief, hopelessness—all pouring out while he held me. And still, I knew… even this wouldn’t change anything. “I’m sorry, Mara,” Darian whispered against my hair, his voice thick with something heavier than guilt. “I didn’t know they would do this. I didn’t know he would do this.” And I broke again. “I don’t want to be with Lucian,” I cried, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring me. “I hate him, Darian. I can’t do this. Please… help me.” His arms tightened around me like he wanted to, like he wished he could fix it all with the way he held me—but he didn’t answer right away. When he did, it was barely above a whisper. “I’m not Alpha yet, Mara. My key mark isn’t active yet. I don’t have the power to stop this.” And that—that—hurt more than I expected. Not because he admitted he was powerless but because of the way his voice cracked. There was grief in it. Regret. Something deeper than duty. “I thought…” he started, then paused. “I thought we had time. I thought there’d be more time.” I pulled back just enough to look at him. “Time for what?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mara. I didn’t know.” I stared at him, trying to piece together what he meant. Time for what? Was he finally saying what I’d always hoped he felt? But now wasn’t the time. Not with everything crashing around us. The hug faded. Slowly. Reluctantly. We stood there, inches apart, staring into each other’s tear-streaked faces, both too full of words we couldn’t say. “Listen to me,” Darian said, his voice low but firm. “I will always be there for you. I won’t let him hurt you, Mara. I swear it. If you ever feel unsafe, if he crosses a line—call me. I don’t care what I’m doing. I’ll come. I will come. You are not alone in this.” I blinked back another wave of tears. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to thank someone for a promise that shouldn’t have to exist. “I wish I’d never trained to be your Beta,” I muttered, my voice barely a breath. “If I’d just taken medical classes instead… Alpha Vander wouldn’t have noticed me. He wouldn’t have picked me for his deranged son.” I looked at Darian again. My heart swelled painfully, and I opened my mouth. “Darian…” He met my eyes, hope flickering there. “What is it, Mara?” I hesitated. I wanted to say it. Gods, I wanted to scream it—I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I didn’t. Because now he wasn’t just the boy I trained beside. He was about to become my brother-in-law. And whatever chance there might have been, it had died the moment his father bound my future to Lucian’s. “Nothing,” I said instead. “Nothing but fear.” He pulled me back into his arms without hesitation. I buried my face in his chest and breathed in his scent one last time like it might be enough to last me forever. I didn’t dare ask for more. I didn’t dare reach for what I truly wanted. Not now. Not when I was about to be forced into the hands of someone I despised. Not when Darian had no power to save me. He held me tight, as if letting go would break him, too. Then he kissed the top of my head—soft, lingering—and pulled away. “We’ll still be best friends,” he said gently. “I don’t care what the pack says. You’re still my best friend, Mara. No one’s replacing you.” And there it was. The final nail. Best friend. The words were supposed to be comforting, but they landed like a blade in my chest. His father thought that same friendship was the key to taming Lucian—like I was a tool, a bridge, a sacrificial peace offering. I didn’t want to be Darian’s best friend. I wanted to be his everything. His Luna. His love. His home. But instead, I got Lucian. Unwanted. Unchosen. Trapped. Maybe being feral wouldn’t be so bad. At least then I’d be free. I could run, disappear, let the wilderness swallow me whole. Anything would be better than this slow suffocation. I wanted to leave. I needed to leave. Mara Darian followed me upstairs to my room. For the first time, it felt… wrong. Foreign. Like something had cracked in the familiar walls we’d built around each other. It had always been a little awkward since I started falling for him, but now—now it felt unbearable. I didn’t know what it would be like living in their house. The Nighthorn mansion. Sharing space with Lucian. Walking the same halls as Darian, seeing him every day while wearing the title of someone else’s mate. His brother’s mate. The thought made me feel sick. I didn’t trust my heart not to betray me in some devastating way. “I’ll wait here,” Darian said softly, settling into the chair by my desk while I headed into the bathroom. As soon as the water hit me, the tears came. I sank to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, sobbing so hard my ribs ached. I cried for the life I almost had. For the love I could never confess. For I was being handed like some twisted reward for being too good. And in that cracked, broken place, I thought about running. Disappearing. Going rogue. Letting the world forget I ever existed. But then I remembered what that meant. What it would do to my family. What it would do to me. I dressed in the bathroom, even though modesty had long since evaporated between Darian and me during years of shifting and training together. But things were different now. Everything was different. Even standing in front of him felt like holding a glass that could shatter if either of us moved too fast. “How are you feeling?” he asked when I stepped back into the room. I just nodded, unable to trust my voice. His eyes were still tinged with crimson, like he’d been holding back more tears of his own. “Lucian doesn’t want the union either,” he said suddenly. I looked up, startled. “What?” “That’s how I found out,” he continued. “I overheard him yelling at our father. He was furious. Said he didn’t want you. Didn’t want any of it. And honestly… that’s what scares me the most.” I understood what he meant before he said it. Lucian didn’t want me. Which meant he’d resent me. And with the kind of man he was—violent, spiteful—that resentment wouldn’t just sit quietly in the corner. He’d find a way to punish me for it. “Then why won’t he reject it?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. Darian exhaled slowly, like the weight of it all was dragging him under too. “Because ever since Father chose me as Alpha instead of him, Lucian hasn’t dared to oppose him. I think the shame crushed something inside him. He’s quiet now, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. And…” He hesitated. “Lucian’s in love—with someone else. Has been for a while.” I swallowed hard. That somehow made it worse. I wasn’t just being forced into a bond with a monster—I was a wedge, a weapon used to separate him from someone he actually cared about. A curse he’d wear every day. “This isn’t fair,” I said bitterly. “Not to me. Not to her. Not to anyone.” Darian didn’t argue. “Will I still be your Gamma?” I asked, knowing it was selfish but needing to ask anyway. Because even if I couldn’t be his mate, I still wanted to stand by his side in some way. Any way. “Yes,” he said softly. “Unless you choose to step down, you’ll remain my Gamma.” I shook my head. I couldn’t make that decision yet. Not when everything inside me felt broken and scattered. I just needed time. Space to breathe, to mourn, to accept the weight of what had been forced on me. Darian left quietly, carrying his own sadness like a wound. I watched him go and felt another piece of me fall apart. I stayed in bed the rest of the day. Staring at the ceiling. Crying into my pillow until it was soaked. My parents tried to check on me—brought food, soft words, empty comfort—but I ignored them all. I didn’t want kindness from the people who had let this happen. I didn’t want anyone. If the Alpha had chosen to bind me to Darian, I would have said yes without hesitation. I would have given him everything. But instead, I was being handed over to his brother. Why Lucian? Of all the wolves in this pack, why did fate—or power, or cruelty—choose him? And what the hll was I supposed to do now? Two weeks. Two long, miserable weeks of crying, sulking, and avoiding the world like it had personally betrayed me—because in a way, it had. I refused to go to any gatherings, skipped every function, and barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t Darian. Not that I saw him much. He’d gotten himself into trouble more than once that week, and Alpha Vander had taken it as an excuse to load him up with responsibilities. I missed him. But missing him was a dangerous thing now. Luna Martha Nighthorn came by twice to speak with my parents about the “arrangements.” She was Darian’s mother—not Lucian’s. Lucian’s biological mother had died when he was young. Alpha Vander had bonded with Martha later, and ever since, everyone just assumed she was the mother of both boys. Everyone except Lucian, who never missed a chance to correct them. I didn’t care for the politics of it. I didn’t care about her visit, her soft reassurances, or the way she avoided looking me in the eye. I didn’t care about any of it. I just wanted to disappear. Burn the whole d'amn future and vanish into ash. But I couldn’t. I was sitting on the patio, trying to catch my breath from another heavy day of doing absolutely nothing, when a sleek black car pulled into our driveway. I squinted at the figure stepping out. A young woman—tall, porcelain-skinned, striking brunette. And angry. I stood slowly, assuming she was lost and needed directions. She didn’t waste time. “Are you Mara Thornridge?” she asked, sharp and cold. I nodded, guarded. “You gold-digging b1tch,” she snapped. “What do your parents have on Alpha Vander? Huh?” I blinked, stunned. What? “Do you know how long Lucian and I have been together?” she choked out, her eyes welling up with tears. “We were sweethearts for years. And now I find out you—you’ve been chosen for him? You?” I stood there, frozen, every cell in my body screaming for a break. I had no words. I was still trying to process this marriage from hll myself, and now this? She stepped closer, her voice low and trembling with rage. “How dare you, Mara? I swear, we will make your life a living hll.” And that was it. I snapped. “Watch it,” I growled, the shift stirring beneath my skin. “I don’t give two fks about Lucian. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want this. So maybe aim that rage where it belongs—at him, or at his father, or at the Moon Goddess herself. Not me.” She blinked, caught off guard. “If you’re so mad, tell your beloved boyfriend to grow a spine and say something to his father. Trust me, you’d be doing me a huge favor. Because let’s be honest—Lucian isn’t exactly a prize. He’s an entitled, violent аs hole, and I wouldn’t want to be bound to him if he was the last breathing wolf in existence.” She stepped toward me like she was about to swing. I didn’t even flinch—I welcomed it. Hll, I needed it. I let out a low, warning growl, eyes locked on hers. “You need to f'k- off, now. While I’m still being nice. Because if you don’t, I swear on every ancestor in my bloodline, I will tear you apart. And right now? I wouldn’t even regret it.” Something in my voice must’ve landed. She backed away slowly, fury still burning in her eyes, but something else too—fear. She slid into her car and slammed the door, then peeled out of the driveway without another word. I stood there breathing hard, body trembling with all the rage and frustration I’d buried these past two weeks. Now I had to deal with Lucian’s girlfriend too? I wasn’t even officially mated to him yet, and already the drama was spilling into my yard like blood on the snow. And Lucian—he hadn’t shown up. Hadn’t spoken to me. Hadn’t so much as sent a message. I guessed the feeling was mutual. This was going to be hll. And it hadn’t even started yet. Mara “Mara!” my mother called from downstairs. Since the day they dropped the bomb about the arrangement, I’d barely left my room. What was the point? Everyone probably knew by now. The whole pack, maybe even the entire dam country. Mara Thornridge, gifted to Lucian Nighthorn like a prized lamb to the family wolf. And just like that, the threats had started rolling in—anonymous messages from a number I didn’t need to trace. I knew exactly who it was. Lucian’s little banshee. The same girl who’d parked in my driveway and tried to claw my face off with words she probably rehearsed in front of a mirror. None of her threats got to me. Not one. If she ever followed through on a single one of them, I might actually respect her. But I knew the truth—lashing out at me was easier than facing Lucian or confronting Alpha Vander. I was the easier target. The quiet one. The one who hadn’t asked for any of this. I got out of bed wearing the same old pajamas I’d worn for two days. It was already afternoon. I didn’t care. My hair was a mess, my eyes were swollen from days of crying, but the tears had stopped. I wasn’t sad anymore. Just empty. Numb. And numbness? It was better. Numbness didn’t ask questions or demand hope. Darian and I still talked every night. His voice was soft, his words kind, and I hated every second of it. He meant well. He was trying. But I didn’t want kindness from him. Not anymore. I wanted what I could never have. Every call was another reminder that I'd never be more than his best friend. So no, the support wasn’t helping. Not even a little. I shuffled downstairs, preparing to grab something quick and head back to my quiet cave of self-pity. But I froze at the bottom step. Alpha Vander Nighthorn and Lucian were in my living room. Just sitting there. Like this was normal. Like they belonged. I felt my parents' disappointment immediately. The way they looked at my unwashed hair and oversized sleep shirt said it all. But maybe, just maybe, the Alpha would take one look at me and change his mind. Maybe I looked pathetic enough to kill this deal. I stepped into the room, lifting my chin, even though my body screamed to turn and run. “Good afternoon, Alpha. Mr. Nighthorn,” I said evenly, voice dry but polite. Alpha Vander sat upright on the couch, perfectly composed. For a man in his early fifties, he looked ten years younger. Thick dark hair, sharp brown eyes, a well-groomed beard. He radiated power and vanity, and somehow it worked. No wonder women in the pack still swooned over him. He had that whole silver fox, age-like-wine aesthetic locked down. And Lucian? He looked like sin incarnate. Dark hair, frost-blue eyes that could pierce through bone, and a jawline that might have been carved from stone. His shirt clung to his body like it didn’t want to let go—tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, tracing the edges of muscle sculpted to perfection. He wasn’t bulky, not like some of the other warriors. He was lean, cut, deadly. His skin was sun-kissed and flawless, his stare unreadable and cold. Everything about him screamed danger, power, trouble. Everything about him made my skin crawl. And yet… he was undeniably beautiful. If I hadn’t known what was behind that face, I might have stared. Might have been flattered. But now? All I saw was the cage I was about to be locked inside. And he hadn’t even bothered to look at me yet. I swallowed hard when I saw him. It had been a while since I last saw Lucian Nighthorn in person, and I hated myself for even noticing how he looked. His presence was magnetic—he didn’t just walk into a room, he took it. He looked like something out of legend: all dark edges, piercing frost-blue eyes, and sculpted features that belonged on a statue. But no matter how stunning the exterior, it couldn’t mask the ugliness I knew sat underneath. Looks didn’t make a man worth loving. And I didn’t want this union. But what I wanted didn’t matter. “Mara,” Alpha Vander said, dragging my attention away from his son. I stood upright and gave him the proper Gamma salute. My posture stiff, my insides screaming. “Congratulations on your future position as Gamma. Mooncrest and Darian are blessed to have you in the ranks.” “Thank you, Alpha,” I replied, my voice steady. “Lucian,” he said, turning to his son, “get to know your mate. Take a walk while I speak with the Thornridges about the event.” Lucian didn’t respond. He just stood and walked outside, offering no glance, no gesture, no courtesy. The kind of silence that dared you to follow—and warned you not to speak. I didn’t want to go with him. He hadn’t asked. But I wasn’t foolish enough to disobey an Alpha’s command. I followed him out. He was sitting on the patio, staring down the street like the world bored him. I didn’t sit. “Don’t get any ideas, little girl,” he said finally, his voice deep, sharp, arrogant. “This arrangement is a joke. An insult. I’ll never love you. You’ll never be my true mate. Let’s get that straight before the wedding so you don’t embarrass yourself hoping for more.” I cleared my throat, keeping my voice even. “Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I’m not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I’d have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue. I expect nothing from you. And I will give you nothing in return.” He finally turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. “You really have no pride, do you?” he said. “You think this is some noble sacrifice? My father’s paying your family a fortune for this. You and your parents—just more middle-class shovel-holders, ready to dig for gold.” I inhaled sharply. My hand twitched. Don’t hit him, I told myself. Not yet. His smirk widened. “Feisty,” he said. “I like that. Quick-tempered too. I’m honestly surprised you made it as Gamma. What did you do? Sleep your way there? Must’ve been quite the climb—though Darian doesn’t fancy you, so maybe you figured you’d settle for the older brother. At least then you get the name, the money, the power. That’s what this is about, right? Being a Nighthorn?” He waited for me to crumble. I didn’t. Instead, I leaned in, voice low and laced with venom. “At least I earned my place in this pack. I’m Gamma because I bled for it, not because I was born into a name. You? You’ll always be the brother of the Alpha. Nothing more.” That hit him. His jaw tightened. His hand lifted halfway, shaking—just a breath away from slapping me. His eyes burned, not with fury alone, but with something deeper. Shame. Insecurity. I flinched, but only slightly. Mara Lucian was stronger than Darian. That much was clear. Where Darian led with loyalty, Lucian ruled with intimidation. His presence filled the air like a storm. And for a moment, just a moment, I felt what it would be like to be tied to this man. Not protected. Not cherished. Owned. Lucian dropped his hand, clenched it into a fist instead. Good. I’d struck the nerve I wanted. And I wouldn’t stop there. “We are not equals,” Lucian said coldly, his voice like ice cracking beneath pressure. “You better watch your mouth, Thornridge, or this arrangement will turn ugly real fast.” He dropped back onto the bench like he owned the space, like even sitting was a statement of dominance. I stayed standing, watching him from above, refusing to shrink. “I came here only to lay down a few ground rules,” he continued. “First, you will never be my mate. So don’t expect affection, don’t ask for loyalty, and don’t even think about what mates are ‘entitled’ to. I already have someone. Someone I actually care about.” I laughed—just once, dry and sharp. “You mean the one who threatened me in my own driveway?” I said. “Tell your little girlfriend that as long as she keeps her claws to herself and stays out of my way, we’ll have no problems. I don’t care what you two do behind closed doors.” He went quiet. I could tell he didn’t like my answer. It wasn’t what he expected. But it was the truth, and I wasn’t here to coddle his ego. “In public, we’ll play the part for my father,” he said, voice dropping lower. “Behind closed doors, we’re strangers. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.” “Fine by me,” I said flatly. “As long as you don’t try to bully me, we won’t have a problem. If your father really did buyme, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you’ll release me.” He chuckled then—low and bitter. “You still don’t get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I’ll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You’ll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently.” Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. I flinched without meaning to, but I didn’t let him see more than that. “What about your girlfriend?” I asked quietly. “She understands,” he replied, surprisingly calm. “I’ll never be Alpha, and I don’t want the job. We’ll find our way around this. She’ll still have my heart. She’ll have my children.” I stared at him, trying to understand how a person could speak of love and cruelty in the same breath. “I guess you’ve got your future mapped out,” I said. “Good for you. But what about me?” He blinked, caught off guard. His tone lost its bite. “What do you mean?” “I mean, you’ve got the girl. The family plan. The political cover. What about my life? My future?” I asked, voice low but unshaking. He looked at me for a long second. Then gave a dismissive shrug. “You’ll figure it out. If you meet someone, fine. Scr'w whoever you want. Just don’t get pregnant and embarrass me. Keep your mess private.” I stared at him, stunned. He wasn’t done. “I’m sure you already have a few boyfriends on the side. Maybe some officials from the academy you spread your legs for—because no woman’s ever made it as Gamma before. So whatever you did to get there, just keep doing it. That’s the only way you’ll hold onto that title. If someone stronger comes along, you’re out.” I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t need to. Let him think what he wanted. Let him imagine a version of me that matched his twisted assumptions. I wasn’t going to defend my body, my choices, or my worth to him. But inside, something cracked. I’d waited. Saved myself. Dreamed of Darian—not for lvst, but for love. And now I was bound to a man who assumed the worst of me. Who would use me as a shield, a pawn, and nothing more. And yet I didn’t cry. Not anymore. The tears were done. Now, there was only fire. “Well,” Lucian said, brushing imaginary dust from his pants like the conversation was just business. “Since everything’s ironed out, I guess we won’t have issues living as husband and wife.” I gave him a nod. Flat. Numb. Resigned. “Do we sleep in the same room?” I asked, not because I wanted to—but because I needed to know what kind of Hll I’d be walking into. He shook his head. “Not exactly. My room has a conjoined space. You’ll sleep in the one I’m not using.” A connected room. No door. No barrier. Just a wall, maybe some air, and all the silence in the world between us. “I’ve fixed it up for you,” he added. “Just don’t expect luxury. It’s the poorer wing of the mansion. My father doesn’t dote on me the way he does on Darian.” I almost laughed. The poorer wing? I would’ve gladly slept in a shed if it meant not sharing space with the man who thought I’d slept my way into the Gamma rank. “I don’t care about the room,” I said simply. And I didn’t. What I cared about was distance. Physical, emotional, spiritual. As much as I could carve out for myself in a life I never asked for. We headed back into the house. Alpha Vander stood, looking pleased with himself—like a man who had just orchestrated a perfect deal, unaware—or perhaps entirely aware—of the people he was crushing in the process. “Ah, I see the lovebirds have come to an understanding,” he said with a smug grin. “I suppose I’ll see you both at the wedding.” My father stepped forward to shake his hand. “Thank you, Alpha. We are honoured.” Alpha Vander turned to him with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Aiden, Arya—you’ve raised a strong, beautiful daughter. I originally wanted her for Darian, you know. She’s Luna material, no doubt about it. But in the end, I knew she’d have more impact on Lucian’s life.” Every word scraped against me like sandpaper. “Darian is already gentle,” he went on. “Lucian needs someone like Mara. Someone sweet, with a steady hand. She’ll soften him. She’s perfect.” And that was the moment I felt it—self-loathing. Deep, hot, gnawing. I should’ve seen it sooner. This wasn’t about love or bonds or the Universe’s will. I’d been chosen because I was safe. A tool. A soothing balm they could apply to their most volatile son. I should’ve been reckless. Cold. Difficult. A bad girl. Maybe then I would’ve been considered for Darian. Maybe then, I would’ve stood a chance. But Lucian—he didn’t let his father get away with it. “It’s not about what you want, Father,” he said suddenly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clean through the room. Alpha Vander turned to him slowly, like a man used to obedience. “Don’t lie to them,” Lucian continued. “This wasn’t your idea. This was Martha’s doing. Luna Martha didn’t want Darian choosing Mara. She didn’t want him with a Thornridge—didn’t want him marrying middle-class. She wants a girl with money. Status. This whole thing? It’s her fix. Her solution.” The air in the room turned sharp. Lucian kept going. “You’re not doing this to help me,” he said. “You’re doing it to ruin me—and Mara. All to clear the path for Darian to marry someone Martha approves of. You paid them off. That’s not honor. That’s manipulation.” Then he turned and walked out without another word. And I stood there—stunned. Not because I was angry at what he said. But because it was true. So painfully, clearly true. Luna Martha didn’t want me in her family. I wasn’t polished enough. Rich enough. Enough of anything, really. And Darian… he never even had a chance to fight it. I never had a chance at him. No matter how hard I trained, no matter how loyal I was, no matter how much I loved him quietly from a distance—I never stood a chance. Lucian was many things—cold, cruel, arrogant—but in that moment, I saw something else too: honesty. Brutal, unfiltered honesty. And it told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice. Mara Four days had passed since Lucian and his father came to the house, and I still hadn’t found my way out of the haze. I sat in the garden behind our home, staring at nothing. Not the flowers. Not the trees. Just the empty space ahead of me, like it might hold some kind of answer if I looked long enough. Lucian’s words still echoed in my mind—cold, cruel, and then, strangely, honest. The truth was a blade that hadn’t stopped cutting. It wasn’t about me being Luna material or helping Lucian. It was about Darian. About removing me from the equation so his mother could shape his future without interference. I didn’t even hear him approach. “You’ve lost weight,” Darian said softly, sitting beside me. I didn’t reply. What was there to say? He sighed and stood again, pacing. Frustrated. Restless. I knew he wanted to talk. He always did. But I couldn’t give him what he was looking for—not when I felt like my whole life had been bargained away by people who never even asked me what I wanted. “Why didn’t you tell me Lucian came to see you?” he finally asked. I looked up at him, calm on the surface, hollow underneath. “I didn’t think it was necessary.” He stopped pacing. “We’re friends, Mara. Everything is necessary. Everything matters.” He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders were tense. I could see the guilt in the way he carried himself, but he didn’t understand. Not yet. “Help me, Darian,” I said, my voice cracking. “Please.” He came to a stop in front of me, eyes full of sorrow. “If I were Alpha, I’d cancel this madness. I swear I would.” “But you’re not,” I whispered. Then I looked him in the eyes, and I said the one thing that had been building in my chest like pressure before a storm. “Your mother set this up.” He frowned, his expression hardening. “Lucian said it in front of your father. And your father didn’t deny it. She was afraid that you and I… that we might end up together. She didn’t want her son marrying someone from a middle-class family. So she pushed this union, forced it, to get me out of your orbit.” Darian’s jaw clenched. “That’s not true. She knows we’re just friends. That there’s nothing between us.” His words landed like stones in my chest. “If I wanted to date you, Mara, I would’ve.” That hurt. I expected it, but it still hurt. “She doesn’t see it that way,” I replied. “To her, I’m a threat to your future. So she ruined mine.” I paused, voice low and shaking. “Please talk to her, Darian. She’s destroying two lives out of fear. Lucian has someone he loves. And me?” My voice broke. “She’s condemning me to a loveless, miserable life. All because I was your friend.” I looked down at my hands, trembling now. “I’ll give up the Gamma position. I’ll leave. Just… help me get out of this.” Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and helpless. “I don’t want to marry your brother. Please.” He sat down beside me again, silent for a long moment. His hand found mine, hesitated, then held it gently. “I’ll talk to her,” he said at last, voice low. “I can’t promise anything, Mara. But I’ll try. I’ll beg her if I have to.” I nodded, even though I wasn’t hopeful. At this point, I just needed to know someone tried. That not everyone stood by and watched my future burn. If Darian hadn’t offered, I might’ve buried myself in silent acceptance. Might’ve forced myself to walk into that cold, loveless match. But Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. He was a murderer. An irresponsible drunk. A walking storm I’d be expected to share a life with. The thought of binding myself to him permanently… it made my skin crawl. We sat in silence for a while after that. Just breathing the same air. Just existing in the same space. Eventually, Darian left. And I was alone again. Sitting in a garden, surrounded by life, while mine slowly withered away. Two days passed. Nothing from Darian. No call. No visit. Not even a message. Just silence. I lay on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling like it might offer some kind of escape. It didn’t. All I saw was the countdown—days slipping away until the wedding. Until my funeral. Because that’s what it felt like. The day I married Lucian would be the day I buried the last of myself. I didn’t know if I’d take the Gamma position when the time came. I doubted it. The fire in me—the one that once pushed me to be the best—was nothing but ash now. Resignation tasted bitter, but it was starting to feel like the only thing I had left. There was a knock at my door. I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. I could already smell her—my mother. And the food tray she was balancing in her hands. I didn’t move, didn’t speak, and just like I knew she would, she let herself in. “Mara,” she said gently, placing the tray on the table. “You need to eat something.” I didn’t even look at the food. I looked at her. Cold. Angry. Broken. “How can you and Dad live with yourselves after selling your daughter?” I asked, my voice flat, my expression disgusted. She froze by the table, her eyes lowering, as if even she couldn’t bear to meet mine. “He gave us no choice, Mara,” she whispered. “The money was to ease his conscience.” “And you took it.” My words were a blade. “Spent it, I’m sure. Did it ever occur to you that Lucian might call it off? That Alpha Vander might want his money back?” She turned to face me slowly, her expression tired and tight. “We had no choice,” she repeated. “It was take it… or be cast out. ‘Take it or get out,’ that’s what he said. We were drowning, Mara. The house, the loans—we were about to lose everything.” I blinked, stunned. “So you sold me to pay off your debts? The loans you took for my education?” “No,” she said quickly. “We were ready to let the house go. We planned to move in with my sister. We didn’t expect Alpha Nighthorn to show up. But when he forced the union, when he said it was happening whether we liked it or not... we took the money. We used it to survive.” “And you used me to survive,” I said bitterly. She flinched. I sat up, my eyes sharp now. “What happens if the deal falls apart? If Lucian calls it off and his father wants the money back?” “Why would he?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Because I told Darian,” I said. “I told him what Lucian said. About the truth—how this wasn’t about Lucian needing a wife but about his mother wanting me out of Darian’s life. He promised he’d talk to her. Try to get her to stop this madness.” My mother’s eyes widened, shocked. She hadn’t expected me to do anything. Maybe she thought I’d just quietly crumble. She slowly sat beside me, her body folding like something had broken inside her. Tears slid down her face. “Mara, my darling…” my mother’s voice cracked as she sat beside me. “I didn’t know you would take it this hard.” I didn’t answer. She reached for my hand, but I didn’t move. My eyes stayed locked on the ceiling, dry now, but only because I had nothing left in me. “I’m hurting too,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I need you to be strong. You’re tougher than this.” I didn’t look at her. “Darian and Rowan left yesterday,” she added carefully. “They won’t be back until it’s time for him to take over the pack.” The words sank in slowly, like poison soaking through my veins. They went on the trip. Without me. Without a word. Darian—the one person I still believed would try to help me—was gone. He didn’t even call. Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t tell me that he had failed or that he’d tried at all. The silence in my chest cracked. My heart broke without sound. “I know what you’re thinking,” my mother said, almost defensively. “It was Luna Martha. She forced the trip.” I turned to her now, eyes stinging again. “She forced him?” I asked, though I already believed it. “Yes,” she nodded. “Jason—Darian’s butler—he came by for a check-up. He told me Darian had a terrible argument with Martha. About Lucian. About you. About how unfair this is. And when she couldn’t control the conversation, she controlled him. She made him leave. Told him it was to ‘gain experience.’ Said he’d return a better Alpha.” My lip trembled, but I didn’t speak. It was my fault. I asked him to intervene. I pulled him into this. And now he was gone. Banished under the guise of training. And nothing had changed. Lucian was still my future. And Darian… Darian had become part of the past. I sat in silence as the tears returned—slow, steady, quiet. “I’m sorry, baby,” my mother whispered. “But please… eat something. Don’t let this kill you. You’re one of the strongest wolves this pack has ever seen. A woman winning Gamma? That’s not luck. That’s grit. That’s fire. You will find a way to cope.” I didn’t believe her. Not even a little. She pulled me close, kissed my forehead, then left the room without waiting for a response. I stared at the food. The smell turned my stomach. Fear had coiled itself so tightly around my gut I could barely breathe, let alone eat. I picked at the plate. Flushed it all down the toilet. Washed the dishes in silence. I wanted to fade out of existence. But I couldn’t. I was still here. Trapped in a body with no escape, in a life that no longer felt like mine. They hadn’t even set a date yet. That should’ve been a good thing—more time, more room to plan, to hope—but instead, it made it worse. The anticipation, the waiting. The illusion of freedom. Alpha Vander was “putting things in order,” whatever that meant. Maybe planning some extravagant public affair to mask the fact that the union was a sentence, not a celebration. Forced marriages weren’t supposed to be grand. But this one was. Because it wasn’t about love—it was about control. I climbed back into bed, curled beneath the blanket, and tried to breathe past the panic rising in my throat. Please, I thought. Let time fly. Let it fly fast. Lucian My father was a weak man. Spineless, really. Letting his Luna orchestrate the ruin of two lives just to soothe her own insecurities? That wasn’t leadership—that was cowardice dressed in politics. Where does Martha’s manipulation stop? It was bad enough she turned my father against me—made sure I was never considered fit to be Alpha. But now? She’s bound me to a girl I barely know, all because she couldn't stomach the idea of Darian marrying someone who wasn’t bred from power or money. Mara Thornridge and I? We were just casualties of her fear. Collateral damage in her obsession with keeping Darian’s path clean and elite. When my father dragged me to the Thornridge house, I said what I needed to say. Cold, cruel, calculated—because I needed to understand. Martha told me the Thornridges requested the union, claimed they believed their daughter was too strong not to be Luna. Claimed they wanted her to take her “rightful place.” Said they had agreed to settle for me instead of Darian. All of it? Complete bullsh1t. Everyone knew Mara had a crush on Darian. It wasn’t some secret scandal. Even Darian knew—he just ignored it. Let it stew. Let her orbit him for years. A harmless crush, people said. But what that girl gave up for him wasn’t harmless. She left her original path. Signed up at the academy. Trained harder than anyone expected. Finished second. All for a boy who didn’t have the guts to be honest with her. At first, even I assumed her ambition was calculated—that finishing second was her power play to get chosen as Luna. But after speaking with her, however awkwardly… I realized how wrong I was. She didn’t chase power. She chased purpose. And maybe, quietly, she chased hope. The way she looked at me—guarded, hurt, angry. That wasn’t the gaze of someone who’d schemed her way up. That was someone trying not to drown in something too big for her. And I hated it. I hated how Martha had spun this lie and dragged me into it. I hated how my father let her do it. I hated that Mara—this tough, stubborn, determined girl—was being broken apart by people who claimed to protect the pack. So when we went back inside, I told the truth. I was done playing along. Let the Thornridges hear it all—how this wasn’t about what was best for me or Mara or even Darian. It was about Martha’s ego. About keeping “middle-class blood” away from her precious son. I almost told Mara that Darian had known. That he could’ve stopped this earlier. But I didn’t. Because she already looked like she was barely holding it together. That truth would’ve shattered her. But I blame him too. He knew how she felt. He saw it in her eyes every Dam time she looked at him. And instead of setting her free, he kept her close. He strung her along, let her believe maybe… maybe one day. I heard him brag once—to his friends—that she’d made passes at him. After meeting her, I knew that was a lie. Mara Thornridge doesn’t beg. She’d rather die than admit she’s vulnerable. She would’ve made a great Luna. Not just to Darian—but to the pack. She’s sharp, strong, and smarter than half the men who outranked her. And instead of letting her shine, Martha decided to bury her. Tie her to me. Punish her for something that never even happened. And now they expect her to stand at Darian’s side as Gamma? To give her best while living half-alive? Unbelievable. No one’s asking what this will do to her. No one’s thinking about what she’s being forced to give up just to survive. I didn’t know what to do with Mara. I didn’t want to touch her. I didn’t want to claim her—not because I hated her, but because I respected her. She didn’t ask for this, and I’m not the kind of man who takes what isn’t given freely. I wouldn’t mate with her against her will. I wasn’t like Darian. He wore his charm like armor and left a trail of wreckage behind him—wolves he used, hearts he broke, girls who wound up pregnant and scared. And every time, Father and Martha cleaned it up quietly, buried the mess, and painted him as the perfect heir. Looking back now, I saw it all more clearly than I ever had. Darian—the golden boy, the spoiled prince. Martha’s precious son, her ticket to power, the puppet she dressed up as a leader. And then there was me. An accident at the wrong time, the wrong place, gave her everything she needed to destroy me. The biker didn’t die because of me—not really. My brakes failed. There was silver in the wreckage, and to this day, I still don’t know how it got there. The biker would’ve survived without it. But no one listened. No one cared. My father didn’t even pretend to investigate. He just... wrote me off. They said I was drunk, been partying all. Night but that was a lie, yet no one cared. Martha escalated the fallout like she’d been waiting for it. And Darian? He got a free pass. Over and over. “They wanted him,” my father would say. “He didn’t stand a chance. Every girl wants the Luna title. It’s not the same.” It wasn’t the same because Darian was untouchable. I’d only ever loved one girl. Tina Livingston. I’d been loyal, careful, focused. But now, thanks to Martha, I had to break her heart. Just another name sacrificed on the altar of Darian’s future. Martha had destroyed three lives. Maybe four, if Mara had someone before all of this—someone she never got to choose. And yet, I couldn’t even bring myself to hate her. Not fully. She was protecting her son. Ruthless, yes—but my real anger was reserved for the man who allowed her to do it all. My father. The Alpha. The coward. If my mother had lived… maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe she would’ve fought for me. For balance. For justice. But she was gone. And in her absence, Martha filled the void with poison and control. Now here we were. A forced union. A fake marriage. A girl who didn’t want me, and a pack that would celebrate it anyway like it was some kind of alliance—when in truth, it was just another silent war. I moved my things into the smaller of the conjoined rooms and fixed up the larger one for Mara. I wanted her to be comfortable. Or at the very least, able to cope. She wasn’t what I’d accused her of—she wasn’t a gold digger or a social climber. I said those things to provoke, to test, to understand. But now I knew better. She was nineteen. A kid, really. Brave as hll, smart, and stubborn. And stuck. Her parents weren’t to blame either. They had no power, no rank, no options. The offer from my father wasn’t an opportunity—it was a threat in disguise. Because being cast out wasn’t just exile. It was death by slow erasure. When a wolf is stripped of their pack mark, it fades over time. And once it’s gone, they lose their human form. They go feral. Wild. Forgotten. That’s what happens to rogues. There’s no mercy in that system, no redemption. A wolf only belongs to one pack in their lifetime. One. And if that bond is broken, there’s no going back. It was a cruel mechanism, a brutal leash disguised as tradition. One the Alpha family had full control over. And my father wielded it without hesitation. Mara was a victim. Just like I was. But unlike me, she didn’t even have the illusion of choice. Lucian I was just adjusting my cufflinks, getting ready for my date with Tina, when Austin, my butler, stepped into the room with his usual composed tone. “Master Lucian, the boutique is here to deliver your bride’s clothes.” My bride. The words felt like gravel in my mouth every time I heard them. I stood and walked into the master bedroom I’d had prepped for Mara. I’d never used it. It was larger, more extravagant, more central—but I’d always preferred the smaller room. Quieter. Less suffocating. But now, someone would finally be living here. Sleeping in a bed under this roof because she had no other choice. “Have them arrange her things in the walk-in closet,” I said. “Move my things to the wardrobe, and put the rest of my stuff in storage. I don’t use most of it anyway.” Austin nodded, ever the quiet professional. “Your father has invited you to a late lunch in the breakfast room,” he added. “It starts in fifteen minutes.” I checked the time, irritated. Great. I had plans with Tina—plans that actually mattered to me—but as usual, Father’s whims trumped everything. If he wanted something, it was dropped on my lap like gospel. No warning, no regard. I left without responding, heading toward the right wing of the mansion—the golden, polished side of the estate where Martha, Darian, and Father lived. Everything there was curated, flashy, fake. Just like them. Martha loved the money. Loved the title. The image. She wore luxury like armor. And yet she had the nerve to call otherwomen gold diggers, while she pretended to play noble Luna. The real digger in this house wore silk and control like a second skin. And Darian? He was a walking performance. The dutiful heir, the golden child. The pack believed in him like he was some messiah. But only those of us who’d seen behind the curtain knew the truth. The girls. The lies. The messes swept under thick rugs of privilege. He got away with everything. And me? I was the one they all whispered about. The drunk. The murderer. The irresponsible son. I stepped into the breakfast room and found them both—Father and her—eating like nothing was wrong in the world. “Have a seat, Lucian,” my father said with a manufactured smile. There was a thick folder on the table. Blank on the outside. I eyed it but said nothing. This was a game, and I already knew I was a piece. “Have you finally accepted the union?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. It was a test. And I already knew what the right answer was. “Yes,” I said smoothly, swallowing down my resentment like it was ash. Martha didn't miss a beat. “Make sure you keep her out of Darian’s hair.” I wanted to speak. Gods, I wanted to snap. But I bit down on the urge. “She’s already out of Darian’s hair,” my father said before I could respond. “She has been, ever since her parents told her about the arrangement.” Martha rolled her eyes, dismissive as always. “So she sent my son to fight me?” she asked, mouth tight. “That was Darian’s choice,” Father said. “Stop trying to pin this on Mara. Did it ever occur to you that maybe—just maybe—Darian genuinely liked the girl and only stayed away because of you?” I nearly laughed. Darian like someone? Please. The only person Darian had ever truly loved was himself. He kept Mara close because she worshipped him. He fed on that loyalty, that quiet hope in her eyes. And when she finally became inconvenient, he let Martha clean it up. But I stayed silent. “Anyway,” my father said, suddenly annoyed, “I didn’t call Lucian here to discuss Darian. You somehow always find a way to bring it back to him.” Martha turned her head away, eyes cold and narrowed. I stared at the file again. And for the first time, I truly realized how deeply buried we all were in this family's lies. We were weapons. Symbols. Bargaining chips. Everything but people. “Take this,” my father said, sliding the thick folder across the table toward me. I didn’t move immediately. “Sign them and keep a copy,” he added. “My signature is already there.” I stared at the folder. “What is it, Father?” He sighed like he was finally ready to put something to rest. “Since you won’t be succeeding me as Alpha,” he said, “it’s only fair I hand the company over to you.” Martha slammed her hand down on the table. “Impossible!” she snapped, venom lacing her voice. My father didn’t flinch. “The deed is done, Martha. I can’t undo it.” He looked at me again. “After your honeymoon, you’ll begin working in the company from the ground up. Learn it. Earn it. But you’ll own it, Lucian. That signature makes it official. Everything tied to the family business is yours.” Martha reached for the folder like a predator going for prey, but I was faster. I snatched it before she could even touch the corner. “If you give him everything,” she hissed, turning to my father, “then what’s left for me and my son?” My father’s face hardened.
"I woke up with my ex’s brother still buried inside me—and the bast@rd was smiling. “What the hell? Get out of me!” I punched him in the chest, but he just held me tighter against the mattress. “Shh. You’re the one who climbed on top of me last night, begging for it,” his thumb traced my lower lip. “And now you want to play the victim?” Before I could answer, the bedroom door shook with a violent bang. “KATY. OPEN THE FKING DOOR.” My ex’s roar made the walls shake. ""I know you’re in there with him!"" I froze. My heart was pounding against my ribs. Braydon didn’t even flinch. Instead, he grabbed my hips and thrvst into me again—so deep I had to bite my lip until it bled to keep from making a sound. “Let me go!” I hissed, struggling to get him off me. He flipped me over in one fluid motion, trapping me beneath his weight. “Where do you think you’re going, Peach? You wanted revenge, didn’t you? Well, let him hear exactly what you did with his brother.” Another blow. The wood creaked. “I’m going to kill you both!” Braydon let out a dark laugh against my ear. “Well, you’d better hold on tight.” He rammed into me again. Harder this time. On purpose. A moan escaped my throat before I could stop it. I should have been terrified. Humiliated. Instead, my body arched on its own, seeking the next thrust. He tightened his grip on my waist. “That’s good,” he murmured. “Let him hear.”" --- Chapter 001 KATY’S POV “Hey, I’m heading over now. Can you bring out the books I left?” I press send and shove my phone into my jacket pocket as Bryan’s townhouse comes into view, my steps automatically quickening. I have Statistics in thirty minutes, and Mrs. Tompson would rather swallow a jean jacket than let me walk into her class without my textbook, the same textbook I managed to leave lying around in my boyfriend’s room. As I walk faster, I recheck my phone, half expecting a reply, but there’s nothing. Not even a typing bubble. For a moment, I wonder if he has already left, but it‘s unlikely. It’s only 9:30 in the morning, and Bryan never leaves his room early. One of the perks of being a baseball player is that he doesn’t have to treat academics like life or death the way I do. I reach his townhouse and take the stairs two at a time, my purse bouncing against my hip. The higher I climb, the more rushed my breathing feels, though it has less to do with the stairs and more to do with this creeping frustration that he still hasn’t texted back. By the time I get to the third floor, where his room is, I’m already picturing walking in and tossing a sarcastic comment about how hard it is to answer a simple text. My hand reaches for his doorknob when I hear his voice through the door. “Hurry up, my girlfriend will be here soon.” I freeze. “You need to leave.” Who is he talking to? The question barely forms before the door flies open and a girl rushes out, nearly colliding with me. My breath hitches. She gasps, her eyes wide with a mix of panic and shame. In the sliver of a second before she bolts, I take in her messy red hair, wrinkled shirt, and unbuttoned jeans. A sickening masculine scent, one I recognize very well, clings to her. My gaze snaps to Bryan, who is standing in the middle of the room in nothing but his boxers, his own chest bare, and his hair tousled. A cold, sharp shiver runs down my spine, stealing the air from my lungs. My knees go weak, and the knot in my stomach turns to a solid block of ice. Without a word, the girl tears past me, disappearing down the hallway. My fingers begin to tremble, and my heart hammers so hard it feels like it will burst through my ribs. I stumble back, a bitter taste rising in my throat. “Baby, wait.” Bryan’s voice follows me as he steps into the hallway. I spin around and run, determined to put as much distance as I can between us, my chest burning with anger. He catches me, his hands clamping around my wrist before I can escape, spinning me back toward him and blocking my path. "Baby, let's talk.” "Let go of me," I snap, my voice shaking. "Don't touch me!" I shove against his chest, but he doesn't budge. He tugs me toward his room, his grip tight. "It's better if we go inside. Everyone can hear us out here." Inside, I shove him away, my chest rising and falling with quick breaths. I want to demand answers, but I already know the truth. The evidence is everywhere: in the rumpled sheets, the scent of her perfume, and the desperate, guilty look in his eyes. He paces the room, running a hand through his hair before stopping and grabbing my shoulder. "I messed up, okay?" He drags a hand over his face. "It was a mistake.” My eyes twitch. “A mistake?” “Yeah, baby," he says, his eyes skittering away from mine. "Some of the guys came over last night. We drank too much. I got so shit-faced I… I thought she was you. I don't even remember half of it.” I blink, unable to process his words. My mind stumbles over them, each syllable making less sense than the last. Did he really just say that? Does he actually expect me to believe this pathetic lie? I stare at him, my mouth slightly open, waiting for him to take the words back. But he doesn't. He just holds my gaze, searching my face as if he's trying to see if I'm stupid enough to swallow his bucket of lies. “You… you thought she was me?” I choke out in anger. “Are you actually serious right now?” “Yes, baby, I'm serious. I didn't mean it. It was a mistake," he insists. "And honestly, she came on to me first. How was I supposed to resist when I was drunk? Come on, you know I love you.” A bitter laugh escapes my lips. "Cheating is one thing, Bryan," I snap, taking a step toward him, "but thinking I'm stupid enough to believe your lies? That's a whole other level.” “Katy, you’re overreacting,” he states, his voice growing colder. “Jasper and Hannah had the same kind of problems, and they worked it out. Why can’t you be more like her?” I feel heat flare through me. “Overreacting?” I yell. “Fourteen months, Bryan! Fourteen months of promises, and you’ve broken every single one! And you have the nerve to tell me I’m overreacting?!” He scoffs, his mask finally dropping. "Promises? You really want to bring that up?" I recoil. "What do you mean by that?" He crosses his arms and steps toward me. "You want to talk about promises? Fine. Let's talk about it." He jabs a finger in my face, his eyes darkening. "You promised your schedule would never affect us. How's that working out? Every damn day, you're busy. Debate, magazines, some lame club! You put everything else before me.” “That’s not—” I start, but he cuts me off. “I play sports, and I still make time for you!” he yells, and I flinch. “You know what? This is your fault!” He jabs my shoulder again. “This happened because of you, not me. You!” I step back, rage crawling up my spine. Never in a million years did I imagine that the person I had loved and trusted for a whole year could be like this—twisting the truth, blaming me, acting as if I were at fault. “You are a coward, Bryan.” I whisper, lifting my head to meet his eyes. “That’s what you are. Blaming me, twisting everything, and calling it my fault? I’m done.” I dash to his desk, sending papers and books tumbling to the floor as I hunt for my textbook. I need to get out of here before my anger takes over, before I do something I will regret. “You act like there’s someone better out there. There isn’t, and there won’t ever be.” He sneers from behind me. “Nobody else will ever make you feel alive the way I do.” I pause, staring up at him. He steps closer, his voice rising as he repeats his claim. “You were nobody before me, Katy. I made you popular. You walk into a room, and people know your name because of me. Bryan Cooper.” Something inside me snaps. I close the distance between us, breathing against his face. "You will never speak to me again," I hiss. "And mark my words, you will be replaced by someone hotter, smarter, and better than you could ever be. I yank the couple necklace he gave me off my neck and fling it at his feet. Without another word, I storm out with my textbook, tears burning my eyes. I managed not to cry in front of him, but as I run down the stairs, the dam finally burst. I collapse against the side of the building, clutching my chest as sobs tear out of me. It feels like someone has ripped my heart away and shredded it into a million pieces. Our memories and moments fill my mind, stabbing me over and over. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fumble to answer it, my hands shaking. “Katy?”My brother’s voice floats through. “Yeah?” I sniffle, wiping my tears. “Don’t forget you promised to tutor Braydon after class today,” he says, sounding annoyed. “He’s already bugging me.” I bite my lip, wanting to tell him I can’t right now, not in this state, but I had promised to help his friend. I exhale, pushing back the lump in my throat, and slowly rise to my feet. “Okay,” I manage to say. Chapter 002 BRAYDON’S POV “Asshole!” I shout, the words ripping from my throat as some guy cuts me off. I slam my hand against the steering wheel, throwing a glare in the rearview mirror, even though I know he can’t see me. Perfect. Just perfect. I’m particularly in a bad mood today. Hell, I’ve been in a bad mood all week. Nothing seems to go right, and every little thing is just… another straw on the camel’s back. And it’s all because my old man’s ultimatum keeps gnawing at me. “Pass all your courses, or forget about hockey.” His voice drills into my skull. Simple, right? Like I could just flip a switch and make it happen. I can rock Cs in most of my courses, well, except in Marketing Management and Business Ethics. If I fail those, there’s no graduation, no hockey, and worse, Bryan gets his hands on my mom’s company. That’s exactly what he and his mother have been scheming for, and I’ll be damned if I let them take what my mom built with her own sweat and blood. The thought gnaws at me, making me want to punch something, and I can’t hold in the audible groan that escapes my throat. I pull into my apartment lot and kill the engine. For a moment, I sit there, gripping the wheel and staring at myself in the rearview mirror. “You got this,” I tell myself. I can do it. Lucky for me, Justin’s kid sister, Katy, is a genius. All I need is a few sessions with her, I’ll keep my grades, and hockey stays mine. That’s the plan, the smart plan. But right now, I need something to distract me before I lose it. I nod, shove the door open, and head for my building. I slow as I near my door, spotting someone leaning against the frame. Her head lifts, eyes locking with mine, and a smirk curls her lips. Stacy. Exactly the distraction I ordered. I’d shot her a text twenty minutes ago, but didn’t think she’d make it so quickly. Guess not. She’s in nothing but a jacket and lacy tights. And when a girl waits at your door dressed like that, you know damn well there’s nothing underneath. “Took you long enough.” She shoots me a sexy smile that says I’m about to forget all about my bad day. My gaze drags over her as I slip the key into the lock. “Is that all for me?” Her eyes glitter. “Sure, big guy.” I’ve barely stepped inside before her manicured fingers trail across my chest. “How long has it been?” she purrs. “A long time,” I answer. Her smile widens as she shrugs out of her jacket, letting it pool on the floor. She gets on her knees and crooks a finger at me. "Come here.” I waste no time closing the distance between us. The world outside the door, the frustrations of the day, my father's ultimatum, my grades, all fade into a distant hum. She takes the waistband of my jeans, her fingers teasing the button open before tugging at my zipper. A second later, my cock springs free, a release I've been craving all day, and lands in her waiting hand. The feel of her fingers wrapping around me pulls a low groan from my throat. “Go on, suck it,” I rumble. On my command, she opens her mouth and wraps her lips around my length. **************��Two hours later, Stacy is snuggled up beside me, her head resting on my chest. She traces meaningless lines across my skin, a gesture of intimacy, but I don’t like the cuddly stuff. It makes me feel trapped. I slowly shift, dislodging her head, and search for my shorts on the floor. “You..” “I missed you,” she blurts, cutting me off. I spin, caught off guard for half a second before I reel it back in. The first thought that comes to mind is: Did she forget the rules? We first hooked up three months ago, and I was crystal clear about my boundaries.Things were easy because she was fine with a no-strings-attached arrangement. But now, I'm not so sure. It seems she's going to be like all the others, the ones who start wanting more after a few times. “I’ve been busy,” I mutter, dragging on my shorts. I can’t say I missed her, too, because that’ll only mess things up and lead her on. But the truth that she hadn't crossed my mind once since we last hooked up is too cold to say aloud. “I’m exhausted. Got morning practice.” I rub the back of my neck, hoping she takes the hint and leaves. But that’s far from what she has in my mind. “Are you really kicking me out minutes after we just—” her voice sharpens, “after we just had sex?” “Stacy, listen…” “Seriously, is this it? Is this all I am to you? We just hook up and that’s all?” She looks visibly upset now. “I thought we were clear about this," I reply, my voice firm. "From the very beginning, I told you I'm not looking for anything serious. No strings attached, just this.” Her fingers tremble as she snatches her jacket off the floor. "Well, I don't want to be your whenever-you-want girl anymore. I want to be your girlfriend." “You know that’s not happening.” I respond flatly. “But why?” She demands. "I don't have to explain myself and don’t act like I tricked you. You knew the deal from day one,” I tilt my head at the door. “If casual wasn’t your thing, you shouldn’t have agreed. Now do us both a favor and leave.” Her expression immediately softens, her eyes filling with a plea as she realizes I'm serious. "Big guy..." she croaks, her voice breaking. "I just… I just really like you. Can't you—" She lifts a hand to touch me, and I take a sharp step back. Her hand is left hanging in the air, and her eyes turn cold instantly again. The vulnerability is gone, replaced by a cutting anger. "Why exactly can't I be your girlfriend?" she asks, her voice hard. "What is it? Do you have a checklist I don’t measure up to?” I don't answer. I turn and stride out of the bedroom. She follows, her shoes thudding on the hardwood floor, but I ignore her. I pass the dining table, head straight for the fridge, and crack open a beer. She stops short, the anger in her body suddenly replaced with bewildered hurt. "So that's it? You're just going to grab a beer? You don't even care, do you?" I take a slow sip, not looking at her. "I thought we were clear. I don't." "I can be a good girlfriend!" she pleads, her voice rising. "I'm a great girlfriend. Just give me a chance." I shake my head. "I don't need a girlfriend." The words hang in the air for a moment before something in her breaks. She lets out a frustrated cry and yells, "Screw you!" She lunges for the front door, yanking it open. She dashes out and almost collides with a girl coming down the hall, a stack of books in her arms. The girl sidesteps to avoid being hit. It's Katy. Her tired gaze lands on Stacy, then drifts to me, her expression unreadable. Stacy gives her a slow once-over, then whips back to me with a sneer. “Really? I thought you had standards!” My mouth opens, ready to shut her down, but Katy beats me to it. “Relax. I’m not here to hook up with him. Unlike you, I actually have a purpose.” Both of us freeze. My brows lift, caught off guard. Stacy’s smirk falters, and for a split second, she looks like she’s been slapped. Chapter 003 KATY’S POV The redhead glares at me, her chest rising and falling like she’s trying to push the anger out in measured breaths. I wait for a retort, but she spares me only a cutting look, huffs at Braydon in dismissal, and storms off, muttering cusses to herself. I stare after her, gritting my teeth as irritation prickles my skin. What’s it with me and redheads today? First, with Bryan in the morning, and now, his brother. It seems they both have a type. A low chuckle from the doorway yanks my attention back. Braydon leans casually against the frame, an infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. His abs are on full display, golden against the light, every line impossible to ignore. “Didn’t think you had that in you, Peach.” I lift an eyebrow, a mix of annoyance and curiosity bubbling up inside me. "Peach?" He pushes off the door and takes a step closer, his hand reaching toward me. I recoil slightly, a shiver running down my spine despite myself, and his grin only widens. “Relax,” he says, tilting his head toward my chest. I glance down and there it is: a peach, drawn smack in the center of my shirt. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I can’t help but roll my eyes, letting out an amused scoff. I bulldoze past him into his living area. “Put on a shirt.” “Why?” His voice hums with amusement, even though I refuse to look at him. “Getting a little distracted by the view?” I spin around. “Ever heard of the word decency?” I snap. “It’s spelled—” “Hey, I can spell that. What do you take me for?” he cuts in, feigning annoyance, which somehow makes it even more irritating. He shuts the door and strolls over to the eat-in counter. A can of beer sits there, and before my eyes, he tilts it back and gulps down the entire thing in one smooth motion. “Is that alcohol?” I ask, fists clenching at my sides. He shoots me a strange look, eyes flicking to the now-squashed can in his hand. “It’s beer… so yes, I’m pretty sure it’s alcohol.” He tilts his head, his smirk creeping back. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smarter one?” Anger bubbles inside me. Did Justin not tell him I’m coming over? But no, Justin called me this morning to remind me. So, Braydon knows I’m here to tutor, not watch him get drunk. “You’re drinking on a night I’m supposed to tutor you?” I demand, my voice tight. He sighs dramatically and tosses the can in the trash. “Don’t be so peachy, Peach,” he says, his voice teasing. “It’s just one can and it’s not enough to knock me out. Besides… we can just get to know each other today. Justin definitely didn’t mention you’ve grown into a pretty woman.” I feel irritation crawl up my spine, and my lips twitch. My eyes dart to the door, tempted to leave, but then I remember Justin’s pleading and the one thousand dollars he promised for my new MacBook. I fix him with a death glare. “First of all, don’t call me Peach again. Second, have you considered that the reason you’re flunking your courses is that you flirt too much, and let’s not forget your unhealthy obsession with hockey? If you actually stop thinking about ways to flirt with me, maybe we can get something done tonight. But if you don’t, I’ll be more than happy to waste your time and watch you fail.” “Do you have friends?” he throws at me casually, catching me off guard. “Or have they all ghosted you because all you do is read and forget to socialize?” His words sting, bringing back the memory of what Bryan said to me this morning, but I swallow the hurt. “You must be so good at socializing that you forget other things matter.” I lift my book. “Oh, things like graduating from college.” His smirk widens, and I can see he’s taking this as a challenge. Is my insistence… kind of a kink for him? “Now, where’s your room? Let’s get started,” I add, keeping my voice calm. He leads the way to his room, and I follow, my eyes scanning the space as I enter. Posters of the Chicago Blackhawks cover the walls, along with a few other players I recognize from Justin’s room. Surprisingly, it’s cleaner than I expected, until my gaze lands on his bed. Bile rises in my throat. The sheets are scattered, and two empty condom wrappers lie on the floor. I bolt out, clutching my books, heat flooding my face. He follows, a look of amused surprise on his face, but I don’t slow down. “We’ll just read here,” I say, refusing to meet his eyes. I drop my books on the table, my hand aching from carrying them too long. Braydon prowls closer, shrinking the air between us “Why’d you run like that?” He asks. “Can’t handle being in the same room with me, Peach?” That damn nickname again. My patience frays. “You should clean up your room after sex, especially if you’ve got company. It’s called decency. Maybe you’ve heard of it, though clearly, you haven’t.” His fingers suddenly tilt my jaw, forcing my eyes to his. “Are you sure that’s the only reason? You know, I can make time for you.” That’s it. I’ve had enough. Heat floods my chest as I snatch my books off the table and storm toward the door. “Find someone else!” I yell. He catches my arm, trying to stop me, but I yank hard against his grip. I will not sit through two hours of his shameless flirting, not today. Not after the day I’ve had. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay?” Braydon’s voice softens as he pleads. “Get your hands off me.” I twist, trying to shake him loose. “I’ll behave, alright?” he rushes out. “I’ll put on a shirt, stop calling you Peach, never say another word you don’t like. Just, please, tutor me. I’m desperate.” I whirl around, ready to snap that he doesn’t act desperate enough, when my pocket starts buzzing nonstop. With a huff, I yank my phone out, half-expecting one of my study group members. But no, it’s Bryan. My stomach knots as I click the notification. Instead of apologies like I imagined for a second, my screen is filled with vile messages from him. My throat burns as my eyes lock on one message that makes the rest blur away. ~~BRYAN: Return my baseball jacket. My new girl wants it.~~ Everything else fades as hot anger sears through me. I read the line twice, but the words don’t change. He wants me to return his baseball jacket? And not just that, he already has a new girl, less than twelve hours after we broke up. My jaw clenches so tight it aches. He’s doing this to rile me up, and goddamn, it’s working. If I don’t hit back, he wins. The memory of him sneering that I’d never find someone better than him scorches me deeply. “Hey…” A tap on my shoulder jolts me, and Braydon’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Did you hear a word I said? I said I’ll do anything you want. Anything.” My head jerks toward him, and it takes a moment to recollect myself, his last word lingering in my mind. Anything you want. The words replay like a chant, and suddenly my mind is crawling with ideas that shouldn’t be there. My gaze rakes down his frame and back up, and he catches it, brows pulling together in confusion. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it, but the thought is so damn tempting. Braydon Cooper, the campus golden boy and star forward of the hockey team. He’s the guy girls would do anything to be seen with, and guys hate him because he can take their girlfriends with a smile. He might be a player, but everyone knows he’s picky. Ruthlessly picky. So much so that girls brag if they even make it into his bed. Just being seen with him is enough to boost your social status overnight. You get invitations to events just because you’ve caught the eye of Braydon Cooper. And right now, he’s standing in front of me, saying anything I want. He’s perfect for my revenge plan. Not just because of who he is, but because he’s Bryan’s brother. What better way to grind Bryan’s inflated ego to dust than to show him his so-called replaceable ex is on the arm of his hotter and better brother? I turn to face Braydon fully, heat prickling under my skin. “You’ll do anything?” I ask, watching him closely. He studies me, uncertainty flickering in his eyes for the first time since I walked in. Still, he nods. “Yeah.” I take a slow breath, steadying the heat in my voice. “Then here’s the deal. I’ll tutor you, and not just enough for you to pass. You’ll ace your classes, every single one of them, with at least a B. That’s my part.” He narrows his eyes, waiting. “And yours?” “In return,” I say, “you’ll use your charm, your connections, your golden-boy reputation to pursue me publicly. We’ll build a high-profile relationship and everyone will see us.” Chapter 004 KATY’S POV “What?” Braydon stares at me like I’ve just sprouted two heads. “I said that—” “Yeah, I got you.” He cuts in, stepping closer as if to read my face better. “You’re asking me to play boyfriend?” I lick my lips before answering, my pulse hammering. “Yes.” He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sorry to disappoint you, Peach, but dating isn’t my thing. Anything but that.” The sting hurts more than I expected, disappointment slicing through me. I exhale slowly, biting my lip. I’ve heard his no-dating rule before, but dismissed it as just another line to make himself more desirable. But now… the way he shuts me down makes me wonder if he’s actually serious enough to walk away from an offer like this. I clear my throat, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Think about it. Midterms are in four weeks, and it’s a major part of our final grade. If you want to pass, you need time with me, and that’s a month to prepare. This is a win-win deal.” “Uh-uh.” He flicks his hand. “I’ll pass. There has to be something else you want. I mean…” His smirk resurfaces. “I didn’t take you for one of my fangirls.” I roll my eyes, glaring at him. “I’m not interested in you. And I’ve never harbored some secret crush on you.” “Really?” He cuts in, his tone edged with disbelief. “So why? I mean… aren’t you still with Bryan or something?” “You should’ve remembered that before flirting with me,” I snap back. My chest heaves once, and I force myself to calm. It takes everything in me to push out the words. “Bryan and I broke up.” His face doesn’t change, not even a hint of sympathy. He also doesn’t look like he’s about to say an empty sorry to hear that. Instead, he cocks an eyebrow. “So what? Trying to use me as your rebound?” The urge to scream at him burns in my throat, but I bite it back. I’m negotiating, and I need this deal. Swallowing hard feels like impaling myself as I admit the truth. “He cheated on me.” That gets him. His expression shifts, the teasing dropping from his face. His eyes darken, a flash of anger sparking there. “That son of a bitch.” “It’s fine,” I choke out, though it’s not. “I just… I want to prove him wrong. He said I can’t find someone better than him. But—” I shrug, forcing the resignation into my voice. “I guess your rule is your rule.” I turn, feigning surrender, pretending to walk away even though part of me is begging for him to stop me. “Wait!” His voice rings out just as my hand grazes the door. My lips twitch into a smile, but I force it down, schooling my face into something neutral as I turn back to him. Braydon drags a hand through his hair, and I know he’s thinking. And honestly, I don’t blame him. I already know how explosive it’ll be once the news spreads. Justin will definitely flip out, and everyone will have their eyes glued to my life like it’s their favorite show. Frankly, the only good thing to come out of this is that Bryan will absolutely lose his shit. “You’ll really help me ace my courses?” he finally asks, his gaze locking with mine. I nod. “Yeah. But that depends on how convincing you are as my boyfriend.” His brow furrows. “What does that even mean?” “It means people have to believe we’re dating,” I say evenly. A smirk tugs at his lips. “That’s gonna be a hard sell, considering my track record.” I suck in a breath, my patience thinning. “Do you really want to graduate, or not?” He nods his head, shooting me a mock glare. “You’re so annoying.” “Then do we have a deal?” I press, refusing to back down. He stays quiet, the silence stretching long enough for me to second-guess everything. Then he sighs. “We’ve got a deal.” I almost squeal, but I bite it back hard. He actually agreed. I can’t believe I pulled this off. And suddenly, the weight of it sinks in…this is huge. In the history of Cadston College, I’m his first girlfriend. First. Which makes it not just a win, but a direct slap in Bryan’s face. Another point on the scoreboard for me. “Thank you,” I say, setting my books down before my hands can shake. “I hope you’ll be a great girlfriend,” he replies smoothly, that tone of mischief back in his voice. “Because I’ll give this my all. Quick notice though, I’m a handsy guy.” His teasing is back, but this time, when our eyes lock, I can’t fire back like I usually do. The air shifts between us, heavy and charged. My throat tightens, and I look away, scratching at my arm like that can distract me. It doesn’t. If anything, it only makes me more aware of how close he is. “Ummm…let’s talk about the rules.” I manage to say. “What rules?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer as his hand lands on my shoulder, tugging me a little closer. I go stiff instantly, every nerve locking up. His frown deepens. “You can’t freeze up when I touch you if we’re going to sell this dating thing.” A spark of alarm shoots through me. “And why would you even touch me?” He tilts his head, one brow arching. “Because, Peach, I’m supposed to be your boyfriend.” My throat tightens. “Can’t you convince people without touching me?” I counter, heat crawling up my neck. “We can…hold hands sometimes.” “Are you really that shy?” His lips twitch. “What, was your relationship with Bryan PG-12 or something?” “No,” I snap before I can stop myself. My voice falters, then steadies again as I lift my chin. “We had sex plenty of times. And yeah, there was PDA. Difference is, he was actually my boyfriend.” He steps closer, and with a maddening slowness, pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. My skin burns at the contact. “We just made a deal, Peach,” he says softly. “And the way I see it, that makes you my girlfriend now. If we’re gonna convince Bryan, we don’t get to half-ass it. He can smell bullshit a mile away so we do what real couples do.” The room feels like it’s closing in, the air too thick, my heartbeat too loud. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. If I want Bryan to choke on this, I have to play the part. I nod, forcing the words out. “Maybe…we should practice holding hands and some physical stuff. Just to make it natural.” He almost laughs but reins it in, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Practice, huh? Okay, Peach. Let’s practice.” He guides me stiffly to the couch and sits beside me. Then he extends his hand, and my throat dries. Slowly, I reach out and take it. The moment our skin touches, a zap of electricity shoots through me, and I yank my hand back. He feels it too, and I can tell because he doesn’t tease me. Instead, he licks his lips. “Let’s try again. Extend your hand.” I swallow, shove my hand forward, and he takes it. His fingers weave through mine, and my heart slams against my ribs, so loud it feels impossible he can’t hear it. His gaze lingers on me as he strokes the back of my hand with his thumb, and shivers ripple down my spine. Why does something as simple as holding his hand make me feel this way? “See?” he murmurs. “It’s not that hard.” I nod quickly, pretending the heat in my belly isn’t getting worse with every second. He shifts closer, his shoulder brushing mine, and his scent floods my senses. “Now,” he says, his voice dropping, “next on the list of physical contact is kissing.” Chapter 005 KATY’S POV I rip my hand away, glaring at him, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Are you out of your mind?” He snorts. “Do you, or do you not, want Bryan to believe we’re dating?” My jaw drops in outrage. “What does that have to do with my lips?” He shakes his head like I’m hopeless. “What do you think relationships are? Study groups? Business meetings?” He leans closer, and I instinctively lean back, my heart racing. “Men are physical beings and I’m the most physical of all. Bryan knows that. If he notices I’m not all over you, we’ve got a problem. And we don’t want problems, do we?” I bite my lip and look away, my brain spiraling. Maybe I should find someone else for this fake-dating nonsense, because his suggestions are ridiculous. He makes me react in ways I don’t understand, and now I’m actually considering kissing him. Him, of all people. No. I cross my arms and face him. “This isn’t a game. It’s fake dating, and I am not kissing you.” He leans back, unfazed. “Okay, then what do you suggest we do when we’re out? Bars, my hockey games…” I blink. “Wait, bars? I have to go with you to bars? Why?” He lifts a brow like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because that’s what girlfriends do.” Oh, this is already too much. The thought of hanging out with his friends, who I’m sure are just as loud and cocky as he is, makes my stomach turn. “Trust me, Peach,” he says with that maddening grin, “if you show up on my arm at a bar, Bryan will lose his mind. You’ve got to do things with me you’d never do with him, or he’ll never buy it.” I narrow my eyes. “And what exactly happens at this bar?” “We have fun, grab a couple drinks, and I introduce you as my girlfriend…” His grin widens. “Oh, and heads up? Half the girls there will probably want to kill you.” I roll my eyes, though I can’t deny it makes sense. Going out with him and stepping into his world will convince anyone we’re together. Bryan especially. He knows I hate loud places, so if he hears I went to a bar with Braydon, he’ll lose it. “Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll go.” “And at least one home game,” he adds quickly. I sigh. “That too.” “And you’ll wear my jacket around campus.” I give him a tight nod. “But no kissing. If you want that, call the redhead.” His lips curve. “Why don’t you want to kiss me? Scared you’re bad at it?” I scowl. “I’m a great kisser!” “Yeah?” He leans in, close enough for my breath to catch. My heart skips, heat curling low in my stomach. “Then prove it.” “Why do I have to prove anything to you?” I snap, though my palms are slick with sweat. “I know I’m a good kisser. End of story.” His tilts his head. “I see fear in your eyes. Don’t worry, I get it.” “Wh—” The sound sputters out of me. He’s unbelievable. “Why would I be scared to kiss you?” He shakes his head slowly, like he’s humoring me. “A lot of people freeze up when—” “Fine!” The word rips out of me before I can stop it. “Let’s do it.” For a second, his eyes widen, shock flickering there before it melts into a smile. His green eyes darken, heat sparking in them or maybe it’s just me burning up. My hands tremble against my thighs, and my whole body feels like it’s caught fire. This cannot be happening. Except it is, because he leans in and closes the gap between us. Our knees brush, and it feels like sparks shooting through me. My hand lifts almost on its own, my fingers brushing his cheek and my thumb traces along his jawline. His eyes catch the light, and I swear I can see the rapid flutter of his pulse in his throat. Slowly, I tilt forward until my lips press against his. The instant they touch, heat floods through me, racing from my mouth down the length of my body. My skin prickles, every nerve coming alive with a low pull in my stomach that I can’t control. He tastes faintly of beer as his tongue slides in my mouth, but somehow it’s addictive, like I’ve never tasted it before. For a moment, I forget everything: where we are, why we’re doing this, and even who I’m with. All I feel is heat rolling through me. And then reality slams back. I’m kissing Braydon. The last person I should ever be kissing. Panic claws at my chest, and I rip myself away, breathless. My face burns hot, my chest rising and falling too fast. From the corner of my eye, I catch him licking his lips, and I tighten my thighs. I should say something smart, but my throat is dry, and I don’t trust my voice not to give me away. My palms are damp, so I rub them against my jeans, praying he won’t point out how rattled I am. “Well,” he drawls at last, his eyes locked on me, “I guess we have chemistry. We’ve got nothing to worry about.” I force myself to look at him, but the heat in his gaze is too much, and I turn away almost instantly. “Is that so?” I laugh nervously, rubbing my arms. “Then I guess we’re done here.” I spring to my feet, gathering my things, but before I can escape, his hand closes around my wrist. My breath catches as I glance down at him. “There’s one more thing,” he says. “Wh…what?” My voice trips over itself. “The way you look at me.” I’m sure my chin is red now because I feel all the blood in my body rush to my face. How do I look at him? How? “What do you mean?” I manage to ask, barely above a whisper. “You need to look at me like you’re in love,” he says. Relief flickers through me when I realize he’s still talking about our act, not me. But then his fingers lift, tilting my chin toward him, and my throat goes dry. My gaze drops to his lips, and panic surges. “I think I’m good,” I blurt, stumbling back. Clutching my books to my chest, I make for the door before I can completely fall apart. Chapter 006 KATY’S POV I slip into the lecture hall and sink into my usual seat, letting my bag drop beside me. My gaze flicks around the room before I can stop myself, and I scan the faces of everyone present. Of course, I already know Braydon’s schedule, so I know he shouldn’t be here. Still, I only exhale once I’m certain. It’s ironic, really. He’s supposed to be my fake boyfriend, and yet here I am, relieved he isn’t anywhere near me. And today is supposed to be our first day for everything we planned but my stomach is fluttering with nerves. The truth is that after last night, I need space, breathing room, and time to convince myself I’m not making a mistake by trusting him. I usually pride myself on making good choices. Safe ones. But with him, all my carefully built walls crumble, and wisdom evaporates. That’s how I end up doing things like kissing him like I want it and like I’m not supposed to remember it’s fake. Worse, I didn’t just kiss him, I melted and moaned into his mouth as if I couldn’t help myself. The memory sends a shiver racing down my spine, and I shift in my seat, wishing I could shake the feeling away. “Miss me?” a familiar voice teases in my ear. I jump, startled, before turning. Allie slides into the chair beside me, her smile bright and easy. Right on cue, our professor walks to the podium, but I barely notice him because I’m too busy staring at my best friend. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow,” I whisper, grinning as relief warms my chest. God, it feels good to see her. Allie isn’t just my roommate, she’s my anchor, and my sister in every way that matters. She’s been gone for days, celebrating her anniversary with her boyfriend, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed her until now. “So basically, you didn’t miss me,” she says, pulling out her notebook, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I missed you so much my entire life collapsed without you,” I whisper dramatically. She smothers a laugh. “Or maybe you were just having too much fun without me.” If only she knew. Fun is the last word I’d use for all the mess that happened. And I know she’s going to freak out when I tell her because I have to tell her. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it while she was away because I didn’t want to ruin her week. But now that she’s back? There’s no hiding and there’s too much to unpack. “I’ll tell you everything after class,” I whisper, flipping open my notebook. Her pen pauses midair, and she leans closer, her brows raised. “Now I’m anxious.” “After class,” I whisper back, forcing my attention to the podium. The professor’s voice drones on, but the words might as well be static. My heart is already racing, my palms damp against the notebook. Just the thought of telling Allie what happened makes me feel nauseous. She has the kind of relationship people dream about with a steady, loving boyfriend. Meanwhile, mine crashed and burned in the ugliest way possible. The contrast feels like holding up my mess beside her perfection, and part of me wants to swallow it down and never say a word. But I know I can’t. She’s my best friend. And if there’s anyone I can break in front of, it’s her. When the lecture finally ends, Allie wastes no time. She grabs my wrist and practically drags me outside, weaving through the crowd until we find a quiet corner. Her eyes are already wide, her whole body buzzing like she might explode if I make her wait a second longer. “Okay,” she says, hands on her hips. “Tell. Me. Everything.” I let out a shaky laugh, but it dies in my throat. “You think it’s some funny, messy story,” I murmur, staring down at my shoes. “But it’s not.” Her teasing smile slips slightly. “Then start wherever you can.” So I do. I tell Allie everything, starting with catching Bryan cheating and his mockery afterward, which pushed me into a fake relationship with Braydon. The words come out shakier than I expect, and by the time I finish, I feel wrung out. Allie just stares at me, her eyes so wide it almost makes me laugh if it didn’t hurt so much. For a long moment, she doesn’t say a word. Then she exhales slowly and pulls me straight into her arms. I sink into her hug, holding on tightly because God, I needed this. I haven’t even told Justin yet, so she’s only the second person to know, and somehow that makes me feel relieved. When she finally pulls back, her hands stay firm on my arms as she searches my face. “Are you okay?” she asks quietly. I nod, a small, self-conscious laugh escaping. “Yeah. I mean, I cried last night… and then cringed myself into secondhand embarrassment over my own actions with Braydon.” “I’m going to kill Bryan when I see him,” she grinds out. “How could he do that, and who does he even think he is?” I give a small shrug. “Guess you never really know someone, do you?” For a moment, the noise of the hallway swallows us before Allie leans closer until her shoulder brushes mine. “Okay, but…” she lowers her voice, her eyes practically gleaming, “are you one hundred percent serious about Braydon? Because if you are…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but her grin is trying to break through. I narrow my eyes at her. “Don’t you dare get excited.” But it’s too late because the sparkle in her gaze gives her away. She’s always been obsessed with Braydon and thinks he’s hotter than every lead in her comic books combined. Back in freshman year, she even ran his fan page before she started dating and reluctantly passed it on like she was handing over a crown. The way her eyes shine now, I can tell she’s trying to hide how thrilled she is at the drama. With a sigh, I dig out my phone and thrust it into her hands. “Here. Proof.” Her jaw drops the second she sees his name light up my screen. I watch her scan the texts he sent me last night while I was curled up on my bed, crying over everything, and also trying to convince myself our fake relationship wasn’t a bad idea because of the kiss. BRAYDON: Send me your schedule, Peach. ME: Don’t call me Peach. BRAYDON: Okay, send me your schedule, Princess. Allie slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes bouncing between my screen and my face. “Oh my God. You’re not joking.” “Why would I joke about that?” I mutter, trying not to laugh. “Does Justin know about this?” she presses. I shake my head, sighing. “No. And I don’t even know how to tell him.” She grins wickedly. “Girl, you are treading dangerous waters… but I fully support this.” I open my mouth to respond when a new notification flashes across my screen. “It’s Braydon,” Allie squeaks, clutching my arm. “Shhh,” I hiss, leaning down to read it. BRAYDON: Your schedule says library time at 12 p.m. Still on, Princess? I roll my eyes at his text. First it was Peach, now it’s Princess. What’s next, Queen of the Universe? I turn to complain, but Allie is practically glowing, her face lit up like Christmas as she stares at my phone. “Really?” I scoff. “You have a boyfriend and you’re drooling over another guy.” She shakes her head. “I hate to be this kind of best friend, but you’re literally texting Braydon. Braydon!” She repeats it like she wants it to get inside my head. “Do you know what that is?” I stare down at my phone. It’s not like he’s Justin Bieber or something. “He’s a normal guy and my brother’s friend,” I say. She slaps her forehead. “Do you realize you’re his first girlfriend ever, and he doesn’t do relationships?” I’m about to laugh her off when a sight snatches the sound out of my mouth. My chest tightens as my gaze snags on a figure across the quad, and my body feels like it’s being pricked with thorns as I stare. Allie follows my gaze to Bryan, who’s walking slowly a few meters away with his arm wrapped around a girl’s shoulder. A girl, different from the redhead he was with yesterday. I force my gaze away and swallow, hoping it soothes the heat rising inside me, but it doesn’t. It hurts, and I’m scared to admit how much it does. Chapter 007 KATY’S POV The library is unusually packed today as if people know what’s coming. Every table is filled with groups cramming for midterms, laptops glowing, and coffee cups balanced on notebooks. I try to keep my eyes on the book in front of me, but the words blur together as I read the same line three times. My body also feels restless because any moment now, Braydon will walk in, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for the attention that will follow. After seeing Bryan with that girl, though, every hesitation I had about this arrangement with Braydon vanished. He didn’t just cheat, but also made a spectacle out of it. And as if doing that wasn’t enough, he had to parade someone else around campus like a trophy. But if he wants to go low, then fine. I’ll go lower. All the way down. I glance down at my wristwatch, trying to calm the pounding in my chest. “Where is—” “It’s Braydon Cooper.” Someone at the next table half-whispers, and squeals at the same time. My head lifts on instinct, and there he is, walking down the row of tables like he owns the place. Even in a library full of stressed-out students, he’s impossible to miss. Conversations dip, pages stop turning, and a few phones tilt in his direction as he heads straight for my table. He stops in front of me, his green eyes locking on mine. “Hey, Peach.” “You’re here,” I whisper, tearing my gaze away before anyone can see the heat creeping into my cheeks. He pulls out a chair and drops into the seat beside me, earning a chorus of gasps from nearby tables. I can’t tell if people are shocked to see him in the library because let’s be real, this is probably his first time here, or if it’s because he chose to sit with me. Either way, the attention is loud, and it’s exactly what we planned. “Reading without me?” he teases, leaning closer and his fingers brush a strand of hair behind my ear like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I feel so hurt.” I lick my lips, trying to keep my cool. He told me from the start he’s a handsy guy, and I agreed I’d play along. So yeah, I’ll be the girl who acts unbothered by the campus heartthrob touching her in the middle of the library, even if my pulse clearly didn’t get the memo. “We both know you hate reading,” I tell him, forcing a smile that feels way too charming. “And please don’t touch me out of nowhere. Give me a heads-up.” He leans in closer, and I almost jerk back but catch myself just in time. “I thought we went through this.” He whispers, then pulls out a can of Coke from his pocket, setting it in front of me. “I didn’t know if you preferred coffee or soda.” The gesture is simple, but it sends the room into overdrive. Whispers ripple from the aisles, and I catch people peeking from behind the shelves, pretending to browse while very obviously staring. Seriously? What’s their deal? Yeah, Braydon’s a star on the hockey team and will probably go pro after college, but they’re acting like he’s already a celebrity or in the NHL. Well… I shouldn’t complain. The faster the news reaches Bryan, the better. “Thanks, Bray,” I manage, the word strangling me on its way out. He cringes. “Bray? That’s the best you’ve got?” I bite my lip, mortified. What am I even supposed to call him? Bryan and I never did nicknames, and we were on a first-name or baby basis. And there is no universe where I’m calling Braydon baby. He sighs, clearly over my struggle, then grabs my wrist and tugs me to my feet. Before I can react, he’s pulling me between two shelves into a quiet corner, away from all the eyes burning holes into us. “Are you really this stiff?” he asks, caging me in against the wall. “Bray? Really?” I glance around, making sure no one’s watching, before muttering, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to call you. Bray’s not that bad.” He scoffs. “Out of thousands of options, you go with Bray? Try something better. Maybe… Big guy.” “Big guy?” I arch a brow. He nods smugly, gesturing to himself like the answer is obvious. My eyes betray me, running over him before I can stop. And fine, he’s not wrong. He’s all man, from the broad chest stretching his shirt to the long legs and fingers that make him seem even bigger in the cramped space. I snap myself out of it before my gaze drifts lower, folding my arms across my chest to put some distance between us. Not that it helps because he’s close enough that one wrong move and we’ll be pressed together. “I’m not calling you Big Guy,” I tell him flatly. “But I’ll come up with something… nicer.” “And it has to be before Zach’s party,” he shoots back. “Zach’s party?” I narrow my eyes. “Who the hell is Zach, and why are you suddenly bringing him into this?” I can tell where this is heading, and yeah, I hate it already. “Because we’re going to that party,” he says. I shake my head. “Nope, that’s not happening. We agreed on bars and one home game. That’s it. Nothing about frat houses, or parties.” “Zach’s our goalie,” he says, like that alone should settle the argument. “And there’s no way I’m missing his birthday bash.” “Then go alone.” He smirks, leaning closer. “That’d be weird… when I’ve got a hot girlfriend I’m supposed to show off.” My heart does that annoying thump-thump thing, but it’s not nearly enough to change my mind. Loud parties are the last place I want to be. They drag up memories I’ve spent years trying to bury, and a part of me I don’t let anyone near. Agreeing to bars was already pushing it, but this? This is a hard no. “I’m not going,” I say again, firmer this time. “Bryan isn’t going to figure it out just because I’m not glued to your side twenty-four-seven.” “Peach, it’s just—” “No.” The word scrapes out harsher than I intend, but I don’t care. His persistence grates on me, mostly because I can see where this is going. He’ll keep pressing, trying to dig into the reason I avoid places like that, but I don’t talk about it. Not now. Not ever. “I don’t know why—” he starts, only to stop when a girl sidles up to the shelf beside us. She isn’t fooling anyone by pretending to look at books, because her ears are all wide. I paste on a sweet smile and reach up, pretending to adjust Braydon’s collar. “Hold still,” I murmur. He raises a brow but quickly plays along, sliding his hand around my waist and tugging me against him. Now we’re chest-to-chest, close enough that my pulse skips in protest. The girl lingers a second too long before finally moving on. “Why can’t people just mind their business?” I mutter, tugging at his collar one last time before dropping my hand. He stays rooted to the spot, staring at me like he’s trying to figure me out. The silence stretches long enough to make me shift on my feet. “People are going to start talking about us,” he finally says, shrugging out of his jacket. “I know you hate loud places for some reason you won’t tell me, but everyone’s gonna be at that party. If you really want to prove him wrong, that’s the best night.” I open my mouth, ready to argue, but before I can get a word out, he presses his hockey jacket into my hands. Then, with a quick, almost disarming softness, he taps my chin with his knuckles. “I’ll see you tonight.” And just like that, he strides out, leaving me staring down at the jacket clutched in my grip.
"I woke up with my ex’s brother still buried inside me—and the bast@rd was smiling. “What the hell? Get out of me!” I punched him in the chest, but he just held me tighter against the mattress. “Shh. You’re the one who climbed on top of me last night, begging for it,” his thumb traced my lower lip. “And now you want to play the victim?” Before I could answer, the bedroom door shook with a violent bang. “KATY. OPEN THE FKING DOOR.” My ex’s roar made the walls shake. ""I know you’re in there with him!"" I froze. My heart was pounding against my ribs. Braydon didn’t even flinch. Instead, he grabbed my hips and thrvst into me again—so deep I had to bite my lip until it bled to keep from making a sound. “Let me go!” I hissed, struggling to get him off me. He flipped me over in one fluid motion, trapping me beneath his weight. “Where do you think you’re going, Peach? You wanted revenge, didn’t you? Well, let him hear exactly what you did with his brother.” Another blow. The wood creaked. “I’m going to kill you both!” Braydon let out a dark laugh against my ear. “Well, you’d better hold on tight.” He rammed into me again. Harder this time. On purpose. A moan escaped my throat before I could stop it. I should have been terrified. Humiliated. Instead, my body arched on its own, seeking the next thrust. He tightened his grip on my waist. “That’s good,” he murmured. “Let him hear.”" --- Chapter 001 KATY’S POV “Hey, I’m heading over now. Can you bring out the books I left?” I press send and shove my phone into my jacket pocket as Bryan’s townhouse comes into view, my steps automatically quickening. I have Statistics in thirty minutes, and Mrs. Tompson would rather swallow a jean jacket than let me walk into her class without my textbook, the same textbook I managed to leave lying around in my boyfriend’s room. As I walk faster, I recheck my phone, half expecting a reply, but there’s nothing. Not even a typing bubble. For a moment, I wonder if he has already left, but it‘s unlikely. It’s only 9:30 in the morning, and Bryan never leaves his room early. One of the perks of being a baseball player is that he doesn’t have to treat academics like life or death the way I do. I reach his townhouse and take the stairs two at a time, my purse bouncing against my hip. The higher I climb, the more rushed my breathing feels, though it has less to do with the stairs and more to do with this creeping frustration that he still hasn’t texted back. By the time I get to the third floor, where his room is, I’m already picturing walking in and tossing a sarcastic comment about how hard it is to answer a simple text. My hand reaches for his doorknob when I hear his voice through the door. “Hurry up, my girlfriend will be here soon.” I freeze. “You need to leave.” Who is he talking to? The question barely forms before the door flies open and a girl rushes out, nearly colliding with me. My breath hitches. She gasps, her eyes wide with a mix of panic and shame. In the sliver of a second before she bolts, I take in her messy red hair, wrinkled shirt, and unbuttoned jeans. A sickening masculine scent, one I recognize very well, clings to her. My gaze snaps to Bryan, who is standing in the middle of the room in nothing but his boxers, his own chest bare, and his hair tousled. A cold, sharp shiver runs down my spine, stealing the air from my lungs. My knees go weak, and the knot in my stomach turns to a solid block of ice. Without a word, the girl tears past me, disappearing down the hallway. My fingers begin to tremble, and my heart hammers so hard it feels like it will burst through my ribs. I stumble back, a bitter taste rising in my throat. “Baby, wait.” Bryan’s voice follows me as he steps into the hallway. I spin around and run, determined to put as much distance as I can between us, my chest burning with anger. He catches me, his hands clamping around my wrist before I can escape, spinning me back toward him and blocking my path. "Baby, let's talk.” "Let go of me," I snap, my voice shaking. "Don't touch me!" I shove against his chest, but he doesn't budge. He tugs me toward his room, his grip tight. "It's better if we go inside. Everyone can hear us out here." Inside, I shove him away, my chest rising and falling with quick breaths. I want to demand answers, but I already know the truth. The evidence is everywhere: in the rumpled sheets, the scent of her perfume, and the desperate, guilty look in his eyes. He paces the room, running a hand through his hair before stopping and grabbing my shoulder. "I messed up, okay?" He drags a hand over his face. "It was a mistake.” My eyes twitch. “A mistake?” “Yeah, baby," he says, his eyes skittering away from mine. "Some of the guys came over last night. We drank too much. I got so shit-faced I… I thought she was you. I don't even remember half of it.” I blink, unable to process his words. My mind stumbles over them, each syllable making less sense than the last. Did he really just say that? Does he actually expect me to believe this pathetic lie? I stare at him, my mouth slightly open, waiting for him to take the words back. But he doesn't. He just holds my gaze, searching my face as if he's trying to see if I'm stupid enough to swallow his bucket of lies. “You… you thought she was me?” I choke out in anger. “Are you actually serious right now?” “Yes, baby, I'm serious. I didn't mean it. It was a mistake," he insists. "And honestly, she came on to me first. How was I supposed to resist when I was drunk? Come on, you know I love you.” A bitter laugh escapes my lips. "Cheating is one thing, Bryan," I snap, taking a step toward him, "but thinking I'm stupid enough to believe your lies? That's a whole other level.” “Katy, you’re overreacting,” he states, his voice growing colder. “Jasper and Hannah had the same kind of problems, and they worked it out. Why can’t you be more like her?” I feel heat flare through me. “Overreacting?” I yell. “Fourteen months, Bryan! Fourteen months of promises, and you’ve broken every single one! And you have the nerve to tell me I’m overreacting?!” He scoffs, his mask finally dropping. "Promises? You really want to bring that up?" I recoil. "What do you mean by that?" He crosses his arms and steps toward me. "You want to talk about promises? Fine. Let's talk about it." He jabs a finger in my face, his eyes darkening. "You promised your schedule would never affect us. How's that working out? Every damn day, you're busy. Debate, magazines, some lame club! You put everything else before me.” “That’s not—” I start, but he cuts me off. “I play sports, and I still make time for you!” he yells, and I flinch. “You know what? This is your fault!” He jabs my shoulder again. “This happened because of you, not me. You!” I step back, rage crawling up my spine. Never in a million years did I imagine that the person I had loved and trusted for a whole year could be like this—twisting the truth, blaming me, acting as if I were at fault. “You are a coward, Bryan.” I whisper, lifting my head to meet his eyes. “That’s what you are. Blaming me, twisting everything, and calling it my fault? I’m done.” I dash to his desk, sending papers and books tumbling to the floor as I hunt for my textbook. I need to get out of here before my anger takes over, before I do something I will regret. “You act like there’s someone better out there. There isn’t, and there won’t ever be.” He sneers from behind me. “Nobody else will ever make you feel alive the way I do.” I pause, staring up at him. He steps closer, his voice rising as he repeats his claim. “You were nobody before me, Katy. I made you popular. You walk into a room, and people know your name because of me. Bryan Cooper.” Something inside me snaps. I close the distance between us, breathing against his face. "You will never speak to me again," I hiss. "And mark my words, you will be replaced by someone hotter, smarter, and better than you could ever be. I yank the couple necklace he gave me off my neck and fling it at his feet. Without another word, I storm out with my textbook, tears burning my eyes. I managed not to cry in front of him, but as I run down the stairs, the dam finally burst. I collapse against the side of the building, clutching my chest as sobs tear out of me. It feels like someone has ripped my heart away and shredded it into a million pieces. Our memories and moments fill my mind, stabbing me over and over. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fumble to answer it, my hands shaking. “Katy?”My brother’s voice floats through. “Yeah?” I sniffle, wiping my tears. “Don’t forget you promised to tutor Braydon after class today,” he says, sounding annoyed. “He’s already bugging me.” I bite my lip, wanting to tell him I can’t right now, not in this state, but I had promised to help his friend. I exhale, pushing back the lump in my throat, and slowly rise to my feet. “Okay,” I manage to say. Chapter 002 BRAYDON’S POV “Asshole!” I shout, the words ripping from my throat as some guy cuts me off. I slam my hand against the steering wheel, throwing a glare in the rearview mirror, even though I know he can’t see me. Perfect. Just perfect. I’m particularly in a bad mood today. Hell, I’ve been in a bad mood all week. Nothing seems to go right, and every little thing is just… another straw on the camel’s back. And it’s all because my old man’s ultimatum keeps gnawing at me. “Pass all your courses, or forget about hockey.” His voice drills into my skull. Simple, right? Like I could just flip a switch and make it happen. I can rock Cs in most of my courses, well, except in Marketing Management and Business Ethics. If I fail those, there’s no graduation, no hockey, and worse, Bryan gets his hands on my mom’s company. That’s exactly what he and his mother have been scheming for, and I’ll be damned if I let them take what my mom built with her own sweat and blood. The thought gnaws at me, making me want to punch something, and I can’t hold in the audible groan that escapes my throat. I pull into my apartment lot and kill the engine. For a moment, I sit there, gripping the wheel and staring at myself in the rearview mirror. “You got this,” I tell myself. I can do it. Lucky for me, Justin’s kid sister, Katy, is a genius. All I need is a few sessions with her, I’ll keep my grades, and hockey stays mine. That’s the plan, the smart plan. But right now, I need something to distract me before I lose it. I nod, shove the door open, and head for my building. I slow as I near my door, spotting someone leaning against the frame. Her head lifts, eyes locking with mine, and a smirk curls her lips. Stacy. Exactly the distraction I ordered. I’d shot her a text twenty minutes ago, but didn’t think she’d make it so quickly. Guess not. She’s in nothing but a jacket and lacy tights. And when a girl waits at your door dressed like that, you know damn well there’s nothing underneath. “Took you long enough.” She shoots me a sexy smile that says I’m about to forget all about my bad day. My gaze drags over her as I slip the key into the lock. “Is that all for me?” Her eyes glitter. “Sure, big guy.” I’ve barely stepped inside before her manicured fingers trail across my chest. “How long has it been?” she purrs. “A long time,” I answer. Her smile widens as she shrugs out of her jacket, letting it pool on the floor. She gets on her knees and crooks a finger at me. "Come here.” I waste no time closing the distance between us. The world outside the door, the frustrations of the day, my father's ultimatum, my grades, all fade into a distant hum. She takes the waistband of my jeans, her fingers teasing the button open before tugging at my zipper. A second later, my cock springs free, a release I've been craving all day, and lands in her waiting hand. The feel of her fingers wrapping around me pulls a low groan from my throat. “Go on, suck it,” I rumble. On my command, she opens her mouth and wraps her lips around my length. **************��Two hours later, Stacy is snuggled up beside me, her head resting on my chest. She traces meaningless lines across my skin, a gesture of intimacy, but I don’t like the cuddly stuff. It makes me feel trapped. I slowly shift, dislodging her head, and search for my shorts on the floor. “You..” “I missed you,” she blurts, cutting me off. I spin, caught off guard for half a second before I reel it back in. The first thought that comes to mind is: Did she forget the rules? We first hooked up three months ago, and I was crystal clear about my boundaries.Things were easy because she was fine with a no-strings-attached arrangement. But now, I'm not so sure. It seems she's going to be like all the others, the ones who start wanting more after a few times. “I’ve been busy,” I mutter, dragging on my shorts. I can’t say I missed her, too, because that’ll only mess things up and lead her on. But the truth that she hadn't crossed my mind once since we last hooked up is too cold to say aloud. “I’m exhausted. Got morning practice.” I rub the back of my neck, hoping she takes the hint and leaves. But that’s far from what she has in my mind. “Are you really kicking me out minutes after we just—” her voice sharpens, “after we just had sex?” “Stacy, listen…” “Seriously, is this it? Is this all I am to you? We just hook up and that’s all?” She looks visibly upset now. “I thought we were clear about this," I reply, my voice firm. "From the very beginning, I told you I'm not looking for anything serious. No strings attached, just this.” Her fingers tremble as she snatches her jacket off the floor. "Well, I don't want to be your whenever-you-want girl anymore. I want to be your girlfriend." “You know that’s not happening.” I respond flatly. “But why?” She demands. "I don't have to explain myself and don’t act like I tricked you. You knew the deal from day one,” I tilt my head at the door. “If casual wasn’t your thing, you shouldn’t have agreed. Now do us both a favor and leave.” Her expression immediately softens, her eyes filling with a plea as she realizes I'm serious. "Big guy..." she croaks, her voice breaking. "I just… I just really like you. Can't you—" She lifts a hand to touch me, and I take a sharp step back. Her hand is left hanging in the air, and her eyes turn cold instantly again. The vulnerability is gone, replaced by a cutting anger. "Why exactly can't I be your girlfriend?" she asks, her voice hard. "What is it? Do you have a checklist I don’t measure up to?” I don't answer. I turn and stride out of the bedroom. She follows, her shoes thudding on the hardwood floor, but I ignore her. I pass the dining table, head straight for the fridge, and crack open a beer. She stops short, the anger in her body suddenly replaced with bewildered hurt. "So that's it? You're just going to grab a beer? You don't even care, do you?" I take a slow sip, not looking at her. "I thought we were clear. I don't." "I can be a good girlfriend!" she pleads, her voice rising. "I'm a great girlfriend. Just give me a chance." I shake my head. "I don't need a girlfriend." The words hang in the air for a moment before something in her breaks. She lets out a frustrated cry and yells, "Screw you!" She lunges for the front door, yanking it open. She dashes out and almost collides with a girl coming down the hall, a stack of books in her arms. The girl sidesteps to avoid being hit. It's Katy. Her tired gaze lands on Stacy, then drifts to me, her expression unreadable. Stacy gives her a slow once-over, then whips back to me with a sneer. “Really? I thought you had standards!” My mouth opens, ready to shut her down, but Katy beats me to it. “Relax. I’m not here to hook up with him. Unlike you, I actually have a purpose.” Both of us freeze. My brows lift, caught off guard. Stacy’s smirk falters, and for a split second, she looks like she’s been slapped. Chapter 003 KATY’S POV The redhead glares at me, her chest rising and falling like she’s trying to push the anger out in measured breaths. I wait for a retort, but she spares me only a cutting look, huffs at Braydon in dismissal, and storms off, muttering cusses to herself. I stare after her, gritting my teeth as irritation prickles my skin. What’s it with me and redheads today? First, with Bryan in the morning, and now, his brother. It seems they both have a type. A low chuckle from the doorway yanks my attention back. Braydon leans casually against the frame, an infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. His abs are on full display, golden against the light, every line impossible to ignore. “Didn’t think you had that in you, Peach.” I lift an eyebrow, a mix of annoyance and curiosity bubbling up inside me. "Peach?" He pushes off the door and takes a step closer, his hand reaching toward me. I recoil slightly, a shiver running down my spine despite myself, and his grin only widens. “Relax,” he says, tilting his head toward my chest. I glance down and there it is: a peach, drawn smack in the center of my shirt. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I can’t help but roll my eyes, letting out an amused scoff. I bulldoze past him into his living area. “Put on a shirt.” “Why?” His voice hums with amusement, even though I refuse to look at him. “Getting a little distracted by the view?” I spin around. “Ever heard of the word decency?” I snap. “It’s spelled—” “Hey, I can spell that. What do you take me for?” he cuts in, feigning annoyance, which somehow makes it even more irritating. He shuts the door and strolls over to the eat-in counter. A can of beer sits there, and before my eyes, he tilts it back and gulps down the entire thing in one smooth motion. “Is that alcohol?” I ask, fists clenching at my sides. He shoots me a strange look, eyes flicking to the now-squashed can in his hand. “It’s beer… so yes, I’m pretty sure it’s alcohol.” He tilts his head, his smirk creeping back. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smarter one?” Anger bubbles inside me. Did Justin not tell him I’m coming over? But no, Justin called me this morning to remind me. So, Braydon knows I’m here to tutor, not watch him get drunk. “You’re drinking on a night I’m supposed to tutor you?” I demand, my voice tight. He sighs dramatically and tosses the can in the trash. “Don’t be so peachy, Peach,” he says, his voice teasing. “It’s just one can and it’s not enough to knock me out. Besides… we can just get to know each other today. Justin definitely didn’t mention you’ve grown into a pretty woman.” I feel irritation crawl up my spine, and my lips twitch. My eyes dart to the door, tempted to leave, but then I remember Justin’s pleading and the one thousand dollars he promised for my new MacBook. I fix him with a death glare. “First of all, don’t call me Peach again. Second, have you considered that the reason you’re flunking your courses is that you flirt too much, and let’s not forget your unhealthy obsession with hockey? If you actually stop thinking about ways to flirt with me, maybe we can get something done tonight. But if you don’t, I’ll be more than happy to waste your time and watch you fail.” “Do you have friends?” he throws at me casually, catching me off guard. “Or have they all ghosted you because all you do is read and forget to socialize?” His words sting, bringing back the memory of what Bryan said to me this morning, but I swallow the hurt. “You must be so good at socializing that you forget other things matter.” I lift my book. “Oh, things like graduating from college.” His smirk widens, and I can see he’s taking this as a challenge. Is my insistence… kind of a kink for him? “Now, where’s your room? Let’s get started,” I add, keeping my voice calm. He leads the way to his room, and I follow, my eyes scanning the space as I enter. Posters of the Chicago Blackhawks cover the walls, along with a few other players I recognize from Justin’s room. Surprisingly, it’s cleaner than I expected, until my gaze lands on his bed. Bile rises in my throat. The sheets are scattered, and two empty condom wrappers lie on the floor. I bolt out, clutching my books, heat flooding my face. He follows, a look of amused surprise on his face, but I don’t slow down. “We’ll just read here,” I say, refusing to meet his eyes. I drop my books on the table, my hand aching from carrying them too long. Braydon prowls closer, shrinking the air between us “Why’d you run like that?” He asks. “Can’t handle being in the same room with me, Peach?” That damn nickname again. My patience frays. “You should clean up your room after sex, especially if you’ve got company. It’s called decency. Maybe you’ve heard of it, though clearly, you haven’t.” His fingers suddenly tilt my jaw, forcing my eyes to his. “Are you sure that’s the only reason? You know, I can make time for you.” That’s it. I’ve had enough. Heat floods my chest as I snatch my books off the table and storm toward the door. “Find someone else!” I yell. He catches my arm, trying to stop me, but I yank hard against his grip. I will not sit through two hours of his shameless flirting, not today. Not after the day I’ve had. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay?” Braydon’s voice softens as he pleads. “Get your hands off me.” I twist, trying to shake him loose. “I’ll behave, alright?” he rushes out. “I’ll put on a shirt, stop calling you Peach, never say another word you don’t like. Just, please, tutor me. I’m desperate.” I whirl around, ready to snap that he doesn’t act desperate enough, when my pocket starts buzzing nonstop. With a huff, I yank my phone out, half-expecting one of my study group members. But no, it’s Bryan. My stomach knots as I click the notification. Instead of apologies like I imagined for a second, my screen is filled with vile messages from him. My throat burns as my eyes lock on one message that makes the rest blur away. ~~BRYAN: Return my baseball jacket. My new girl wants it.~~ Everything else fades as hot anger sears through me. I read the line twice, but the words don’t change. He wants me to return his baseball jacket? And not just that, he already has a new girl, less than twelve hours after we broke up. My jaw clenches so tight it aches. He’s doing this to rile me up, and goddamn, it’s working. If I don’t hit back, he wins. The memory of him sneering that I’d never find someone better than him scorches me deeply. “Hey…” A tap on my shoulder jolts me, and Braydon’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Did you hear a word I said? I said I’ll do anything you want. Anything.” My head jerks toward him, and it takes a moment to recollect myself, his last word lingering in my mind. Anything you want. The words replay like a chant, and suddenly my mind is crawling with ideas that shouldn’t be there. My gaze rakes down his frame and back up, and he catches it, brows pulling together in confusion. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it, but the thought is so damn tempting. Braydon Cooper, the campus golden boy and star forward of the hockey team. He’s the guy girls would do anything to be seen with, and guys hate him because he can take their girlfriends with a smile. He might be a player, but everyone knows he’s picky. Ruthlessly picky. So much so that girls brag if they even make it into his bed. Just being seen with him is enough to boost your social status overnight. You get invitations to events just because you’ve caught the eye of Braydon Cooper. And right now, he’s standing in front of me, saying anything I want. He’s perfect for my revenge plan. Not just because of who he is, but because he’s Bryan’s brother. What better way to grind Bryan’s inflated ego to dust than to show him his so-called replaceable ex is on the arm of his hotter and better brother? I turn to face Braydon fully, heat prickling under my skin. “You’ll do anything?” I ask, watching him closely. He studies me, uncertainty flickering in his eyes for the first time since I walked in. Still, he nods. “Yeah.” I take a slow breath, steadying the heat in my voice. “Then here’s the deal. I’ll tutor you, and not just enough for you to pass. You’ll ace your classes, every single one of them, with at least a B. That’s my part.” He narrows his eyes, waiting. “And yours?” “In return,” I say, “you’ll use your charm, your connections, your golden-boy reputation to pursue me publicly. We’ll build a high-profile relationship and everyone will see us.” Chapter 004 KATY’S POV “What?” Braydon stares at me like I’ve just sprouted two heads. “I said that—” “Yeah, I got you.” He cuts in, stepping closer as if to read my face better. “You’re asking me to play boyfriend?” I lick my lips before answering, my pulse hammering. “Yes.” He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sorry to disappoint you, Peach, but dating isn’t my thing. Anything but that.” The sting hurts more than I expected, disappointment slicing through me. I exhale slowly, biting my lip. I’ve heard his no-dating rule before, but dismissed it as just another line to make himself more desirable. But now… the way he shuts me down makes me wonder if he’s actually serious enough to walk away from an offer like this. I clear my throat, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Think about it. Midterms are in four weeks, and it’s a major part of our final grade. If you want to pass, you need time with me, and that’s a month to prepare. This is a win-win deal.” “Uh-uh.” He flicks his hand. “I’ll pass. There has to be something else you want. I mean…” His smirk resurfaces. “I didn’t take you for one of my fangirls.” I roll my eyes, glaring at him. “I’m not interested in you. And I’ve never harbored some secret crush on you.” “Really?” He cuts in, his tone edged with disbelief. “So why? I mean… aren’t you still with Bryan or something?” “You should’ve remembered that before flirting with me,” I snap back. My chest heaves once, and I force myself to calm. It takes everything in me to push out the words. “Bryan and I broke up.” His face doesn’t change, not even a hint of sympathy. He also doesn’t look like he’s about to say an empty sorry to hear that. Instead, he cocks an eyebrow. “So what? Trying to use me as your rebound?” The urge to scream at him burns in my throat, but I bite it back. I’m negotiating, and I need this deal. Swallowing hard feels like impaling myself as I admit the truth. “He cheated on me.” That gets him. His expression shifts, the teasing dropping from his face. His eyes darken, a flash of anger sparking there. “That son of a bitch.” “It’s fine,” I choke out, though it’s not. “I just… I want to prove him wrong. He said I can’t find someone better than him. But—” I shrug, forcing the resignation into my voice. “I guess your rule is your rule.” I turn, feigning surrender, pretending to walk away even though part of me is begging for him to stop me. “Wait!” His voice rings out just as my hand grazes the door. My lips twitch into a smile, but I force it down, schooling my face into something neutral as I turn back to him. Braydon drags a hand through his hair, and I know he’s thinking. And honestly, I don’t blame him. I already know how explosive it’ll be once the news spreads. Justin will definitely flip out, and everyone will have their eyes glued to my life like it’s their favorite show. Frankly, the only good thing to come out of this is that Bryan will absolutely lose his shit. “You’ll really help me ace my courses?” he finally asks, his gaze locking with mine. I nod. “Yeah. But that depends on how convincing you are as my boyfriend.” His brow furrows. “What does that even mean?” “It means people have to believe we’re dating,” I say evenly. A smirk tugs at his lips. “That’s gonna be a hard sell, considering my track record.” I suck in a breath, my patience thinning. “Do you really want to graduate, or not?” He nods his head, shooting me a mock glare. “You’re so annoying.” “Then do we have a deal?” I press, refusing to back down. He stays quiet, the silence stretching long enough for me to second-guess everything. Then he sighs. “We’ve got a deal.” I almost squeal, but I bite it back hard. He actually agreed. I can’t believe I pulled this off. And suddenly, the weight of it sinks in…this is huge. In the history of Cadston College, I’m his first girlfriend. First. Which makes it not just a win, but a direct slap in Bryan’s face. Another point on the scoreboard for me. “Thank you,” I say, setting my books down before my hands can shake. “I hope you’ll be a great girlfriend,” he replies smoothly, that tone of mischief back in his voice. “Because I’ll give this my all. Quick notice though, I’m a handsy guy.” His teasing is back, but this time, when our eyes lock, I can’t fire back like I usually do. The air shifts between us, heavy and charged. My throat tightens, and I look away, scratching at my arm like that can distract me. It doesn’t. If anything, it only makes me more aware of how close he is. “Ummm…let’s talk about the rules.” I manage to say. “What rules?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer as his hand lands on my shoulder, tugging me a little closer. I go stiff instantly, every nerve locking up. His frown deepens. “You can’t freeze up when I touch you if we’re going to sell this dating thing.” A spark of alarm shoots through me. “And why would you even touch me?” He tilts his head, one brow arching. “Because, Peach, I’m supposed to be your boyfriend.” My throat tightens. “Can’t you convince people without touching me?” I counter, heat crawling up my neck. “We can…hold hands sometimes.” “Are you really that shy?” His lips twitch. “What, was your relationship with Bryan PG-12 or something?” “No,” I snap before I can stop myself. My voice falters, then steadies again as I lift my chin. “We had sex plenty of times. And yeah, there was PDA. Difference is, he was actually my boyfriend.” He steps closer, and with a maddening slowness, pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. My skin burns at the contact. “We just made a deal, Peach,” he says softly. “And the way I see it, that makes you my girlfriend now. If we’re gonna convince Bryan, we don’t get to half-ass it. He can smell bullshit a mile away so we do what real couples do.” The room feels like it’s closing in, the air too thick, my heartbeat too loud. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. If I want Bryan to choke on this, I have to play the part. I nod, forcing the words out. “Maybe…we should practice holding hands and some physical stuff. Just to make it natural.” He almost laughs but reins it in, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Practice, huh? Okay, Peach. Let’s practice.” He guides me stiffly to the couch and sits beside me. Then he extends his hand, and my throat dries. Slowly, I reach out and take it. The moment our skin touches, a zap of electricity shoots through me, and I yank my hand back. He feels it too, and I can tell because he doesn’t tease me. Instead, he licks his lips. “Let’s try again. Extend your hand.” I swallow, shove my hand forward, and he takes it. His fingers weave through mine, and my heart slams against my ribs, so loud it feels impossible he can’t hear it. His gaze lingers on me as he strokes the back of my hand with his thumb, and shivers ripple down my spine. Why does something as simple as holding his hand make me feel this way? “See?” he murmurs. “It’s not that hard.” I nod quickly, pretending the heat in my belly isn’t getting worse with every second. He shifts closer, his shoulder brushing mine, and his scent floods my senses. “Now,” he says, his voice dropping, “next on the list of physical contact is kissing.” Chapter 005 KATY’S POV I rip my hand away, glaring at him, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Are you out of your mind?” He snorts. “Do you, or do you not, want Bryan to believe we’re dating?” My jaw drops in outrage. “What does that have to do with my lips?” He shakes his head like I’m hopeless. “What do you think relationships are? Study groups? Business meetings?” He leans closer, and I instinctively lean back, my heart racing. “Men are physical beings and I’m the most physical of all. Bryan knows that. If he notices I’m not all over you, we’ve got a problem. And we don’t want problems, do we?” I bite my lip and look away, my brain spiraling. Maybe I should find someone else for this fake-dating nonsense, because his suggestions are ridiculous. He makes me react in ways I don’t understand, and now I’m actually considering kissing him. Him, of all people. No. I cross my arms and face him. “This isn’t a game. It’s fake dating, and I am not kissing you.” He leans back, unfazed. “Okay, then what do you suggest we do when we’re out? Bars, my hockey games…” I blink. “Wait, bars? I have to go with you to bars? Why?” He lifts a brow like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because that’s what girlfriends do.” Oh, this is already too much. The thought of hanging out with his friends, who I’m sure are just as loud and cocky as he is, makes my stomach turn. “Trust me, Peach,” he says with that maddening grin, “if you show up on my arm at a bar, Bryan will lose his mind. You’ve got to do things with me you’d never do with him, or he’ll never buy it.” I narrow my eyes. “And what exactly happens at this bar?” “We have fun, grab a couple drinks, and I introduce you as my girlfriend…” His grin widens. “Oh, and heads up? Half the girls there will probably want to kill you.” I roll my eyes, though I can’t deny it makes sense. Going out with him and stepping into his world will convince anyone we’re together. Bryan especially. He knows I hate loud places, so if he hears I went to a bar with Braydon, he’ll lose it. “Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll go.” “And at least one home game,” he adds quickly. I sigh. “That too.” “And you’ll wear my jacket around campus.” I give him a tight nod. “But no kissing. If you want that, call the redhead.” His lips curve. “Why don’t you want to kiss me? Scared you’re bad at it?” I scowl. “I’m a great kisser!” “Yeah?” He leans in, close enough for my breath to catch. My heart skips, heat curling low in my stomach. “Then prove it.” “Why do I have to prove anything to you?” I snap, though my palms are slick with sweat. “I know I’m a good kisser. End of story.” His tilts his head. “I see fear in your eyes. Don’t worry, I get it.” “Wh—” The sound sputters out of me. He’s unbelievable. “Why would I be scared to kiss you?” He shakes his head slowly, like he’s humoring me. “A lot of people freeze up when—” “Fine!” The word rips out of me before I can stop it. “Let’s do it.” For a second, his eyes widen, shock flickering there before it melts into a smile. His green eyes darken, heat sparking in them or maybe it’s just me burning up. My hands tremble against my thighs, and my whole body feels like it’s caught fire. This cannot be happening. Except it is, because he leans in and closes the gap between us. Our knees brush, and it feels like sparks shooting through me. My hand lifts almost on its own, my fingers brushing his cheek and my thumb traces along his jawline. His eyes catch the light, and I swear I can see the rapid flutter of his pulse in his throat. Slowly, I tilt forward until my lips press against his. The instant they touch, heat floods through me, racing from my mouth down the length of my body. My skin prickles, every nerve coming alive with a low pull in my stomach that I can’t control. He tastes faintly of beer as his tongue slides in my mouth, but somehow it’s addictive, like I’ve never tasted it before. For a moment, I forget everything: where we are, why we’re doing this, and even who I’m with. All I feel is heat rolling through me. And then reality slams back. I’m kissing Braydon. The last person I should ever be kissing. Panic claws at my chest, and I rip myself away, breathless. My face burns hot, my chest rising and falling too fast. From the corner of my eye, I catch him licking his lips, and I tighten my thighs. I should say something smart, but my throat is dry, and I don’t trust my voice not to give me away. My palms are damp, so I rub them against my jeans, praying he won’t point out how rattled I am. “Well,” he drawls at last, his eyes locked on me, “I guess we have chemistry. We’ve got nothing to worry about.” I force myself to look at him, but the heat in his gaze is too much, and I turn away almost instantly. “Is that so?” I laugh nervously, rubbing my arms. “Then I guess we’re done here.” I spring to my feet, gathering my things, but before I can escape, his hand closes around my wrist. My breath catches as I glance down at him. “There’s one more thing,” he says. “Wh…what?” My voice trips over itself. “The way you look at me.” I’m sure my chin is red now because I feel all the blood in my body rush to my face. How do I look at him? How? “What do you mean?” I manage to ask, barely above a whisper. “You need to look at me like you’re in love,” he says. Relief flickers through me when I realize he’s still talking about our act, not me. But then his fingers lift, tilting my chin toward him, and my throat goes dry. My gaze drops to his lips, and panic surges. “I think I’m good,” I blurt, stumbling back. Clutching my books to my chest, I make for the door before I can completely fall apart. Chapter 006 KATY’S POV I slip into the lecture hall and sink into my usual seat, letting my bag drop beside me. My gaze flicks around the room before I can stop myself, and I scan the faces of everyone present. Of course, I already know Braydon’s schedule, so I know he shouldn’t be here. Still, I only exhale once I’m certain. It’s ironic, really. He’s supposed to be my fake boyfriend, and yet here I am, relieved he isn’t anywhere near me. And today is supposed to be our first day for everything we planned but my stomach is fluttering with nerves. The truth is that after last night, I need space, breathing room, and time to convince myself I’m not making a mistake by trusting him. I usually pride myself on making good choices. Safe ones. But with him, all my carefully built walls crumble, and wisdom evaporates. That’s how I end up doing things like kissing him like I want it and like I’m not supposed to remember it’s fake. Worse, I didn’t just kiss him, I melted and moaned into his mouth as if I couldn’t help myself. The memory sends a shiver racing down my spine, and I shift in my seat, wishing I could shake the feeling away. “Miss me?” a familiar voice teases in my ear. I jump, startled, before turning. Allie slides into the chair beside me, her smile bright and easy. Right on cue, our professor walks to the podium, but I barely notice him because I’m too busy staring at my best friend. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow,” I whisper, grinning as relief warms my chest. God, it feels good to see her. Allie isn’t just my roommate, she’s my anchor, and my sister in every way that matters. She’s been gone for days, celebrating her anniversary with her boyfriend, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed her until now. “So basically, you didn’t miss me,” she says, pulling out her notebook, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I missed you so much my entire life collapsed without you,” I whisper dramatically. She smothers a laugh. “Or maybe you were just having too much fun without me.” If only she knew. Fun is the last word I’d use for all the mess that happened. And I know she’s going to freak out when I tell her because I have to tell her. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it while she was away because I didn’t want to ruin her week. But now that she’s back? There’s no hiding and there’s too much to unpack. “I’ll tell you everything after class,” I whisper, flipping open my notebook. Her pen pauses midair, and she leans closer, her brows raised. “Now I’m anxious.” “After class,” I whisper back, forcing my attention to the podium. The professor’s voice drones on, but the words might as well be static. My heart is already racing, my palms damp against the notebook. Just the thought of telling Allie what happened makes me feel nauseous. She has the kind of relationship people dream about with a steady, loving boyfriend. Meanwhile, mine crashed and burned in the ugliest way possible. The contrast feels like holding up my mess beside her perfection, and part of me wants to swallow it down and never say a word. But I know I can’t. She’s my best friend. And if there’s anyone I can break in front of, it’s her. When the lecture finally ends, Allie wastes no time. She grabs my wrist and practically drags me outside, weaving through the crowd until we find a quiet corner. Her eyes are already wide, her whole body buzzing like she might explode if I make her wait a second longer. “Okay,” she says, hands on her hips. “Tell. Me. Everything.” I let out a shaky laugh, but it dies in my throat. “You think it’s some funny, messy story,” I murmur, staring down at my shoes. “But it’s not.” Her teasing smile slips slightly. “Then start wherever you can.” So I do. I tell Allie everything, starting with catching Bryan cheating and his mockery afterward, which pushed me into a fake relationship with Braydon. The words come out shakier than I expect, and by the time I finish, I feel wrung out. Allie just stares at me, her eyes so wide it almost makes me laugh if it didn’t hurt so much. For a long moment, she doesn’t say a word. Then she exhales slowly and pulls me straight into her arms. I sink into her hug, holding on tightly because God, I needed this. I haven’t even told Justin yet, so she’s only the second person to know, and somehow that makes me feel relieved. When she finally pulls back, her hands stay firm on my arms as she searches my face. “Are you okay?” she asks quietly. I nod, a small, self-conscious laugh escaping. “Yeah. I mean, I cried last night… and then cringed myself into secondhand embarrassment over my own actions with Braydon.” “I’m going to kill Bryan when I see him,” she grinds out. “How could he do that, and who does he even think he is?” I give a small shrug. “Guess you never really know someone, do you?” For a moment, the noise of the hallway swallows us before Allie leans closer until her shoulder brushes mine. “Okay, but…” she lowers her voice, her eyes practically gleaming, “are you one hundred percent serious about Braydon? Because if you are…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but her grin is trying to break through. I narrow my eyes at her. “Don’t you dare get excited.” But it’s too late because the sparkle in her gaze gives her away. She’s always been obsessed with Braydon and thinks he’s hotter than every lead in her comic books combined. Back in freshman year, she even ran his fan page before she started dating and reluctantly passed it on like she was handing over a crown. The way her eyes shine now, I can tell she’s trying to hide how thrilled she is at the drama. With a sigh, I dig out my phone and thrust it into her hands. “Here. Proof.” Her jaw drops the second she sees his name light up my screen. I watch her scan the texts he sent me last night while I was curled up on my bed, crying over everything, and also trying to convince myself our fake relationship wasn’t a bad idea because of the kiss. BRAYDON: Send me your schedule, Peach. ME: Don’t call me Peach. BRAYDON: Okay, send me your schedule, Princess. Allie slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes bouncing between my screen and my face. “Oh my God. You’re not joking.” “Why would I joke about that?” I mutter, trying not to laugh. “Does Justin know about this?” she presses. I shake my head, sighing. “No. And I don’t even know how to tell him.” She grins wickedly. “Girl, you are treading dangerous waters… but I fully support this.” I open my mouth to respond when a new notification flashes across my screen. “It’s Braydon,” Allie squeaks, clutching my arm. “Shhh,” I hiss, leaning down to read it. BRAYDON: Your schedule says library time at 12 p.m. Still on, Princess? I roll my eyes at his text. First it was Peach, now it’s Princess. What’s next, Queen of the Universe? I turn to complain, but Allie is practically glowing, her face lit up like Christmas as she stares at my phone. “Really?” I scoff. “You have a boyfriend and you’re drooling over another guy.” She shakes her head. “I hate to be this kind of best friend, but you’re literally texting Braydon. Braydon!” She repeats it like she wants it to get inside my head. “Do you know what that is?” I stare down at my phone. It’s not like he’s Justin Bieber or something. “He’s a normal guy and my brother’s friend,” I say. She slaps her forehead. “Do you realize you’re his first girlfriend ever, and he doesn’t do relationships?” I’m about to laugh her off when a sight snatches the sound out of my mouth. My chest tightens as my gaze snags on a figure across the quad, and my body feels like it’s being pricked with thorns as I stare. Allie follows my gaze to Bryan, who’s walking slowly a few meters away with his arm wrapped around a girl’s shoulder. A girl, different from the redhead he was with yesterday. I force my gaze away and swallow, hoping it soothes the heat rising inside me, but it doesn’t. It hurts, and I’m scared to admit how much it does. Chapter 007 KATY’S POV The library is unusually packed today as if people know what’s coming. Every table is filled with groups cramming for midterms, laptops glowing, and coffee cups balanced on notebooks. I try to keep my eyes on the book in front of me, but the words blur together as I read the same line three times. My body also feels restless because any moment now, Braydon will walk in, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for the attention that will follow. After seeing Bryan with that girl, though, every hesitation I had about this arrangement with Braydon vanished. He didn’t just cheat, but also made a spectacle out of it. And as if doing that wasn’t enough, he had to parade someone else around campus like a trophy. But if he wants to go low, then fine. I’ll go lower. All the way down. I glance down at my wristwatch, trying to calm the pounding in my chest. “Where is—” “It’s Braydon Cooper.” Someone at the next table half-whispers, and squeals at the same time. My head lifts on instinct, and there he is, walking down the row of tables like he owns the place. Even in a library full of stressed-out students, he’s impossible to miss. Conversations dip, pages stop turning, and a few phones tilt in his direction as he heads straight for my table. He stops in front of me, his green eyes locking on mine. “Hey, Peach.” “You’re here,” I whisper, tearing my gaze away before anyone can see the heat creeping into my cheeks. He pulls out a chair and drops into the seat beside me, earning a chorus of gasps from nearby tables. I can’t tell if people are shocked to see him in the library because let’s be real, this is probably his first time here, or if it’s because he chose to sit with me. Either way, the attention is loud, and it’s exactly what we planned. “Reading without me?” he teases, leaning closer and his fingers brush a strand of hair behind my ear like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I feel so hurt.” I lick my lips, trying to keep my cool. He told me from the start he’s a handsy guy, and I agreed I’d play along. So yeah, I’ll be the girl who acts unbothered by the campus heartthrob touching her in the middle of the library, even if my pulse clearly didn’t get the memo. “We both know you hate reading,” I tell him, forcing a smile that feels way too charming. “And please don’t touch me out of nowhere. Give me a heads-up.” He leans in closer, and I almost jerk back but catch myself just in time. “I thought we went through this.” He whispers, then pulls out a can of Coke from his pocket, setting it in front of me. “I didn’t know if you preferred coffee or soda.” The gesture is simple, but it sends the room into overdrive. Whispers ripple from the aisles, and I catch people peeking from behind the shelves, pretending to browse while very obviously staring. Seriously? What’s their deal? Yeah, Braydon’s a star on the hockey team and will probably go pro after college, but they’re acting like he’s already a celebrity or in the NHL. Well… I shouldn’t complain. The faster the news reaches Bryan, the better. “Thanks, Bray,” I manage, the word strangling me on its way out. He cringes. “Bray? That’s the best you’ve got?” I bite my lip, mortified. What am I even supposed to call him? Bryan and I never did nicknames, and we were on a first-name or baby basis. And there is no universe where I’m calling Braydon baby. He sighs, clearly over my struggle, then grabs my wrist and tugs me to my feet. Before I can react, he’s pulling me between two shelves into a quiet corner, away from all the eyes burning holes into us. “Are you really this stiff?” he asks, caging me in against the wall. “Bray? Really?” I glance around, making sure no one’s watching, before muttering, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to call you. Bray’s not that bad.” He scoffs. “Out of thousands of options, you go with Bray? Try something better. Maybe… Big guy.” “Big guy?” I arch a brow. He nods smugly, gesturing to himself like the answer is obvious. My eyes betray me, running over him before I can stop. And fine, he’s not wrong. He’s all man, from the broad chest stretching his shirt to the long legs and fingers that make him seem even bigger in the cramped space. I snap myself out of it before my gaze drifts lower, folding my arms across my chest to put some distance between us. Not that it helps because he’s close enough that one wrong move and we’ll be pressed together. “I’m not calling you Big Guy,” I tell him flatly. “But I’ll come up with something… nicer.” “And it has to be before Zach’s party,” he shoots back. “Zach’s party?” I narrow my eyes. “Who the hell is Zach, and why are you suddenly bringing him into this?” I can tell where this is heading, and yeah, I hate it already. “Because we’re going to that party,” he says. I shake my head. “Nope, that’s not happening. We agreed on bars and one home game. That’s it. Nothing about frat houses, or parties.” “Zach’s our goalie,” he says, like that alone should settle the argument. “And there’s no way I’m missing his birthday bash.” “Then go alone.” He smirks, leaning closer. “That’d be weird… when I’ve got a hot girlfriend I’m supposed to show off.” My heart does that annoying thump-thump thing, but it’s not nearly enough to change my mind. Loud parties are the last place I want to be. They drag up memories I’ve spent years trying to bury, and a part of me I don’t let anyone near. Agreeing to bars was already pushing it, but this? This is a hard no. “I’m not going,” I say again, firmer this time. “Bryan isn’t going to figure it out just because I’m not glued to your side twenty-four-seven.” “Peach, it’s just—” “No.” The word scrapes out harsher than I intend, but I don’t care. His persistence grates on me, mostly because I can see where this is going. He’ll keep pressing, trying to dig into the reason I avoid places like that, but I don’t talk about it. Not now. Not ever. “I don’t know why—” he starts, only to stop when a girl sidles up to the shelf beside us. She isn’t fooling anyone by pretending to look at books, because her ears are all wide. I paste on a sweet smile and reach up, pretending to adjust Braydon’s collar. “Hold still,” I murmur. He raises a brow but quickly plays along, sliding his hand around my waist and tugging me against him. Now we’re chest-to-chest, close enough that my pulse skips in protest. The girl lingers a second too long before finally moving on. “Why can’t people just mind their business?” I mutter, tugging at his collar one last time before dropping my hand. He stays rooted to the spot, staring at me like he’s trying to figure me out. The silence stretches long enough to make me shift on my feet. “People are going to start talking about us,” he finally says, shrugging out of his jacket. “I know you hate loud places for some reason you won’t tell me, but everyone’s gonna be at that party. If you really want to prove him wrong, that’s the best night.” I open my mouth, ready to argue, but before I can get a word out, he presses his hockey jacket into my hands. Then, with a quick, almost disarming softness, he taps my chin with his knuckles. “I’ll see you tonight.” And just like that, he strides out, leaving me staring down at the jacket clutched in my grip.
"""I'll never love you. You'll never be my true mate. This arrangement is a joke. An insult."" My husband sneered. ""Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I'm not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I'd have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue."" ""Feisty,"" he said. ""I like that. Quick-tempered too."" ""As long as you don't try to bully me, we won't have a problem. If your father really did buy me, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you'll release me."" I said flatly. He chuckled then—low and bitter. ""You still don't get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I'll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You'll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently."" Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. He told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice." That actually made me smile. It was such a him thing to say. “That’s so cool, Rowan,” I said, wide-eyed. Then, on impulse, the words slipped out before I could second-guess them. “Do you mind if I come?” Rowan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at Darian, almost like he needed permission. And Darian—bless him—gave me that soft smile again. “If you go with him,” he said, “who’s going to be my friend and keep me company here?” I knew the answer. We all did. Tiffany. Tiffany would. But if I said that out loud, it would expose everything—my jealousy, my feelings, my pain. It would ruin whatever fragile friendship we still had. So I said nothing. Just sat there, heart breaking quietly behind steady eyes. Mara “I’m sure you’ve got other friends to keep you company,” I said, keeping my voice calm, eyes steady on Tiffany. “Better—and maybe more interesting—company than I could ever be.” Tiffany caught the meaning instantly and smiled, smug and satisfied. “That’s right, Darian,” she purred, looping her arm through his. “I’m all the company you’ll need.” Then, like it was some kind of private joke, she leaned in and licked his earlobe again. I looked away, jaw tight. She wanted to be Luna so badly it was dripping off her. Most of the girls who threw themselves at Darian did. It wasn’t about him. It was about the title, the power, the image. But not me. Even if Darian wasn’t going to be Alpha, I’d still feel this way about him. That was the difference. “I want to come with you, Rowan,” I said suddenly, turning to him. My voice was clearer than I expected. Firm. I needed distance. Space. A whole dam continent between me and Darian if I was going to get over him. He would never see me. Never choose me. And I had to stop holding out hope like it was some kind of twisted comfort blanket. “This trip... it’ll be good for me,” I added, mostly to myself. Darian smiled, watching me a little too closely. “Maybe I’ll come too.” And just like that, the air left my lungs. No. No, he couldn’t. That would ruin everything. I’d just end up exactly where I was—his loyal shadow, his best buddy, watching Tiffany swallow his attention whole. “You’ll bring me along?” Tiffany asked, all wide eyes and sugar-laced eagerness. I could almost hear the flutter of her lashes. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. If she came too, I’d lose my mind watching her cling to Darian like a barnacle in heat. Her tongue alone would be enough to make me puke somewhere around the border of the first town we hit. “I’ll think about it,” Darian replied, and Tiffany's face fell. She frowned, and then her eyes flicked to me, sharp and accusing, like it was my fault. She wasn’t entirely wrong. But also not right. I didn’t want Darian to come—not because I wanted to hoard him for myself, but because I needed to finally let go of him. We stayed a little longer, had a couple drinks, careful not to go overboard. It was a quiet ending to a loud night. Eventually, we all called it and got ready to leave. “Let’s go hunting tomorrow morning,” Darian said casually as we stepped out into the night. His voice was light, but his eyes were on me. I hesitated. Waiting. Because, of course, I needed to hear what she would say. “I want to come too,” Tiffany piped up, bouncing slightly in her heels like she was volunteering for a game of tag. I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. Darian caught it and laughed. “I guess the three of you will have to go without me,” I said flatly, already turning away. Darian frowned. “Come on, Mara. You and I—we’re a good team.” Oh, how I wished that was true. But in reality? It was just another sweet lie I’d told myself over the years. “You, Rowan, and Tiffany will be a formidable team,” I replied, eyes on the pavement, not bothering to look at her. I could already feel the weight of her glare. I didn’t blame her. If I were her, I wouldn’t like me either. Not when the guy I wanted kept paying attention to someone else. Darian told me to think about it. I wouldn’t. I didn’t need to. I already knew I wasn’t going. When I got home, the house was quiet—everyone asleep. I slipped inside like a ghost and made my way to my room, shutting the door behind me without making a sound. I didn’t want to wake anyone. I didn’t want to talk. All I wanted was to stop loving someone who would never love me back. Morning came too fast. I sat on the edge of my bed, still wrapped in the fog of everything I was trying to forget. The hunt was supposed to be today. Part of me wanted to go—just to breathe outside this house, outside of him. But the thought of Tiffany tagging along made my stomach twist. I already knew she’d spent the night at the Nighthorn mansion. There was no way Darian would leave her behind now. Not after that. I dragged myself downstairs, hungry but not in the mood. I hated shifting when I hadn’t eaten—it made me edgy, short-tempered. I didn’t want to lose it in the woods and end up looking unhinged. What I didn’t expect was to find my parents waiting in the kitchen. They weren’t eating. They weren’t smiling. They were just… there, sitting stiffly at the table with this look in their eyes that made something inside me tighten. My mother, usually bright-eyed and warm, gave me a small, nervous smile. “Morning, Mara. How was your night?” I forced a shrug. “Great,” I lied, trying not to read too much into their mood. She just nodded. My father cleared his throat, and the sound already made my heart beat faster. “Sweetheart, we need to talk to you about something important.” And just like that, my stomach dropped. They didn’t speak in the kitchen. My dad gestured toward the living room, and we all moved, silent as ghosts. I sat on the couch across from them, trying not to let my mind spiral. Then they looked at each other. That kind of look—the silent, mind-link kind of conversation they always had when something was wrong. Something they didn’t want to say out loud. I wasn’t part of it. Not yet. Not until they decided I had to be. “Mara,” my father said slowly, “you know how much we love you, right?” Wrong way to start. My pulse spiked. I swallowed hard. “Yes,” I said, and my voice cracked. He looked down for a moment, then back up at me with tired eyes. “We’ve always wanted the best for you. But… we also have duties to the pack. Responsibilities. And—” “We should’ve told you sooner,” my mother cut in, her voice trembling. “But we wanted you to have your graduation, your moment of celebration, before we… before we said anything.” Her eyes welled up with tears. That’s when I started crying too. Because whatever could make my mother cry like that—whatever they were about to say—it was going to rip something out of me. “Mara,” my father said again, quieter this time, “Alpha Vander Nighthorn has chosen you to be joined with his eldest son, Lucian.” My breath caught. “He’s decided,” he continued, “that since you finished second overall in the academy, top among the female wolves, and since you’re known for your strength, your discipline… that you’re the best choice for Lucian. He believes your character will help shape him into a man fit to stand beside his brother when Darian becomes Alpha. He also believes that your friendship with Darian will help settle the conflict between the brothers and bring unity to the future leadership of this pack.” I was frozen. The words didn’t even register at first. It didn’t feel real. “It’s not a suggestion, Mara,” my father added. “It’s an order. One we had no power to refuse.” That was it. The sound that left my throat wasn’t even human. I screamed. A raw, guttural cry that tore from my chest like something inside me had shattered. Mara “This must be a joke,” I whispered, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. My eyes burned, and the tears wouldn’t stop. My mother shook her head slowly, her face soaked with grief. “It’s not a joke,” she said, broken. I choked on a sob. “Lucian? Lucian?! He’s a monster. A cruel, vicious bаst3rd. He lies, cheats, bullies anyone weaker than him—and he killed someone, an innocent person. And now you want me to what? Play house with the devil?” I knew they didn’t have a choice. I knew it wasn’t really their fault. But I needed someone to blame, and they were standing right in front of me, and I was drowning. “We had no say,” my father said, voice low and defeated. “They said you’re the strongest female of your generation. They believe you’ll match him. Tame him.” “Enough!” I snapped, standing up so fast the room spun. “You can’t tame people, Dad. You don’t ‘fix’ someone like Lucian. He’s not broken. He’s rotten. He was born that way.” My breath came fast, too fast. My chest felt tight like I was suffocating. “I’m supposed to be Darian’s Gamma! That job—our futures—they’re built on trust, on teamwork. How am I supposed to do that while being shackled to a psychopath?” They had no answers. Just silence. My mother’s silent weeping. My father’s helpless stare. “I’m done. I’m leaving. I don’t want the Gamma position. They can keep it—and let them gift someone else to that monster.” I turned, storming toward the stairs. I didn’t know where I’d go, but anywhere was better than here. Anywhere but thislife. “You can’t leave, Mara,” my father called after me, voice desperate. “If you refuse the bond, Alpha Nighthorn will cast us out. We’ll become rogues. Once the mark of Mooncrest fades, we’ll lose everything—our protection, our humanity. You know what happens to rogues. You’ll turn feral. We all will. They rule this entire country, Mara. There’s no where for you to go,” I stopped in my tracks. Feral. Cast out. Doomed. I turned slowly and looked at my mother. Her shoulders were trembling. She couldn’t even look me in the eyes. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?” I said, my voice shaking with fury and despair. “You’re asking me to throw my life away. You’re asking me to bind myself to someone who might kill me in my sleep.” She nodded through her tears. “I’m sorry.” Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. Even Alpha Vander didn’t trust him to lead, which was why Darian had been groomed from day one to take over. Darian, with his calm and strength and sense of duty. Meanwhile, his older brother was out there, spiraling, and now they wanted me to steady him. They wouldn’t have picked me if I wasn’t so perfect—so well-behaved, so disciplined, so obsessed with Darian that I molded myself into the model warrior. Maybe if I’d been reckless, mean, or a bitter b1tch, they wouldn’t have even considered me. But no. I had played the part. And now, this was my reward: unrequited love, a forced marriage, a future I couldn’t escape. I hated my life in that moment. I was about to turn away again when the doorbell rang. We all froze. My mother rose to answer it, and the scent hit me before she opened the door—him. Darian. He stepped inside, and I almost didn’t recognize him. His eyes were red, brimming with tears. His hands trembled. He looked like someone had carved a hole into his chest and left it gaping. “Mara,” he said softly, his voice cracked and hoarse. He opened his arms. He didn’t need to say anything else. I walked into him, into the arms I had longed for more than I ever admitted, and he held me—tight, like he was the one about to fall apart. My parents quietly stepped away, leaving us in the silence of shared pain. And I broke. I cried, and this time, it wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t polite. It was everything I had been holding in—fear, betrayal, grief, hopelessness—all pouring out while he held me. And still, I knew… even this wouldn’t change anything. “I’m sorry, Mara,” Darian whispered against my hair, his voice thick with something heavier than guilt. “I didn’t know they would do this. I didn’t know he would do this.” And I broke again. “I don’t want to be with Lucian,” I cried, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring me. “I hate him, Darian. I can’t do this. Please… help me.” His arms tightened around me like he wanted to, like he wished he could fix it all with the way he held me—but he didn’t answer right away. When he did, it was barely above a whisper. “I’m not Alpha yet, Mara. My key mark isn’t active yet. I don’t have the power to stop this.” And that—that—hurt more than I expected. Not because he admitted he was powerless but because of the way his voice cracked. There was grief in it. Regret. Something deeper than duty. “I thought…” he started, then paused. “I thought we had time. I thought there’d be more time.” I pulled back just enough to look at him. “Time for what?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mara. I didn’t know.” I stared at him, trying to piece together what he meant. Time for what? Was he finally saying what I’d always hoped he felt? But now wasn’t the time. Not with everything crashing around us. The hug faded. Slowly. Reluctantly. We stood there, inches apart, staring into each other’s tear-streaked faces, both too full of words we couldn’t say. “Listen to me,” Darian said, his voice low but firm. “I will always be there for you. I won’t let him hurt you, Mara. I swear it. If you ever feel unsafe, if he crosses a line—call me. I don’t care what I’m doing. I’ll come. I will come. You are not alone in this.” I blinked back another wave of tears. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to thank someone for a promise that shouldn’t have to exist. “I wish I’d never trained to be your Beta,” I muttered, my voice barely a breath. “If I’d just taken medical classes instead… Alpha Vander wouldn’t have noticed me. He wouldn’t have picked me for his deranged son.” I looked at Darian again. My heart swelled painfully, and I opened my mouth. “Darian…” He met my eyes, hope flickering there. “What is it, Mara?” I hesitated. I wanted to say it. Gods, I wanted to scream it—I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I didn’t. Because now he wasn’t just the boy I trained beside. He was about to become my brother-in-law. And whatever chance there might have been, it had died the moment his father bound my future to Lucian’s. “Nothing,” I said instead. “Nothing but fear.” He pulled me back into his arms without hesitation. I buried my face in his chest and breathed in his scent one last time like it might be enough to last me forever. I didn’t dare ask for more. I didn’t dare reach for what I truly wanted. Not now. Not when I was about to be forced into the hands of someone I despised. Not when Darian had no power to save me. He held me tight, as if letting go would break him, too. Then he kissed the top of my head—soft, lingering—and pulled away. “We’ll still be best friends,” he said gently. “I don’t care what the pack says. You’re still my best friend, Mara. No one’s replacing you.” And there it was. The final nail. Best friend. The words were supposed to be comforting, but they landed like a blade in my chest. His father thought that same friendship was the key to taming Lucian—like I was a tool, a bridge, a sacrificial peace offering. I didn’t want to be Darian’s best friend. I wanted to be his everything. His Luna. His love. His home. But instead, I got Lucian. Unwanted. Unchosen. Trapped. Maybe being feral wouldn’t be so bad. At least then I’d be free. I could run, disappear, let the wilderness swallow me whole. Anything would be better than this slow suffocation. I wanted to leave. I needed to leave. Mara Darian followed me upstairs to my room. For the first time, it felt… wrong. Foreign. Like something had cracked in the familiar walls we’d built around each other. It had always been a little awkward since I started falling for him, but now—now it felt unbearable. I didn’t know what it would be like living in their house. The Nighthorn mansion. Sharing space with Lucian. Walking the same halls as Darian, seeing him every day while wearing the title of someone else’s mate. His brother’s mate. The thought made me feel sick. I didn’t trust my heart not to betray me in some devastating way. “I’ll wait here,” Darian said softly, settling into the chair by my desk while I headed into the bathroom. As soon as the water hit me, the tears came. I sank to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, sobbing so hard my ribs ached. I cried for the life I almost had. For the love I could never confess. For I was being handed like some twisted reward for being too good. And in that cracked, broken place, I thought about running. Disappearing. Going rogue. Letting the world forget I ever existed. But then I remembered what that meant. What it would do to my family. What it would do to me. I dressed in the bathroom, even though modesty had long since evaporated between Darian and me during years of shifting and training together. But things were different now. Everything was different. Even standing in front of him felt like holding a glass that could shatter if either of us moved too fast. “How are you feeling?” he asked when I stepped back into the room. I just nodded, unable to trust my voice. His eyes were still tinged with crimson, like he’d been holding back more tears of his own. “Lucian doesn’t want the union either,” he said suddenly. I looked up, startled. “What?” “That’s how I found out,” he continued. “I overheard him yelling at our father. He was furious. Said he didn’t want you. Didn’t want any of it. And honestly… that’s what scares me the most.” I understood what he meant before he said it. Lucian didn’t want me. Which meant he’d resent me. And with the kind of man he was—violent, spiteful—that resentment wouldn’t just sit quietly in the corner. He’d find a way to punish me for it. “Then why won’t he reject it?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. Darian exhaled slowly, like the weight of it all was dragging him under too. “Because ever since Father chose me as Alpha instead of him, Lucian hasn’t dared to oppose him. I think the shame crushed something inside him. He’s quiet now, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. And…” He hesitated. “Lucian’s in love—with someone else. Has been for a while.” I swallowed hard. That somehow made it worse. I wasn’t just being forced into a bond with a monster—I was a wedge, a weapon used to separate him from someone he actually cared about. A curse he’d wear every day. “This isn’t fair,” I said bitterly. “Not to me. Not to her. Not to anyone.” Darian didn’t argue. “Will I still be your Gamma?” I asked, knowing it was selfish but needing to ask anyway. Because even if I couldn’t be his mate, I still wanted to stand by his side in some way. Any way. “Yes,” he said softly. “Unless you choose to step down, you’ll remain my Gamma.” I shook my head. I couldn’t make that decision yet. Not when everything inside me felt broken and scattered. I just needed time. Space to breathe, to mourn, to accept the weight of what had been forced on me. Darian left quietly, carrying his own sadness like a wound. I watched him go and felt another piece of me fall apart. I stayed in bed the rest of the day. Staring at the ceiling. Crying into my pillow until it was soaked. My parents tried to check on me—brought food, soft words, empty comfort—but I ignored them all. I didn’t want kindness from the people who had let this happen. I didn’t want anyone. If the Alpha had chosen to bind me to Darian, I would have said yes without hesitation. I would have given him everything. But instead, I was being handed over to his brother. Why Lucian? Of all the wolves in this pack, why did fate—or power, or cruelty—choose him? And what the hll was I supposed to do now? Two weeks. Two long, miserable weeks of crying, sulking, and avoiding the world like it had personally betrayed me—because in a way, it had. I refused to go to any gatherings, skipped every function, and barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t Darian. Not that I saw him much. He’d gotten himself into trouble more than once that week, and Alpha Vander had taken it as an excuse to load him up with responsibilities. I missed him. But missing him was a dangerous thing now. Luna Martha Nighthorn came by twice to speak with my parents about the “arrangements.” She was Darian’s mother—not Lucian’s. Lucian’s biological mother had died when he was young. Alpha Vander had bonded with Martha later, and ever since, everyone just assumed she was the mother of both boys. Everyone except Lucian, who never missed a chance to correct them. I didn’t care for the politics of it. I didn’t care about her visit, her soft reassurances, or the way she avoided looking me in the eye. I didn’t care about any of it. I just wanted to disappear. Burn the whole d'amn future and vanish into ash. But I couldn’t. I was sitting on the patio, trying to catch my breath from another heavy day of doing absolutely nothing, when a sleek black car pulled into our driveway. I squinted at the figure stepping out. A young woman—tall, porcelain-skinned, striking brunette. And angry. I stood slowly, assuming she was lost and needed directions. She didn’t waste time. “Are you Mara Thornridge?” she asked, sharp and cold. I nodded, guarded. “You gold-digging b1tch,” she snapped. “What do your parents have on Alpha Vander? Huh?” I blinked, stunned. What? “Do you know how long Lucian and I have been together?” she choked out, her eyes welling up with tears. “We were sweethearts for years. And now I find out you—you’ve been chosen for him? You?” I stood there, frozen, every cell in my body screaming for a break. I had no words. I was still trying to process this marriage from hll myself, and now this? She stepped closer, her voice low and trembling with rage. “How dare you, Mara? I swear, we will make your life a living hll.” And that was it. I snapped. “Watch it,” I growled, the shift stirring beneath my skin. “I don’t give two fks about Lucian. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want this. So maybe aim that rage where it belongs—at him, or at his father, or at the Moon Goddess herself. Not me.” She blinked, caught off guard. “If you’re so mad, tell your beloved boyfriend to grow a spine and say something to his father. Trust me, you’d be doing me a huge favor. Because let’s be honest—Lucian isn’t exactly a prize. He’s an entitled, violent аs hole, and I wouldn’t want to be bound to him if he was the last breathing wolf in existence.” She stepped toward me like she was about to swing. I didn’t even flinch—I welcomed it. Hll, I needed it. I let out a low, warning growl, eyes locked on hers. “You need to f'k- off, now. While I’m still being nice. Because if you don’t, I swear on every ancestor in my bloodline, I will tear you apart. And right now? I wouldn’t even regret it.” Something in my voice must’ve landed. She backed away slowly, fury still burning in her eyes, but something else too—fear. She slid into her car and slammed the door, then peeled out of the driveway without another word. I stood there breathing hard, body trembling with all the rage and frustration I’d buried these past two weeks. Now I had to deal with Lucian’s girlfriend too? I wasn’t even officially mated to him yet, and already the drama was spilling into my yard like blood on the snow. And Lucian—he hadn’t shown up. Hadn’t spoken to me. Hadn’t so much as sent a message. I guessed the feeling was mutual. This was going to be hll. And it hadn’t even started yet. Mara “Mara!” my mother called from downstairs. Since the day they dropped the bomb about the arrangement, I’d barely left my room. What was the point? Everyone probably knew by now. The whole pack, maybe even the entire dam country. Mara Thornridge, gifted to Lucian Nighthorn like a prized lamb to the family wolf. And just like that, the threats had started rolling in—anonymous messages from a number I didn’t need to trace. I knew exactly who it was. Lucian’s little banshee. The same girl who’d parked in my driveway and tried to claw my face off with words she probably rehearsed in front of a mirror. None of her threats got to me. Not one. If she ever followed through on a single one of them, I might actually respect her. But I knew the truth—lashing out at me was easier than facing Lucian or confronting Alpha Vander. I was the easier target. The quiet one. The one who hadn’t asked for any of this. I got out of bed wearing the same old pajamas I’d worn for two days. It was already afternoon. I didn’t care. My hair was a mess, my eyes were swollen from days of crying, but the tears had stopped. I wasn’t sad anymore. Just empty. Numb. And numbness? It was better. Numbness didn’t ask questions or demand hope. Darian and I still talked every night. His voice was soft, his words kind, and I hated every second of it. He meant well. He was trying. But I didn’t want kindness from him. Not anymore. I wanted what I could never have. Every call was another reminder that I'd never be more than his best friend. So no, the support wasn’t helping. Not even a little. I shuffled downstairs, preparing to grab something quick and head back to my quiet cave of self-pity. But I froze at the bottom step. Alpha Vander Nighthorn and Lucian were in my living room. Just sitting there. Like this was normal. Like they belonged. I felt my parents' disappointment immediately. The way they looked at my unwashed hair and oversized sleep shirt said it all. But maybe, just maybe, the Alpha would take one look at me and change his mind. Maybe I looked pathetic enough to kill this deal. I stepped into the room, lifting my chin, even though my body screamed to turn and run. “Good afternoon, Alpha. Mr. Nighthorn,” I said evenly, voice dry but polite. Alpha Vander sat upright on the couch, perfectly composed. For a man in his early fifties, he looked ten years younger. Thick dark hair, sharp brown eyes, a well-groomed beard. He radiated power and vanity, and somehow it worked. No wonder women in the pack still swooned over him. He had that whole silver fox, age-like-wine aesthetic locked down. And Lucian? He looked like sin incarnate. Dark hair, frost-blue eyes that could pierce through bone, and a jawline that might have been carved from stone. His shirt clung to his body like it didn’t want to let go—tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, tracing the edges of muscle sculpted to perfection. He wasn’t bulky, not like some of the other warriors. He was lean, cut, deadly. His skin was sun-kissed and flawless, his stare unreadable and cold. Everything about him screamed danger, power, trouble. Everything about him made my skin crawl. And yet… he was undeniably beautiful. If I hadn’t known what was behind that face, I might have stared. Might have been flattered. But now? All I saw was the cage I was about to be locked inside. And he hadn’t even bothered to look at me yet. I swallowed hard when I saw him. It had been a while since I last saw Lucian Nighthorn in person, and I hated myself for even noticing how he looked. His presence was magnetic—he didn’t just walk into a room, he took it. He looked like something out of legend: all dark edges, piercing frost-blue eyes, and sculpted features that belonged on a statue. But no matter how stunning the exterior, it couldn’t mask the ugliness I knew sat underneath. Looks didn’t make a man worth loving. And I didn’t want this union. But what I wanted didn’t matter. “Mara,” Alpha Vander said, dragging my attention away from his son. I stood upright and gave him the proper Gamma salute. My posture stiff, my insides screaming. “Congratulations on your future position as Gamma. Mooncrest and Darian are blessed to have you in the ranks.” “Thank you, Alpha,” I replied, my voice steady. “Lucian,” he said, turning to his son, “get to know your mate. Take a walk while I speak with the Thornridges about the event.” Lucian didn’t respond. He just stood and walked outside, offering no glance, no gesture, no courtesy. The kind of silence that dared you to follow—and warned you not to speak. I didn’t want to go with him. He hadn’t asked. But I wasn’t foolish enough to disobey an Alpha’s command. I followed him out. He was sitting on the patio, staring down the street like the world bored him. I didn’t sit. “Don’t get any ideas, little girl,” he said finally, his voice deep, sharp, arrogant. “This arrangement is a joke. An insult. I’ll never love you. You’ll never be my true mate. Let’s get that straight before the wedding so you don’t embarrass yourself hoping for more.” I cleared my throat, keeping my voice even. “Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I’m not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I’d have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue. I expect nothing from you. And I will give you nothing in return.” He finally turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. “You really have no pride, do you?” he said. “You think this is some noble sacrifice? My father’s paying your family a fortune for this. You and your parents—just more middle-class shovel-holders, ready to dig for gold.” I inhaled sharply. My hand twitched. Don’t hit him, I told myself. Not yet. His smirk widened. “Feisty,” he said. “I like that. Quick-tempered too. I’m honestly surprised you made it as Gamma. What did you do? Sleep your way there? Must’ve been quite the climb—though Darian doesn’t fancy you, so maybe you figured you’d settle for the older brother. At least then you get the name, the money, the power. That’s what this is about, right? Being a Nighthorn?” He waited for me to crumble. I didn’t. Instead, I leaned in, voice low and laced with venom. “At least I earned my place in this pack. I’m Gamma because I bled for it, not because I was born into a name. You? You’ll always be the brother of the Alpha. Nothing more.” That hit him. His jaw tightened. His hand lifted halfway, shaking—just a breath away from slapping me. His eyes burned, not with fury alone, but with something deeper. Shame. Insecurity. I flinched, but only slightly. Mara Lucian was stronger than Darian. That much was clear. Where Darian led with loyalty, Lucian ruled with intimidation. His presence filled the air like a storm. And for a moment, just a moment, I felt what it would be like to be tied to this man. Not protected. Not cherished. Owned. Lucian dropped his hand, clenched it into a fist instead. Good. I’d struck the nerve I wanted. And I wouldn’t stop there. “We are not equals,” Lucian said coldly, his voice like ice cracking beneath pressure. “You better watch your mouth, Thornridge, or this arrangement will turn ugly real fast.” He dropped back onto the bench like he owned the space, like even sitting was a statement of dominance. I stayed standing, watching him from above, refusing to shrink. “I came here only to lay down a few ground rules,” he continued. “First, you will never be my mate. So don’t expect affection, don’t ask for loyalty, and don’t even think about what mates are ‘entitled’ to. I already have someone. Someone I actually care about.” I laughed—just once, dry and sharp. “You mean the one who threatened me in my own driveway?” I said. “Tell your little girlfriend that as long as she keeps her claws to herself and stays out of my way, we’ll have no problems. I don’t care what you two do behind closed doors.” He went quiet. I could tell he didn’t like my answer. It wasn’t what he expected. But it was the truth, and I wasn’t here to coddle his ego. “In public, we’ll play the part for my father,” he said, voice dropping lower. “Behind closed doors, we’re strangers. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.” “Fine by me,” I said flatly. “As long as you don’t try to bully me, we won’t have a problem. If your father really did buyme, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you’ll release me.” He chuckled then—low and bitter. “You still don’t get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I’ll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You’ll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently.” Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. I flinched without meaning to, but I didn’t let him see more than that. “What about your girlfriend?” I asked quietly. “She understands,” he replied, surprisingly calm. “I’ll never be Alpha, and I don’t want the job. We’ll find our way around this. She’ll still have my heart. She’ll have my children.” I stared at him, trying to understand how a person could speak of love and cruelty in the same breath. “I guess you’ve got your future mapped out,” I said. “Good for you. But what about me?” He blinked, caught off guard. His tone lost its bite. “What do you mean?” “I mean, you’ve got the girl. The family plan. The political cover. What about my life? My future?” I asked, voice low but unshaking. He looked at me for a long second. Then gave a dismissive shrug. “You’ll figure it out. If you meet someone, fine. Scr'w whoever you want. Just don’t get pregnant and embarrass me. Keep your mess private.” I stared at him, stunned. He wasn’t done. “I’m sure you already have a few boyfriends on the side. Maybe some officials from the academy you spread your legs for—because no woman’s ever made it as Gamma before. So whatever you did to get there, just keep doing it. That’s the only way you’ll hold onto that title. If someone stronger comes along, you’re out.” I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t need to. Let him think what he wanted. Let him imagine a version of me that matched his twisted assumptions. I wasn’t going to defend my body, my choices, or my worth to him. But inside, something cracked. I’d waited. Saved myself. Dreamed of Darian—not for lvst, but for love. And now I was bound to a man who assumed the worst of me. Who would use me as a shield, a pawn, and nothing more. And yet I didn’t cry. Not anymore. The tears were done. Now, there was only fire. “Well,” Lucian said, brushing imaginary dust from his pants like the conversation was just business. “Since everything’s ironed out, I guess we won’t have issues living as husband and wife.” I gave him a nod. Flat. Numb. Resigned. “Do we sleep in the same room?” I asked, not because I wanted to—but because I needed to know what kind of Hll I’d be walking into. He shook his head. “Not exactly. My room has a conjoined space. You’ll sleep in the one I’m not using.” A connected room. No door. No barrier. Just a wall, maybe some air, and all the silence in the world between us. “I’ve fixed it up for you,” he added. “Just don’t expect luxury. It’s the poorer wing of the mansion. My father doesn’t dote on me the way he does on Darian.” I almost laughed. The poorer wing? I would’ve gladly slept in a shed if it meant not sharing space with the man who thought I’d slept my way into the Gamma rank. “I don’t care about the room,” I said simply. And I didn’t. What I cared about was distance. Physical, emotional, spiritual. As much as I could carve out for myself in a life I never asked for. We headed back into the house. Alpha Vander stood, looking pleased with himself—like a man who had just orchestrated a perfect deal, unaware—or perhaps entirely aware—of the people he was crushing in the process. “Ah, I see the lovebirds have come to an understanding,” he said with a smug grin. “I suppose I’ll see you both at the wedding.” My father stepped forward to shake his hand. “Thank you, Alpha. We are honoured.” Alpha Vander turned to him with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Aiden, Arya—you’ve raised a strong, beautiful daughter. I originally wanted her for Darian, you know. She’s Luna material, no doubt about it. But in the end, I knew she’d have more impact on Lucian’s life.” Every word scraped against me like sandpaper. “Darian is already gentle,” he went on. “Lucian needs someone like Mara. Someone sweet, with a steady hand. She’ll soften him. She’s perfect.” And that was the moment I felt it—self-loathing. Deep, hot, gnawing. I should’ve seen it sooner. This wasn’t about love or bonds or the Universe’s will. I’d been chosen because I was safe. A tool. A soothing balm they could apply to their most volatile son. I should’ve been reckless. Cold. Difficult. A bad girl. Maybe then I would’ve been considered for Darian. Maybe then, I would’ve stood a chance. But Lucian—he didn’t let his father get away with it. “It’s not about what you want, Father,” he said suddenly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clean through the room. Alpha Vander turned to him slowly, like a man used to obedience. “Don’t lie to them,” Lucian continued. “This wasn’t your idea. This was Martha’s doing. Luna Martha didn’t want Darian choosing Mara. She didn’t want him with a Thornridge—didn’t want him marrying middle-class. She wants a girl with money. Status. This whole thing? It’s her fix. Her solution.” The air in the room turned sharp. Lucian kept going. “You’re not doing this to help me,” he said. “You’re doing it to ruin me—and Mara. All to clear the path for Darian to marry someone Martha approves of. You paid them off. That’s not honor. That’s manipulation.” Then he turned and walked out without another word. And I stood there—stunned. Not because I was angry at what he said. But because it was true. So painfully, clearly true. Luna Martha didn’t want me in her family. I wasn’t polished enough. Rich enough. Enough of anything, really. And Darian… he never even had a chance to fight it. I never had a chance at him. No matter how hard I trained, no matter how loyal I was, no matter how much I loved him quietly from a distance—I never stood a chance. Lucian was many things—cold, cruel, arrogant—but in that moment, I saw something else too: honesty. Brutal, unfiltered honesty. And it told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice. Mara Four days had passed since Lucian and his father came to the house, and I still hadn’t found my way out of the haze. I sat in the garden behind our home, staring at nothing. Not the flowers. Not the trees. Just the empty space ahead of me, like it might hold some kind of answer if I looked long enough. Lucian’s words still echoed in my mind—cold, cruel, and then, strangely, honest. The truth was a blade that hadn’t stopped cutting. It wasn’t about me being Luna material or helping Lucian. It was about Darian. About removing me from the equation so his mother could shape his future without interference. I didn’t even hear him approach. “You’ve lost weight,” Darian said softly, sitting beside me. I didn’t reply. What was there to say? He sighed and stood again, pacing. Frustrated. Restless. I knew he wanted to talk. He always did. But I couldn’t give him what he was looking for—not when I felt like my whole life had been bargained away by people who never even asked me what I wanted. “Why didn’t you tell me Lucian came to see you?” he finally asked. I looked up at him, calm on the surface, hollow underneath. “I didn’t think it was necessary.” He stopped pacing. “We’re friends, Mara. Everything is necessary. Everything matters.” He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders were tense. I could see the guilt in the way he carried himself, but he didn’t understand. Not yet. “Help me, Darian,” I said, my voice cracking. “Please.” He came to a stop in front of me, eyes full of sorrow. “If I were Alpha, I’d cancel this madness. I swear I would.” “But you’re not,” I whispered. Then I looked him in the eyes, and I said the one thing that had been building in my chest like pressure before a storm. “Your mother set this up.” He frowned, his expression hardening. “Lucian said it in front of your father. And your father didn’t deny it. She was afraid that you and I… that we might end up together. She didn’t want her son marrying someone from a middle-class family. So she pushed this union, forced it, to get me out of your orbit.” Darian’s jaw clenched. “That’s not true. She knows we’re just friends. That there’s nothing between us.” His words landed like stones in my chest. “If I wanted to date you, Mara, I would’ve.” That hurt. I expected it, but it still hurt. “She doesn’t see it that way,” I replied. “To her, I’m a threat to your future. So she ruined mine.” I paused, voice low and shaking. “Please talk to her, Darian. She’s destroying two lives out of fear. Lucian has someone he loves. And me?” My voice broke. “She’s condemning me to a loveless, miserable life. All because I was your friend.” I looked down at my hands, trembling now. “I’ll give up the Gamma position. I’ll leave. Just… help me get out of this.” Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and helpless. “I don’t want to marry your brother. Please.” He sat down beside me again, silent for a long moment. His hand found mine, hesitated, then held it gently. “I’ll talk to her,” he said at last, voice low. “I can’t promise anything, Mara. But I’ll try. I’ll beg her if I have to.” I nodded, even though I wasn’t hopeful. At this point, I just needed to know someone tried. That not everyone stood by and watched my future burn. If Darian hadn’t offered, I might’ve buried myself in silent acceptance. Might’ve forced myself to walk into that cold, loveless match. But Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. He was a murderer. An irresponsible drunk. A walking storm I’d be expected to share a life with. The thought of binding myself to him permanently… it made my skin crawl. We sat in silence for a while after that. Just breathing the same air. Just existing in the same space. Eventually, Darian left. And I was alone again. Sitting in a garden, surrounded by life, while mine slowly withered away. Two days passed. Nothing from Darian. No call. No visit. Not even a message. Just silence. I lay on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling like it might offer some kind of escape. It didn’t. All I saw was the countdown—days slipping away until the wedding. Until my funeral. Because that’s what it felt like. The day I married Lucian would be the day I buried the last of myself. I didn’t know if I’d take the Gamma position when the time came. I doubted it. The fire in me—the one that once pushed me to be the best—was nothing but ash now. Resignation tasted bitter, but it was starting to feel like the only thing I had left. There was a knock at my door. I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. I could already smell her—my mother. And the food tray she was balancing in her hands. I didn’t move, didn’t speak, and just like I knew she would, she let herself in. “Mara,” she said gently, placing the tray on the table. “You need to eat something.” I didn’t even look at the food. I looked at her. Cold. Angry. Broken. “How can you and Dad live with yourselves after selling your daughter?” I asked, my voice flat, my expression disgusted. She froze by the table, her eyes lowering, as if even she couldn’t bear to meet mine. “He gave us no choice, Mara,” she whispered. “The money was to ease his conscience.” “And you took it.” My words were a blade. “Spent it, I’m sure. Did it ever occur to you that Lucian might call it off? That Alpha Vander might want his money back?” She turned to face me slowly, her expression tired and tight. “We had no choice,” she repeated. “It was take it… or be cast out. ‘Take it or get out,’ that’s what he said. We were drowning, Mara. The house, the loans—we were about to lose everything.” I blinked, stunned. “So you sold me to pay off your debts? The loans you took for my education?” “No,” she said quickly. “We were ready to let the house go. We planned to move in with my sister. We didn’t expect Alpha Nighthorn to show up. But when he forced the union, when he said it was happening whether we liked it or not... we took the money. We used it to survive.” “And you used me to survive,” I said bitterly. She flinched. I sat up, my eyes sharp now. “What happens if the deal falls apart? If Lucian calls it off and his father wants the money back?” “Why would he?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Because I told Darian,” I said. “I told him what Lucian said. About the truth—how this wasn’t about Lucian needing a wife but about his mother wanting me out of Darian’s life. He promised he’d talk to her. Try to get her to stop this madness.” My mother’s eyes widened, shocked. She hadn’t expected me to do anything. Maybe she thought I’d just quietly crumble. She slowly sat beside me, her body folding like something had broken inside her. Tears slid down her face. “Mara, my darling…” my mother’s voice cracked as she sat beside me. “I didn’t know you would take it this hard.” I didn’t answer. She reached for my hand, but I didn’t move. My eyes stayed locked on the ceiling, dry now, but only because I had nothing left in me. “I’m hurting too,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I need you to be strong. You’re tougher than this.” I didn’t look at her. “Darian and Rowan left yesterday,” she added carefully. “They won’t be back until it’s time for him to take over the pack.” The words sank in slowly, like poison soaking through my veins. They went on the trip. Without me. Without a word. Darian—the one person I still believed would try to help me—was gone. He didn’t even call. Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t tell me that he had failed or that he’d tried at all. The silence in my chest cracked. My heart broke without sound. “I know what you’re thinking,” my mother said, almost defensively. “It was Luna Martha. She forced the trip.” I turned to her now, eyes stinging again. “She forced him?” I asked, though I already believed it. “Yes,” she nodded. “Jason—Darian’s butler—he came by for a check-up. He told me Darian had a terrible argument with Martha. About Lucian. About you. About how unfair this is. And when she couldn’t control the conversation, she controlled him. She made him leave. Told him it was to ‘gain experience.’ Said he’d return a better Alpha.” My lip trembled, but I didn’t speak. It was my fault. I asked him to intervene. I pulled him into this. And now he was gone. Banished under the guise of training. And nothing had changed. Lucian was still my future. And Darian… Darian had become part of the past. I sat in silence as the tears returned—slow, steady, quiet. “I’m sorry, baby,” my mother whispered. “But please… eat something. Don’t let this kill you. You’re one of the strongest wolves this pack has ever seen. A woman winning Gamma? That’s not luck. That’s grit. That’s fire. You will find a way to cope.” I didn’t believe her. Not even a little. She pulled me close, kissed my forehead, then left the room without waiting for a response. I stared at the food. The smell turned my stomach. Fear had coiled itself so tightly around my gut I could barely breathe, let alone eat. I picked at the plate. Flushed it all down the toilet. Washed the dishes in silence. I wanted to fade out of existence. But I couldn’t. I was still here. Trapped in a body with no escape, in a life that no longer felt like mine. They hadn’t even set a date yet. That should’ve been a good thing—more time, more room to plan, to hope—but instead, it made it worse. The anticipation, the waiting. The illusion of freedom. Alpha Vander was “putting things in order,” whatever that meant. Maybe planning some extravagant public affair to mask the fact that the union was a sentence, not a celebration. Forced marriages weren’t supposed to be grand. But this one was. Because it wasn’t about love—it was about control. I climbed back into bed, curled beneath the blanket, and tried to breathe past the panic rising in my throat. Please, I thought. Let time fly. Let it fly fast. Lucian My father was a weak man. Spineless, really. Letting his Luna orchestrate the ruin of two lives just to soothe her own insecurities? That wasn’t leadership—that was cowardice dressed in politics. Where does Martha’s manipulation stop? It was bad enough she turned my father against me—made sure I was never considered fit to be Alpha. But now? She’s bound me to a girl I barely know, all because she couldn't stomach the idea of Darian marrying someone who wasn’t bred from power or money. Mara Thornridge and I? We were just casualties of her fear. Collateral damage in her obsession with keeping Darian’s path clean and elite. When my father dragged me to the Thornridge house, I said what I needed to say. Cold, cruel, calculated—because I needed to understand. Martha told me the Thornridges requested the union, claimed they believed their daughter was too strong not to be Luna. Claimed they wanted her to take her “rightful place.” Said they had agreed to settle for me instead of Darian. All of it? Complete bullsh1t. Everyone knew Mara had a crush on Darian. It wasn’t some secret scandal. Even Darian knew—he just ignored it. Let it stew. Let her orbit him for years. A harmless crush, people said. But what that girl gave up for him wasn’t harmless. She left her original path. Signed up at the academy. Trained harder than anyone expected. Finished second. All for a boy who didn’t have the guts to be honest with her. At first, even I assumed her ambition was calculated—that finishing second was her power play to get chosen as Luna. But after speaking with her, however awkwardly… I realized how wrong I was. She didn’t chase power. She chased purpose. And maybe, quietly, she chased hope. The way she looked at me—guarded, hurt, angry. That wasn’t the gaze of someone who’d schemed her way up. That was someone trying not to drown in something too big for her. And I hated it. I hated how Martha had spun this lie and dragged me into it. I hated how my father let her do it. I hated that Mara—this tough, stubborn, determined girl—was being broken apart by people who claimed to protect the pack. So when we went back inside, I told the truth. I was done playing along. Let the Thornridges hear it all—how this wasn’t about what was best for me or Mara or even Darian. It was about Martha’s ego. About keeping “middle-class blood” away from her precious son. I almost told Mara that Darian had known. That he could’ve stopped this earlier. But I didn’t. Because she already looked like she was barely holding it together. That truth would’ve shattered her. But I blame him too. He knew how she felt. He saw it in her eyes every Dam time she looked at him. And instead of setting her free, he kept her close. He strung her along, let her believe maybe… maybe one day. I heard him brag once—to his friends—that she’d made passes at him. After meeting her, I knew that was a lie. Mara Thornridge doesn’t beg. She’d rather die than admit she’s vulnerable. She would’ve made a great Luna. Not just to Darian—but to the pack. She’s sharp, strong, and smarter than half the men who outranked her. And instead of letting her shine, Martha decided to bury her. Tie her to me. Punish her for something that never even happened. And now they expect her to stand at Darian’s side as Gamma? To give her best while living half-alive? Unbelievable. No one’s asking what this will do to her. No one’s thinking about what she’s being forced to give up just to survive. I didn’t know what to do with Mara. I didn’t want to touch her. I didn’t want to claim her—not because I hated her, but because I respected her. She didn’t ask for this, and I’m not the kind of man who takes what isn’t given freely. I wouldn’t mate with her against her will. I wasn’t like Darian. He wore his charm like armor and left a trail of wreckage behind him—wolves he used, hearts he broke, girls who wound up pregnant and scared. And every time, Father and Martha cleaned it up quietly, buried the mess, and painted him as the perfect heir. Looking back now, I saw it all more clearly than I ever had. Darian—the golden boy, the spoiled prince. Martha’s precious son, her ticket to power, the puppet she dressed up as a leader. And then there was me. An accident at the wrong time, the wrong place, gave her everything she needed to destroy me. The biker didn’t die because of me—not really. My brakes failed. There was silver in the wreckage, and to this day, I still don’t know how it got there. The biker would’ve survived without it. But no one listened. No one cared. My father didn’t even pretend to investigate. He just... wrote me off. They said I was drunk, been partying all. Night but that was a lie, yet no one cared. Martha escalated the fallout like she’d been waiting for it. And Darian? He got a free pass. Over and over. “They wanted him,” my father would say. “He didn’t stand a chance. Every girl wants the Luna title. It’s not the same.” It wasn’t the same because Darian was untouchable. I’d only ever loved one girl. Tina Livingston. I’d been loyal, careful, focused. But now, thanks to Martha, I had to break her heart. Just another name sacrificed on the altar of Darian’s future. Martha had destroyed three lives. Maybe four, if Mara had someone before all of this—someone she never got to choose. And yet, I couldn’t even bring myself to hate her. Not fully. She was protecting her son. Ruthless, yes—but my real anger was reserved for the man who allowed her to do it all. My father. The Alpha. The coward. If my mother had lived… maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe she would’ve fought for me. For balance. For justice. But she was gone. And in her absence, Martha filled the void with poison and control. Now here we were. A forced union. A fake marriage. A girl who didn’t want me, and a pack that would celebrate it anyway like it was some kind of alliance—when in truth, it was just another silent war. I moved my things into the smaller of the conjoined rooms and fixed up the larger one for Mara. I wanted her to be comfortable. Or at the very least, able to cope. She wasn’t what I’d accused her of—she wasn’t a gold digger or a social climber. I said those things to provoke, to test, to understand. But now I knew better. She was nineteen. A kid, really. Brave as hll, smart, and stubborn. And stuck. Her parents weren’t to blame either. They had no power, no rank, no options. The offer from my father wasn’t an opportunity—it was a threat in disguise. Because being cast out wasn’t just exile. It was death by slow erasure. When a wolf is stripped of their pack mark, it fades over time. And once it’s gone, they lose their human form. They go feral. Wild. Forgotten. That’s what happens to rogues. There’s no mercy in that system, no redemption. A wolf only belongs to one pack in their lifetime. One. And if that bond is broken, there’s no going back. It was a cruel mechanism, a brutal leash disguised as tradition. One the Alpha family had full control over. And my father wielded it without hesitation. Mara was a victim. Just like I was. But unlike me, she didn’t even have the illusion of choice. Lucian I was just adjusting my cufflinks, getting ready for my date with Tina, when Austin, my butler, stepped into the room with his usual composed tone. “Master Lucian, the boutique is here to deliver your bride’s clothes.” My bride. The words felt like gravel in my mouth every time I heard them. I stood and walked into the master bedroom I’d had prepped for Mara. I’d never used it. It was larger, more extravagant, more central—but I’d always preferred the smaller room. Quieter. Less suffocating. But now, someone would finally be living here. Sleeping in a bed under this roof because she had no other choice. “Have them arrange her things in the walk-in closet,” I said. “Move my things to the wardrobe, and put the rest of my stuff in storage. I don’t use most of it anyway.” Austin nodded, ever the quiet professional. “Your father has invited you to a late lunch in the breakfast room,” he added. “It starts in fifteen minutes.” I checked the time, irritated. Great. I had plans with Tina—plans that actually mattered to me—but as usual, Father’s whims trumped everything. If he wanted something, it was dropped on my lap like gospel. No warning, no regard. I left without responding, heading toward the right wing of the mansion—the golden, polished side of the estate where Martha, Darian, and Father lived. Everything there was curated, flashy, fake. Just like them. Martha loved the money. Loved the title. The image. She wore luxury like armor. And yet she had the nerve to call otherwomen gold diggers, while she pretended to play noble Luna. The real digger in this house wore silk and control like a second skin. And Darian? He was a walking performance. The dutiful heir, the golden child. The pack believed in him like he was some messiah. But only those of us who’d seen behind the curtain knew the truth. The girls. The lies. The messes swept under thick rugs of privilege. He got away with everything. And me? I was the one they all whispered about. The drunk. The murderer. The irresponsible son. I stepped into the breakfast room and found them both—Father and her—eating like nothing was wrong in the world. “Have a seat, Lucian,” my father said with a manufactured smile. There was a thick folder on the table. Blank on the outside. I eyed it but said nothing. This was a game, and I already knew I was a piece. “Have you finally accepted the union?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. It was a test. And I already knew what the right answer was. “Yes,” I said smoothly, swallowing down my resentment like it was ash. Martha didn't miss a beat. “Make sure you keep her out of Darian’s hair.” I wanted to speak. Gods, I wanted to snap. But I bit down on the urge. “She’s already out of Darian’s hair,” my father said before I could respond. “She has been, ever since her parents told her about the arrangement.” Martha rolled her eyes, dismissive as always. “So she sent my son to fight me?” she asked, mouth tight. “That was Darian’s choice,” Father said. “Stop trying to pin this on Mara. Did it ever occur to you that maybe—just maybe—Darian genuinely liked the girl and only stayed away because of you?” I nearly laughed. Darian like someone? Please. The only person Darian had ever truly loved was himself. He kept Mara close because she worshipped him. He fed on that loyalty, that quiet hope in her eyes. And when she finally became inconvenient, he let Martha clean it up. But I stayed silent. “Anyway,” my father said, suddenly annoyed, “I didn’t call Lucian here to discuss Darian. You somehow always find a way to bring it back to him.” Martha turned her head away, eyes cold and narrowed. I stared at the file again. And for the first time, I truly realized how deeply buried we all were in this family's lies. We were weapons. Symbols. Bargaining chips. Everything but people. “Take this,” my father said, sliding the thick folder across the table toward me. I didn’t move immediately. “Sign them and keep a copy,” he added. “My signature is already there.” I stared at the folder. “What is it, Father?” He sighed like he was finally ready to put something to rest. “Since you won’t be succeeding me as Alpha,” he said, “it’s only fair I hand the company over to you.” Martha slammed her hand down on the table. “Impossible!” she snapped, venom lacing her voice. My father didn’t flinch. “The deed is done, Martha. I can’t undo it.”
"""I'll never love you. You'll never be my true mate. This arrangement is a joke. An insult."" My husband sneered. ""Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I'm not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I'd have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue."" ""Feisty,"" he said. ""I like that. Quick-tempered too."" ""As long as you don't try to bully me, we won't have a problem. If your father really did buy me, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you'll release me."" I said flatly. He chuckled then—low and bitter. ""You still don't get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I'll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You'll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently."" Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. He told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice." That actually made me smile. It was such a him thing to say. “That’s so cool, Rowan,” I said, wide-eyed. Then, on impulse, the words slipped out before I could second-guess them. “Do you mind if I come?” Rowan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at Darian, almost like he needed permission. And Darian—bless him—gave me that soft smile again. “If you go with him,” he said, “who’s going to be my friend and keep me company here?” I knew the answer. We all did. Tiffany. Tiffany would. But if I said that out loud, it would expose everything—my jealousy, my feelings, my pain. It would ruin whatever fragile friendship we still had. So I said nothing. Just sat there, heart breaking quietly behind steady eyes. Mara “I’m sure you’ve got other friends to keep you company,” I said, keeping my voice calm, eyes steady on Tiffany. “Better—and maybe more interesting—company than I could ever be.” Tiffany caught the meaning instantly and smiled, smug and satisfied. “That’s right, Darian,” she purred, looping her arm through his. “I’m all the company you’ll need.” Then, like it was some kind of private joke, she leaned in and licked his earlobe again. I looked away, jaw tight. She wanted to be Luna so badly it was dripping off her. Most of the girls who threw themselves at Darian did. It wasn’t about him. It was about the title, the power, the image. But not me. Even if Darian wasn’t going to be Alpha, I’d still feel this way about him. That was the difference. “I want to come with you, Rowan,” I said suddenly, turning to him. My voice was clearer than I expected. Firm. I needed distance. Space. A whole dam continent between me and Darian if I was going to get over him. He would never see me. Never choose me. And I had to stop holding out hope like it was some kind of twisted comfort blanket. “This trip... it’ll be good for me,” I added, mostly to myself. Darian smiled, watching me a little too closely. “Maybe I’ll come too.” And just like that, the air left my lungs. No. No, he couldn’t. That would ruin everything. I’d just end up exactly where I was—his loyal shadow, his best buddy, watching Tiffany swallow his attention whole. “You’ll bring me along?” Tiffany asked, all wide eyes and sugar-laced eagerness. I could almost hear the flutter of her lashes. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. If she came too, I’d lose my mind watching her cling to Darian like a barnacle in heat. Her tongue alone would be enough to make me puke somewhere around the border of the first town we hit. “I’ll think about it,” Darian replied, and Tiffany's face fell. She frowned, and then her eyes flicked to me, sharp and accusing, like it was my fault. She wasn’t entirely wrong. But also not right. I didn’t want Darian to come—not because I wanted to hoard him for myself, but because I needed to finally let go of him. We stayed a little longer, had a couple drinks, careful not to go overboard. It was a quiet ending to a loud night. Eventually, we all called it and got ready to leave. “Let’s go hunting tomorrow morning,” Darian said casually as we stepped out into the night. His voice was light, but his eyes were on me. I hesitated. Waiting. Because, of course, I needed to hear what she would say. “I want to come too,” Tiffany piped up, bouncing slightly in her heels like she was volunteering for a game of tag. I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. Darian caught it and laughed. “I guess the three of you will have to go without me,” I said flatly, already turning away. Darian frowned. “Come on, Mara. You and I—we’re a good team.” Oh, how I wished that was true. But in reality? It was just another sweet lie I’d told myself over the years. “You, Rowan, and Tiffany will be a formidable team,” I replied, eyes on the pavement, not bothering to look at her. I could already feel the weight of her glare. I didn’t blame her. If I were her, I wouldn’t like me either. Not when the guy I wanted kept paying attention to someone else. Darian told me to think about it. I wouldn’t. I didn’t need to. I already knew I wasn’t going. When I got home, the house was quiet—everyone asleep. I slipped inside like a ghost and made my way to my room, shutting the door behind me without making a sound. I didn’t want to wake anyone. I didn’t want to talk. All I wanted was to stop loving someone who would never love me back. Morning came too fast. I sat on the edge of my bed, still wrapped in the fog of everything I was trying to forget. The hunt was supposed to be today. Part of me wanted to go—just to breathe outside this house, outside of him. But the thought of Tiffany tagging along made my stomach twist. I already knew she’d spent the night at the Nighthorn mansion. There was no way Darian would leave her behind now. Not after that. I dragged myself downstairs, hungry but not in the mood. I hated shifting when I hadn’t eaten—it made me edgy, short-tempered. I didn’t want to lose it in the woods and end up looking unhinged. What I didn’t expect was to find my parents waiting in the kitchen. They weren’t eating. They weren’t smiling. They were just… there, sitting stiffly at the table with this look in their eyes that made something inside me tighten. My mother, usually bright-eyed and warm, gave me a small, nervous smile. “Morning, Mara. How was your night?” I forced a shrug. “Great,” I lied, trying not to read too much into their mood. She just nodded. My father cleared his throat, and the sound already made my heart beat faster. “Sweetheart, we need to talk to you about something important.” And just like that, my stomach dropped. They didn’t speak in the kitchen. My dad gestured toward the living room, and we all moved, silent as ghosts. I sat on the couch across from them, trying not to let my mind spiral. Then they looked at each other. That kind of look—the silent, mind-link kind of conversation they always had when something was wrong. Something they didn’t want to say out loud. I wasn’t part of it. Not yet. Not until they decided I had to be. “Mara,” my father said slowly, “you know how much we love you, right?” Wrong way to start. My pulse spiked. I swallowed hard. “Yes,” I said, and my voice cracked. He looked down for a moment, then back up at me with tired eyes. “We’ve always wanted the best for you. But… we also have duties to the pack. Responsibilities. And—” “We should’ve told you sooner,” my mother cut in, her voice trembling. “But we wanted you to have your graduation, your moment of celebration, before we… before we said anything.” Her eyes welled up with tears. That’s when I started crying too. Because whatever could make my mother cry like that—whatever they were about to say—it was going to rip something out of me. “Mara,” my father said again, quieter this time, “Alpha Vander Nighthorn has chosen you to be joined with his eldest son, Lucian.” My breath caught. “He’s decided,” he continued, “that since you finished second overall in the academy, top among the female wolves, and since you’re known for your strength, your discipline… that you’re the best choice for Lucian. He believes your character will help shape him into a man fit to stand beside his brother when Darian becomes Alpha. He also believes that your friendship with Darian will help settle the conflict between the brothers and bring unity to the future leadership of this pack.” I was frozen. The words didn’t even register at first. It didn’t feel real. “It’s not a suggestion, Mara,” my father added. “It’s an order. One we had no power to refuse.” That was it. The sound that left my throat wasn’t even human. I screamed. A raw, guttural cry that tore from my chest like something inside me had shattered. Mara “This must be a joke,” I whispered, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. My eyes burned, and the tears wouldn’t stop. My mother shook her head slowly, her face soaked with grief. “It’s not a joke,” she said, broken. I choked on a sob. “Lucian? Lucian?! He’s a monster. A cruel, vicious bаst3rd. He lies, cheats, bullies anyone weaker than him—and he killed someone, an innocent person. And now you want me to what? Play house with the devil?” I knew they didn’t have a choice. I knew it wasn’t really their fault. But I needed someone to blame, and they were standing right in front of me, and I was drowning. “We had no say,” my father said, voice low and defeated. “They said you’re the strongest female of your generation. They believe you’ll match him. Tame him.” “Enough!” I snapped, standing up so fast the room spun. “You can’t tame people, Dad. You don’t ‘fix’ someone like Lucian. He’s not broken. He’s rotten. He was born that way.” My breath came fast, too fast. My chest felt tight like I was suffocating. “I’m supposed to be Darian’s Gamma! That job—our futures—they’re built on trust, on teamwork. How am I supposed to do that while being shackled to a psychopath?” They had no answers. Just silence. My mother’s silent weeping. My father’s helpless stare. “I’m done. I’m leaving. I don’t want the Gamma position. They can keep it—and let them gift someone else to that monster.” I turned, storming toward the stairs. I didn’t know where I’d go, but anywhere was better than here. Anywhere but thislife. “You can’t leave, Mara,” my father called after me, voice desperate. “If you refuse the bond, Alpha Nighthorn will cast us out. We’ll become rogues. Once the mark of Mooncrest fades, we’ll lose everything—our protection, our humanity. You know what happens to rogues. You’ll turn feral. We all will. They rule this entire country, Mara. There’s no where for you to go,” I stopped in my tracks. Feral. Cast out. Doomed. I turned slowly and looked at my mother. Her shoulders were trembling. She couldn’t even look me in the eyes. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?” I said, my voice shaking with fury and despair. “You’re asking me to throw my life away. You’re asking me to bind myself to someone who might kill me in my sleep.” She nodded through her tears. “I’m sorry.” Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. Even Alpha Vander didn’t trust him to lead, which was why Darian had been groomed from day one to take over. Darian, with his calm and strength and sense of duty. Meanwhile, his older brother was out there, spiraling, and now they wanted me to steady him. They wouldn’t have picked me if I wasn’t so perfect—so well-behaved, so disciplined, so obsessed with Darian that I molded myself into the model warrior. Maybe if I’d been reckless, mean, or a bitter b1tch, they wouldn’t have even considered me. But no. I had played the part. And now, this was my reward: unrequited love, a forced marriage, a future I couldn’t escape. I hated my life in that moment. I was about to turn away again when the doorbell rang. We all froze. My mother rose to answer it, and the scent hit me before she opened the door—him. Darian. He stepped inside, and I almost didn’t recognize him. His eyes were red, brimming with tears. His hands trembled. He looked like someone had carved a hole into his chest and left it gaping. “Mara,” he said softly, his voice cracked and hoarse. He opened his arms. He didn’t need to say anything else. I walked into him, into the arms I had longed for more than I ever admitted, and he held me—tight, like he was the one about to fall apart. My parents quietly stepped away, leaving us in the silence of shared pain. And I broke. I cried, and this time, it wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t polite. It was everything I had been holding in—fear, betrayal, grief, hopelessness—all pouring out while he held me. And still, I knew… even this wouldn’t change anything. “I’m sorry, Mara,” Darian whispered against my hair, his voice thick with something heavier than guilt. “I didn’t know they would do this. I didn’t know he would do this.” And I broke again. “I don’t want to be with Lucian,” I cried, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring me. “I hate him, Darian. I can’t do this. Please… help me.” His arms tightened around me like he wanted to, like he wished he could fix it all with the way he held me—but he didn’t answer right away. When he did, it was barely above a whisper. “I’m not Alpha yet, Mara. My key mark isn’t active yet. I don’t have the power to stop this.” And that—that—hurt more than I expected. Not because he admitted he was powerless but because of the way his voice cracked. There was grief in it. Regret. Something deeper than duty. “I thought…” he started, then paused. “I thought we had time. I thought there’d be more time.” I pulled back just enough to look at him. “Time for what?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mara. I didn’t know.” I stared at him, trying to piece together what he meant. Time for what? Was he finally saying what I’d always hoped he felt? But now wasn’t the time. Not with everything crashing around us. The hug faded. Slowly. Reluctantly. We stood there, inches apart, staring into each other’s tear-streaked faces, both too full of words we couldn’t say. “Listen to me,” Darian said, his voice low but firm. “I will always be there for you. I won’t let him hurt you, Mara. I swear it. If you ever feel unsafe, if he crosses a line—call me. I don’t care what I’m doing. I’ll come. I will come. You are not alone in this.” I blinked back another wave of tears. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to thank someone for a promise that shouldn’t have to exist. “I wish I’d never trained to be your Beta,” I muttered, my voice barely a breath. “If I’d just taken medical classes instead… Alpha Vander wouldn’t have noticed me. He wouldn’t have picked me for his deranged son.” I looked at Darian again. My heart swelled painfully, and I opened my mouth. “Darian…” He met my eyes, hope flickering there. “What is it, Mara?” I hesitated. I wanted to say it. Gods, I wanted to scream it—I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I didn’t. Because now he wasn’t just the boy I trained beside. He was about to become my brother-in-law. And whatever chance there might have been, it had died the moment his father bound my future to Lucian’s. “Nothing,” I said instead. “Nothing but fear.” He pulled me back into his arms without hesitation. I buried my face in his chest and breathed in his scent one last time like it might be enough to last me forever. I didn’t dare ask for more. I didn’t dare reach for what I truly wanted. Not now. Not when I was about to be forced into the hands of someone I despised. Not when Darian had no power to save me. He held me tight, as if letting go would break him, too. Then he kissed the top of my head—soft, lingering—and pulled away. “We’ll still be best friends,” he said gently. “I don’t care what the pack says. You’re still my best friend, Mara. No one’s replacing you.” And there it was. The final nail. Best friend. The words were supposed to be comforting, but they landed like a blade in my chest. His father thought that same friendship was the key to taming Lucian—like I was a tool, a bridge, a sacrificial peace offering. I didn’t want to be Darian’s best friend. I wanted to be his everything. His Luna. His love. His home. But instead, I got Lucian. Unwanted. Unchosen. Trapped. Maybe being feral wouldn’t be so bad. At least then I’d be free. I could run, disappear, let the wilderness swallow me whole. Anything would be better than this slow suffocation. I wanted to leave. I needed to leave. Mara Darian followed me upstairs to my room. For the first time, it felt… wrong. Foreign. Like something had cracked in the familiar walls we’d built around each other. It had always been a little awkward since I started falling for him, but now—now it felt unbearable. I didn’t know what it would be like living in their house. The Nighthorn mansion. Sharing space with Lucian. Walking the same halls as Darian, seeing him every day while wearing the title of someone else’s mate. His brother’s mate. The thought made me feel sick. I didn’t trust my heart not to betray me in some devastating way. “I’ll wait here,” Darian said softly, settling into the chair by my desk while I headed into the bathroom. As soon as the water hit me, the tears came. I sank to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, sobbing so hard my ribs ached. I cried for the life I almost had. For the love I could never confess. For I was being handed like some twisted reward for being too good. And in that cracked, broken place, I thought about running. Disappearing. Going rogue. Letting the world forget I ever existed. But then I remembered what that meant. What it would do to my family. What it would do to me. I dressed in the bathroom, even though modesty had long since evaporated between Darian and me during years of shifting and training together. But things were different now. Everything was different. Even standing in front of him felt like holding a glass that could shatter if either of us moved too fast. “How are you feeling?” he asked when I stepped back into the room. I just nodded, unable to trust my voice. His eyes were still tinged with crimson, like he’d been holding back more tears of his own. “Lucian doesn’t want the union either,” he said suddenly. I looked up, startled. “What?” “That’s how I found out,” he continued. “I overheard him yelling at our father. He was furious. Said he didn’t want you. Didn’t want any of it. And honestly… that’s what scares me the most.” I understood what he meant before he said it. Lucian didn’t want me. Which meant he’d resent me. And with the kind of man he was—violent, spiteful—that resentment wouldn’t just sit quietly in the corner. He’d find a way to punish me for it. “Then why won’t he reject it?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. Darian exhaled slowly, like the weight of it all was dragging him under too. “Because ever since Father chose me as Alpha instead of him, Lucian hasn’t dared to oppose him. I think the shame crushed something inside him. He’s quiet now, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. And…” He hesitated. “Lucian’s in love—with someone else. Has been for a while.” I swallowed hard. That somehow made it worse. I wasn’t just being forced into a bond with a monster—I was a wedge, a weapon used to separate him from someone he actually cared about. A curse he’d wear every day. “This isn’t fair,” I said bitterly. “Not to me. Not to her. Not to anyone.” Darian didn’t argue. “Will I still be your Gamma?” I asked, knowing it was selfish but needing to ask anyway. Because even if I couldn’t be his mate, I still wanted to stand by his side in some way. Any way. “Yes,” he said softly. “Unless you choose to step down, you’ll remain my Gamma.” I shook my head. I couldn’t make that decision yet. Not when everything inside me felt broken and scattered. I just needed time. Space to breathe, to mourn, to accept the weight of what had been forced on me. Darian left quietly, carrying his own sadness like a wound. I watched him go and felt another piece of me fall apart. I stayed in bed the rest of the day. Staring at the ceiling. Crying into my pillow until it was soaked. My parents tried to check on me—brought food, soft words, empty comfort—but I ignored them all. I didn’t want kindness from the people who had let this happen. I didn’t want anyone. If the Alpha had chosen to bind me to Darian, I would have said yes without hesitation. I would have given him everything. But instead, I was being handed over to his brother. Why Lucian? Of all the wolves in this pack, why did fate—or power, or cruelty—choose him? And what the hll was I supposed to do now? Two weeks. Two long, miserable weeks of crying, sulking, and avoiding the world like it had personally betrayed me—because in a way, it had. I refused to go to any gatherings, skipped every function, and barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t Darian. Not that I saw him much. He’d gotten himself into trouble more than once that week, and Alpha Vander had taken it as an excuse to load him up with responsibilities. I missed him. But missing him was a dangerous thing now. Luna Martha Nighthorn came by twice to speak with my parents about the “arrangements.” She was Darian’s mother—not Lucian’s. Lucian’s biological mother had died when he was young. Alpha Vander had bonded with Martha later, and ever since, everyone just assumed she was the mother of both boys. Everyone except Lucian, who never missed a chance to correct them. I didn’t care for the politics of it. I didn’t care about her visit, her soft reassurances, or the way she avoided looking me in the eye. I didn’t care about any of it. I just wanted to disappear. Burn the whole d'amn future and vanish into ash. But I couldn’t. I was sitting on the patio, trying to catch my breath from another heavy day of doing absolutely nothing, when a sleek black car pulled into our driveway. I squinted at the figure stepping out. A young woman—tall, porcelain-skinned, striking brunette. And angry. I stood slowly, assuming she was lost and needed directions. She didn’t waste time. “Are you Mara Thornridge?” she asked, sharp and cold. I nodded, guarded. “You gold-digging b1tch,” she snapped. “What do your parents have on Alpha Vander? Huh?” I blinked, stunned. What? “Do you know how long Lucian and I have been together?” she choked out, her eyes welling up with tears. “We were sweethearts for years. And now I find out you—you’ve been chosen for him? You?” I stood there, frozen, every cell in my body screaming for a break. I had no words. I was still trying to process this marriage from hll myself, and now this? She stepped closer, her voice low and trembling with rage. “How dare you, Mara? I swear, we will make your life a living hll.” And that was it. I snapped. “Watch it,” I growled, the shift stirring beneath my skin. “I don’t give two fks about Lucian. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want this. So maybe aim that rage where it belongs—at him, or at his father, or at the Moon Goddess herself. Not me.” She blinked, caught off guard. “If you’re so mad, tell your beloved boyfriend to grow a spine and say something to his father. Trust me, you’d be doing me a huge favor. Because let’s be honest—Lucian isn’t exactly a prize. He’s an entitled, violent аs hole, and I wouldn’t want to be bound to him if he was the last breathing wolf in existence.” She stepped toward me like she was about to swing. I didn’t even flinch—I welcomed it. Hll, I needed it. I let out a low, warning growl, eyes locked on hers. “You need to f'k- off, now. While I’m still being nice. Because if you don’t, I swear on every ancestor in my bloodline, I will tear you apart. And right now? I wouldn’t even regret it.” Something in my voice must’ve landed. She backed away slowly, fury still burning in her eyes, but something else too—fear. She slid into her car and slammed the door, then peeled out of the driveway without another word. I stood there breathing hard, body trembling with all the rage and frustration I’d buried these past two weeks. Now I had to deal with Lucian’s girlfriend too? I wasn’t even officially mated to him yet, and already the drama was spilling into my yard like blood on the snow. And Lucian—he hadn’t shown up. Hadn’t spoken to me. Hadn’t so much as sent a message. I guessed the feeling was mutual. This was going to be hll. And it hadn’t even started yet. Mara “Mara!” my mother called from downstairs. Since the day they dropped the bomb about the arrangement, I’d barely left my room. What was the point? Everyone probably knew by now. The whole pack, maybe even the entire dam country. Mara Thornridge, gifted to Lucian Nighthorn like a prized lamb to the family wolf. And just like that, the threats had started rolling in—anonymous messages from a number I didn’t need to trace. I knew exactly who it was. Lucian’s little banshee. The same girl who’d parked in my driveway and tried to claw my face off with words she probably rehearsed in front of a mirror. None of her threats got to me. Not one. If she ever followed through on a single one of them, I might actually respect her. But I knew the truth—lashing out at me was easier than facing Lucian or confronting Alpha Vander. I was the easier target. The quiet one. The one who hadn’t asked for any of this. I got out of bed wearing the same old pajamas I’d worn for two days. It was already afternoon. I didn’t care. My hair was a mess, my eyes were swollen from days of crying, but the tears had stopped. I wasn’t sad anymore. Just empty. Numb. And numbness? It was better. Numbness didn’t ask questions or demand hope. Darian and I still talked every night. His voice was soft, his words kind, and I hated every second of it. He meant well. He was trying. But I didn’t want kindness from him. Not anymore. I wanted what I could never have. Every call was another reminder that I'd never be more than his best friend. So no, the support wasn’t helping. Not even a little. I shuffled downstairs, preparing to grab something quick and head back to my quiet cave of self-pity. But I froze at the bottom step. Alpha Vander Nighthorn and Lucian were in my living room. Just sitting there. Like this was normal. Like they belonged. I felt my parents' disappointment immediately. The way they looked at my unwashed hair and oversized sleep shirt said it all. But maybe, just maybe, the Alpha would take one look at me and change his mind. Maybe I looked pathetic enough to kill this deal. I stepped into the room, lifting my chin, even though my body screamed to turn and run. “Good afternoon, Alpha. Mr. Nighthorn,” I said evenly, voice dry but polite. Alpha Vander sat upright on the couch, perfectly composed. For a man in his early fifties, he looked ten years younger. Thick dark hair, sharp brown eyes, a well-groomed beard. He radiated power and vanity, and somehow it worked. No wonder women in the pack still swooned over him. He had that whole silver fox, age-like-wine aesthetic locked down. And Lucian? He looked like sin incarnate. Dark hair, frost-blue eyes that could pierce through bone, and a jawline that might have been carved from stone. His shirt clung to his body like it didn’t want to let go—tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, tracing the edges of muscle sculpted to perfection. He wasn’t bulky, not like some of the other warriors. He was lean, cut, deadly. His skin was sun-kissed and flawless, his stare unreadable and cold. Everything about him screamed danger, power, trouble. Everything about him made my skin crawl. And yet… he was undeniably beautiful. If I hadn’t known what was behind that face, I might have stared. Might have been flattered. But now? All I saw was the cage I was about to be locked inside. And he hadn’t even bothered to look at me yet. I swallowed hard when I saw him. It had been a while since I last saw Lucian Nighthorn in person, and I hated myself for even noticing how he looked. His presence was magnetic—he didn’t just walk into a room, he took it. He looked like something out of legend: all dark edges, piercing frost-blue eyes, and sculpted features that belonged on a statue. But no matter how stunning the exterior, it couldn’t mask the ugliness I knew sat underneath. Looks didn’t make a man worth loving. And I didn’t want this union. But what I wanted didn’t matter. “Mara,” Alpha Vander said, dragging my attention away from his son. I stood upright and gave him the proper Gamma salute. My posture stiff, my insides screaming. “Congratulations on your future position as Gamma. Mooncrest and Darian are blessed to have you in the ranks.” “Thank you, Alpha,” I replied, my voice steady. “Lucian,” he said, turning to his son, “get to know your mate. Take a walk while I speak with the Thornridges about the event.” Lucian didn’t respond. He just stood and walked outside, offering no glance, no gesture, no courtesy. The kind of silence that dared you to follow—and warned you not to speak. I didn’t want to go with him. He hadn’t asked. But I wasn’t foolish enough to disobey an Alpha’s command. I followed him out. He was sitting on the patio, staring down the street like the world bored him. I didn’t sit. “Don’t get any ideas, little girl,” he said finally, his voice deep, sharp, arrogant. “This arrangement is a joke. An insult. I’ll never love you. You’ll never be my true mate. Let’s get that straight before the wedding so you don’t embarrass yourself hoping for more.” I cleared my throat, keeping my voice even. “Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I’m not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I’d have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue. I expect nothing from you. And I will give you nothing in return.” He finally turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. “You really have no pride, do you?” he said. “You think this is some noble sacrifice? My father’s paying your family a fortune for this. You and your parents—just more middle-class shovel-holders, ready to dig for gold.” I inhaled sharply. My hand twitched. Don’t hit him, I told myself. Not yet. His smirk widened. “Feisty,” he said. “I like that. Quick-tempered too. I’m honestly surprised you made it as Gamma. What did you do? Sleep your way there? Must’ve been quite the climb—though Darian doesn’t fancy you, so maybe you figured you’d settle for the older brother. At least then you get the name, the money, the power. That’s what this is about, right? Being a Nighthorn?” He waited for me to crumble. I didn’t. Instead, I leaned in, voice low and laced with venom. “At least I earned my place in this pack. I’m Gamma because I bled for it, not because I was born into a name. You? You’ll always be the brother of the Alpha. Nothing more.” That hit him. His jaw tightened. His hand lifted halfway, shaking—just a breath away from slapping me. His eyes burned, not with fury alone, but with something deeper. Shame. Insecurity. I flinched, but only slightly. Mara Lucian was stronger than Darian. That much was clear. Where Darian led with loyalty, Lucian ruled with intimidation. His presence filled the air like a storm. And for a moment, just a moment, I felt what it would be like to be tied to this man. Not protected. Not cherished. Owned. Lucian dropped his hand, clenched it into a fist instead. Good. I’d struck the nerve I wanted. And I wouldn’t stop there. “We are not equals,” Lucian said coldly, his voice like ice cracking beneath pressure. “You better watch your mouth, Thornridge, or this arrangement will turn ugly real fast.” He dropped back onto the bench like he owned the space, like even sitting was a statement of dominance. I stayed standing, watching him from above, refusing to shrink. “I came here only to lay down a few ground rules,” he continued. “First, you will never be my mate. So don’t expect affection, don’t ask for loyalty, and don’t even think about what mates are ‘entitled’ to. I already have someone. Someone I actually care about.” I laughed—just once, dry and sharp. “You mean the one who threatened me in my own driveway?” I said. “Tell your little girlfriend that as long as she keeps her claws to herself and stays out of my way, we’ll have no problems. I don’t care what you two do behind closed doors.” He went quiet. I could tell he didn’t like my answer. It wasn’t what he expected. But it was the truth, and I wasn’t here to coddle his ego. “In public, we’ll play the part for my father,” he said, voice dropping lower. “Behind closed doors, we’re strangers. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.” “Fine by me,” I said flatly. “As long as you don’t try to bully me, we won’t have a problem. If your father really did buyme, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you’ll release me.” He chuckled then—low and bitter. “You still don’t get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I’ll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You’ll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently.” Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. I flinched without meaning to, but I didn’t let him see more than that. “What about your girlfriend?” I asked quietly. “She understands,” he replied, surprisingly calm. “I’ll never be Alpha, and I don’t want the job. We’ll find our way around this. She’ll still have my heart. She’ll have my children.” I stared at him, trying to understand how a person could speak of love and cruelty in the same breath. “I guess you’ve got your future mapped out,” I said. “Good for you. But what about me?” He blinked, caught off guard. His tone lost its bite. “What do you mean?” “I mean, you’ve got the girl. The family plan. The political cover. What about my life? My future?” I asked, voice low but unshaking. He looked at me for a long second. Then gave a dismissive shrug. “You’ll figure it out. If you meet someone, fine. Scr'w whoever you want. Just don’t get pregnant and embarrass me. Keep your mess private.” I stared at him, stunned. He wasn’t done. “I’m sure you already have a few boyfriends on the side. Maybe some officials from the academy you spread your legs for—because no woman’s ever made it as Gamma before. So whatever you did to get there, just keep doing it. That’s the only way you’ll hold onto that title. If someone stronger comes along, you’re out.” I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t need to. Let him think what he wanted. Let him imagine a version of me that matched his twisted assumptions. I wasn’t going to defend my body, my choices, or my worth to him. But inside, something cracked. I’d waited. Saved myself. Dreamed of Darian—not for lvst, but for love. And now I was bound to a man who assumed the worst of me. Who would use me as a shield, a pawn, and nothing more. And yet I didn’t cry. Not anymore. The tears were done. Now, there was only fire. “Well,” Lucian said, brushing imaginary dust from his pants like the conversation was just business. “Since everything’s ironed out, I guess we won’t have issues living as husband and wife.” I gave him a nod. Flat. Numb. Resigned. “Do we sleep in the same room?” I asked, not because I wanted to—but because I needed to know what kind of Hll I’d be walking into. He shook his head. “Not exactly. My room has a conjoined space. You’ll sleep in the one I’m not using.” A connected room. No door. No barrier. Just a wall, maybe some air, and all the silence in the world between us. “I’ve fixed it up for you,” he added. “Just don’t expect luxury. It’s the poorer wing of the mansion. My father doesn’t dote on me the way he does on Darian.” I almost laughed. The poorer wing? I would’ve gladly slept in a shed if it meant not sharing space with the man who thought I’d slept my way into the Gamma rank. “I don’t care about the room,” I said simply. And I didn’t. What I cared about was distance. Physical, emotional, spiritual. As much as I could carve out for myself in a life I never asked for. We headed back into the house. Alpha Vander stood, looking pleased with himself—like a man who had just orchestrated a perfect deal, unaware—or perhaps entirely aware—of the people he was crushing in the process. “Ah, I see the lovebirds have come to an understanding,” he said with a smug grin. “I suppose I’ll see you both at the wedding.” My father stepped forward to shake his hand. “Thank you, Alpha. We are honoured.” Alpha Vander turned to him with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Aiden, Arya—you’ve raised a strong, beautiful daughter. I originally wanted her for Darian, you know. She’s Luna material, no doubt about it. But in the end, I knew she’d have more impact on Lucian’s life.” Every word scraped against me like sandpaper. “Darian is already gentle,” he went on. “Lucian needs someone like Mara. Someone sweet, with a steady hand. She’ll soften him. She’s perfect.” And that was the moment I felt it—self-loathing. Deep, hot, gnawing. I should’ve seen it sooner. This wasn’t about love or bonds or the Universe’s will. I’d been chosen because I was safe. A tool. A soothing balm they could apply to their most volatile son. I should’ve been reckless. Cold. Difficult. A bad girl. Maybe then I would’ve been considered for Darian. Maybe then, I would’ve stood a chance. But Lucian—he didn’t let his father get away with it. “It’s not about what you want, Father,” he said suddenly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clean through the room. Alpha Vander turned to him slowly, like a man used to obedience. “Don’t lie to them,” Lucian continued. “This wasn’t your idea. This was Martha’s doing. Luna Martha didn’t want Darian choosing Mara. She didn’t want him with a Thornridge—didn’t want him marrying middle-class. She wants a girl with money. Status. This whole thing? It’s her fix. Her solution.” The air in the room turned sharp. Lucian kept going. “You’re not doing this to help me,” he said. “You’re doing it to ruin me—and Mara. All to clear the path for Darian to marry someone Martha approves of. You paid them off. That’s not honor. That’s manipulation.” Then he turned and walked out without another word. And I stood there—stunned. Not because I was angry at what he said. But because it was true. So painfully, clearly true. Luna Martha didn’t want me in her family. I wasn’t polished enough. Rich enough. Enough of anything, really. And Darian… he never even had a chance to fight it. I never had a chance at him. No matter how hard I trained, no matter how loyal I was, no matter how much I loved him quietly from a distance—I never stood a chance. Lucian was many things—cold, cruel, arrogant—but in that moment, I saw something else too: honesty. Brutal, unfiltered honesty. And it told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice. Mara Four days had passed since Lucian and his father came to the house, and I still hadn’t found my way out of the haze. I sat in the garden behind our home, staring at nothing. Not the flowers. Not the trees. Just the empty space ahead of me, like it might hold some kind of answer if I looked long enough. Lucian’s words still echoed in my mind—cold, cruel, and then, strangely, honest. The truth was a blade that hadn’t stopped cutting. It wasn’t about me being Luna material or helping Lucian. It was about Darian. About removing me from the equation so his mother could shape his future without interference. I didn’t even hear him approach. “You’ve lost weight,” Darian said softly, sitting beside me. I didn’t reply. What was there to say? He sighed and stood again, pacing. Frustrated. Restless. I knew he wanted to talk. He always did. But I couldn’t give him what he was looking for—not when I felt like my whole life had been bargained away by people who never even asked me what I wanted. “Why didn’t you tell me Lucian came to see you?” he finally asked. I looked up at him, calm on the surface, hollow underneath. “I didn’t think it was necessary.” He stopped pacing. “We’re friends, Mara. Everything is necessary. Everything matters.” He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders were tense. I could see the guilt in the way he carried himself, but he didn’t understand. Not yet. “Help me, Darian,” I said, my voice cracking. “Please.” He came to a stop in front of me, eyes full of sorrow. “If I were Alpha, I’d cancel this madness. I swear I would.” “But you’re not,” I whispered. Then I looked him in the eyes, and I said the one thing that had been building in my chest like pressure before a storm. “Your mother set this up.” He frowned, his expression hardening. “Lucian said it in front of your father. And your father didn’t deny it. She was afraid that you and I… that we might end up together. She didn’t want her son marrying someone from a middle-class family. So she pushed this union, forced it, to get me out of your orbit.” Darian’s jaw clenched. “That’s not true. She knows we’re just friends. That there’s nothing between us.” His words landed like stones in my chest. “If I wanted to date you, Mara, I would’ve.” That hurt. I expected it, but it still hurt. “She doesn’t see it that way,” I replied. “To her, I’m a threat to your future. So she ruined mine.” I paused, voice low and shaking. “Please talk to her, Darian. She’s destroying two lives out of fear. Lucian has someone he loves. And me?” My voice broke. “She’s condemning me to a loveless, miserable life. All because I was your friend.” I looked down at my hands, trembling now. “I’ll give up the Gamma position. I’ll leave. Just… help me get out of this.” Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and helpless. “I don’t want to marry your brother. Please.” He sat down beside me again, silent for a long moment. His hand found mine, hesitated, then held it gently. “I’ll talk to her,” he said at last, voice low. “I can’t promise anything, Mara. But I’ll try. I’ll beg her if I have to.” I nodded, even though I wasn’t hopeful. At this point, I just needed to know someone tried. That not everyone stood by and watched my future burn. If Darian hadn’t offered, I might’ve buried myself in silent acceptance. Might’ve forced myself to walk into that cold, loveless match. But Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. He was a murderer. An irresponsible drunk. A walking storm I’d be expected to share a life with. The thought of binding myself to him permanently… it made my skin crawl. We sat in silence for a while after that. Just breathing the same air. Just existing in the same space. Eventually, Darian left. And I was alone again. Sitting in a garden, surrounded by life, while mine slowly withered away. Two days passed. Nothing from Darian. No call. No visit. Not even a message. Just silence. I lay on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling like it might offer some kind of escape. It didn’t. All I saw was the countdown—days slipping away until the wedding. Until my funeral. Because that’s what it felt like. The day I married Lucian would be the day I buried the last of myself. I didn’t know if I’d take the Gamma position when the time came. I doubted it. The fire in me—the one that once pushed me to be the best—was nothing but ash now. Resignation tasted bitter, but it was starting to feel like the only thing I had left. There was a knock at my door. I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. I could already smell her—my mother. And the food tray she was balancing in her hands. I didn’t move, didn’t speak, and just like I knew she would, she let herself in. “Mara,” she said gently, placing the tray on the table. “You need to eat something.” I didn’t even look at the food. I looked at her. Cold. Angry. Broken. “How can you and Dad live with yourselves after selling your daughter?” I asked, my voice flat, my expression disgusted. She froze by the table, her eyes lowering, as if even she couldn’t bear to meet mine. “He gave us no choice, Mara,” she whispered. “The money was to ease his conscience.” “And you took it.” My words were a blade. “Spent it, I’m sure. Did it ever occur to you that Lucian might call it off? That Alpha Vander might want his money back?” She turned to face me slowly, her expression tired and tight. “We had no choice,” she repeated. “It was take it… or be cast out. ‘Take it or get out,’ that’s what he said. We were drowning, Mara. The house, the loans—we were about to lose everything.” I blinked, stunned. “So you sold me to pay off your debts? The loans you took for my education?” “No,” she said quickly. “We were ready to let the house go. We planned to move in with my sister. We didn’t expect Alpha Nighthorn to show up. But when he forced the union, when he said it was happening whether we liked it or not... we took the money. We used it to survive.” “And you used me to survive,” I said bitterly. She flinched. I sat up, my eyes sharp now. “What happens if the deal falls apart? If Lucian calls it off and his father wants the money back?” “Why would he?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Because I told Darian,” I said. “I told him what Lucian said. About the truth—how this wasn’t about Lucian needing a wife but about his mother wanting me out of Darian’s life. He promised he’d talk to her. Try to get her to stop this madness.” My mother’s eyes widened, shocked. She hadn’t expected me to do anything. Maybe she thought I’d just quietly crumble. She slowly sat beside me, her body folding like something had broken inside her. Tears slid down her face. “Mara, my darling…” my mother’s voice cracked as she sat beside me. “I didn’t know you would take it this hard.” I didn’t answer. She reached for my hand, but I didn’t move. My eyes stayed locked on the ceiling, dry now, but only because I had nothing left in me. “I’m hurting too,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I need you to be strong. You’re tougher than this.” I didn’t look at her. “Darian and Rowan left yesterday,” she added carefully. “They won’t be back until it’s time for him to take over the pack.” The words sank in slowly, like poison soaking through my veins. They went on the trip. Without me. Without a word. Darian—the one person I still believed would try to help me—was gone. He didn’t even call. Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t tell me that he had failed or that he’d tried at all. The silence in my chest cracked. My heart broke without sound. “I know what you’re thinking,” my mother said, almost defensively. “It was Luna Martha. She forced the trip.” I turned to her now, eyes stinging again. “She forced him?” I asked, though I already believed it. “Yes,” she nodded. “Jason—Darian’s butler—he came by for a check-up. He told me Darian had a terrible argument with Martha. About Lucian. About you. About how unfair this is. And when she couldn’t control the conversation, she controlled him. She made him leave. Told him it was to ‘gain experience.’ Said he’d return a better Alpha.” My lip trembled, but I didn’t speak. It was my fault. I asked him to intervene. I pulled him into this. And now he was gone. Banished under the guise of training. And nothing had changed. Lucian was still my future. And Darian… Darian had become part of the past. I sat in silence as the tears returned—slow, steady, quiet. “I’m sorry, baby,” my mother whispered. “But please… eat something. Don’t let this kill you. You’re one of the strongest wolves this pack has ever seen. A woman winning Gamma? That’s not luck. That’s grit. That’s fire. You will find a way to cope.” I didn’t believe her. Not even a little. She pulled me close, kissed my forehead, then left the room without waiting for a response. I stared at the food. The smell turned my stomach. Fear had coiled itself so tightly around my gut I could barely breathe, let alone eat. I picked at the plate. Flushed it all down the toilet. Washed the dishes in silence. I wanted to fade out of existence. But I couldn’t. I was still here. Trapped in a body with no escape, in a life that no longer felt like mine. They hadn’t even set a date yet. That should’ve been a good thing—more time, more room to plan, to hope—but instead, it made it worse. The anticipation, the waiting. The illusion of freedom. Alpha Vander was “putting things in order,” whatever that meant. Maybe planning some extravagant public affair to mask the fact that the union was a sentence, not a celebration. Forced marriages weren’t supposed to be grand. But this one was. Because it wasn’t about love—it was about control. I climbed back into bed, curled beneath the blanket, and tried to breathe past the panic rising in my throat. Please, I thought. Let time fly. Let it fly fast. Lucian My father was a weak man. Spineless, really. Letting his Luna orchestrate the ruin of two lives just to soothe her own insecurities? That wasn’t leadership—that was cowardice dressed in politics. Where does Martha’s manipulation stop? It was bad enough she turned my father against me—made sure I was never considered fit to be Alpha. But now? She’s bound me to a girl I barely know, all because she couldn't stomach the idea of Darian marrying someone who wasn’t bred from power or money. Mara Thornridge and I? We were just casualties of her fear. Collateral damage in her obsession with keeping Darian’s path clean and elite. When my father dragged me to the Thornridge house, I said what I needed to say. Cold, cruel, calculated—because I needed to understand. Martha told me the Thornridges requested the union, claimed they believed their daughter was too strong not to be Luna. Claimed they wanted her to take her “rightful place.” Said they had agreed to settle for me instead of Darian. All of it? Complete bullsh1t. Everyone knew Mara had a crush on Darian. It wasn’t some secret scandal. Even Darian knew—he just ignored it. Let it stew. Let her orbit him for years. A harmless crush, people said. But what that girl gave up for him wasn’t harmless. She left her original path. Signed up at the academy. Trained harder than anyone expected. Finished second. All for a boy who didn’t have the guts to be honest with her. At first, even I assumed her ambition was calculated—that finishing second was her power play to get chosen as Luna. But after speaking with her, however awkwardly… I realized how wrong I was. She didn’t chase power. She chased purpose. And maybe, quietly, she chased hope. The way she looked at me—guarded, hurt, angry. That wasn’t the gaze of someone who’d schemed her way up. That was someone trying not to drown in something too big for her. And I hated it. I hated how Martha had spun this lie and dragged me into it. I hated how my father let her do it. I hated that Mara—this tough, stubborn, determined girl—was being broken apart by people who claimed to protect the pack. So when we went back inside, I told the truth. I was done playing along. Let the Thornridges hear it all—how this wasn’t about what was best for me or Mara or even Darian. It was about Martha’s ego. About keeping “middle-class blood” away from her precious son. I almost told Mara that Darian had known. That he could’ve stopped this earlier. But I didn’t. Because she already looked like she was barely holding it together. That truth would’ve shattered her. But I blame him too. He knew how she felt. He saw it in her eyes every Dam time she looked at him. And instead of setting her free, he kept her close. He strung her along, let her believe maybe… maybe one day. I heard him brag once—to his friends—that she’d made passes at him. After meeting her, I knew that was a lie. Mara Thornridge doesn’t beg. She’d rather die than admit she’s vulnerable. She would’ve made a great Luna. Not just to Darian—but to the pack. She’s sharp, strong, and smarter than half the men who outranked her. And instead of letting her shine, Martha decided to bury her. Tie her to me. Punish her for something that never even happened. And now they expect her to stand at Darian’s side as Gamma? To give her best while living half-alive? Unbelievable. No one’s asking what this will do to her. No one’s thinking about what she’s being forced to give up just to survive. I didn’t know what to do with Mara. I didn’t want to touch her. I didn’t want to claim her—not because I hated her, but because I respected her. She didn’t ask for this, and I’m not the kind of man who takes what isn’t given freely. I wouldn’t mate with her against her will. I wasn’t like Darian. He wore his charm like armor and left a trail of wreckage behind him—wolves he used, hearts he broke, girls who wound up pregnant and scared. And every time, Father and Martha cleaned it up quietly, buried the mess, and painted him as the perfect heir. Looking back now, I saw it all more clearly than I ever had. Darian—the golden boy, the spoiled prince. Martha’s precious son, her ticket to power, the puppet she dressed up as a leader. And then there was me. An accident at the wrong time, the wrong place, gave her everything she needed to destroy me. The biker didn’t die because of me—not really. My brakes failed. There was silver in the wreckage, and to this day, I still don’t know how it got there. The biker would’ve survived without it. But no one listened. No one cared. My father didn’t even pretend to investigate. He just... wrote me off. They said I was drunk, been partying all. Night but that was a lie, yet no one cared. Martha escalated the fallout like she’d been waiting for it. And Darian? He got a free pass. Over and over. “They wanted him,” my father would say. “He didn’t stand a chance. Every girl wants the Luna title. It’s not the same.” It wasn’t the same because Darian was untouchable. I’d only ever loved one girl. Tina Livingston. I’d been loyal, careful, focused. But now, thanks to Martha, I had to break her heart. Just another name sacrificed on the altar of Darian’s future. Martha had destroyed three lives. Maybe four, if Mara had someone before all of this—someone she never got to choose. And yet, I couldn’t even bring myself to hate her. Not fully. She was protecting her son. Ruthless, yes—but my real anger was reserved for the man who allowed her to do it all. My father. The Alpha. The coward. If my mother had lived… maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe she would’ve fought for me. For balance. For justice. But she was gone. And in her absence, Martha filled the void with poison and control. Now here we were. A forced union. A fake marriage. A girl who didn’t want me, and a pack that would celebrate it anyway like it was some kind of alliance—when in truth, it was just another silent war. I moved my things into the smaller of the conjoined rooms and fixed up the larger one for Mara. I wanted her to be comfortable. Or at the very least, able to cope. She wasn’t what I’d accused her of—she wasn’t a gold digger or a social climber. I said those things to provoke, to test, to understand. But now I knew better. She was nineteen. A kid, really. Brave as hll, smart, and stubborn. And stuck. Her parents weren’t to blame either. They had no power, no rank, no options. The offer from my father wasn’t an opportunity—it was a threat in disguise. Because being cast out wasn’t just exile. It was death by slow erasure. When a wolf is stripped of their pack mark, it fades over time. And once it’s gone, they lose their human form. They go feral. Wild. Forgotten. That’s what happens to rogues. There’s no mercy in that system, no redemption. A wolf only belongs to one pack in their lifetime. One. And if that bond is broken, there’s no going back. It was a cruel mechanism, a brutal leash disguised as tradition. One the Alpha family had full control over. And my father wielded it without hesitation. Mara was a victim. Just like I was. But unlike me, she didn’t even have the illusion of choice. Lucian I was just adjusting my cufflinks, getting ready for my date with Tina, when Austin, my butler, stepped into the room with his usual composed tone. “Master Lucian, the boutique is here to deliver your bride’s clothes.” My bride. The words felt like gravel in my mouth every time I heard them. I stood and walked into the master bedroom I’d had prepped for Mara. I’d never used it. It was larger, more extravagant, more central—but I’d always preferred the smaller room. Quieter. Less suffocating. But now, someone would finally be living here. Sleeping in a bed under this roof because she had no other choice. “Have them arrange her things in the walk-in closet,” I said. “Move my things to the wardrobe, and put the rest of my stuff in storage. I don’t use most of it anyway.” Austin nodded, ever the quiet professional. “Your father has invited you to a late lunch in the breakfast room,” he added. “It starts in fifteen minutes.” I checked the time, irritated. Great. I had plans with Tina—plans that actually mattered to me—but as usual, Father’s whims trumped everything. If he wanted something, it was dropped on my lap like gospel. No warning, no regard. I left without responding, heading toward the right wing of the mansion—the golden, polished side of the estate where Martha, Darian, and Father lived. Everything there was curated, flashy, fake. Just like them. Martha loved the money. Loved the title. The image. She wore luxury like armor. And yet she had the nerve to call otherwomen gold diggers, while she pretended to play noble Luna. The real digger in this house wore silk and control like a second skin. And Darian? He was a walking performance. The dutiful heir, the golden child. The pack believed in him like he was some messiah. But only those of us who’d seen behind the curtain knew the truth. The girls. The lies. The messes swept under thick rugs of privilege. He got away with everything. And me? I was the one they all whispered about. The drunk. The murderer. The irresponsible son. I stepped into the breakfast room and found them both—Father and her—eating like nothing was wrong in the world. “Have a seat, Lucian,” my father said with a manufactured smile. There was a thick folder on the table. Blank on the outside. I eyed it but said nothing. This was a game, and I already knew I was a piece. “Have you finally accepted the union?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. It was a test. And I already knew what the right answer was. “Yes,” I said smoothly, swallowing down my resentment like it was ash. Martha didn't miss a beat. “Make sure you keep her out of Darian’s hair.” I wanted to speak. Gods, I wanted to snap. But I bit down on the urge. “She’s already out of Darian’s hair,” my father said before I could respond. “She has been, ever since her parents told her about the arrangement.” Martha rolled her eyes, dismissive as always. “So she sent my son to fight me?” she asked, mouth tight. “That was Darian’s choice,” Father said. “Stop trying to pin this on Mara. Did it ever occur to you that maybe—just maybe—Darian genuinely liked the girl and only stayed away because of you?” I nearly laughed. Darian like someone? Please. The only person Darian had ever truly loved was himself. He kept Mara close because she worshipped him. He fed on that loyalty, that quiet hope in her eyes. And when she finally became inconvenient, he let Martha clean it up. But I stayed silent. “Anyway,” my father said, suddenly annoyed, “I didn’t call Lucian here to discuss Darian. You somehow always find a way to bring it back to him.” Martha turned her head away, eyes cold and narrowed. I stared at the file again. And for the first time, I truly realized how deeply buried we all were in this family's lies. We were weapons. Symbols. Bargaining chips. Everything but people. “Take this,” my father said, sliding the thick folder across the table toward me. I didn’t move immediately. “Sign them and keep a copy,” he added. “My signature is already there.” I stared at the folder. “What is it, Father?” He sighed like he was finally ready to put something to rest. “Since you won’t be succeeding me as Alpha,” he said, “it’s only fair I hand the company over to you.” Martha slammed her hand down on the table. “Impossible!” she snapped, venom lacing her voice. My father didn’t flinch. “The deed is done, Martha. I can’t undo it.”
"""I'll never love you. You'll never be my true mate. This arrangement is a joke. An insult."" My husband sneered. ""Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I'm not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I'd have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue."" ""Feisty,"" he said. ""I like that. Quick-tempered too."" ""As long as you don't try to bully me, we won't have a problem. If your father really did buy me, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you'll release me."" I said flatly. He chuckled then—low and bitter. ""You still don't get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I'll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You'll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently."" Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. He told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice." That actually made me smile. It was such a him thing to say. “That’s so cool, Rowan,” I said, wide-eyed. Then, on impulse, the words slipped out before I could second-guess them. “Do you mind if I come?” Rowan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at Darian, almost like he needed permission. And Darian—bless him—gave me that soft smile again. “If you go with him,” he said, “who’s going to be my friend and keep me company here?” I knew the answer. We all did. Tiffany. Tiffany would. But if I said that out loud, it would expose everything—my jealousy, my feelings, my pain. It would ruin whatever fragile friendship we still had. So I said nothing. Just sat there, heart breaking quietly behind steady eyes. Mara “I’m sure you’ve got other friends to keep you company,” I said, keeping my voice calm, eyes steady on Tiffany. “Better—and maybe more interesting—company than I could ever be.” Tiffany caught the meaning instantly and smiled, smug and satisfied. “That’s right, Darian,” she purred, looping her arm through his. “I’m all the company you’ll need.” Then, like it was some kind of private joke, she leaned in and licked his earlobe again. I looked away, jaw tight. She wanted to be Luna so badly it was dripping off her. Most of the girls who threw themselves at Darian did. It wasn’t about him. It was about the title, the power, the image. But not me. Even if Darian wasn’t going to be Alpha, I’d still feel this way about him. That was the difference. “I want to come with you, Rowan,” I said suddenly, turning to him. My voice was clearer than I expected. Firm. I needed distance. Space. A whole dam continent between me and Darian if I was going to get over him. He would never see me. Never choose me. And I had to stop holding out hope like it was some kind of twisted comfort blanket. “This trip... it’ll be good for me,” I added, mostly to myself. Darian smiled, watching me a little too closely. “Maybe I’ll come too.” And just like that, the air left my lungs. No. No, he couldn’t. That would ruin everything. I’d just end up exactly where I was—his loyal shadow, his best buddy, watching Tiffany swallow his attention whole. “You’ll bring me along?” Tiffany asked, all wide eyes and sugar-laced eagerness. I could almost hear the flutter of her lashes. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. If she came too, I’d lose my mind watching her cling to Darian like a barnacle in heat. Her tongue alone would be enough to make me puke somewhere around the border of the first town we hit. “I’ll think about it,” Darian replied, and Tiffany's face fell. She frowned, and then her eyes flicked to me, sharp and accusing, like it was my fault. She wasn’t entirely wrong. But also not right. I didn’t want Darian to come—not because I wanted to hoard him for myself, but because I needed to finally let go of him. We stayed a little longer, had a couple drinks, careful not to go overboard. It was a quiet ending to a loud night. Eventually, we all called it and got ready to leave. “Let’s go hunting tomorrow morning,” Darian said casually as we stepped out into the night. His voice was light, but his eyes were on me. I hesitated. Waiting. Because, of course, I needed to hear what she would say. “I want to come too,” Tiffany piped up, bouncing slightly in her heels like she was volunteering for a game of tag. I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. Darian caught it and laughed. “I guess the three of you will have to go without me,” I said flatly, already turning away. Darian frowned. “Come on, Mara. You and I—we’re a good team.” Oh, how I wished that was true. But in reality? It was just another sweet lie I’d told myself over the years. “You, Rowan, and Tiffany will be a formidable team,” I replied, eyes on the pavement, not bothering to look at her. I could already feel the weight of her glare. I didn’t blame her. If I were her, I wouldn’t like me either. Not when the guy I wanted kept paying attention to someone else. Darian told me to think about it. I wouldn’t. I didn’t need to. I already knew I wasn’t going. When I got home, the house was quiet—everyone asleep. I slipped inside like a ghost and made my way to my room, shutting the door behind me without making a sound. I didn’t want to wake anyone. I didn’t want to talk. All I wanted was to stop loving someone who would never love me back. Morning came too fast. I sat on the edge of my bed, still wrapped in the fog of everything I was trying to forget. The hunt was supposed to be today. Part of me wanted to go—just to breathe outside this house, outside of him. But the thought of Tiffany tagging along made my stomach twist. I already knew she’d spent the night at the Nighthorn mansion. There was no way Darian would leave her behind now. Not after that. I dragged myself downstairs, hungry but not in the mood. I hated shifting when I hadn’t eaten—it made me edgy, short-tempered. I didn’t want to lose it in the woods and end up looking unhinged. What I didn’t expect was to find my parents waiting in the kitchen. They weren’t eating. They weren’t smiling. They were just… there, sitting stiffly at the table with this look in their eyes that made something inside me tighten. My mother, usually bright-eyed and warm, gave me a small, nervous smile. “Morning, Mara. How was your night?” I forced a shrug. “Great,” I lied, trying not to read too much into their mood. She just nodded. My father cleared his throat, and the sound already made my heart beat faster. “Sweetheart, we need to talk to you about something important.” And just like that, my stomach dropped. They didn’t speak in the kitchen. My dad gestured toward the living room, and we all moved, silent as ghosts. I sat on the couch across from them, trying not to let my mind spiral. Then they looked at each other. That kind of look—the silent, mind-link kind of conversation they always had when something was wrong. Something they didn’t want to say out loud. I wasn’t part of it. Not yet. Not until they decided I had to be. “Mara,” my father said slowly, “you know how much we love you, right?” Wrong way to start. My pulse spiked. I swallowed hard. “Yes,” I said, and my voice cracked. He looked down for a moment, then back up at me with tired eyes. “We’ve always wanted the best for you. But… we also have duties to the pack. Responsibilities. And—” “We should’ve told you sooner,” my mother cut in, her voice trembling. “But we wanted you to have your graduation, your moment of celebration, before we… before we said anything.” Her eyes welled up with tears. That’s when I started crying too. Because whatever could make my mother cry like that—whatever they were about to say—it was going to rip something out of me. “Mara,” my father said again, quieter this time, “Alpha Vander Nighthorn has chosen you to be joined with his eldest son, Lucian.” My breath caught. “He’s decided,” he continued, “that since you finished second overall in the academy, top among the female wolves, and since you’re known for your strength, your discipline… that you’re the best choice for Lucian. He believes your character will help shape him into a man fit to stand beside his brother when Darian becomes Alpha. He also believes that your friendship with Darian will help settle the conflict between the brothers and bring unity to the future leadership of this pack.” I was frozen. The words didn’t even register at first. It didn’t feel real. “It’s not a suggestion, Mara,” my father added. “It’s an order. One we had no power to refuse.” That was it. The sound that left my throat wasn’t even human. I screamed. A raw, guttural cry that tore from my chest like something inside me had shattered. Mara “This must be a joke,” I whispered, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. My eyes burned, and the tears wouldn’t stop. My mother shook her head slowly, her face soaked with grief. “It’s not a joke,” she said, broken. I choked on a sob. “Lucian? Lucian?! He’s a monster. A cruel, vicious bаst3rd. He lies, cheats, bullies anyone weaker than him—and he killed someone, an innocent person. And now you want me to what? Play house with the devil?” I knew they didn’t have a choice. I knew it wasn’t really their fault. But I needed someone to blame, and they were standing right in front of me, and I was drowning. “We had no say,” my father said, voice low and defeated. “They said you’re the strongest female of your generation. They believe you’ll match him. Tame him.” “Enough!” I snapped, standing up so fast the room spun. “You can’t tame people, Dad. You don’t ‘fix’ someone like Lucian. He’s not broken. He’s rotten. He was born that way.” My breath came fast, too fast. My chest felt tight like I was suffocating. “I’m supposed to be Darian’s Gamma! That job—our futures—they’re built on trust, on teamwork. How am I supposed to do that while being shackled to a psychopath?” They had no answers. Just silence. My mother’s silent weeping. My father’s helpless stare. “I’m done. I’m leaving. I don’t want the Gamma position. They can keep it—and let them gift someone else to that monster.” I turned, storming toward the stairs. I didn’t know where I’d go, but anywhere was better than here. Anywhere but thislife. “You can’t leave, Mara,” my father called after me, voice desperate. “If you refuse the bond, Alpha Nighthorn will cast us out. We’ll become rogues. Once the mark of Mooncrest fades, we’ll lose everything—our protection, our humanity. You know what happens to rogues. You’ll turn feral. We all will. They rule this entire country, Mara. There’s no where for you to go,” I stopped in my tracks. Feral. Cast out. Doomed. I turned slowly and looked at my mother. Her shoulders were trembling. She couldn’t even look me in the eyes. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?” I said, my voice shaking with fury and despair. “You’re asking me to throw my life away. You’re asking me to bind myself to someone who might kill me in my sleep.” She nodded through her tears. “I’m sorry.” Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. Even Alpha Vander didn’t trust him to lead, which was why Darian had been groomed from day one to take over. Darian, with his calm and strength and sense of duty. Meanwhile, his older brother was out there, spiraling, and now they wanted me to steady him. They wouldn’t have picked me if I wasn’t so perfect—so well-behaved, so disciplined, so obsessed with Darian that I molded myself into the model warrior. Maybe if I’d been reckless, mean, or a bitter b1tch, they wouldn’t have even considered me. But no. I had played the part. And now, this was my reward: unrequited love, a forced marriage, a future I couldn’t escape. I hated my life in that moment. I was about to turn away again when the doorbell rang. We all froze. My mother rose to answer it, and the scent hit me before she opened the door—him. Darian. He stepped inside, and I almost didn’t recognize him. His eyes were red, brimming with tears. His hands trembled. He looked like someone had carved a hole into his chest and left it gaping. “Mara,” he said softly, his voice cracked and hoarse. He opened his arms. He didn’t need to say anything else. I walked into him, into the arms I had longed for more than I ever admitted, and he held me—tight, like he was the one about to fall apart. My parents quietly stepped away, leaving us in the silence of shared pain. And I broke. I cried, and this time, it wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t polite. It was everything I had been holding in—fear, betrayal, grief, hopelessness—all pouring out while he held me. And still, I knew… even this wouldn’t change anything. “I’m sorry, Mara,” Darian whispered against my hair, his voice thick with something heavier than guilt. “I didn’t know they would do this. I didn’t know he would do this.” And I broke again. “I don’t want to be with Lucian,” I cried, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring me. “I hate him, Darian. I can’t do this. Please… help me.” His arms tightened around me like he wanted to, like he wished he could fix it all with the way he held me—but he didn’t answer right away. When he did, it was barely above a whisper. “I’m not Alpha yet, Mara. My key mark isn’t active yet. I don’t have the power to stop this.” And that—that—hurt more than I expected. Not because he admitted he was powerless but because of the way his voice cracked. There was grief in it. Regret. Something deeper than duty. “I thought…” he started, then paused. “I thought we had time. I thought there’d be more time.” I pulled back just enough to look at him. “Time for what?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mara. I didn’t know.” I stared at him, trying to piece together what he meant. Time for what? Was he finally saying what I’d always hoped he felt? But now wasn’t the time. Not with everything crashing around us. The hug faded. Slowly. Reluctantly. We stood there, inches apart, staring into each other’s tear-streaked faces, both too full of words we couldn’t say. “Listen to me,” Darian said, his voice low but firm. “I will always be there for you. I won’t let him hurt you, Mara. I swear it. If you ever feel unsafe, if he crosses a line—call me. I don’t care what I’m doing. I’ll come. I will come. You are not alone in this.” I blinked back another wave of tears. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to thank someone for a promise that shouldn’t have to exist. “I wish I’d never trained to be your Beta,” I muttered, my voice barely a breath. “If I’d just taken medical classes instead… Alpha Vander wouldn’t have noticed me. He wouldn’t have picked me for his deranged son.” I looked at Darian again. My heart swelled painfully, and I opened my mouth. “Darian…” He met my eyes, hope flickering there. “What is it, Mara?” I hesitated. I wanted to say it. Gods, I wanted to scream it—I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I didn’t. Because now he wasn’t just the boy I trained beside. He was about to become my brother-in-law. And whatever chance there might have been, it had died the moment his father bound my future to Lucian’s. “Nothing,” I said instead. “Nothing but fear.” He pulled me back into his arms without hesitation. I buried my face in his chest and breathed in his scent one last time like it might be enough to last me forever. I didn’t dare ask for more. I didn’t dare reach for what I truly wanted. Not now. Not when I was about to be forced into the hands of someone I despised. Not when Darian had no power to save me. He held me tight, as if letting go would break him, too. Then he kissed the top of my head—soft, lingering—and pulled away. “We’ll still be best friends,” he said gently. “I don’t care what the pack says. You’re still my best friend, Mara. No one’s replacing you.” And there it was. The final nail. Best friend. The words were supposed to be comforting, but they landed like a blade in my chest. His father thought that same friendship was the key to taming Lucian—like I was a tool, a bridge, a sacrificial peace offering. I didn’t want to be Darian’s best friend. I wanted to be his everything. His Luna. His love. His home. But instead, I got Lucian. Unwanted. Unchosen. Trapped. Maybe being feral wouldn’t be so bad. At least then I’d be free. I could run, disappear, let the wilderness swallow me whole. Anything would be better than this slow suffocation. I wanted to leave. I needed to leave. Mara Darian followed me upstairs to my room. For the first time, it felt… wrong. Foreign. Like something had cracked in the familiar walls we’d built around each other. It had always been a little awkward since I started falling for him, but now—now it felt unbearable. I didn’t know what it would be like living in their house. The Nighthorn mansion. Sharing space with Lucian. Walking the same halls as Darian, seeing him every day while wearing the title of someone else’s mate. His brother’s mate. The thought made me feel sick. I didn’t trust my heart not to betray me in some devastating way. “I’ll wait here,” Darian said softly, settling into the chair by my desk while I headed into the bathroom. As soon as the water hit me, the tears came. I sank to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, sobbing so hard my ribs ached. I cried for the life I almost had. For the love I could never confess. For I was being handed like some twisted reward for being too good. And in that cracked, broken place, I thought about running. Disappearing. Going rogue. Letting the world forget I ever existed. But then I remembered what that meant. What it would do to my family. What it would do to me. I dressed in the bathroom, even though modesty had long since evaporated between Darian and me during years of shifting and training together. But things were different now. Everything was different. Even standing in front of him felt like holding a glass that could shatter if either of us moved too fast. “How are you feeling?” he asked when I stepped back into the room. I just nodded, unable to trust my voice. His eyes were still tinged with crimson, like he’d been holding back more tears of his own. “Lucian doesn’t want the union either,” he said suddenly. I looked up, startled. “What?” “That’s how I found out,” he continued. “I overheard him yelling at our father. He was furious. Said he didn’t want you. Didn’t want any of it. And honestly… that’s what scares me the most.” I understood what he meant before he said it. Lucian didn’t want me. Which meant he’d resent me. And with the kind of man he was—violent, spiteful—that resentment wouldn’t just sit quietly in the corner. He’d find a way to punish me for it. “Then why won’t he reject it?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. Darian exhaled slowly, like the weight of it all was dragging him under too. “Because ever since Father chose me as Alpha instead of him, Lucian hasn’t dared to oppose him. I think the shame crushed something inside him. He’s quiet now, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. And…” He hesitated. “Lucian’s in love—with someone else. Has been for a while.” I swallowed hard. That somehow made it worse. I wasn’t just being forced into a bond with a monster—I was a wedge, a weapon used to separate him from someone he actually cared about. A curse he’d wear every day. “This isn’t fair,” I said bitterly. “Not to me. Not to her. Not to anyone.” Darian didn’t argue. “Will I still be your Gamma?” I asked, knowing it was selfish but needing to ask anyway. Because even if I couldn’t be his mate, I still wanted to stand by his side in some way. Any way. “Yes,” he said softly. “Unless you choose to step down, you’ll remain my Gamma.” I shook my head. I couldn’t make that decision yet. Not when everything inside me felt broken and scattered. I just needed time. Space to breathe, to mourn, to accept the weight of what had been forced on me. Darian left quietly, carrying his own sadness like a wound. I watched him go and felt another piece of me fall apart. I stayed in bed the rest of the day. Staring at the ceiling. Crying into my pillow until it was soaked. My parents tried to check on me—brought food, soft words, empty comfort—but I ignored them all. I didn’t want kindness from the people who had let this happen. I didn’t want anyone. If the Alpha had chosen to bind me to Darian, I would have said yes without hesitation. I would have given him everything. But instead, I was being handed over to his brother. Why Lucian? Of all the wolves in this pack, why did fate—or power, or cruelty—choose him? And what the hll was I supposed to do now? Two weeks. Two long, miserable weeks of crying, sulking, and avoiding the world like it had personally betrayed me—because in a way, it had. I refused to go to any gatherings, skipped every function, and barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t Darian. Not that I saw him much. He’d gotten himself into trouble more than once that week, and Alpha Vander had taken it as an excuse to load him up with responsibilities. I missed him. But missing him was a dangerous thing now. Luna Martha Nighthorn came by twice to speak with my parents about the “arrangements.” She was Darian’s mother—not Lucian’s. Lucian’s biological mother had died when he was young. Alpha Vander had bonded with Martha later, and ever since, everyone just assumed she was the mother of both boys. Everyone except Lucian, who never missed a chance to correct them. I didn’t care for the politics of it. I didn’t care about her visit, her soft reassurances, or the way she avoided looking me in the eye. I didn’t care about any of it. I just wanted to disappear. Burn the whole d'amn future and vanish into ash. But I couldn’t. I was sitting on the patio, trying to catch my breath from another heavy day of doing absolutely nothing, when a sleek black car pulled into our driveway. I squinted at the figure stepping out. A young woman—tall, porcelain-skinned, striking brunette. And angry. I stood slowly, assuming she was lost and needed directions. She didn’t waste time. “Are you Mara Thornridge?” she asked, sharp and cold. I nodded, guarded. “You gold-digging b1tch,” she snapped. “What do your parents have on Alpha Vander? Huh?” I blinked, stunned. What? “Do you know how long Lucian and I have been together?” she choked out, her eyes welling up with tears. “We were sweethearts for years. And now I find out you—you’ve been chosen for him? You?” I stood there, frozen, every cell in my body screaming for a break. I had no words. I was still trying to process this marriage from hll myself, and now this? She stepped closer, her voice low and trembling with rage. “How dare you, Mara? I swear, we will make your life a living hll.” And that was it. I snapped. “Watch it,” I growled, the shift stirring beneath my skin. “I don’t give two fks about Lucian. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want this. So maybe aim that rage where it belongs—at him, or at his father, or at the Moon Goddess herself. Not me.” She blinked, caught off guard. “If you’re so mad, tell your beloved boyfriend to grow a spine and say something to his father. Trust me, you’d be doing me a huge favor. Because let’s be honest—Lucian isn’t exactly a prize. He’s an entitled, violent аs hole, and I wouldn’t want to be bound to him if he was the last breathing wolf in existence.” She stepped toward me like she was about to swing. I didn’t even flinch—I welcomed it. Hll, I needed it. I let out a low, warning growl, eyes locked on hers. “You need to f'k- off, now. While I’m still being nice. Because if you don’t, I swear on every ancestor in my bloodline, I will tear you apart. And right now? I wouldn’t even regret it.” Something in my voice must’ve landed. She backed away slowly, fury still burning in her eyes, but something else too—fear. She slid into her car and slammed the door, then peeled out of the driveway without another word. I stood there breathing hard, body trembling with all the rage and frustration I’d buried these past two weeks. Now I had to deal with Lucian’s girlfriend too? I wasn’t even officially mated to him yet, and already the drama was spilling into my yard like blood on the snow. And Lucian—he hadn’t shown up. Hadn’t spoken to me. Hadn’t so much as sent a message. I guessed the feeling was mutual. This was going to be hll. And it hadn’t even started yet. Mara “Mara!” my mother called from downstairs. Since the day they dropped the bomb about the arrangement, I’d barely left my room. What was the point? Everyone probably knew by now. The whole pack, maybe even the entire dam country. Mara Thornridge, gifted to Lucian Nighthorn like a prized lamb to the family wolf. And just like that, the threats had started rolling in—anonymous messages from a number I didn’t need to trace. I knew exactly who it was. Lucian’s little banshee. The same girl who’d parked in my driveway and tried to claw my face off with words she probably rehearsed in front of a mirror. None of her threats got to me. Not one. If she ever followed through on a single one of them, I might actually respect her. But I knew the truth—lashing out at me was easier than facing Lucian or confronting Alpha Vander. I was the easier target. The quiet one. The one who hadn’t asked for any of this. I got out of bed wearing the same old pajamas I’d worn for two days. It was already afternoon. I didn’t care. My hair was a mess, my eyes were swollen from days of crying, but the tears had stopped. I wasn’t sad anymore. Just empty. Numb. And numbness? It was better. Numbness didn’t ask questions or demand hope. Darian and I still talked every night. His voice was soft, his words kind, and I hated every second of it. He meant well. He was trying. But I didn’t want kindness from him. Not anymore. I wanted what I could never have. Every call was another reminder that I'd never be more than his best friend. So no, the support wasn’t helping. Not even a little. I shuffled downstairs, preparing to grab something quick and head back to my quiet cave of self-pity. But I froze at the bottom step. Alpha Vander Nighthorn and Lucian were in my living room. Just sitting there. Like this was normal. Like they belonged. I felt my parents' disappointment immediately. The way they looked at my unwashed hair and oversized sleep shirt said it all. But maybe, just maybe, the Alpha would take one look at me and change his mind. Maybe I looked pathetic enough to kill this deal. I stepped into the room, lifting my chin, even though my body screamed to turn and run. “Good afternoon, Alpha. Mr. Nighthorn,” I said evenly, voice dry but polite. Alpha Vander sat upright on the couch, perfectly composed. For a man in his early fifties, he looked ten years younger. Thick dark hair, sharp brown eyes, a well-groomed beard. He radiated power and vanity, and somehow it worked. No wonder women in the pack still swooned over him. He had that whole silver fox, age-like-wine aesthetic locked down. And Lucian? He looked like sin incarnate. Dark hair, frost-blue eyes that could pierce through bone, and a jawline that might have been carved from stone. His shirt clung to his body like it didn’t want to let go—tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, tracing the edges of muscle sculpted to perfection. He wasn’t bulky, not like some of the other warriors. He was lean, cut, deadly. His skin was sun-kissed and flawless, his stare unreadable and cold. Everything about him screamed danger, power, trouble. Everything about him made my skin crawl. And yet… he was undeniably beautiful. If I hadn’t known what was behind that face, I might have stared. Might have been flattered. But now? All I saw was the cage I was about to be locked inside. And he hadn’t even bothered to look at me yet. I swallowed hard when I saw him. It had been a while since I last saw Lucian Nighthorn in person, and I hated myself for even noticing how he looked. His presence was magnetic—he didn’t just walk into a room, he took it. He looked like something out of legend: all dark edges, piercing frost-blue eyes, and sculpted features that belonged on a statue. But no matter how stunning the exterior, it couldn’t mask the ugliness I knew sat underneath. Looks didn’t make a man worth loving. And I didn’t want this union. But what I wanted didn’t matter. “Mara,” Alpha Vander said, dragging my attention away from his son. I stood upright and gave him the proper Gamma salute. My posture stiff, my insides screaming. “Congratulations on your future position as Gamma. Mooncrest and Darian are blessed to have you in the ranks.” “Thank you, Alpha,” I replied, my voice steady. “Lucian,” he said, turning to his son, “get to know your mate. Take a walk while I speak with the Thornridges about the event.” Lucian didn’t respond. He just stood and walked outside, offering no glance, no gesture, no courtesy. The kind of silence that dared you to follow—and warned you not to speak. I didn’t want to go with him. He hadn’t asked. But I wasn’t foolish enough to disobey an Alpha’s command. I followed him out. He was sitting on the patio, staring down the street like the world bored him. I didn’t sit. “Don’t get any ideas, little girl,” he said finally, his voice deep, sharp, arrogant. “This arrangement is a joke. An insult. I’ll never love you. You’ll never be my true mate. Let’s get that straight before the wedding so you don’t embarrass yourself hoping for more.” I cleared my throat, keeping my voice even. “Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I’m not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I’d have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue. I expect nothing from you. And I will give you nothing in return.” He finally turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. “You really have no pride, do you?” he said. “You think this is some noble sacrifice? My father’s paying your family a fortune for this. You and your parents—just more middle-class shovel-holders, ready to dig for gold.” I inhaled sharply. My hand twitched. Don’t hit him, I told myself. Not yet. His smirk widened. “Feisty,” he said. “I like that. Quick-tempered too. I’m honestly surprised you made it as Gamma. What did you do? Sleep your way there? Must’ve been quite the climb—though Darian doesn’t fancy you, so maybe you figured you’d settle for the older brother. At least then you get the name, the money, the power. That’s what this is about, right? Being a Nighthorn?” He waited for me to crumble. I didn’t. Instead, I leaned in, voice low and laced with venom. “At least I earned my place in this pack. I’m Gamma because I bled for it, not because I was born into a name. You? You’ll always be the brother of the Alpha. Nothing more.” That hit him. His jaw tightened. His hand lifted halfway, shaking—just a breath away from slapping me. His eyes burned, not with fury alone, but with something deeper. Shame. Insecurity. I flinched, but only slightly. Mara Lucian was stronger than Darian. That much was clear. Where Darian led with loyalty, Lucian ruled with intimidation. His presence filled the air like a storm. And for a moment, just a moment, I felt what it would be like to be tied to this man. Not protected. Not cherished. Owned. Lucian dropped his hand, clenched it into a fist instead. Good. I’d struck the nerve I wanted. And I wouldn’t stop there. “We are not equals,” Lucian said coldly, his voice like ice cracking beneath pressure. “You better watch your mouth, Thornridge, or this arrangement will turn ugly real fast.” He dropped back onto the bench like he owned the space, like even sitting was a statement of dominance. I stayed standing, watching him from above, refusing to shrink. “I came here only to lay down a few ground rules,” he continued. “First, you will never be my mate. So don’t expect affection, don’t ask for loyalty, and don’t even think about what mates are ‘entitled’ to. I already have someone. Someone I actually care about.” I laughed—just once, dry and sharp. “You mean the one who threatened me in my own driveway?” I said. “Tell your little girlfriend that as long as she keeps her claws to herself and stays out of my way, we’ll have no problems. I don’t care what you two do behind closed doors.” He went quiet. I could tell he didn’t like my answer. It wasn’t what he expected. But it was the truth, and I wasn’t here to coddle his ego. “In public, we’ll play the part for my father,” he said, voice dropping lower. “Behind closed doors, we’re strangers. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.” “Fine by me,” I said flatly. “As long as you don’t try to bully me, we won’t have a problem. If your father really did buyme, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you’ll release me.” He chuckled then—low and bitter. “You still don’t get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I’ll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You’ll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently.” Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. I flinched without meaning to, but I didn’t let him see more than that. “What about your girlfriend?” I asked quietly. “She understands,” he replied, surprisingly calm. “I’ll never be Alpha, and I don’t want the job. We’ll find our way around this. She’ll still have my heart. She’ll have my children.” I stared at him, trying to understand how a person could speak of love and cruelty in the same breath. “I guess you’ve got your future mapped out,” I said. “Good for you. But what about me?” He blinked, caught off guard. His tone lost its bite. “What do you mean?” “I mean, you’ve got the girl. The family plan. The political cover. What about my life? My future?” I asked, voice low but unshaking. He looked at me for a long second. Then gave a dismissive shrug. “You’ll figure it out. If you meet someone, fine. Scr'w whoever you want. Just don’t get pregnant and embarrass me. Keep your mess private.” I stared at him, stunned. He wasn’t done. “I’m sure you already have a few boyfriends on the side. Maybe some officials from the academy you spread your legs for—because no woman’s ever made it as Gamma before. So whatever you did to get there, just keep doing it. That’s the only way you’ll hold onto that title. If someone stronger comes along, you’re out.” I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t need to. Let him think what he wanted. Let him imagine a version of me that matched his twisted assumptions. I wasn’t going to defend my body, my choices, or my worth to him. But inside, something cracked. I’d waited. Saved myself. Dreamed of Darian—not for lvst, but for love. And now I was bound to a man who assumed the worst of me. Who would use me as a shield, a pawn, and nothing more. And yet I didn’t cry. Not anymore. The tears were done. Now, there was only fire. “Well,” Lucian said, brushing imaginary dust from his pants like the conversation was just business. “Since everything’s ironed out, I guess we won’t have issues living as husband and wife.” I gave him a nod. Flat. Numb. Resigned. “Do we sleep in the same room?” I asked, not because I wanted to—but because I needed to know what kind of Hll I’d be walking into. He shook his head. “Not exactly. My room has a conjoined space. You’ll sleep in the one I’m not using.” A connected room. No door. No barrier. Just a wall, maybe some air, and all the silence in the world between us. “I’ve fixed it up for you,” he added. “Just don’t expect luxury. It’s the poorer wing of the mansion. My father doesn’t dote on me the way he does on Darian.” I almost laughed. The poorer wing? I would’ve gladly slept in a shed if it meant not sharing space with the man who thought I’d slept my way into the Gamma rank. “I don’t care about the room,” I said simply. And I didn’t. What I cared about was distance. Physical, emotional, spiritual. As much as I could carve out for myself in a life I never asked for. We headed back into the house. Alpha Vander stood, looking pleased with himself—like a man who had just orchestrated a perfect deal, unaware—or perhaps entirely aware—of the people he was crushing in the process. “Ah, I see the lovebirds have come to an understanding,” he said with a smug grin. “I suppose I’ll see you both at the wedding.” My father stepped forward to shake his hand. “Thank you, Alpha. We are honoured.” Alpha Vander turned to him with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Aiden, Arya—you’ve raised a strong, beautiful daughter. I originally wanted her for Darian, you know. She’s Luna material, no doubt about it. But in the end, I knew she’d have more impact on Lucian’s life.” Every word scraped against me like sandpaper. “Darian is already gentle,” he went on. “Lucian needs someone like Mara. Someone sweet, with a steady hand. She’ll soften him. She’s perfect.” And that was the moment I felt it—self-loathing. Deep, hot, gnawing. I should’ve seen it sooner. This wasn’t about love or bonds or the Universe’s will. I’d been chosen because I was safe. A tool. A soothing balm they could apply to their most volatile son. I should’ve been reckless. Cold. Difficult. A bad girl. Maybe then I would’ve been considered for Darian. Maybe then, I would’ve stood a chance. But Lucian—he didn’t let his father get away with it. “It’s not about what you want, Father,” he said suddenly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clean through the room. Alpha Vander turned to him slowly, like a man used to obedience. “Don’t lie to them,” Lucian continued. “This wasn’t your idea. This was Martha’s doing. Luna Martha didn’t want Darian choosing Mara. She didn’t want him with a Thornridge—didn’t want him marrying middle-class. She wants a girl with money. Status. This whole thing? It’s her fix. Her solution.” The air in the room turned sharp. Lucian kept going. “You’re not doing this to help me,” he said. “You’re doing it to ruin me—and Mara. All to clear the path for Darian to marry someone Martha approves of. You paid them off. That’s not honor. That’s manipulation.” Then he turned and walked out without another word. And I stood there—stunned. Not because I was angry at what he said. But because it was true. So painfully, clearly true. Luna Martha didn’t want me in her family. I wasn’t polished enough. Rich enough. Enough of anything, really. And Darian… he never even had a chance to fight it. I never had a chance at him. No matter how hard I trained, no matter how loyal I was, no matter how much I loved him quietly from a distance—I never stood a chance. Lucian was many things—cold, cruel, arrogant—but in that moment, I saw something else too: honesty. Brutal, unfiltered honesty. And it told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice. Mara Four days had passed since Lucian and his father came to the house, and I still hadn’t found my way out of the haze. I sat in the garden behind our home, staring at nothing. Not the flowers. Not the trees. Just the empty space ahead of me, like it might hold some kind of answer if I looked long enough. Lucian’s words still echoed in my mind—cold, cruel, and then, strangely, honest. The truth was a blade that hadn’t stopped cutting. It wasn’t about me being Luna material or helping Lucian. It was about Darian. About removing me from the equation so his mother could shape his future without interference. I didn’t even hear him approach. “You’ve lost weight,” Darian said softly, sitting beside me. I didn’t reply. What was there to say? He sighed and stood again, pacing. Frustrated. Restless. I knew he wanted to talk. He always did. But I couldn’t give him what he was looking for—not when I felt like my whole life had been bargained away by people who never even asked me what I wanted. “Why didn’t you tell me Lucian came to see you?” he finally asked. I looked up at him, calm on the surface, hollow underneath. “I didn’t think it was necessary.” He stopped pacing. “We’re friends, Mara. Everything is necessary. Everything matters.” He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders were tense. I could see the guilt in the way he carried himself, but he didn’t understand. Not yet. “Help me, Darian,” I said, my voice cracking. “Please.” He came to a stop in front of me, eyes full of sorrow. “If I were Alpha, I’d cancel this madness. I swear I would.” “But you’re not,” I whispered. Then I looked him in the eyes, and I said the one thing that had been building in my chest like pressure before a storm. “Your mother set this up.” He frowned, his expression hardening. “Lucian said it in front of your father. And your father didn’t deny it. She was afraid that you and I… that we might end up together. She didn’t want her son marrying someone from a middle-class family. So she pushed this union, forced it, to get me out of your orbit.” Darian’s jaw clenched. “That’s not true. She knows we’re just friends. That there’s nothing between us.” His words landed like stones in my chest. “If I wanted to date you, Mara, I would’ve.” That hurt. I expected it, but it still hurt. “She doesn’t see it that way,” I replied. “To her, I’m a threat to your future. So she ruined mine.” I paused, voice low and shaking. “Please talk to her, Darian. She’s destroying two lives out of fear. Lucian has someone he loves. And me?” My voice broke. “She’s condemning me to a loveless, miserable life. All because I was your friend.” I looked down at my hands, trembling now. “I’ll give up the Gamma position. I’ll leave. Just… help me get out of this.” Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and helpless. “I don’t want to marry your brother. Please.” He sat down beside me again, silent for a long moment. His hand found mine, hesitated, then held it gently. “I’ll talk to her,” he said at last, voice low. “I can’t promise anything, Mara. But I’ll try. I’ll beg her if I have to.” I nodded, even though I wasn’t hopeful. At this point, I just needed to know someone tried. That not everyone stood by and watched my future burn. If Darian hadn’t offered, I might’ve buried myself in silent acceptance. Might’ve forced myself to walk into that cold, loveless match. But Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. He was a murderer. An irresponsible drunk. A walking storm I’d be expected to share a life with. The thought of binding myself to him permanently… it made my skin crawl. We sat in silence for a while after that. Just breathing the same air. Just existing in the same space. Eventually, Darian left. And I was alone again. Sitting in a garden, surrounded by life, while mine slowly withered away. Two days passed. Nothing from Darian. No call. No visit. Not even a message. Just silence. I lay on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling like it might offer some kind of escape. It didn’t. All I saw was the countdown—days slipping away until the wedding. Until my funeral. Because that’s what it felt like. The day I married Lucian would be the day I buried the last of myself. I didn’t know if I’d take the Gamma position when the time came. I doubted it. The fire in me—the one that once pushed me to be the best—was nothing but ash now. Resignation tasted bitter, but it was starting to feel like the only thing I had left. There was a knock at my door. I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. I could already smell her—my mother. And the food tray she was balancing in her hands. I didn’t move, didn’t speak, and just like I knew she would, she let herself in. “Mara,” she said gently, placing the tray on the table. “You need to eat something.” I didn’t even look at the food. I looked at her. Cold. Angry. Broken. “How can you and Dad live with yourselves after selling your daughter?” I asked, my voice flat, my expression disgusted. She froze by the table, her eyes lowering, as if even she couldn’t bear to meet mine. “He gave us no choice, Mara,” she whispered. “The money was to ease his conscience.” “And you took it.” My words were a blade. “Spent it, I’m sure. Did it ever occur to you that Lucian might call it off? That Alpha Vander might want his money back?” She turned to face me slowly, her expression tired and tight. “We had no choice,” she repeated. “It was take it… or be cast out. ‘Take it or get out,’ that’s what he said. We were drowning, Mara. The house, the loans—we were about to lose everything.” I blinked, stunned. “So you sold me to pay off your debts? The loans you took for my education?” “No,” she said quickly. “We were ready to let the house go. We planned to move in with my sister. We didn’t expect Alpha Nighthorn to show up. But when he forced the union, when he said it was happening whether we liked it or not... we took the money. We used it to survive.” “And you used me to survive,” I said bitterly. She flinched. I sat up, my eyes sharp now. “What happens if the deal falls apart? If Lucian calls it off and his father wants the money back?” “Why would he?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Because I told Darian,” I said. “I told him what Lucian said. About the truth—how this wasn’t about Lucian needing a wife but about his mother wanting me out of Darian’s life. He promised he’d talk to her. Try to get her to stop this madness.” My mother’s eyes widened, shocked. She hadn’t expected me to do anything. Maybe she thought I’d just quietly crumble. She slowly sat beside me, her body folding like something had broken inside her. Tears slid down her face. “Mara, my darling…” my mother’s voice cracked as she sat beside me. “I didn’t know you would take it this hard.” I didn’t answer. She reached for my hand, but I didn’t move. My eyes stayed locked on the ceiling, dry now, but only because I had nothing left in me. “I’m hurting too,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I need you to be strong. You’re tougher than this.” I didn’t look at her. “Darian and Rowan left yesterday,” she added carefully. “They won’t be back until it’s time for him to take over the pack.” The words sank in slowly, like poison soaking through my veins. They went on the trip. Without me. Without a word. Darian—the one person I still believed would try to help me—was gone. He didn’t even call. Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t tell me that he had failed or that he’d tried at all. The silence in my chest cracked. My heart broke without sound. “I know what you’re thinking,” my mother said, almost defensively. “It was Luna Martha. She forced the trip.” I turned to her now, eyes stinging again. “She forced him?” I asked, though I already believed it. “Yes,” she nodded. “Jason—Darian’s butler—he came by for a check-up. He told me Darian had a terrible argument with Martha. About Lucian. About you. About how unfair this is. And when she couldn’t control the conversation, she controlled him. She made him leave. Told him it was to ‘gain experience.’ Said he’d return a better Alpha.” My lip trembled, but I didn’t speak. It was my fault. I asked him to intervene. I pulled him into this. And now he was gone. Banished under the guise of training. And nothing had changed. Lucian was still my future. And Darian… Darian had become part of the past. I sat in silence as the tears returned—slow, steady, quiet. “I’m sorry, baby,” my mother whispered. “But please… eat something. Don’t let this kill you. You’re one of the strongest wolves this pack has ever seen. A woman winning Gamma? That’s not luck. That’s grit. That’s fire. You will find a way to cope.” I didn’t believe her. Not even a little. She pulled me close, kissed my forehead, then left the room without waiting for a response. I stared at the food. The smell turned my stomach. Fear had coiled itself so tightly around my gut I could barely breathe, let alone eat. I picked at the plate. Flushed it all down the toilet. Washed the dishes in silence. I wanted to fade out of existence. But I couldn’t. I was still here. Trapped in a body with no escape, in a life that no longer felt like mine. They hadn’t even set a date yet. That should’ve been a good thing—more time, more room to plan, to hope—but instead, it made it worse. The anticipation, the waiting. The illusion of freedom. Alpha Vander was “putting things in order,” whatever that meant. Maybe planning some extravagant public affair to mask the fact that the union was a sentence, not a celebration. Forced marriages weren’t supposed to be grand. But this one was. Because it wasn’t about love—it was about control. I climbed back into bed, curled beneath the blanket, and tried to breathe past the panic rising in my throat. Please, I thought. Let time fly. Let it fly fast. Lucian My father was a weak man. Spineless, really. Letting his Luna orchestrate the ruin of two lives just to soothe her own insecurities? That wasn’t leadership—that was cowardice dressed in politics. Where does Martha’s manipulation stop? It was bad enough she turned my father against me—made sure I was never considered fit to be Alpha. But now? She’s bound me to a girl I barely know, all because she couldn't stomach the idea of Darian marrying someone who wasn’t bred from power or money. Mara Thornridge and I? We were just casualties of her fear. Collateral damage in her obsession with keeping Darian’s path clean and elite. When my father dragged me to the Thornridge house, I said what I needed to say. Cold, cruel, calculated—because I needed to understand. Martha told me the Thornridges requested the union, claimed they believed their daughter was too strong not to be Luna. Claimed they wanted her to take her “rightful place.” Said they had agreed to settle for me instead of Darian. All of it? Complete bullsh1t. Everyone knew Mara had a crush on Darian. It wasn’t some secret scandal. Even Darian knew—he just ignored it. Let it stew. Let her orbit him for years. A harmless crush, people said. But what that girl gave up for him wasn’t harmless. She left her original path. Signed up at the academy. Trained harder than anyone expected. Finished second. All for a boy who didn’t have the guts to be honest with her. At first, even I assumed her ambition was calculated—that finishing second was her power play to get chosen as Luna. But after speaking with her, however awkwardly… I realized how wrong I was. She didn’t chase power. She chased purpose. And maybe, quietly, she chased hope. The way she looked at me—guarded, hurt, angry. That wasn’t the gaze of someone who’d schemed her way up. That was someone trying not to drown in something too big for her. And I hated it. I hated how Martha had spun this lie and dragged me into it. I hated how my father let her do it. I hated that Mara—this tough, stubborn, determined girl—was being broken apart by people who claimed to protect the pack. So when we went back inside, I told the truth. I was done playing along. Let the Thornridges hear it all—how this wasn’t about what was best for me or Mara or even Darian. It was about Martha’s ego. About keeping “middle-class blood” away from her precious son. I almost told Mara that Darian had known. That he could’ve stopped this earlier. But I didn’t. Because she already looked like she was barely holding it together. That truth would’ve shattered her. But I blame him too. He knew how she felt. He saw it in her eyes every Dam time she looked at him. And instead of setting her free, he kept her close. He strung her along, let her believe maybe… maybe one day. I heard him brag once—to his friends—that she’d made passes at him. After meeting her, I knew that was a lie. Mara Thornridge doesn’t beg. She’d rather die than admit she’s vulnerable. She would’ve made a great Luna. Not just to Darian—but to the pack. She’s sharp, strong, and smarter than half the men who outranked her. And instead of letting her shine, Martha decided to bury her. Tie her to me. Punish her for something that never even happened. And now they expect her to stand at Darian’s side as Gamma? To give her best while living half-alive? Unbelievable. No one’s asking what this will do to her. No one’s thinking about what she’s being forced to give up just to survive. I didn’t know what to do with Mara. I didn’t want to touch her. I didn’t want to claim her—not because I hated her, but because I respected her. She didn’t ask for this, and I’m not the kind of man who takes what isn’t given freely. I wouldn’t mate with her against her will. I wasn’t like Darian. He wore his charm like armor and left a trail of wreckage behind him—wolves he used, hearts he broke, girls who wound up pregnant and scared. And every time, Father and Martha cleaned it up quietly, buried the mess, and painted him as the perfect heir. Looking back now, I saw it all more clearly than I ever had. Darian—the golden boy, the spoiled prince. Martha’s precious son, her ticket to power, the puppet she dressed up as a leader. And then there was me. An accident at the wrong time, the wrong place, gave her everything she needed to destroy me. The biker didn’t die because of me—not really. My brakes failed. There was silver in the wreckage, and to this day, I still don’t know how it got there. The biker would’ve survived without it. But no one listened. No one cared. My father didn’t even pretend to investigate. He just... wrote me off. They said I was drunk, been partying all. Night but that was a lie, yet no one cared. Martha escalated the fallout like she’d been waiting for it. And Darian? He got a free pass. Over and over. “They wanted him,” my father would say. “He didn’t stand a chance. Every girl wants the Luna title. It’s not the same.” It wasn’t the same because Darian was untouchable. I’d only ever loved one girl. Tina Livingston. I’d been loyal, careful, focused. But now, thanks to Martha, I had to break her heart. Just another name sacrificed on the altar of Darian’s future. Martha had destroyed three lives. Maybe four, if Mara had someone before all of this—someone she never got to choose. And yet, I couldn’t even bring myself to hate her. Not fully. She was protecting her son. Ruthless, yes—but my real anger was reserved for the man who allowed her to do it all. My father. The Alpha. The coward. If my mother had lived… maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe she would’ve fought for me. For balance. For justice. But she was gone. And in her absence, Martha filled the void with poison and control. Now here we were. A forced union. A fake marriage. A girl who didn’t want me, and a pack that would celebrate it anyway like it was some kind of alliance—when in truth, it was just another silent war. I moved my things into the smaller of the conjoined rooms and fixed up the larger one for Mara. I wanted her to be comfortable. Or at the very least, able to cope. She wasn’t what I’d accused her of—she wasn’t a gold digger or a social climber. I said those things to provoke, to test, to understand. But now I knew better. She was nineteen. A kid, really. Brave as hll, smart, and stubborn. And stuck. Her parents weren’t to blame either. They had no power, no rank, no options. The offer from my father wasn’t an opportunity—it was a threat in disguise. Because being cast out wasn’t just exile. It was death by slow erasure. When a wolf is stripped of their pack mark, it fades over time. And once it’s gone, they lose their human form. They go feral. Wild. Forgotten. That’s what happens to rogues. There’s no mercy in that system, no redemption. A wolf only belongs to one pack in their lifetime. One. And if that bond is broken, there’s no going back. It was a cruel mechanism, a brutal leash disguised as tradition. One the Alpha family had full control over. And my father wielded it without hesitation. Mara was a victim. Just like I was. But unlike me, she didn’t even have the illusion of choice. Lucian I was just adjusting my cufflinks, getting ready for my date with Tina, when Austin, my butler, stepped into the room with his usual composed tone. “Master Lucian, the boutique is here to deliver your bride’s clothes.” My bride. The words felt like gravel in my mouth every time I heard them. I stood and walked into the master bedroom I’d had prepped for Mara. I’d never used it. It was larger, more extravagant, more central—but I’d always preferred the smaller room. Quieter. Less suffocating. But now, someone would finally be living here. Sleeping in a bed under this roof because she had no other choice. “Have them arrange her things in the walk-in closet,” I said. “Move my things to the wardrobe, and put the rest of my stuff in storage. I don’t use most of it anyway.” Austin nodded, ever the quiet professional. “Your father has invited you to a late lunch in the breakfast room,” he added. “It starts in fifteen minutes.” I checked the time, irritated. Great. I had plans with Tina—plans that actually mattered to me—but as usual, Father’s whims trumped everything. If he wanted something, it was dropped on my lap like gospel. No warning, no regard. I left without responding, heading toward the right wing of the mansion—the golden, polished side of the estate where Martha, Darian, and Father lived. Everything there was curated, flashy, fake. Just like them. Martha loved the money. Loved the title. The image. She wore luxury like armor. And yet she had the nerve to call otherwomen gold diggers, while she pretended to play noble Luna. The real digger in this house wore silk and control like a second skin. And Darian? He was a walking performance. The dutiful heir, the golden child. The pack believed in him like he was some messiah. But only those of us who’d seen behind the curtain knew the truth. The girls. The lies. The messes swept under thick rugs of privilege. He got away with everything. And me? I was the one they all whispered about. The drunk. The murderer. The irresponsible son. I stepped into the breakfast room and found them both—Father and her—eating like nothing was wrong in the world. “Have a seat, Lucian,” my father said with a manufactured smile. There was a thick folder on the table. Blank on the outside. I eyed it but said nothing. This was a game, and I already knew I was a piece. “Have you finally accepted the union?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. It was a test. And I already knew what the right answer was. “Yes,” I said smoothly, swallowing down my resentment like it was ash. Martha didn't miss a beat. “Make sure you keep her out of Darian’s hair.” I wanted to speak. Gods, I wanted to snap. But I bit down on the urge. “She’s already out of Darian’s hair,” my father said before I could respond. “She has been, ever since her parents told her about the arrangement.” Martha rolled her eyes, dismissive as always. “So she sent my son to fight me?” she asked, mouth tight. “That was Darian’s choice,” Father said. “Stop trying to pin this on Mara. Did it ever occur to you that maybe—just maybe—Darian genuinely liked the girl and only stayed away because of you?” I nearly laughed. Darian like someone? Please. The only person Darian had ever truly loved was himself. He kept Mara close because she worshipped him. He fed on that loyalty, that quiet hope in her eyes. And when she finally became inconvenient, he let Martha clean it up. But I stayed silent. “Anyway,” my father said, suddenly annoyed, “I didn’t call Lucian here to discuss Darian. You somehow always find a way to bring it back to him.” Martha turned her head away, eyes cold and narrowed. I stared at the file again. And for the first time, I truly realized how deeply buried we all were in this family's lies. We were weapons. Symbols. Bargaining chips. Everything but people. “Take this,” my father said, sliding the thick folder across the table toward me. I didn’t move immediately. “Sign them and keep a copy,” he added. “My signature is already there.” I stared at the folder. “What is it, Father?” He sighed like he was finally ready to put something to rest. “Since you won’t be succeeding me as Alpha,” he said, “it’s only fair I hand the company over to you.” Martha slammed her hand down on the table. “Impossible!” she snapped, venom lacing her voice. My father didn’t flinch. “The deed is done, Martha. I can’t undo it.”
"""I'll never love you. You'll never be my true mate. This arrangement is a joke. An insult."" My husband sneered. ""Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I'm not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I'd have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue."" ""Feisty,"" he said. ""I like that. Quick-tempered too."" ""As long as you don't try to bully me, we won't have a problem. If your father really did buy me, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you'll release me."" I said flatly. He chuckled then—low and bitter. ""You still don't get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I'll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You'll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently."" Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. He told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice." That actually made me smile. It was such a him thing to say. “That’s so cool, Rowan,” I said, wide-eyed. Then, on impulse, the words slipped out before I could second-guess them. “Do you mind if I come?” Rowan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at Darian, almost like he needed permission. And Darian—bless him—gave me that soft smile again. “If you go with him,” he said, “who’s going to be my friend and keep me company here?” I knew the answer. We all did. Tiffany. Tiffany would. But if I said that out loud, it would expose everything—my jealousy, my feelings, my pain. It would ruin whatever fragile friendship we still had. So I said nothing. Just sat there, heart breaking quietly behind steady eyes. Mara “I’m sure you’ve got other friends to keep you company,” I said, keeping my voice calm, eyes steady on Tiffany. “Better—and maybe more interesting—company than I could ever be.” Tiffany caught the meaning instantly and smiled, smug and satisfied. “That’s right, Darian,” she purred, looping her arm through his. “I’m all the company you’ll need.” Then, like it was some kind of private joke, she leaned in and licked his earlobe again. I looked away, jaw tight. She wanted to be Luna so badly it was dripping off her. Most of the girls who threw themselves at Darian did. It wasn’t about him. It was about the title, the power, the image. But not me. Even if Darian wasn’t going to be Alpha, I’d still feel this way about him. That was the difference. “I want to come with you, Rowan,” I said suddenly, turning to him. My voice was clearer than I expected. Firm. I needed distance. Space. A whole dam continent between me and Darian if I was going to get over him. He would never see me. Never choose me. And I had to stop holding out hope like it was some kind of twisted comfort blanket. “This trip... it’ll be good for me,” I added, mostly to myself. Darian smiled, watching me a little too closely. “Maybe I’ll come too.” And just like that, the air left my lungs. No. No, he couldn’t. That would ruin everything. I’d just end up exactly where I was—his loyal shadow, his best buddy, watching Tiffany swallow his attention whole. “You’ll bring me along?” Tiffany asked, all wide eyes and sugar-laced eagerness. I could almost hear the flutter of her lashes. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. If she came too, I’d lose my mind watching her cling to Darian like a barnacle in heat. Her tongue alone would be enough to make me puke somewhere around the border of the first town we hit. “I’ll think about it,” Darian replied, and Tiffany's face fell. She frowned, and then her eyes flicked to me, sharp and accusing, like it was my fault. She wasn’t entirely wrong. But also not right. I didn’t want Darian to come—not because I wanted to hoard him for myself, but because I needed to finally let go of him. We stayed a little longer, had a couple drinks, careful not to go overboard. It was a quiet ending to a loud night. Eventually, we all called it and got ready to leave. “Let’s go hunting tomorrow morning,” Darian said casually as we stepped out into the night. His voice was light, but his eyes were on me. I hesitated. Waiting. Because, of course, I needed to hear what she would say. “I want to come too,” Tiffany piped up, bouncing slightly in her heels like she was volunteering for a game of tag. I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. Darian caught it and laughed. “I guess the three of you will have to go without me,” I said flatly, already turning away. Darian frowned. “Come on, Mara. You and I—we’re a good team.” Oh, how I wished that was true. But in reality? It was just another sweet lie I’d told myself over the years. “You, Rowan, and Tiffany will be a formidable team,” I replied, eyes on the pavement, not bothering to look at her. I could already feel the weight of her glare. I didn’t blame her. If I were her, I wouldn’t like me either. Not when the guy I wanted kept paying attention to someone else. Darian told me to think about it. I wouldn’t. I didn’t need to. I already knew I wasn’t going. When I got home, the house was quiet—everyone asleep. I slipped inside like a ghost and made my way to my room, shutting the door behind me without making a sound. I didn’t want to wake anyone. I didn’t want to talk. All I wanted was to stop loving someone who would never love me back. Morning came too fast. I sat on the edge of my bed, still wrapped in the fog of everything I was trying to forget. The hunt was supposed to be today. Part of me wanted to go—just to breathe outside this house, outside of him. But the thought of Tiffany tagging along made my stomach twist. I already knew she’d spent the night at the Nighthorn mansion. There was no way Darian would leave her behind now. Not after that. I dragged myself downstairs, hungry but not in the mood. I hated shifting when I hadn’t eaten—it made me edgy, short-tempered. I didn’t want to lose it in the woods and end up looking unhinged. What I didn’t expect was to find my parents waiting in the kitchen. They weren’t eating. They weren’t smiling. They were just… there, sitting stiffly at the table with this look in their eyes that made something inside me tighten. My mother, usually bright-eyed and warm, gave me a small, nervous smile. “Morning, Mara. How was your night?” I forced a shrug. “Great,” I lied, trying not to read too much into their mood. She just nodded. My father cleared his throat, and the sound already made my heart beat faster. “Sweetheart, we need to talk to you about something important.” And just like that, my stomach dropped. They didn’t speak in the kitchen. My dad gestured toward the living room, and we all moved, silent as ghosts. I sat on the couch across from them, trying not to let my mind spiral. Then they looked at each other. That kind of look—the silent, mind-link kind of conversation they always had when something was wrong. Something they didn’t want to say out loud. I wasn’t part of it. Not yet. Not until they decided I had to be. “Mara,” my father said slowly, “you know how much we love you, right?” Wrong way to start. My pulse spiked. I swallowed hard. “Yes,” I said, and my voice cracked. He looked down for a moment, then back up at me with tired eyes. “We’ve always wanted the best for you. But… we also have duties to the pack. Responsibilities. And—” “We should’ve told you sooner,” my mother cut in, her voice trembling. “But we wanted you to have your graduation, your moment of celebration, before we… before we said anything.” Her eyes welled up with tears. That’s when I started crying too. Because whatever could make my mother cry like that—whatever they were about to say—it was going to rip something out of me. “Mara,” my father said again, quieter this time, “Alpha Vander Nighthorn has chosen you to be joined with his eldest son, Lucian.” My breath caught. “He’s decided,” he continued, “that since you finished second overall in the academy, top among the female wolves, and since you’re known for your strength, your discipline… that you’re the best choice for Lucian. He believes your character will help shape him into a man fit to stand beside his brother when Darian becomes Alpha. He also believes that your friendship with Darian will help settle the conflict between the brothers and bring unity to the future leadership of this pack.” I was frozen. The words didn’t even register at first. It didn’t feel real. “It’s not a suggestion, Mara,” my father added. “It’s an order. One we had no power to refuse.” That was it. The sound that left my throat wasn’t even human. I screamed. A raw, guttural cry that tore from my chest like something inside me had shattered. Mara “This must be a joke,” I whispered, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. My eyes burned, and the tears wouldn’t stop. My mother shook her head slowly, her face soaked with grief. “It’s not a joke,” she said, broken. I choked on a sob. “Lucian? Lucian?! He’s a monster. A cruel, vicious bаst3rd. He lies, cheats, bullies anyone weaker than him—and he killed someone, an innocent person. And now you want me to what? Play house with the devil?” I knew they didn’t have a choice. I knew it wasn’t really their fault. But I needed someone to blame, and they were standing right in front of me, and I was drowning. “We had no say,” my father said, voice low and defeated. “They said you’re the strongest female of your generation. They believe you’ll match him. Tame him.” “Enough!” I snapped, standing up so fast the room spun. “You can’t tame people, Dad. You don’t ‘fix’ someone like Lucian. He’s not broken. He’s rotten. He was born that way.” My breath came fast, too fast. My chest felt tight like I was suffocating. “I’m supposed to be Darian’s Gamma! That job—our futures—they’re built on trust, on teamwork. How am I supposed to do that while being shackled to a psychopath?” They had no answers. Just silence. My mother’s silent weeping. My father’s helpless stare. “I’m done. I’m leaving. I don’t want the Gamma position. They can keep it—and let them gift someone else to that monster.” I turned, storming toward the stairs. I didn’t know where I’d go, but anywhere was better than here. Anywhere but thislife. “You can’t leave, Mara,” my father called after me, voice desperate. “If you refuse the bond, Alpha Nighthorn will cast us out. We’ll become rogues. Once the mark of Mooncrest fades, we’ll lose everything—our protection, our humanity. You know what happens to rogues. You’ll turn feral. We all will. They rule this entire country, Mara. There’s no where for you to go,” I stopped in my tracks. Feral. Cast out. Doomed. I turned slowly and looked at my mother. Her shoulders were trembling. She couldn’t even look me in the eyes. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?” I said, my voice shaking with fury and despair. “You’re asking me to throw my life away. You’re asking me to bind myself to someone who might kill me in my sleep.” She nodded through her tears. “I’m sorry.” Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. Even Alpha Vander didn’t trust him to lead, which was why Darian had been groomed from day one to take over. Darian, with his calm and strength and sense of duty. Meanwhile, his older brother was out there, spiraling, and now they wanted me to steady him. They wouldn’t have picked me if I wasn’t so perfect—so well-behaved, so disciplined, so obsessed with Darian that I molded myself into the model warrior. Maybe if I’d been reckless, mean, or a bitter b1tch, they wouldn’t have even considered me. But no. I had played the part. And now, this was my reward: unrequited love, a forced marriage, a future I couldn’t escape. I hated my life in that moment. I was about to turn away again when the doorbell rang. We all froze. My mother rose to answer it, and the scent hit me before she opened the door—him. Darian. He stepped inside, and I almost didn’t recognize him. His eyes were red, brimming with tears. His hands trembled. He looked like someone had carved a hole into his chest and left it gaping. “Mara,” he said softly, his voice cracked and hoarse. He opened his arms. He didn’t need to say anything else. I walked into him, into the arms I had longed for more than I ever admitted, and he held me—tight, like he was the one about to fall apart. My parents quietly stepped away, leaving us in the silence of shared pain. And I broke. I cried, and this time, it wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t polite. It was everything I had been holding in—fear, betrayal, grief, hopelessness—all pouring out while he held me. And still, I knew… even this wouldn’t change anything. “I’m sorry, Mara,” Darian whispered against my hair, his voice thick with something heavier than guilt. “I didn’t know they would do this. I didn’t know he would do this.” And I broke again. “I don’t want to be with Lucian,” I cried, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring me. “I hate him, Darian. I can’t do this. Please… help me.” His arms tightened around me like he wanted to, like he wished he could fix it all with the way he held me—but he didn’t answer right away. When he did, it was barely above a whisper. “I’m not Alpha yet, Mara. My key mark isn’t active yet. I don’t have the power to stop this.” And that—that—hurt more than I expected. Not because he admitted he was powerless but because of the way his voice cracked. There was grief in it. Regret. Something deeper than duty. “I thought…” he started, then paused. “I thought we had time. I thought there’d be more time.” I pulled back just enough to look at him. “Time for what?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mara. I didn’t know.” I stared at him, trying to piece together what he meant. Time for what? Was he finally saying what I’d always hoped he felt? But now wasn’t the time. Not with everything crashing around us. The hug faded. Slowly. Reluctantly. We stood there, inches apart, staring into each other’s tear-streaked faces, both too full of words we couldn’t say. “Listen to me,” Darian said, his voice low but firm. “I will always be there for you. I won’t let him hurt you, Mara. I swear it. If you ever feel unsafe, if he crosses a line—call me. I don’t care what I’m doing. I’ll come. I will come. You are not alone in this.” I blinked back another wave of tears. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to thank someone for a promise that shouldn’t have to exist. “I wish I’d never trained to be your Beta,” I muttered, my voice barely a breath. “If I’d just taken medical classes instead… Alpha Vander wouldn’t have noticed me. He wouldn’t have picked me for his deranged son.” I looked at Darian again. My heart swelled painfully, and I opened my mouth. “Darian…” He met my eyes, hope flickering there. “What is it, Mara?” I hesitated. I wanted to say it. Gods, I wanted to scream it—I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I didn’t. Because now he wasn’t just the boy I trained beside. He was about to become my brother-in-law. And whatever chance there might have been, it had died the moment his father bound my future to Lucian’s. “Nothing,” I said instead. “Nothing but fear.” He pulled me back into his arms without hesitation. I buried my face in his chest and breathed in his scent one last time like it might be enough to last me forever. I didn’t dare ask for more. I didn’t dare reach for what I truly wanted. Not now. Not when I was about to be forced into the hands of someone I despised. Not when Darian had no power to save me. He held me tight, as if letting go would break him, too. Then he kissed the top of my head—soft, lingering—and pulled away. “We’ll still be best friends,” he said gently. “I don’t care what the pack says. You’re still my best friend, Mara. No one’s replacing you.” And there it was. The final nail. Best friend. The words were supposed to be comforting, but they landed like a blade in my chest. His father thought that same friendship was the key to taming Lucian—like I was a tool, a bridge, a sacrificial peace offering. I didn’t want to be Darian’s best friend. I wanted to be his everything. His Luna. His love. His home. But instead, I got Lucian. Unwanted. Unchosen. Trapped. Maybe being feral wouldn’t be so bad. At least then I’d be free. I could run, disappear, let the wilderness swallow me whole. Anything would be better than this slow suffocation. I wanted to leave. I needed to leave. Mara Darian followed me upstairs to my room. For the first time, it felt… wrong. Foreign. Like something had cracked in the familiar walls we’d built around each other. It had always been a little awkward since I started falling for him, but now—now it felt unbearable. I didn’t know what it would be like living in their house. The Nighthorn mansion. Sharing space with Lucian. Walking the same halls as Darian, seeing him every day while wearing the title of someone else’s mate. His brother’s mate. The thought made me feel sick. I didn’t trust my heart not to betray me in some devastating way. “I’ll wait here,” Darian said softly, settling into the chair by my desk while I headed into the bathroom. As soon as the water hit me, the tears came. I sank to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, sobbing so hard my ribs ached. I cried for the life I almost had. For the love I could never confess. For I was being handed like some twisted reward for being too good. And in that cracked, broken place, I thought about running. Disappearing. Going rogue. Letting the world forget I ever existed. But then I remembered what that meant. What it would do to my family. What it would do to me. I dressed in the bathroom, even though modesty had long since evaporated between Darian and me during years of shifting and training together. But things were different now. Everything was different. Even standing in front of him felt like holding a glass that could shatter if either of us moved too fast. “How are you feeling?” he asked when I stepped back into the room. I just nodded, unable to trust my voice. His eyes were still tinged with crimson, like he’d been holding back more tears of his own. “Lucian doesn’t want the union either,” he said suddenly. I looked up, startled. “What?” “That’s how I found out,” he continued. “I overheard him yelling at our father. He was furious. Said he didn’t want you. Didn’t want any of it. And honestly… that’s what scares me the most.” I understood what he meant before he said it. Lucian didn’t want me. Which meant he’d resent me. And with the kind of man he was—violent, spiteful—that resentment wouldn’t just sit quietly in the corner. He’d find a way to punish me for it. “Then why won’t he reject it?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. Darian exhaled slowly, like the weight of it all was dragging him under too. “Because ever since Father chose me as Alpha instead of him, Lucian hasn’t dared to oppose him. I think the shame crushed something inside him. He’s quiet now, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. And…” He hesitated. “Lucian’s in love—with someone else. Has been for a while.” I swallowed hard. That somehow made it worse. I wasn’t just being forced into a bond with a monster—I was a wedge, a weapon used to separate him from someone he actually cared about. A curse he’d wear every day. “This isn’t fair,” I said bitterly. “Not to me. Not to her. Not to anyone.” Darian didn’t argue. “Will I still be your Gamma?” I asked, knowing it was selfish but needing to ask anyway. Because even if I couldn’t be his mate, I still wanted to stand by his side in some way. Any way. “Yes,” he said softly. “Unless you choose to step down, you’ll remain my Gamma.” I shook my head. I couldn’t make that decision yet. Not when everything inside me felt broken and scattered. I just needed time. Space to breathe, to mourn, to accept the weight of what had been forced on me. Darian left quietly, carrying his own sadness like a wound. I watched him go and felt another piece of me fall apart. I stayed in bed the rest of the day. Staring at the ceiling. Crying into my pillow until it was soaked. My parents tried to check on me—brought food, soft words, empty comfort—but I ignored them all. I didn’t want kindness from the people who had let this happen. I didn’t want anyone. If the Alpha had chosen to bind me to Darian, I would have said yes without hesitation. I would have given him everything. But instead, I was being handed over to his brother. Why Lucian? Of all the wolves in this pack, why did fate—or power, or cruelty—choose him? And what the hll was I supposed to do now? Two weeks. Two long, miserable weeks of crying, sulking, and avoiding the world like it had personally betrayed me—because in a way, it had. I refused to go to any gatherings, skipped every function, and barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t Darian. Not that I saw him much. He’d gotten himself into trouble more than once that week, and Alpha Vander had taken it as an excuse to load him up with responsibilities. I missed him. But missing him was a dangerous thing now. Luna Martha Nighthorn came by twice to speak with my parents about the “arrangements.” She was Darian’s mother—not Lucian’s. Lucian’s biological mother had died when he was young. Alpha Vander had bonded with Martha later, and ever since, everyone just assumed she was the mother of both boys. Everyone except Lucian, who never missed a chance to correct them. I didn’t care for the politics of it. I didn’t care about her visit, her soft reassurances, or the way she avoided looking me in the eye. I didn’t care about any of it. I just wanted to disappear. Burn the whole d'amn future and vanish into ash. But I couldn’t. I was sitting on the patio, trying to catch my breath from another heavy day of doing absolutely nothing, when a sleek black car pulled into our driveway. I squinted at the figure stepping out. A young woman—tall, porcelain-skinned, striking brunette. And angry. I stood slowly, assuming she was lost and needed directions. She didn’t waste time. “Are you Mara Thornridge?” she asked, sharp and cold. I nodded, guarded. “You gold-digging b1tch,” she snapped. “What do your parents have on Alpha Vander? Huh?” I blinked, stunned. What? “Do you know how long Lucian and I have been together?” she choked out, her eyes welling up with tears. “We were sweethearts for years. And now I find out you—you’ve been chosen for him? You?” I stood there, frozen, every cell in my body screaming for a break. I had no words. I was still trying to process this marriage from hll myself, and now this? She stepped closer, her voice low and trembling with rage. “How dare you, Mara? I swear, we will make your life a living hll.” And that was it. I snapped. “Watch it,” I growled, the shift stirring beneath my skin. “I don’t give two fks about Lucian. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want this. So maybe aim that rage where it belongs—at him, or at his father, or at the Moon Goddess herself. Not me.” She blinked, caught off guard. “If you’re so mad, tell your beloved boyfriend to grow a spine and say something to his father. Trust me, you’d be doing me a huge favor. Because let’s be honest—Lucian isn’t exactly a prize. He’s an entitled, violent аs hole, and I wouldn’t want to be bound to him if he was the last breathing wolf in existence.” She stepped toward me like she was about to swing. I didn’t even flinch—I welcomed it. Hll, I needed it. I let out a low, warning growl, eyes locked on hers. “You need to f'k- off, now. While I’m still being nice. Because if you don’t, I swear on every ancestor in my bloodline, I will tear you apart. And right now? I wouldn’t even regret it.” Something in my voice must’ve landed. She backed away slowly, fury still burning in her eyes, but something else too—fear. She slid into her car and slammed the door, then peeled out of the driveway without another word. I stood there breathing hard, body trembling with all the rage and frustration I’d buried these past two weeks. Now I had to deal with Lucian’s girlfriend too? I wasn’t even officially mated to him yet, and already the drama was spilling into my yard like blood on the snow. And Lucian—he hadn’t shown up. Hadn’t spoken to me. Hadn’t so much as sent a message. I guessed the feeling was mutual. This was going to be hll. And it hadn’t even started yet. Mara “Mara!” my mother called from downstairs. Since the day they dropped the bomb about the arrangement, I’d barely left my room. What was the point? Everyone probably knew by now. The whole pack, maybe even the entire dam country. Mara Thornridge, gifted to Lucian Nighthorn like a prized lamb to the family wolf. And just like that, the threats had started rolling in—anonymous messages from a number I didn’t need to trace. I knew exactly who it was. Lucian’s little banshee. The same girl who’d parked in my driveway and tried to claw my face off with words she probably rehearsed in front of a mirror. None of her threats got to me. Not one. If she ever followed through on a single one of them, I might actually respect her. But I knew the truth—lashing out at me was easier than facing Lucian or confronting Alpha Vander. I was the easier target. The quiet one. The one who hadn’t asked for any of this. I got out of bed wearing the same old pajamas I’d worn for two days. It was already afternoon. I didn’t care. My hair was a mess, my eyes were swollen from days of crying, but the tears had stopped. I wasn’t sad anymore. Just empty. Numb. And numbness? It was better. Numbness didn’t ask questions or demand hope. Darian and I still talked every night. His voice was soft, his words kind, and I hated every second of it. He meant well. He was trying. But I didn’t want kindness from him. Not anymore. I wanted what I could never have. Every call was another reminder that I'd never be more than his best friend. So no, the support wasn’t helping. Not even a little. I shuffled downstairs, preparing to grab something quick and head back to my quiet cave of self-pity. But I froze at the bottom step. Alpha Vander Nighthorn and Lucian were in my living room. Just sitting there. Like this was normal. Like they belonged. I felt my parents' disappointment immediately. The way they looked at my unwashed hair and oversized sleep shirt said it all. But maybe, just maybe, the Alpha would take one look at me and change his mind. Maybe I looked pathetic enough to kill this deal. I stepped into the room, lifting my chin, even though my body screamed to turn and run. “Good afternoon, Alpha. Mr. Nighthorn,” I said evenly, voice dry but polite. Alpha Vander sat upright on the couch, perfectly composed. For a man in his early fifties, he looked ten years younger. Thick dark hair, sharp brown eyes, a well-groomed beard. He radiated power and vanity, and somehow it worked. No wonder women in the pack still swooned over him. He had that whole silver fox, age-like-wine aesthetic locked down. And Lucian? He looked like sin incarnate. Dark hair, frost-blue eyes that could pierce through bone, and a jawline that might have been carved from stone. His shirt clung to his body like it didn’t want to let go—tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, tracing the edges of muscle sculpted to perfection. He wasn’t bulky, not like some of the other warriors. He was lean, cut, deadly. His skin was sun-kissed and flawless, his stare unreadable and cold. Everything about him screamed danger, power, trouble. Everything about him made my skin crawl. And yet… he was undeniably beautiful. If I hadn’t known what was behind that face, I might have stared. Might have been flattered. But now? All I saw was the cage I was about to be locked inside. And he hadn’t even bothered to look at me yet. I swallowed hard when I saw him. It had been a while since I last saw Lucian Nighthorn in person, and I hated myself for even noticing how he looked. His presence was magnetic—he didn’t just walk into a room, he took it. He looked like something out of legend: all dark edges, piercing frost-blue eyes, and sculpted features that belonged on a statue. But no matter how stunning the exterior, it couldn’t mask the ugliness I knew sat underneath. Looks didn’t make a man worth loving. And I didn’t want this union. But what I wanted didn’t matter. “Mara,” Alpha Vander said, dragging my attention away from his son. I stood upright and gave him the proper Gamma salute. My posture stiff, my insides screaming. “Congratulations on your future position as Gamma. Mooncrest and Darian are blessed to have you in the ranks.” “Thank you, Alpha,” I replied, my voice steady. “Lucian,” he said, turning to his son, “get to know your mate. Take a walk while I speak with the Thornridges about the event.” Lucian didn’t respond. He just stood and walked outside, offering no glance, no gesture, no courtesy. The kind of silence that dared you to follow—and warned you not to speak. I didn’t want to go with him. He hadn’t asked. But I wasn’t foolish enough to disobey an Alpha’s command. I followed him out. He was sitting on the patio, staring down the street like the world bored him. I didn’t sit. “Don’t get any ideas, little girl,” he said finally, his voice deep, sharp, arrogant. “This arrangement is a joke. An insult. I’ll never love you. You’ll never be my true mate. Let’s get that straight before the wedding so you don’t embarrass yourself hoping for more.” I cleared my throat, keeping my voice even. “Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I’m not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I’d have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue. I expect nothing from you. And I will give you nothing in return.” He finally turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. “You really have no pride, do you?” he said. “You think this is some noble sacrifice? My father’s paying your family a fortune for this. You and your parents—just more middle-class shovel-holders, ready to dig for gold.” I inhaled sharply. My hand twitched. Don’t hit him, I told myself. Not yet. His smirk widened. “Feisty,” he said. “I like that. Quick-tempered too. I’m honestly surprised you made it as Gamma. What did you do? Sleep your way there? Must’ve been quite the climb—though Darian doesn’t fancy you, so maybe you figured you’d settle for the older brother. At least then you get the name, the money, the power. That’s what this is about, right? Being a Nighthorn?” He waited for me to crumble. I didn’t. Instead, I leaned in, voice low and laced with venom. “At least I earned my place in this pack. I’m Gamma because I bled for it, not because I was born into a name. You? You’ll always be the brother of the Alpha. Nothing more.” That hit him. His jaw tightened. His hand lifted halfway, shaking—just a breath away from slapping me. His eyes burned, not with fury alone, but with something deeper. Shame. Insecurity. I flinched, but only slightly. Mara Lucian was stronger than Darian. That much was clear. Where Darian led with loyalty, Lucian ruled with intimidation. His presence filled the air like a storm. And for a moment, just a moment, I felt what it would be like to be tied to this man. Not protected. Not cherished. Owned. Lucian dropped his hand, clenched it into a fist instead. Good. I’d struck the nerve I wanted. And I wouldn’t stop there. “We are not equals,” Lucian said coldly, his voice like ice cracking beneath pressure. “You better watch your mouth, Thornridge, or this arrangement will turn ugly real fast.” He dropped back onto the bench like he owned the space, like even sitting was a statement of dominance. I stayed standing, watching him from above, refusing to shrink. “I came here only to lay down a few ground rules,” he continued. “First, you will never be my mate. So don’t expect affection, don’t ask for loyalty, and don’t even think about what mates are ‘entitled’ to. I already have someone. Someone I actually care about.” I laughed—just once, dry and sharp. “You mean the one who threatened me in my own driveway?” I said. “Tell your little girlfriend that as long as she keeps her claws to herself and stays out of my way, we’ll have no problems. I don’t care what you two do behind closed doors.” He went quiet. I could tell he didn’t like my answer. It wasn’t what he expected. But it was the truth, and I wasn’t here to coddle his ego. “In public, we’ll play the part for my father,” he said, voice dropping lower. “Behind closed doors, we’re strangers. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.” “Fine by me,” I said flatly. “As long as you don’t try to bully me, we won’t have a problem. If your father really did buyme, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you’ll release me.” He chuckled then—low and bitter. “You still don’t get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I’ll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You’ll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently.” Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. I flinched without meaning to, but I didn’t let him see more than that. “What about your girlfriend?” I asked quietly. “She understands,” he replied, surprisingly calm. “I’ll never be Alpha, and I don’t want the job. We’ll find our way around this. She’ll still have my heart. She’ll have my children.” I stared at him, trying to understand how a person could speak of love and cruelty in the same breath. “I guess you’ve got your future mapped out,” I said. “Good for you. But what about me?” He blinked, caught off guard. His tone lost its bite. “What do you mean?” “I mean, you’ve got the girl. The family plan. The political cover. What about my life? My future?” I asked, voice low but unshaking. He looked at me for a long second. Then gave a dismissive shrug. “You’ll figure it out. If you meet someone, fine. Scr'w whoever you want. Just don’t get pregnant and embarrass me. Keep your mess private.” I stared at him, stunned. He wasn’t done. “I’m sure you already have a few boyfriends on the side. Maybe some officials from the academy you spread your legs for—because no woman’s ever made it as Gamma before. So whatever you did to get there, just keep doing it. That’s the only way you’ll hold onto that title. If someone stronger comes along, you’re out.” I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t need to. Let him think what he wanted. Let him imagine a version of me that matched his twisted assumptions. I wasn’t going to defend my body, my choices, or my worth to him. But inside, something cracked. I’d waited. Saved myself. Dreamed of Darian—not for lvst, but for love. And now I was bound to a man who assumed the worst of me. Who would use me as a shield, a pawn, and nothing more. And yet I didn’t cry. Not anymore. The tears were done. Now, there was only fire. “Well,” Lucian said, brushing imaginary dust from his pants like the conversation was just business. “Since everything’s ironed out, I guess we won’t have issues living as husband and wife.” I gave him a nod. Flat. Numb. Resigned. “Do we sleep in the same room?” I asked, not because I wanted to—but because I needed to know what kind of Hll I’d be walking into. He shook his head. “Not exactly. My room has a conjoined space. You’ll sleep in the one I’m not using.” A connected room. No door. No barrier. Just a wall, maybe some air, and all the silence in the world between us. “I’ve fixed it up for you,” he added. “Just don’t expect luxury. It’s the poorer wing of the mansion. My father doesn’t dote on me the way he does on Darian.” I almost laughed. The poorer wing? I would’ve gladly slept in a shed if it meant not sharing space with the man who thought I’d slept my way into the Gamma rank. “I don’t care about the room,” I said simply. And I didn’t. What I cared about was distance. Physical, emotional, spiritual. As much as I could carve out for myself in a life I never asked for. We headed back into the house. Alpha Vander stood, looking pleased with himself—like a man who had just orchestrated a perfect deal, unaware—or perhaps entirely aware—of the people he was crushing in the process. “Ah, I see the lovebirds have come to an understanding,” he said with a smug grin. “I suppose I’ll see you both at the wedding.” My father stepped forward to shake his hand. “Thank you, Alpha. We are honoured.” Alpha Vander turned to him with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Aiden, Arya—you’ve raised a strong, beautiful daughter. I originally wanted her for Darian, you know. She’s Luna material, no doubt about it. But in the end, I knew she’d have more impact on Lucian’s life.” Every word scraped against me like sandpaper. “Darian is already gentle,” he went on. “Lucian needs someone like Mara. Someone sweet, with a steady hand. She’ll soften him. She’s perfect.” And that was the moment I felt it—self-loathing. Deep, hot, gnawing. I should’ve seen it sooner. This wasn’t about love or bonds or the Universe’s will. I’d been chosen because I was safe. A tool. A soothing balm they could apply to their most volatile son. I should’ve been reckless. Cold. Difficult. A bad girl. Maybe then I would’ve been considered for Darian. Maybe then, I would’ve stood a chance. But Lucian—he didn’t let his father get away with it. “It’s not about what you want, Father,” he said suddenly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clean through the room. Alpha Vander turned to him slowly, like a man used to obedience. “Don’t lie to them,” Lucian continued. “This wasn’t your idea. This was Martha’s doing. Luna Martha didn’t want Darian choosing Mara. She didn’t want him with a Thornridge—didn’t want him marrying middle-class. She wants a girl with money. Status. This whole thing? It’s her fix. Her solution.” The air in the room turned sharp. Lucian kept going. “You’re not doing this to help me,” he said. “You’re doing it to ruin me—and Mara. All to clear the path for Darian to marry someone Martha approves of. You paid them off. That’s not honor. That’s manipulation.” Then he turned and walked out without another word. And I stood there—stunned. Not because I was angry at what he said. But because it was true. So painfully, clearly true. Luna Martha didn’t want me in her family. I wasn’t polished enough. Rich enough. Enough of anything, really. And Darian… he never even had a chance to fight it. I never had a chance at him. No matter how hard I trained, no matter how loyal I was, no matter how much I loved him quietly from a distance—I never stood a chance. Lucian was many things—cold, cruel, arrogant—but in that moment, I saw something else too: honesty. Brutal, unfiltered honesty. And it told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice. Mara Four days had passed since Lucian and his father came to the house, and I still hadn’t found my way out of the haze. I sat in the garden behind our home, staring at nothing. Not the flowers. Not the trees. Just the empty space ahead of me, like it might hold some kind of answer if I looked long enough. Lucian’s words still echoed in my mind—cold, cruel, and then, strangely, honest. The truth was a blade that hadn’t stopped cutting. It wasn’t about me being Luna material or helping Lucian. It was about Darian. About removing me from the equation so his mother could shape his future without interference. I didn’t even hear him approach. “You’ve lost weight,” Darian said softly, sitting beside me. I didn’t reply. What was there to say? He sighed and stood again, pacing. Frustrated. Restless. I knew he wanted to talk. He always did. But I couldn’t give him what he was looking for—not when I felt like my whole life had been bargained away by people who never even asked me what I wanted. “Why didn’t you tell me Lucian came to see you?” he finally asked. I looked up at him, calm on the surface, hollow underneath. “I didn’t think it was necessary.” He stopped pacing. “We’re friends, Mara. Everything is necessary. Everything matters.” He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders were tense. I could see the guilt in the way he carried himself, but he didn’t understand. Not yet. “Help me, Darian,” I said, my voice cracking. “Please.” He came to a stop in front of me, eyes full of sorrow. “If I were Alpha, I’d cancel this madness. I swear I would.” “But you’re not,” I whispered. Then I looked him in the eyes, and I said the one thing that had been building in my chest like pressure before a storm. “Your mother set this up.” He frowned, his expression hardening. “Lucian said it in front of your father. And your father didn’t deny it. She was afraid that you and I… that we might end up together. She didn’t want her son marrying someone from a middle-class family. So she pushed this union, forced it, to get me out of your orbit.” Darian’s jaw clenched. “That’s not true. She knows we’re just friends. That there’s nothing between us.” His words landed like stones in my chest. “If I wanted to date you, Mara, I would’ve.” That hurt. I expected it, but it still hurt. “She doesn’t see it that way,” I replied. “To her, I’m a threat to your future. So she ruined mine.” I paused, voice low and shaking. “Please talk to her, Darian. She’s destroying two lives out of fear. Lucian has someone he loves. And me?” My voice broke. “She’s condemning me to a loveless, miserable life. All because I was your friend.” I looked down at my hands, trembling now. “I’ll give up the Gamma position. I’ll leave. Just… help me get out of this.” Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and helpless. “I don’t want to marry your brother. Please.” He sat down beside me again, silent for a long moment. His hand found mine, hesitated, then held it gently. “I’ll talk to her,” he said at last, voice low. “I can’t promise anything, Mara. But I’ll try. I’ll beg her if I have to.” I nodded, even though I wasn’t hopeful. At this point, I just needed to know someone tried. That not everyone stood by and watched my future burn. If Darian hadn’t offered, I might’ve buried myself in silent acceptance. Might’ve forced myself to walk into that cold, loveless match. But Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. He was a murderer. An irresponsible drunk. A walking storm I’d be expected to share a life with. The thought of binding myself to him permanently… it made my skin crawl. We sat in silence for a while after that. Just breathing the same air. Just existing in the same space. Eventually, Darian left. And I was alone again. Sitting in a garden, surrounded by life, while mine slowly withered away. Two days passed. Nothing from Darian. No call. No visit. Not even a message. Just silence. I lay on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling like it might offer some kind of escape. It didn’t. All I saw was the countdown—days slipping away until the wedding. Until my funeral. Because that’s what it felt like. The day I married Lucian would be the day I buried the last of myself. I didn’t know if I’d take the Gamma position when the time came. I doubted it. The fire in me—the one that once pushed me to be the best—was nothing but ash now. Resignation tasted bitter, but it was starting to feel like the only thing I had left. There was a knock at my door. I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. I could already smell her—my mother. And the food tray she was balancing in her hands. I didn’t move, didn’t speak, and just like I knew she would, she let herself in. “Mara,” she said gently, placing the tray on the table. “You need to eat something.” I didn’t even look at the food. I looked at her. Cold. Angry. Broken. “How can you and Dad live with yourselves after selling your daughter?” I asked, my voice flat, my expression disgusted. She froze by the table, her eyes lowering, as if even she couldn’t bear to meet mine. “He gave us no choice, Mara,” she whispered. “The money was to ease his conscience.” “And you took it.” My words were a blade. “Spent it, I’m sure. Did it ever occur to you that Lucian might call it off? That Alpha Vander might want his money back?” She turned to face me slowly, her expression tired and tight. “We had no choice,” she repeated. “It was take it… or be cast out. ‘Take it or get out,’ that’s what he said. We were drowning, Mara. The house, the loans—we were about to lose everything.” I blinked, stunned. “So you sold me to pay off your debts? The loans you took for my education?” “No,” she said quickly. “We were ready to let the house go. We planned to move in with my sister. We didn’t expect Alpha Nighthorn to show up. But when he forced the union, when he said it was happening whether we liked it or not... we took the money. We used it to survive.” “And you used me to survive,” I said bitterly. She flinched. I sat up, my eyes sharp now. “What happens if the deal falls apart? If Lucian calls it off and his father wants the money back?” “Why would he?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Because I told Darian,” I said. “I told him what Lucian said. About the truth—how this wasn’t about Lucian needing a wife but about his mother wanting me out of Darian’s life. He promised he’d talk to her. Try to get her to stop this madness.” My mother’s eyes widened, shocked. She hadn’t expected me to do anything. Maybe she thought I’d just quietly crumble. She slowly sat beside me, her body folding like something had broken inside her. Tears slid down her face. “Mara, my darling…” my mother’s voice cracked as she sat beside me. “I didn’t know you would take it this hard.” I didn’t answer. She reached for my hand, but I didn’t move. My eyes stayed locked on the ceiling, dry now, but only because I had nothing left in me. “I’m hurting too,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I need you to be strong. You’re tougher than this.” I didn’t look at her. “Darian and Rowan left yesterday,” she added carefully. “They won’t be back until it’s time for him to take over the pack.” The words sank in slowly, like poison soaking through my veins. They went on the trip. Without me. Without a word. Darian—the one person I still believed would try to help me—was gone. He didn’t even call. Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t tell me that he had failed or that he’d tried at all. The silence in my chest cracked. My heart broke without sound. “I know what you’re thinking,” my mother said, almost defensively. “It was Luna Martha. She forced the trip.” I turned to her now, eyes stinging again. “She forced him?” I asked, though I already believed it. “Yes,” she nodded. “Jason—Darian’s butler—he came by for a check-up. He told me Darian had a terrible argument with Martha. About Lucian. About you. About how unfair this is. And when she couldn’t control the conversation, she controlled him. She made him leave. Told him it was to ‘gain experience.’ Said he’d return a better Alpha.” My lip trembled, but I didn’t speak. It was my fault. I asked him to intervene. I pulled him into this. And now he was gone. Banished under the guise of training. And nothing had changed. Lucian was still my future. And Darian… Darian had become part of the past. I sat in silence as the tears returned—slow, steady, quiet. “I’m sorry, baby,” my mother whispered. “But please… eat something. Don’t let this kill you. You’re one of the strongest wolves this pack has ever seen. A woman winning Gamma? That’s not luck. That’s grit. That’s fire. You will find a way to cope.” I didn’t believe her. Not even a little. She pulled me close, kissed my forehead, then left the room without waiting for a response. I stared at the food. The smell turned my stomach. Fear had coiled itself so tightly around my gut I could barely breathe, let alone eat. I picked at the plate. Flushed it all down the toilet. Washed the dishes in silence. I wanted to fade out of existence. But I couldn’t. I was still here. Trapped in a body with no escape, in a life that no longer felt like mine. They hadn’t even set a date yet. That should’ve been a good thing—more time, more room to plan, to hope—but instead, it made it worse. The anticipation, the waiting. The illusion of freedom. Alpha Vander was “putting things in order,” whatever that meant. Maybe planning some extravagant public affair to mask the fact that the union was a sentence, not a celebration. Forced marriages weren’t supposed to be grand. But this one was. Because it wasn’t about love—it was about control. I climbed back into bed, curled beneath the blanket, and tried to breathe past the panic rising in my throat. Please, I thought. Let time fly. Let it fly fast. Lucian My father was a weak man. Spineless, really. Letting his Luna orchestrate the ruin of two lives just to soothe her own insecurities? That wasn’t leadership—that was cowardice dressed in politics. Where does Martha’s manipulation stop? It was bad enough she turned my father against me—made sure I was never considered fit to be Alpha. But now? She’s bound me to a girl I barely know, all because she couldn't stomach the idea of Darian marrying someone who wasn’t bred from power or money. Mara Thornridge and I? We were just casualties of her fear. Collateral damage in her obsession with keeping Darian’s path clean and elite. When my father dragged me to the Thornridge house, I said what I needed to say. Cold, cruel, calculated—because I needed to understand. Martha told me the Thornridges requested the union, claimed they believed their daughter was too strong not to be Luna. Claimed they wanted her to take her “rightful place.” Said they had agreed to settle for me instead of Darian. All of it? Complete bullsh1t. Everyone knew Mara had a crush on Darian. It wasn’t some secret scandal. Even Darian knew—he just ignored it. Let it stew. Let her orbit him for years. A harmless crush, people said. But what that girl gave up for him wasn’t harmless. She left her original path. Signed up at the academy. Trained harder than anyone expected. Finished second. All for a boy who didn’t have the guts to be honest with her. At first, even I assumed her ambition was calculated—that finishing second was her power play to get chosen as Luna. But after speaking with her, however awkwardly… I realized how wrong I was. She didn’t chase power. She chased purpose. And maybe, quietly, she chased hope. The way she looked at me—guarded, hurt, angry. That wasn’t the gaze of someone who’d schemed her way up. That was someone trying not to drown in something too big for her. And I hated it. I hated how Martha had spun this lie and dragged me into it. I hated how my father let her do it. I hated that Mara—this tough, stubborn, determined girl—was being broken apart by people who claimed to protect the pack. So when we went back inside, I told the truth. I was done playing along. Let the Thornridges hear it all—how this wasn’t about what was best for me or Mara or even Darian. It was about Martha’s ego. About keeping “middle-class blood” away from her precious son. I almost told Mara that Darian had known. That he could’ve stopped this earlier. But I didn’t. Because she already looked like she was barely holding it together. That truth would’ve shattered her. But I blame him too. He knew how she felt. He saw it in her eyes every Dam time she looked at him. And instead of setting her free, he kept her close. He strung her along, let her believe maybe… maybe one day. I heard him brag once—to his friends—that she’d made passes at him. After meeting her, I knew that was a lie. Mara Thornridge doesn’t beg. She’d rather die than admit she’s vulnerable. She would’ve made a great Luna. Not just to Darian—but to the pack. She’s sharp, strong, and smarter than half the men who outranked her. And instead of letting her shine, Martha decided to bury her. Tie her to me. Punish her for something that never even happened. And now they expect her to stand at Darian’s side as Gamma? To give her best while living half-alive? Unbelievable. No one’s asking what this will do to her. No one’s thinking about what she’s being forced to give up just to survive. I didn’t know what to do with Mara. I didn’t want to touch her. I didn’t want to claim her—not because I hated her, but because I respected her. She didn’t ask for this, and I’m not the kind of man who takes what isn’t given freely. I wouldn’t mate with her against her will. I wasn’t like Darian. He wore his charm like armor and left a trail of wreckage behind him—wolves he used, hearts he broke, girls who wound up pregnant and scared. And every time, Father and Martha cleaned it up quietly, buried the mess, and painted him as the perfect heir. Looking back now, I saw it all more clearly than I ever had. Darian—the golden boy, the spoiled prince. Martha’s precious son, her ticket to power, the puppet she dressed up as a leader. And then there was me. An accident at the wrong time, the wrong place, gave her everything she needed to destroy me. The biker didn’t die because of me—not really. My brakes failed. There was silver in the wreckage, and to this day, I still don’t know how it got there. The biker would’ve survived without it. But no one listened. No one cared. My father didn’t even pretend to investigate. He just... wrote me off. They said I was drunk, been partying all. Night but that was a lie, yet no one cared. Martha escalated the fallout like she’d been waiting for it. And Darian? He got a free pass. Over and over. “They wanted him,” my father would say. “He didn’t stand a chance. Every girl wants the Luna title. It’s not the same.” It wasn’t the same because Darian was untouchable. I’d only ever loved one girl. Tina Livingston. I’d been loyal, careful, focused. But now, thanks to Martha, I had to break her heart. Just another name sacrificed on the altar of Darian’s future. Martha had destroyed three lives. Maybe four, if Mara had someone before all of this—someone she never got to choose. And yet, I couldn’t even bring myself to hate her. Not fully. She was protecting her son. Ruthless, yes—but my real anger was reserved for the man who allowed her to do it all. My father. The Alpha. The coward. If my mother had lived… maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe she would’ve fought for me. For balance. For justice. But she was gone. And in her absence, Martha filled the void with poison and control. Now here we were. A forced union. A fake marriage. A girl who didn’t want me, and a pack that would celebrate it anyway like it was some kind of alliance—when in truth, it was just another silent war. I moved my things into the smaller of the conjoined rooms and fixed up the larger one for Mara. I wanted her to be comfortable. Or at the very least, able to cope. She wasn’t what I’d accused her of—she wasn’t a gold digger or a social climber. I said those things to provoke, to test, to understand. But now I knew better. She was nineteen. A kid, really. Brave as hll, smart, and stubborn. And stuck. Her parents weren’t to blame either. They had no power, no rank, no options. The offer from my father wasn’t an opportunity—it was a threat in disguise. Because being cast out wasn’t just exile. It was death by slow erasure. When a wolf is stripped of their pack mark, it fades over time. And once it’s gone, they lose their human form. They go feral. Wild. Forgotten. That’s what happens to rogues. There’s no mercy in that system, no redemption. A wolf only belongs to one pack in their lifetime. One. And if that bond is broken, there’s no going back. It was a cruel mechanism, a brutal leash disguised as tradition. One the Alpha family had full control over. And my father wielded it without hesitation. Mara was a victim. Just like I was. But unlike me, she didn’t even have the illusion of choice. Lucian I was just adjusting my cufflinks, getting ready for my date with Tina, when Austin, my butler, stepped into the room with his usual composed tone. “Master Lucian, the boutique is here to deliver your bride’s clothes.” My bride. The words felt like gravel in my mouth every time I heard them. I stood and walked into the master bedroom I’d had prepped for Mara. I’d never used it. It was larger, more extravagant, more central—but I’d always preferred the smaller room. Quieter. Less suffocating. But now, someone would finally be living here. Sleeping in a bed under this roof because she had no other choice. “Have them arrange her things in the walk-in closet,” I said. “Move my things to the wardrobe, and put the rest of my stuff in storage. I don’t use most of it anyway.” Austin nodded, ever the quiet professional. “Your father has invited you to a late lunch in the breakfast room,” he added. “It starts in fifteen minutes.” I checked the time, irritated. Great. I had plans with Tina—plans that actually mattered to me—but as usual, Father’s whims trumped everything. If he wanted something, it was dropped on my lap like gospel. No warning, no regard. I left without responding, heading toward the right wing of the mansion—the golden, polished side of the estate where Martha, Darian, and Father lived. Everything there was curated, flashy, fake. Just like them. Martha loved the money. Loved the title. The image. She wore luxury like armor. And yet she had the nerve to call otherwomen gold diggers, while she pretended to play noble Luna. The real digger in this house wore silk and control like a second skin. And Darian? He was a walking performance. The dutiful heir, the golden child. The pack believed in him like he was some messiah. But only those of us who’d seen behind the curtain knew the truth. The girls. The lies. The messes swept under thick rugs of privilege. He got away with everything. And me? I was the one they all whispered about. The drunk. The murderer. The irresponsible son. I stepped into the breakfast room and found them both—Father and her—eating like nothing was wrong in the world. “Have a seat, Lucian,” my father said with a manufactured smile. There was a thick folder on the table. Blank on the outside. I eyed it but said nothing. This was a game, and I already knew I was a piece. “Have you finally accepted the union?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. It was a test. And I already knew what the right answer was. “Yes,” I said smoothly, swallowing down my resentment like it was ash. Martha didn't miss a beat. “Make sure you keep her out of Darian’s hair.” I wanted to speak. Gods, I wanted to snap. But I bit down on the urge. “She’s already out of Darian’s hair,” my father said before I could respond. “She has been, ever since her parents told her about the arrangement.” Martha rolled her eyes, dismissive as always. “So she sent my son to fight me?” she asked, mouth tight. “That was Darian’s choice,” Father said. “Stop trying to pin this on Mara. Did it ever occur to you that maybe—just maybe—Darian genuinely liked the girl and only stayed away because of you?” I nearly laughed. Darian like someone? Please. The only person Darian had ever truly loved was himself. He kept Mara close because she worshipped him. He fed on that loyalty, that quiet hope in her eyes. And when she finally became inconvenient, he let Martha clean it up. But I stayed silent. “Anyway,” my father said, suddenly annoyed, “I didn’t call Lucian here to discuss Darian. You somehow always find a way to bring it back to him.” Martha turned her head away, eyes cold and narrowed. I stared at the file again. And for the first time, I truly realized how deeply buried we all were in this family's lies. We were weapons. Symbols. Bargaining chips. Everything but people. “Take this,” my father said, sliding the thick folder across the table toward me. I didn’t move immediately. “Sign them and keep a copy,” he added. “My signature is already there.” I stared at the folder. “What is it, Father?” He sighed like he was finally ready to put something to rest. “Since you won’t be succeeding me as Alpha,” he said, “it’s only fair I hand the company over to you.” Martha slammed her hand down on the table. “Impossible!” she snapped, venom lacing her voice. My father didn’t flinch. “The deed is done, Martha. I can’t undo it.”
"""I'll never love you. You'll never be my true mate. This arrangement is a joke. An insult."" My husband sneered. ""Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I'm not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I'd have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue."" ""Feisty,"" he said. ""I like that. Quick-tempered too."" ""As long as you don't try to bully me, we won't have a problem. If your father really did buy me, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you'll release me."" I said flatly. He chuckled then—low and bitter. ""You still don't get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I'll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You'll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently."" Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. He told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice." That actually made me smile. It was such a him thing to say. “That’s so cool, Rowan,” I said, wide-eyed. Then, on impulse, the words slipped out before I could second-guess them. “Do you mind if I come?” Rowan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at Darian, almost like he needed permission. And Darian—bless him—gave me that soft smile again. “If you go with him,” he said, “who’s going to be my friend and keep me company here?” I knew the answer. We all did. Tiffany. Tiffany would. But if I said that out loud, it would expose everything—my jealousy, my feelings, my pain. It would ruin whatever fragile friendship we still had. So I said nothing. Just sat there, heart breaking quietly behind steady eyes. Mara “I’m sure you’ve got other friends to keep you company,” I said, keeping my voice calm, eyes steady on Tiffany. “Better—and maybe more interesting—company than I could ever be.” Tiffany caught the meaning instantly and smiled, smug and satisfied. “That’s right, Darian,” she purred, looping her arm through his. “I’m all the company you’ll need.” Then, like it was some kind of private joke, she leaned in and licked his earlobe again. I looked away, jaw tight. She wanted to be Luna so badly it was dripping off her. Most of the girls who threw themselves at Darian did. It wasn’t about him. It was about the title, the power, the image. But not me. Even if Darian wasn’t going to be Alpha, I’d still feel this way about him. That was the difference. “I want to come with you, Rowan,” I said suddenly, turning to him. My voice was clearer than I expected. Firm. I needed distance. Space. A whole dam continent between me and Darian if I was going to get over him. He would never see me. Never choose me. And I had to stop holding out hope like it was some kind of twisted comfort blanket. “This trip... it’ll be good for me,” I added, mostly to myself. Darian smiled, watching me a little too closely. “Maybe I’ll come too.” And just like that, the air left my lungs. No. No, he couldn’t. That would ruin everything. I’d just end up exactly where I was—his loyal shadow, his best buddy, watching Tiffany swallow his attention whole. “You’ll bring me along?” Tiffany asked, all wide eyes and sugar-laced eagerness. I could almost hear the flutter of her lashes. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. If she came too, I’d lose my mind watching her cling to Darian like a barnacle in heat. Her tongue alone would be enough to make me puke somewhere around the border of the first town we hit. “I’ll think about it,” Darian replied, and Tiffany's face fell. She frowned, and then her eyes flicked to me, sharp and accusing, like it was my fault. She wasn’t entirely wrong. But also not right. I didn’t want Darian to come—not because I wanted to hoard him for myself, but because I needed to finally let go of him. We stayed a little longer, had a couple drinks, careful not to go overboard. It was a quiet ending to a loud night. Eventually, we all called it and got ready to leave. “Let’s go hunting tomorrow morning,” Darian said casually as we stepped out into the night. His voice was light, but his eyes were on me. I hesitated. Waiting. Because, of course, I needed to hear what she would say. “I want to come too,” Tiffany piped up, bouncing slightly in her heels like she was volunteering for a game of tag. I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. Darian caught it and laughed. “I guess the three of you will have to go without me,” I said flatly, already turning away. Darian frowned. “Come on, Mara. You and I—we’re a good team.” Oh, how I wished that was true. But in reality? It was just another sweet lie I’d told myself over the years. “You, Rowan, and Tiffany will be a formidable team,” I replied, eyes on the pavement, not bothering to look at her. I could already feel the weight of her glare. I didn’t blame her. If I were her, I wouldn’t like me either. Not when the guy I wanted kept paying attention to someone else. Darian told me to think about it. I wouldn’t. I didn’t need to. I already knew I wasn’t going. When I got home, the house was quiet—everyone asleep. I slipped inside like a ghost and made my way to my room, shutting the door behind me without making a sound. I didn’t want to wake anyone. I didn’t want to talk. All I wanted was to stop loving someone who would never love me back. Morning came too fast. I sat on the edge of my bed, still wrapped in the fog of everything I was trying to forget. The hunt was supposed to be today. Part of me wanted to go—just to breathe outside this house, outside of him. But the thought of Tiffany tagging along made my stomach twist. I already knew she’d spent the night at the Nighthorn mansion. There was no way Darian would leave her behind now. Not after that. I dragged myself downstairs, hungry but not in the mood. I hated shifting when I hadn’t eaten—it made me edgy, short-tempered. I didn’t want to lose it in the woods and end up looking unhinged. What I didn’t expect was to find my parents waiting in the kitchen. They weren’t eating. They weren’t smiling. They were just… there, sitting stiffly at the table with this look in their eyes that made something inside me tighten. My mother, usually bright-eyed and warm, gave me a small, nervous smile. “Morning, Mara. How was your night?” I forced a shrug. “Great,” I lied, trying not to read too much into their mood. She just nodded. My father cleared his throat, and the sound already made my heart beat faster. “Sweetheart, we need to talk to you about something important.” And just like that, my stomach dropped. They didn’t speak in the kitchen. My dad gestured toward the living room, and we all moved, silent as ghosts. I sat on the couch across from them, trying not to let my mind spiral. Then they looked at each other. That kind of look—the silent, mind-link kind of conversation they always had when something was wrong. Something they didn’t want to say out loud. I wasn’t part of it. Not yet. Not until they decided I had to be. “Mara,” my father said slowly, “you know how much we love you, right?” Wrong way to start. My pulse spiked. I swallowed hard. “Yes,” I said, and my voice cracked. He looked down for a moment, then back up at me with tired eyes. “We’ve always wanted the best for you. But… we also have duties to the pack. Responsibilities. And—” “We should’ve told you sooner,” my mother cut in, her voice trembling. “But we wanted you to have your graduation, your moment of celebration, before we… before we said anything.” Her eyes welled up with tears. That’s when I started crying too. Because whatever could make my mother cry like that—whatever they were about to say—it was going to rip something out of me. “Mara,” my father said again, quieter this time, “Alpha Vander Nighthorn has chosen you to be joined with his eldest son, Lucian.” My breath caught. “He’s decided,” he continued, “that since you finished second overall in the academy, top among the female wolves, and since you’re known for your strength, your discipline… that you’re the best choice for Lucian. He believes your character will help shape him into a man fit to stand beside his brother when Darian becomes Alpha. He also believes that your friendship with Darian will help settle the conflict between the brothers and bring unity to the future leadership of this pack.” I was frozen. The words didn’t even register at first. It didn’t feel real. “It’s not a suggestion, Mara,” my father added. “It’s an order. One we had no power to refuse.” That was it. The sound that left my throat wasn’t even human. I screamed. A raw, guttural cry that tore from my chest like something inside me had shattered. Mara “This must be a joke,” I whispered, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. My eyes burned, and the tears wouldn’t stop. My mother shook her head slowly, her face soaked with grief. “It’s not a joke,” she said, broken. I choked on a sob. “Lucian? Lucian?! He’s a monster. A cruel, vicious bаst3rd. He lies, cheats, bullies anyone weaker than him—and he killed someone, an innocent person. And now you want me to what? Play house with the devil?” I knew they didn’t have a choice. I knew it wasn’t really their fault. But I needed someone to blame, and they were standing right in front of me, and I was drowning. “We had no say,” my father said, voice low and defeated. “They said you’re the strongest female of your generation. They believe you’ll match him. Tame him.” “Enough!” I snapped, standing up so fast the room spun. “You can’t tame people, Dad. You don’t ‘fix’ someone like Lucian. He’s not broken. He’s rotten. He was born that way.” My breath came fast, too fast. My chest felt tight like I was suffocating. “I’m supposed to be Darian’s Gamma! That job—our futures—they’re built on trust, on teamwork. How am I supposed to do that while being shackled to a psychopath?” They had no answers. Just silence. My mother’s silent weeping. My father’s helpless stare. “I’m done. I’m leaving. I don’t want the Gamma position. They can keep it—and let them gift someone else to that monster.” I turned, storming toward the stairs. I didn’t know where I’d go, but anywhere was better than here. Anywhere but thislife. “You can’t leave, Mara,” my father called after me, voice desperate. “If you refuse the bond, Alpha Nighthorn will cast us out. We’ll become rogues. Once the mark of Mooncrest fades, we’ll lose everything—our protection, our humanity. You know what happens to rogues. You’ll turn feral. We all will. They rule this entire country, Mara. There’s no where for you to go,” I stopped in my tracks. Feral. Cast out. Doomed. I turned slowly and looked at my mother. Her shoulders were trembling. She couldn’t even look me in the eyes. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?” I said, my voice shaking with fury and despair. “You’re asking me to throw my life away. You’re asking me to bind myself to someone who might kill me in my sleep.” She nodded through her tears. “I’m sorry.” Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. Even Alpha Vander didn’t trust him to lead, which was why Darian had been groomed from day one to take over. Darian, with his calm and strength and sense of duty. Meanwhile, his older brother was out there, spiraling, and now they wanted me to steady him. They wouldn’t have picked me if I wasn’t so perfect—so well-behaved, so disciplined, so obsessed with Darian that I molded myself into the model warrior. Maybe if I’d been reckless, mean, or a bitter b1tch, they wouldn’t have even considered me. But no. I had played the part. And now, this was my reward: unrequited love, a forced marriage, a future I couldn’t escape. I hated my life in that moment. I was about to turn away again when the doorbell rang. We all froze. My mother rose to answer it, and the scent hit me before she opened the door—him. Darian. He stepped inside, and I almost didn’t recognize him. His eyes were red, brimming with tears. His hands trembled. He looked like someone had carved a hole into his chest and left it gaping. “Mara,” he said softly, his voice cracked and hoarse. He opened his arms. He didn’t need to say anything else. I walked into him, into the arms I had longed for more than I ever admitted, and he held me—tight, like he was the one about to fall apart. My parents quietly stepped away, leaving us in the silence of shared pain. And I broke. I cried, and this time, it wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t polite. It was everything I had been holding in—fear, betrayal, grief, hopelessness—all pouring out while he held me. And still, I knew… even this wouldn’t change anything. “I’m sorry, Mara,” Darian whispered against my hair, his voice thick with something heavier than guilt. “I didn’t know they would do this. I didn’t know he would do this.” And I broke again. “I don’t want to be with Lucian,” I cried, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring me. “I hate him, Darian. I can’t do this. Please… help me.” His arms tightened around me like he wanted to, like he wished he could fix it all with the way he held me—but he didn’t answer right away. When he did, it was barely above a whisper. “I’m not Alpha yet, Mara. My key mark isn’t active yet. I don’t have the power to stop this.” And that—that—hurt more than I expected. Not because he admitted he was powerless but because of the way his voice cracked. There was grief in it. Regret. Something deeper than duty. “I thought…” he started, then paused. “I thought we had time. I thought there’d be more time.” I pulled back just enough to look at him. “Time for what?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mara. I didn’t know.” I stared at him, trying to piece together what he meant. Time for what? Was he finally saying what I’d always hoped he felt? But now wasn’t the time. Not with everything crashing around us. The hug faded. Slowly. Reluctantly. We stood there, inches apart, staring into each other’s tear-streaked faces, both too full of words we couldn’t say. “Listen to me,” Darian said, his voice low but firm. “I will always be there for you. I won’t let him hurt you, Mara. I swear it. If you ever feel unsafe, if he crosses a line—call me. I don’t care what I’m doing. I’ll come. I will come. You are not alone in this.” I blinked back another wave of tears. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to thank someone for a promise that shouldn’t have to exist. “I wish I’d never trained to be your Beta,” I muttered, my voice barely a breath. “If I’d just taken medical classes instead… Alpha Vander wouldn’t have noticed me. He wouldn’t have picked me for his deranged son.” I looked at Darian again. My heart swelled painfully, and I opened my mouth. “Darian…” He met my eyes, hope flickering there. “What is it, Mara?” I hesitated. I wanted to say it. Gods, I wanted to scream it—I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I didn’t. Because now he wasn’t just the boy I trained beside. He was about to become my brother-in-law. And whatever chance there might have been, it had died the moment his father bound my future to Lucian’s. “Nothing,” I said instead. “Nothing but fear.” He pulled me back into his arms without hesitation. I buried my face in his chest and breathed in his scent one last time like it might be enough to last me forever. I didn’t dare ask for more. I didn’t dare reach for what I truly wanted. Not now. Not when I was about to be forced into the hands of someone I despised. Not when Darian had no power to save me. He held me tight, as if letting go would break him, too. Then he kissed the top of my head—soft, lingering—and pulled away. “We’ll still be best friends,” he said gently. “I don’t care what the pack says. You’re still my best friend, Mara. No one’s replacing you.” And there it was. The final nail. Best friend. The words were supposed to be comforting, but they landed like a blade in my chest. His father thought that same friendship was the key to taming Lucian—like I was a tool, a bridge, a sacrificial peace offering. I didn’t want to be Darian’s best friend. I wanted to be his everything. His Luna. His love. His home. But instead, I got Lucian. Unwanted. Unchosen. Trapped. Maybe being feral wouldn’t be so bad. At least then I’d be free. I could run, disappear, let the wilderness swallow me whole. Anything would be better than this slow suffocation. I wanted to leave. I needed to leave. Mara Darian followed me upstairs to my room. For the first time, it felt… wrong. Foreign. Like something had cracked in the familiar walls we’d built around each other. It had always been a little awkward since I started falling for him, but now—now it felt unbearable. I didn’t know what it would be like living in their house. The Nighthorn mansion. Sharing space with Lucian. Walking the same halls as Darian, seeing him every day while wearing the title of someone else’s mate. His brother’s mate. The thought made me feel sick. I didn’t trust my heart not to betray me in some devastating way. “I’ll wait here,” Darian said softly, settling into the chair by my desk while I headed into the bathroom. As soon as the water hit me, the tears came. I sank to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, sobbing so hard my ribs ached. I cried for the life I almost had. For the love I could never confess. For I was being handed like some twisted reward for being too good. And in that cracked, broken place, I thought about running. Disappearing. Going rogue. Letting the world forget I ever existed. But then I remembered what that meant. What it would do to my family. What it would do to me. I dressed in the bathroom, even though modesty had long since evaporated between Darian and me during years of shifting and training together. But things were different now. Everything was different. Even standing in front of him felt like holding a glass that could shatter if either of us moved too fast. “How are you feeling?” he asked when I stepped back into the room. I just nodded, unable to trust my voice. His eyes were still tinged with crimson, like he’d been holding back more tears of his own. “Lucian doesn’t want the union either,” he said suddenly. I looked up, startled. “What?” “That’s how I found out,” he continued. “I overheard him yelling at our father. He was furious. Said he didn’t want you. Didn’t want any of it. And honestly… that’s what scares me the most.” I understood what he meant before he said it. Lucian didn’t want me. Which meant he’d resent me. And with the kind of man he was—violent, spiteful—that resentment wouldn’t just sit quietly in the corner. He’d find a way to punish me for it. “Then why won’t he reject it?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. Darian exhaled slowly, like the weight of it all was dragging him under too. “Because ever since Father chose me as Alpha instead of him, Lucian hasn’t dared to oppose him. I think the shame crushed something inside him. He’s quiet now, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. And…” He hesitated. “Lucian’s in love—with someone else. Has been for a while.” I swallowed hard. That somehow made it worse. I wasn’t just being forced into a bond with a monster—I was a wedge, a weapon used to separate him from someone he actually cared about. A curse he’d wear every day. “This isn’t fair,” I said bitterly. “Not to me. Not to her. Not to anyone.” Darian didn’t argue. “Will I still be your Gamma?” I asked, knowing it was selfish but needing to ask anyway. Because even if I couldn’t be his mate, I still wanted to stand by his side in some way. Any way. “Yes,” he said softly. “Unless you choose to step down, you’ll remain my Gamma.” I shook my head. I couldn’t make that decision yet. Not when everything inside me felt broken and scattered. I just needed time. Space to breathe, to mourn, to accept the weight of what had been forced on me. Darian left quietly, carrying his own sadness like a wound. I watched him go and felt another piece of me fall apart. I stayed in bed the rest of the day. Staring at the ceiling. Crying into my pillow until it was soaked. My parents tried to check on me—brought food, soft words, empty comfort—but I ignored them all. I didn’t want kindness from the people who had let this happen. I didn’t want anyone. If the Alpha had chosen to bind me to Darian, I would have said yes without hesitation. I would have given him everything. But instead, I was being handed over to his brother. Why Lucian? Of all the wolves in this pack, why did fate—or power, or cruelty—choose him? And what the hll was I supposed to do now? Two weeks. Two long, miserable weeks of crying, sulking, and avoiding the world like it had personally betrayed me—because in a way, it had. I refused to go to any gatherings, skipped every function, and barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t Darian. Not that I saw him much. He’d gotten himself into trouble more than once that week, and Alpha Vander had taken it as an excuse to load him up with responsibilities. I missed him. But missing him was a dangerous thing now. Luna Martha Nighthorn came by twice to speak with my parents about the “arrangements.” She was Darian’s mother—not Lucian’s. Lucian’s biological mother had died when he was young. Alpha Vander had bonded with Martha later, and ever since, everyone just assumed she was the mother of both boys. Everyone except Lucian, who never missed a chance to correct them. I didn’t care for the politics of it. I didn’t care about her visit, her soft reassurances, or the way she avoided looking me in the eye. I didn’t care about any of it. I just wanted to disappear. Burn the whole d'amn future and vanish into ash. But I couldn’t. I was sitting on the patio, trying to catch my breath from another heavy day of doing absolutely nothing, when a sleek black car pulled into our driveway. I squinted at the figure stepping out. A young woman—tall, porcelain-skinned, striking brunette. And angry. I stood slowly, assuming she was lost and needed directions. She didn’t waste time. “Are you Mara Thornridge?” she asked, sharp and cold. I nodded, guarded. “You gold-digging b1tch,” she snapped. “What do your parents have on Alpha Vander? Huh?” I blinked, stunned. What? “Do you know how long Lucian and I have been together?” she choked out, her eyes welling up with tears. “We were sweethearts for years. And now I find out you—you’ve been chosen for him? You?” I stood there, frozen, every cell in my body screaming for a break. I had no words. I was still trying to process this marriage from hll myself, and now this? She stepped closer, her voice low and trembling with rage. “How dare you, Mara? I swear, we will make your life a living hll.” And that was it. I snapped. “Watch it,” I growled, the shift stirring beneath my skin. “I don’t give two fks about Lucian. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want this. So maybe aim that rage where it belongs—at him, or at his father, or at the Moon Goddess herself. Not me.” She blinked, caught off guard. “If you’re so mad, tell your beloved boyfriend to grow a spine and say something to his father. Trust me, you’d be doing me a huge favor. Because let’s be honest—Lucian isn’t exactly a prize. He’s an entitled, violent аs hole, and I wouldn’t want to be bound to him if he was the last breathing wolf in existence.” She stepped toward me like she was about to swing. I didn’t even flinch—I welcomed it. Hll, I needed it. I let out a low, warning growl, eyes locked on hers. “You need to f'k- off, now. While I’m still being nice. Because if you don’t, I swear on every ancestor in my bloodline, I will tear you apart. And right now? I wouldn’t even regret it.” Something in my voice must’ve landed. She backed away slowly, fury still burning in her eyes, but something else too—fear. She slid into her car and slammed the door, then peeled out of the driveway without another word. I stood there breathing hard, body trembling with all the rage and frustration I’d buried these past two weeks. Now I had to deal with Lucian’s girlfriend too? I wasn’t even officially mated to him yet, and already the drama was spilling into my yard like blood on the snow. And Lucian—he hadn’t shown up. Hadn’t spoken to me. Hadn’t so much as sent a message. I guessed the feeling was mutual. This was going to be hll. And it hadn’t even started yet. Mara “Mara!” my mother called from downstairs. Since the day they dropped the bomb about the arrangement, I’d barely left my room. What was the point? Everyone probably knew by now. The whole pack, maybe even the entire dam country. Mara Thornridge, gifted to Lucian Nighthorn like a prized lamb to the family wolf. And just like that, the threats had started rolling in—anonymous messages from a number I didn’t need to trace. I knew exactly who it was. Lucian’s little banshee. The same girl who’d parked in my driveway and tried to claw my face off with words she probably rehearsed in front of a mirror. None of her threats got to me. Not one. If she ever followed through on a single one of them, I might actually respect her. But I knew the truth—lashing out at me was easier than facing Lucian or confronting Alpha Vander. I was the easier target. The quiet one. The one who hadn’t asked for any of this. I got out of bed wearing the same old pajamas I’d worn for two days. It was already afternoon. I didn’t care. My hair was a mess, my eyes were swollen from days of crying, but the tears had stopped. I wasn’t sad anymore. Just empty. Numb. And numbness? It was better. Numbness didn’t ask questions or demand hope. Darian and I still talked every night. His voice was soft, his words kind, and I hated every second of it. He meant well. He was trying. But I didn’t want kindness from him. Not anymore. I wanted what I could never have. Every call was another reminder that I'd never be more than his best friend. So no, the support wasn’t helping. Not even a little. I shuffled downstairs, preparing to grab something quick and head back to my quiet cave of self-pity. But I froze at the bottom step. Alpha Vander Nighthorn and Lucian were in my living room. Just sitting there. Like this was normal. Like they belonged. I felt my parents' disappointment immediately. The way they looked at my unwashed hair and oversized sleep shirt said it all. But maybe, just maybe, the Alpha would take one look at me and change his mind. Maybe I looked pathetic enough to kill this deal. I stepped into the room, lifting my chin, even though my body screamed to turn and run. “Good afternoon, Alpha. Mr. Nighthorn,” I said evenly, voice dry but polite. Alpha Vander sat upright on the couch, perfectly composed. For a man in his early fifties, he looked ten years younger. Thick dark hair, sharp brown eyes, a well-groomed beard. He radiated power and vanity, and somehow it worked. No wonder women in the pack still swooned over him. He had that whole silver fox, age-like-wine aesthetic locked down. And Lucian? He looked like sin incarnate. Dark hair, frost-blue eyes that could pierce through bone, and a jawline that might have been carved from stone. His shirt clung to his body like it didn’t want to let go—tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, tracing the edges of muscle sculpted to perfection. He wasn’t bulky, not like some of the other warriors. He was lean, cut, deadly. His skin was sun-kissed and flawless, his stare unreadable and cold. Everything about him screamed danger, power, trouble. Everything about him made my skin crawl. And yet… he was undeniably beautiful. If I hadn’t known what was behind that face, I might have stared. Might have been flattered. But now? All I saw was the cage I was about to be locked inside. And he hadn’t even bothered to look at me yet. I swallowed hard when I saw him. It had been a while since I last saw Lucian Nighthorn in person, and I hated myself for even noticing how he looked. His presence was magnetic—he didn’t just walk into a room, he took it. He looked like something out of legend: all dark edges, piercing frost-blue eyes, and sculpted features that belonged on a statue. But no matter how stunning the exterior, it couldn’t mask the ugliness I knew sat underneath. Looks didn’t make a man worth loving. And I didn’t want this union. But what I wanted didn’t matter. “Mara,” Alpha Vander said, dragging my attention away from his son. I stood upright and gave him the proper Gamma salute. My posture stiff, my insides screaming. “Congratulations on your future position as Gamma. Mooncrest and Darian are blessed to have you in the ranks.” “Thank you, Alpha,” I replied, my voice steady. “Lucian,” he said, turning to his son, “get to know your mate. Take a walk while I speak with the Thornridges about the event.” Lucian didn’t respond. He just stood and walked outside, offering no glance, no gesture, no courtesy. The kind of silence that dared you to follow—and warned you not to speak. I didn’t want to go with him. He hadn’t asked. But I wasn’t foolish enough to disobey an Alpha’s command. I followed him out. He was sitting on the patio, staring down the street like the world bored him. I didn’t sit. “Don’t get any ideas, little girl,” he said finally, his voice deep, sharp, arrogant. “This arrangement is a joke. An insult. I’ll never love you. You’ll never be my true mate. Let’s get that straight before the wedding so you don’t embarrass yourself hoping for more.” I cleared my throat, keeping my voice even. “Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I’m not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I’d have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue. I expect nothing from you. And I will give you nothing in return.” He finally turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. “You really have no pride, do you?” he said. “You think this is some noble sacrifice? My father’s paying your family a fortune for this. You and your parents—just more middle-class shovel-holders, ready to dig for gold.” I inhaled sharply. My hand twitched. Don’t hit him, I told myself. Not yet. His smirk widened. “Feisty,” he said. “I like that. Quick-tempered too. I’m honestly surprised you made it as Gamma. What did you do? Sleep your way there? Must’ve been quite the climb—though Darian doesn’t fancy you, so maybe you figured you’d settle for the older brother. At least then you get the name, the money, the power. That’s what this is about, right? Being a Nighthorn?” He waited for me to crumble. I didn’t. Instead, I leaned in, voice low and laced with venom. “At least I earned my place in this pack. I’m Gamma because I bled for it, not because I was born into a name. You? You’ll always be the brother of the Alpha. Nothing more.” That hit him. His jaw tightened. His hand lifted halfway, shaking—just a breath away from slapping me. His eyes burned, not with fury alone, but with something deeper. Shame. Insecurity. I flinched, but only slightly. Mara Lucian was stronger than Darian. That much was clear. Where Darian led with loyalty, Lucian ruled with intimidation. His presence filled the air like a storm. And for a moment, just a moment, I felt what it would be like to be tied to this man. Not protected. Not cherished. Owned. Lucian dropped his hand, clenched it into a fist instead. Good. I’d struck the nerve I wanted. And I wouldn’t stop there. “We are not equals,” Lucian said coldly, his voice like ice cracking beneath pressure. “You better watch your mouth, Thornridge, or this arrangement will turn ugly real fast.” He dropped back onto the bench like he owned the space, like even sitting was a statement of dominance. I stayed standing, watching him from above, refusing to shrink. “I came here only to lay down a few ground rules,” he continued. “First, you will never be my mate. So don’t expect affection, don’t ask for loyalty, and don’t even think about what mates are ‘entitled’ to. I already have someone. Someone I actually care about.” I laughed—just once, dry and sharp. “You mean the one who threatened me in my own driveway?” I said. “Tell your little girlfriend that as long as she keeps her claws to herself and stays out of my way, we’ll have no problems. I don’t care what you two do behind closed doors.” He went quiet. I could tell he didn’t like my answer. It wasn’t what he expected. But it was the truth, and I wasn’t here to coddle his ego. “In public, we’ll play the part for my father,” he said, voice dropping lower. “Behind closed doors, we’re strangers. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.” “Fine by me,” I said flatly. “As long as you don’t try to bully me, we won’t have a problem. If your father really did buyme, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you’ll release me.” He chuckled then—low and bitter. “You still don’t get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I’ll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You’ll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently.” Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. I flinched without meaning to, but I didn’t let him see more than that. “What about your girlfriend?” I asked quietly. “She understands,” he replied, surprisingly calm. “I’ll never be Alpha, and I don’t want the job. We’ll find our way around this. She’ll still have my heart. She’ll have my children.” I stared at him, trying to understand how a person could speak of love and cruelty in the same breath. “I guess you’ve got your future mapped out,” I said. “Good for you. But what about me?” He blinked, caught off guard. His tone lost its bite. “What do you mean?” “I mean, you’ve got the girl. The family plan. The political cover. What about my life? My future?” I asked, voice low but unshaking. He looked at me for a long second. Then gave a dismissive shrug. “You’ll figure it out. If you meet someone, fine. Scr'w whoever you want. Just don’t get pregnant and embarrass me. Keep your mess private.” I stared at him, stunned. He wasn’t done. “I’m sure you already have a few boyfriends on the side. Maybe some officials from the academy you spread your legs for—because no woman’s ever made it as Gamma before. So whatever you did to get there, just keep doing it. That’s the only way you’ll hold onto that title. If someone stronger comes along, you’re out.” I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t need to. Let him think what he wanted. Let him imagine a version of me that matched his twisted assumptions. I wasn’t going to defend my body, my choices, or my worth to him. But inside, something cracked. I’d waited. Saved myself. Dreamed of Darian—not for lvst, but for love. And now I was bound to a man who assumed the worst of me. Who would use me as a shield, a pawn, and nothing more. And yet I didn’t cry. Not anymore. The tears were done. Now, there was only fire. “Well,” Lucian said, brushing imaginary dust from his pants like the conversation was just business. “Since everything’s ironed out, I guess we won’t have issues living as husband and wife.” I gave him a nod. Flat. Numb. Resigned. “Do we sleep in the same room?” I asked, not because I wanted to—but because I needed to know what kind of Hll I’d be walking into. He shook his head. “Not exactly. My room has a conjoined space. You’ll sleep in the one I’m not using.” A connected room. No door. No barrier. Just a wall, maybe some air, and all the silence in the world between us. “I’ve fixed it up for you,” he added. “Just don’t expect luxury. It’s the poorer wing of the mansion. My father doesn’t dote on me the way he does on Darian.” I almost laughed. The poorer wing? I would’ve gladly slept in a shed if it meant not sharing space with the man who thought I’d slept my way into the Gamma rank. “I don’t care about the room,” I said simply. And I didn’t. What I cared about was distance. Physical, emotional, spiritual. As much as I could carve out for myself in a life I never asked for. We headed back into the house. Alpha Vander stood, looking pleased with himself—like a man who had just orchestrated a perfect deal, unaware—or perhaps entirely aware—of the people he was crushing in the process. “Ah, I see the lovebirds have come to an understanding,” he said with a smug grin. “I suppose I’ll see you both at the wedding.” My father stepped forward to shake his hand. “Thank you, Alpha. We are honoured.” Alpha Vander turned to him with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Aiden, Arya—you’ve raised a strong, beautiful daughter. I originally wanted her for Darian, you know. She’s Luna material, no doubt about it. But in the end, I knew she’d have more impact on Lucian’s life.” Every word scraped against me like sandpaper. “Darian is already gentle,” he went on. “Lucian needs someone like Mara. Someone sweet, with a steady hand. She’ll soften him. She’s perfect.” And that was the moment I felt it—self-loathing. Deep, hot, gnawing. I should’ve seen it sooner. This wasn’t about love or bonds or the Universe’s will. I’d been chosen because I was safe. A tool. A soothing balm they could apply to their most volatile son. I should’ve been reckless. Cold. Difficult. A bad girl. Maybe then I would’ve been considered for Darian. Maybe then, I would’ve stood a chance. But Lucian—he didn’t let his father get away with it. “It’s not about what you want, Father,” he said suddenly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clean through the room. Alpha Vander turned to him slowly, like a man used to obedience. “Don’t lie to them,” Lucian continued. “This wasn’t your idea. This was Martha’s doing. Luna Martha didn’t want Darian choosing Mara. She didn’t want him with a Thornridge—didn’t want him marrying middle-class. She wants a girl with money. Status. This whole thing? It’s her fix. Her solution.” The air in the room turned sharp. Lucian kept going. “You’re not doing this to help me,” he said. “You’re doing it to ruin me—and Mara. All to clear the path for Darian to marry someone Martha approves of. You paid them off. That’s not honor. That’s manipulation.” Then he turned and walked out without another word. And I stood there—stunned. Not because I was angry at what he said. But because it was true. So painfully, clearly true. Luna Martha didn’t want me in her family. I wasn’t polished enough. Rich enough. Enough of anything, really. And Darian… he never even had a chance to fight it. I never had a chance at him. No matter how hard I trained, no matter how loyal I was, no matter how much I loved him quietly from a distance—I never stood a chance. Lucian was many things—cold, cruel, arrogant—but in that moment, I saw something else too: honesty. Brutal, unfiltered honesty. And it told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice. Mara Four days had passed since Lucian and his father came to the house, and I still hadn’t found my way out of the haze. I sat in the garden behind our home, staring at nothing. Not the flowers. Not the trees. Just the empty space ahead of me, like it might hold some kind of answer if I looked long enough. Lucian’s words still echoed in my mind—cold, cruel, and then, strangely, honest. The truth was a blade that hadn’t stopped cutting. It wasn’t about me being Luna material or helping Lucian. It was about Darian. About removing me from the equation so his mother could shape his future without interference. I didn’t even hear him approach. “You’ve lost weight,” Darian said softly, sitting beside me. I didn’t reply. What was there to say? He sighed and stood again, pacing. Frustrated. Restless. I knew he wanted to talk. He always did. But I couldn’t give him what he was looking for—not when I felt like my whole life had been bargained away by people who never even asked me what I wanted. “Why didn’t you tell me Lucian came to see you?” he finally asked. I looked up at him, calm on the surface, hollow underneath. “I didn’t think it was necessary.” He stopped pacing. “We’re friends, Mara. Everything is necessary. Everything matters.” He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders were tense. I could see the guilt in the way he carried himself, but he didn’t understand. Not yet. “Help me, Darian,” I said, my voice cracking. “Please.” He came to a stop in front of me, eyes full of sorrow. “If I were Alpha, I’d cancel this madness. I swear I would.” “But you’re not,” I whispered. Then I looked him in the eyes, and I said the one thing that had been building in my chest like pressure before a storm. “Your mother set this up.” He frowned, his expression hardening. “Lucian said it in front of your father. And your father didn’t deny it. She was afraid that you and I… that we might end up together. She didn’t want her son marrying someone from a middle-class family. So she pushed this union, forced it, to get me out of your orbit.” Darian’s jaw clenched. “That’s not true. She knows we’re just friends. That there’s nothing between us.” His words landed like stones in my chest. “If I wanted to date you, Mara, I would’ve.” That hurt. I expected it, but it still hurt. “She doesn’t see it that way,” I replied. “To her, I’m a threat to your future. So she ruined mine.” I paused, voice low and shaking. “Please talk to her, Darian. She’s destroying two lives out of fear. Lucian has someone he loves. And me?” My voice broke. “She’s condemning me to a loveless, miserable life. All because I was your friend.” I looked down at my hands, trembling now. “I’ll give up the Gamma position. I’ll leave. Just… help me get out of this.” Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and helpless. “I don’t want to marry your brother. Please.” He sat down beside me again, silent for a long moment. His hand found mine, hesitated, then held it gently. “I’ll talk to her,” he said at last, voice low. “I can’t promise anything, Mara. But I’ll try. I’ll beg her if I have to.” I nodded, even though I wasn’t hopeful. At this point, I just needed to know someone tried. That not everyone stood by and watched my future burn. If Darian hadn’t offered, I might’ve buried myself in silent acceptance. Might’ve forced myself to walk into that cold, loveless match. But Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. He was a murderer. An irresponsible drunk. A walking storm I’d be expected to share a life with. The thought of binding myself to him permanently… it made my skin crawl. We sat in silence for a while after that. Just breathing the same air. Just existing in the same space. Eventually, Darian left. And I was alone again. Sitting in a garden, surrounded by life, while mine slowly withered away. Two days passed. Nothing from Darian. No call. No visit. Not even a message. Just silence. I lay on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling like it might offer some kind of escape. It didn’t. All I saw was the countdown—days slipping away until the wedding. Until my funeral. Because that’s what it felt like. The day I married Lucian would be the day I buried the last of myself. I didn’t know if I’d take the Gamma position when the time came. I doubted it. The fire in me—the one that once pushed me to be the best—was nothing but ash now. Resignation tasted bitter, but it was starting to feel like the only thing I had left. There was a knock at my door. I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. I could already smell her—my mother. And the food tray she was balancing in her hands. I didn’t move, didn’t speak, and just like I knew she would, she let herself in. “Mara,” she said gently, placing the tray on the table. “You need to eat something.” I didn’t even look at the food. I looked at her. Cold. Angry. Broken. “How can you and Dad live with yourselves after selling your daughter?” I asked, my voice flat, my expression disgusted. She froze by the table, her eyes lowering, as if even she couldn’t bear to meet mine. “He gave us no choice, Mara,” she whispered. “The money was to ease his conscience.” “And you took it.” My words were a blade. “Spent it, I’m sure. Did it ever occur to you that Lucian might call it off? That Alpha Vander might want his money back?” She turned to face me slowly, her expression tired and tight. “We had no choice,” she repeated. “It was take it… or be cast out. ‘Take it or get out,’ that’s what he said. We were drowning, Mara. The house, the loans—we were about to lose everything.” I blinked, stunned. “So you sold me to pay off your debts? The loans you took for my education?” “No,” she said quickly. “We were ready to let the house go. We planned to move in with my sister. We didn’t expect Alpha Nighthorn to show up. But when he forced the union, when he said it was happening whether we liked it or not... we took the money. We used it to survive.” “And you used me to survive,” I said bitterly. She flinched. I sat up, my eyes sharp now. “What happens if the deal falls apart? If Lucian calls it off and his father wants the money back?” “Why would he?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Because I told Darian,” I said. “I told him what Lucian said. About the truth—how this wasn’t about Lucian needing a wife but about his mother wanting me out of Darian’s life. He promised he’d talk to her. Try to get her to stop this madness.” My mother’s eyes widened, shocked. She hadn’t expected me to do anything. Maybe she thought I’d just quietly crumble. She slowly sat beside me, her body folding like something had broken inside her. Tears slid down her face. “Mara, my darling…” my mother’s voice cracked as she sat beside me. “I didn’t know you would take it this hard.” I didn’t answer. She reached for my hand, but I didn’t move. My eyes stayed locked on the ceiling, dry now, but only because I had nothing left in me. “I’m hurting too,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I need you to be strong. You’re tougher than this.” I didn’t look at her. “Darian and Rowan left yesterday,” she added carefully. “They won’t be back until it’s time for him to take over the pack.” The words sank in slowly, like poison soaking through my veins. They went on the trip. Without me. Without a word. Darian—the one person I still believed would try to help me—was gone. He didn’t even call. Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t tell me that he had failed or that he’d tried at all. The silence in my chest cracked. My heart broke without sound. “I know what you’re thinking,” my mother said, almost defensively. “It was Luna Martha. She forced the trip.” I turned to her now, eyes stinging again. “She forced him?” I asked, though I already believed it. “Yes,” she nodded. “Jason—Darian’s butler—he came by for a check-up. He told me Darian had a terrible argument with Martha. About Lucian. About you. About how unfair this is. And when she couldn’t control the conversation, she controlled him. She made him leave. Told him it was to ‘gain experience.’ Said he’d return a better Alpha.” My lip trembled, but I didn’t speak. It was my fault. I asked him to intervene. I pulled him into this. And now he was gone. Banished under the guise of training. And nothing had changed. Lucian was still my future. And Darian… Darian had become part of the past. I sat in silence as the tears returned—slow, steady, quiet. “I’m sorry, baby,” my mother whispered. “But please… eat something. Don’t let this kill you. You’re one of the strongest wolves this pack has ever seen. A woman winning Gamma? That’s not luck. That’s grit. That’s fire. You will find a way to cope.” I didn’t believe her. Not even a little. She pulled me close, kissed my forehead, then left the room without waiting for a response. I stared at the food. The smell turned my stomach. Fear had coiled itself so tightly around my gut I could barely breathe, let alone eat. I picked at the plate. Flushed it all down the toilet. Washed the dishes in silence. I wanted to fade out of existence. But I couldn’t. I was still here. Trapped in a body with no escape, in a life that no longer felt like mine. They hadn’t even set a date yet. That should’ve been a good thing—more time, more room to plan, to hope—but instead, it made it worse. The anticipation, the waiting. The illusion of freedom. Alpha Vander was “putting things in order,” whatever that meant. Maybe planning some extravagant public affair to mask the fact that the union was a sentence, not a celebration. Forced marriages weren’t supposed to be grand. But this one was. Because it wasn’t about love—it was about control. I climbed back into bed, curled beneath the blanket, and tried to breathe past the panic rising in my throat. Please, I thought. Let time fly. Let it fly fast. Lucian My father was a weak man. Spineless, really. Letting his Luna orchestrate the ruin of two lives just to soothe her own insecurities? That wasn’t leadership—that was cowardice dressed in politics. Where does Martha’s manipulation stop? It was bad enough she turned my father against me—made sure I was never considered fit to be Alpha. But now? She’s bound me to a girl I barely know, all because she couldn't stomach the idea of Darian marrying someone who wasn’t bred from power or money. Mara Thornridge and I? We were just casualties of her fear. Collateral damage in her obsession with keeping Darian’s path clean and elite. When my father dragged me to the Thornridge house, I said what I needed to say. Cold, cruel, calculated—because I needed to understand. Martha told me the Thornridges requested the union, claimed they believed their daughter was too strong not to be Luna. Claimed they wanted her to take her “rightful place.” Said they had agreed to settle for me instead of Darian. All of it? Complete bullsh1t. Everyone knew Mara had a crush on Darian. It wasn’t some secret scandal. Even Darian knew—he just ignored it. Let it stew. Let her orbit him for years. A harmless crush, people said. But what that girl gave up for him wasn’t harmless. She left her original path. Signed up at the academy. Trained harder than anyone expected. Finished second. All for a boy who didn’t have the guts to be honest with her. At first, even I assumed her ambition was calculated—that finishing second was her power play to get chosen as Luna. But after speaking with her, however awkwardly… I realized how wrong I was. She didn’t chase power. She chased purpose. And maybe, quietly, she chased hope. The way she looked at me—guarded, hurt, angry. That wasn’t the gaze of someone who’d schemed her way up. That was someone trying not to drown in something too big for her. And I hated it. I hated how Martha had spun this lie and dragged me into it. I hated how my father let her do it. I hated that Mara—this tough, stubborn, determined girl—was being broken apart by people who claimed to protect the pack. So when we went back inside, I told the truth. I was done playing along. Let the Thornridges hear it all—how this wasn’t about what was best for me or Mara or even Darian. It was about Martha’s ego. About keeping “middle-class blood” away from her precious son. I almost told Mara that Darian had known. That he could’ve stopped this earlier. But I didn’t. Because she already looked like she was barely holding it together. That truth would’ve shattered her. But I blame him too. He knew how she felt. He saw it in her eyes every Dam time she looked at him. And instead of setting her free, he kept her close. He strung her along, let her believe maybe… maybe one day. I heard him brag once—to his friends—that she’d made passes at him. After meeting her, I knew that was a lie. Mara Thornridge doesn’t beg. She’d rather die than admit she’s vulnerable. She would’ve made a great Luna. Not just to Darian—but to the pack. She’s sharp, strong, and smarter than half the men who outranked her. And instead of letting her shine, Martha decided to bury her. Tie her to me. Punish her for something that never even happened. And now they expect her to stand at Darian’s side as Gamma? To give her best while living half-alive? Unbelievable. No one’s asking what this will do to her. No one’s thinking about what she’s being forced to give up just to survive. I didn’t know what to do with Mara. I didn’t want to touch her. I didn’t want to claim her—not because I hated her, but because I respected her. She didn’t ask for this, and I’m not the kind of man who takes what isn’t given freely. I wouldn’t mate with her against her will. I wasn’t like Darian. He wore his charm like armor and left a trail of wreckage behind him—wolves he used, hearts he broke, girls who wound up pregnant and scared. And every time, Father and Martha cleaned it up quietly, buried the mess, and painted him as the perfect heir. Looking back now, I saw it all more clearly than I ever had. Darian—the golden boy, the spoiled prince. Martha’s precious son, her ticket to power, the puppet she dressed up as a leader. And then there was me. An accident at the wrong time, the wrong place, gave her everything she needed to destroy me. The biker didn’t die because of me—not really. My brakes failed. There was silver in the wreckage, and to this day, I still don’t know how it got there. The biker would’ve survived without it. But no one listened. No one cared. My father didn’t even pretend to investigate. He just... wrote me off. They said I was drunk, been partying all. Night but that was a lie, yet no one cared. Martha escalated the fallout like she’d been waiting for it. And Darian? He got a free pass. Over and over. “They wanted him,” my father would say. “He didn’t stand a chance. Every girl wants the Luna title. It’s not the same.” It wasn’t the same because Darian was untouchable. I’d only ever loved one girl. Tina Livingston. I’d been loyal, careful, focused. But now, thanks to Martha, I had to break her heart. Just another name sacrificed on the altar of Darian’s future. Martha had destroyed three lives. Maybe four, if Mara had someone before all of this—someone she never got to choose. And yet, I couldn’t even bring myself to hate her. Not fully. She was protecting her son. Ruthless, yes—but my real anger was reserved for the man who allowed her to do it all. My father. The Alpha. The coward. If my mother had lived… maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe she would’ve fought for me. For balance. For justice. But she was gone. And in her absence, Martha filled the void with poison and control. Now here we were. A forced union. A fake marriage. A girl who didn’t want me, and a pack that would celebrate it anyway like it was some kind of alliance—when in truth, it was just another silent war. I moved my things into the smaller of the conjoined rooms and fixed up the larger one for Mara. I wanted her to be comfortable. Or at the very least, able to cope. She wasn’t what I’d accused her of—she wasn’t a gold digger or a social climber. I said those things to provoke, to test, to understand. But now I knew better. She was nineteen. A kid, really. Brave as hll, smart, and stubborn. And stuck. Her parents weren’t to blame either. They had no power, no rank, no options. The offer from my father wasn’t an opportunity—it was a threat in disguise. Because being cast out wasn’t just exile. It was death by slow erasure. When a wolf is stripped of their pack mark, it fades over time. And once it’s gone, they lose their human form. They go feral. Wild. Forgotten. That’s what happens to rogues. There’s no mercy in that system, no redemption. A wolf only belongs to one pack in their lifetime. One. And if that bond is broken, there’s no going back. It was a cruel mechanism, a brutal leash disguised as tradition. One the Alpha family had full control over. And my father wielded it without hesitation. Mara was a victim. Just like I was. But unlike me, she didn’t even have the illusion of choice. Lucian I was just adjusting my cufflinks, getting ready for my date with Tina, when Austin, my butler, stepped into the room with his usual composed tone. “Master Lucian, the boutique is here to deliver your bride’s clothes.” My bride. The words felt like gravel in my mouth every time I heard them. I stood and walked into the master bedroom I’d had prepped for Mara. I’d never used it. It was larger, more extravagant, more central—but I’d always preferred the smaller room. Quieter. Less suffocating. But now, someone would finally be living here. Sleeping in a bed under this roof because she had no other choice. “Have them arrange her things in the walk-in closet,” I said. “Move my things to the wardrobe, and put the rest of my stuff in storage. I don’t use most of it anyway.” Austin nodded, ever the quiet professional. “Your father has invited you to a late lunch in the breakfast room,” he added. “It starts in fifteen minutes.” I checked the time, irritated. Great. I had plans with Tina—plans that actually mattered to me—but as usual, Father’s whims trumped everything. If he wanted something, it was dropped on my lap like gospel. No warning, no regard. I left without responding, heading toward the right wing of the mansion—the golden, polished side of the estate where Martha, Darian, and Father lived. Everything there was curated, flashy, fake. Just like them. Martha loved the money. Loved the title. The image. She wore luxury like armor. And yet she had the nerve to call otherwomen gold diggers, while she pretended to play noble Luna. The real digger in this house wore silk and control like a second skin. And Darian? He was a walking performance. The dutiful heir, the golden child. The pack believed in him like he was some messiah. But only those of us who’d seen behind the curtain knew the truth. The girls. The lies. The messes swept under thick rugs of privilege. He got away with everything. And me? I was the one they all whispered about. The drunk. The murderer. The irresponsible son. I stepped into the breakfast room and found them both—Father and her—eating like nothing was wrong in the world. “Have a seat, Lucian,” my father said with a manufactured smile. There was a thick folder on the table. Blank on the outside. I eyed it but said nothing. This was a game, and I already knew I was a piece. “Have you finally accepted the union?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. It was a test. And I already knew what the right answer was. “Yes,” I said smoothly, swallowing down my resentment like it was ash. Martha didn't miss a beat. “Make sure you keep her out of Darian’s hair.” I wanted to speak. Gods, I wanted to snap. But I bit down on the urge. “She’s already out of Darian’s hair,” my father said before I could respond. “She has been, ever since her parents told her about the arrangement.” Martha rolled her eyes, dismissive as always. “So she sent my son to fight me?” she asked, mouth tight. “That was Darian’s choice,” Father said. “Stop trying to pin this on Mara. Did it ever occur to you that maybe—just maybe—Darian genuinely liked the girl and only stayed away because of you?” I nearly laughed. Darian like someone? Please. The only person Darian had ever truly loved was himself. He kept Mara close because she worshipped him. He fed on that loyalty, that quiet hope in her eyes. And when she finally became inconvenient, he let Martha clean it up. But I stayed silent. “Anyway,” my father said, suddenly annoyed, “I didn’t call Lucian here to discuss Darian. You somehow always find a way to bring it back to him.” Martha turned her head away, eyes cold and narrowed. I stared at the file again. And for the first time, I truly realized how deeply buried we all were in this family's lies. We were weapons. Symbols. Bargaining chips. Everything but people. “Take this,” my father said, sliding the thick folder across the table toward me. I didn’t move immediately. “Sign them and keep a copy,” he added. “My signature is already there.” I stared at the folder. “What is it, Father?” He sighed like he was finally ready to put something to rest. “Since you won’t be succeeding me as Alpha,” he said, “it’s only fair I hand the company over to you.” Martha slammed her hand down on the table. “Impossible!” she snapped, venom lacing her voice. My father didn’t flinch. “The deed is done, Martha. I can’t undo it.”
"""I'll never love you. You'll never be my true mate. This arrangement is a joke. An insult."" My husband sneered. ""Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I'm not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I'd have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue."" ""Feisty,"" he said. ""I like that. Quick-tempered too."" ""As long as you don't try to bully me, we won't have a problem. If your father really did buy me, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you'll release me."" I said flatly. He chuckled then—low and bitter. ""You still don't get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I'll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You'll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently."" Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. He told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice." That actually made me smile. It was such a him thing to say. “That’s so cool, Rowan,” I said, wide-eyed. Then, on impulse, the words slipped out before I could second-guess them. “Do you mind if I come?” Rowan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at Darian, almost like he needed permission. And Darian—bless him—gave me that soft smile again. “If you go with him,” he said, “who’s going to be my friend and keep me company here?” I knew the answer. We all did. Tiffany. Tiffany would. But if I said that out loud, it would expose everything—my jealousy, my feelings, my pain. It would ruin whatever fragile friendship we still had. So I said nothing. Just sat there, heart breaking quietly behind steady eyes. Mara “I’m sure you’ve got other friends to keep you company,” I said, keeping my voice calm, eyes steady on Tiffany. “Better—and maybe more interesting—company than I could ever be.” Tiffany caught the meaning instantly and smiled, smug and satisfied. “That’s right, Darian,” she purred, looping her arm through his. “I’m all the company you’ll need.” Then, like it was some kind of private joke, she leaned in and licked his earlobe again. I looked away, jaw tight. She wanted to be Luna so badly it was dripping off her. Most of the girls who threw themselves at Darian did. It wasn’t about him. It was about the title, the power, the image. But not me. Even if Darian wasn’t going to be Alpha, I’d still feel this way about him. That was the difference. “I want to come with you, Rowan,” I said suddenly, turning to him. My voice was clearer than I expected. Firm. I needed distance. Space. A whole dam continent between me and Darian if I was going to get over him. He would never see me. Never choose me. And I had to stop holding out hope like it was some kind of twisted comfort blanket. “This trip... it’ll be good for me,” I added, mostly to myself. Darian smiled, watching me a little too closely. “Maybe I’ll come too.” And just like that, the air left my lungs. No. No, he couldn’t. That would ruin everything. I’d just end up exactly where I was—his loyal shadow, his best buddy, watching Tiffany swallow his attention whole. “You’ll bring me along?” Tiffany asked, all wide eyes and sugar-laced eagerness. I could almost hear the flutter of her lashes. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. If she came too, I’d lose my mind watching her cling to Darian like a barnacle in heat. Her tongue alone would be enough to make me puke somewhere around the border of the first town we hit. “I’ll think about it,” Darian replied, and Tiffany's face fell. She frowned, and then her eyes flicked to me, sharp and accusing, like it was my fault. She wasn’t entirely wrong. But also not right. I didn’t want Darian to come—not because I wanted to hoard him for myself, but because I needed to finally let go of him. We stayed a little longer, had a couple drinks, careful not to go overboard. It was a quiet ending to a loud night. Eventually, we all called it and got ready to leave. “Let’s go hunting tomorrow morning,” Darian said casually as we stepped out into the night. His voice was light, but his eyes were on me. I hesitated. Waiting. Because, of course, I needed to hear what she would say. “I want to come too,” Tiffany piped up, bouncing slightly in her heels like she was volunteering for a game of tag. I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. Darian caught it and laughed. “I guess the three of you will have to go without me,” I said flatly, already turning away. Darian frowned. “Come on, Mara. You and I—we’re a good team.” Oh, how I wished that was true. But in reality? It was just another sweet lie I’d told myself over the years. “You, Rowan, and Tiffany will be a formidable team,” I replied, eyes on the pavement, not bothering to look at her. I could already feel the weight of her glare. I didn’t blame her. If I were her, I wouldn’t like me either. Not when the guy I wanted kept paying attention to someone else. Darian told me to think about it. I wouldn’t. I didn’t need to. I already knew I wasn’t going. When I got home, the house was quiet—everyone asleep. I slipped inside like a ghost and made my way to my room, shutting the door behind me without making a sound. I didn’t want to wake anyone. I didn’t want to talk. All I wanted was to stop loving someone who would never love me back. Morning came too fast. I sat on the edge of my bed, still wrapped in the fog of everything I was trying to forget. The hunt was supposed to be today. Part of me wanted to go—just to breathe outside this house, outside of him. But the thought of Tiffany tagging along made my stomach twist. I already knew she’d spent the night at the Nighthorn mansion. There was no way Darian would leave her behind now. Not after that. I dragged myself downstairs, hungry but not in the mood. I hated shifting when I hadn’t eaten—it made me edgy, short-tempered. I didn’t want to lose it in the woods and end up looking unhinged. What I didn’t expect was to find my parents waiting in the kitchen. They weren’t eating. They weren’t smiling. They were just… there, sitting stiffly at the table with this look in their eyes that made something inside me tighten. My mother, usually bright-eyed and warm, gave me a small, nervous smile. “Morning, Mara. How was your night?” I forced a shrug. “Great,” I lied, trying not to read too much into their mood. She just nodded. My father cleared his throat, and the sound already made my heart beat faster. “Sweetheart, we need to talk to you about something important.” And just like that, my stomach dropped. They didn’t speak in the kitchen. My dad gestured toward the living room, and we all moved, silent as ghosts. I sat on the couch across from them, trying not to let my mind spiral. Then they looked at each other. That kind of look—the silent, mind-link kind of conversation they always had when something was wrong. Something they didn’t want to say out loud. I wasn’t part of it. Not yet. Not until they decided I had to be. “Mara,” my father said slowly, “you know how much we love you, right?” Wrong way to start. My pulse spiked. I swallowed hard. “Yes,” I said, and my voice cracked. He looked down for a moment, then back up at me with tired eyes. “We’ve always wanted the best for you. But… we also have duties to the pack. Responsibilities. And—” “We should’ve told you sooner,” my mother cut in, her voice trembling. “But we wanted you to have your graduation, your moment of celebration, before we… before we said anything.” Her eyes welled up with tears. That’s when I started crying too. Because whatever could make my mother cry like that—whatever they were about to say—it was going to rip something out of me. “Mara,” my father said again, quieter this time, “Alpha Vander Nighthorn has chosen you to be joined with his eldest son, Lucian.” My breath caught. “He’s decided,” he continued, “that since you finished second overall in the academy, top among the female wolves, and since you’re known for your strength, your discipline… that you’re the best choice for Lucian. He believes your character will help shape him into a man fit to stand beside his brother when Darian becomes Alpha. He also believes that your friendship with Darian will help settle the conflict between the brothers and bring unity to the future leadership of this pack.” I was frozen. The words didn’t even register at first. It didn’t feel real. “It’s not a suggestion, Mara,” my father added. “It’s an order. One we had no power to refuse.” That was it. The sound that left my throat wasn’t even human. I screamed. A raw, guttural cry that tore from my chest like something inside me had shattered. Mara “This must be a joke,” I whispered, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. My eyes burned, and the tears wouldn’t stop. My mother shook her head slowly, her face soaked with grief. “It’s not a joke,” she said, broken. I choked on a sob. “Lucian? Lucian?! He’s a monster. A cruel, vicious bаst3rd. He lies, cheats, bullies anyone weaker than him—and he killed someone, an innocent person. And now you want me to what? Play house with the devil?” I knew they didn’t have a choice. I knew it wasn’t really their fault. But I needed someone to blame, and they were standing right in front of me, and I was drowning. “We had no say,” my father said, voice low and defeated. “They said you’re the strongest female of your generation. They believe you’ll match him. Tame him.” “Enough!” I snapped, standing up so fast the room spun. “You can’t tame people, Dad. You don’t ‘fix’ someone like Lucian. He’s not broken. He’s rotten. He was born that way.” My breath came fast, too fast. My chest felt tight like I was suffocating. “I’m supposed to be Darian’s Gamma! That job—our futures—they’re built on trust, on teamwork. How am I supposed to do that while being shackled to a psychopath?” They had no answers. Just silence. My mother’s silent weeping. My father’s helpless stare. “I’m done. I’m leaving. I don’t want the Gamma position. They can keep it—and let them gift someone else to that monster.” I turned, storming toward the stairs. I didn’t know where I’d go, but anywhere was better than here. Anywhere but thislife. “You can’t leave, Mara,” my father called after me, voice desperate. “If you refuse the bond, Alpha Nighthorn will cast us out. We’ll become rogues. Once the mark of Mooncrest fades, we’ll lose everything—our protection, our humanity. You know what happens to rogues. You’ll turn feral. We all will. They rule this entire country, Mara. There’s no where for you to go,” I stopped in my tracks. Feral. Cast out. Doomed. I turned slowly and looked at my mother. Her shoulders were trembling. She couldn’t even look me in the eyes. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?” I said, my voice shaking with fury and despair. “You’re asking me to throw my life away. You’re asking me to bind myself to someone who might kill me in my sleep.” She nodded through her tears. “I’m sorry.” Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. Even Alpha Vander didn’t trust him to lead, which was why Darian had been groomed from day one to take over. Darian, with his calm and strength and sense of duty. Meanwhile, his older brother was out there, spiraling, and now they wanted me to steady him. They wouldn’t have picked me if I wasn’t so perfect—so well-behaved, so disciplined, so obsessed with Darian that I molded myself into the model warrior. Maybe if I’d been reckless, mean, or a bitter b1tch, they wouldn’t have even considered me. But no. I had played the part. And now, this was my reward: unrequited love, a forced marriage, a future I couldn’t escape. I hated my life in that moment. I was about to turn away again when the doorbell rang. We all froze. My mother rose to answer it, and the scent hit me before she opened the door—him. Darian. He stepped inside, and I almost didn’t recognize him. His eyes were red, brimming with tears. His hands trembled. He looked like someone had carved a hole into his chest and left it gaping. “Mara,” he said softly, his voice cracked and hoarse. He opened his arms. He didn’t need to say anything else. I walked into him, into the arms I had longed for more than I ever admitted, and he held me—tight, like he was the one about to fall apart. My parents quietly stepped away, leaving us in the silence of shared pain. And I broke. I cried, and this time, it wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t polite. It was everything I had been holding in—fear, betrayal, grief, hopelessness—all pouring out while he held me. And still, I knew… even this wouldn’t change anything. “I’m sorry, Mara,” Darian whispered against my hair, his voice thick with something heavier than guilt. “I didn’t know they would do this. I didn’t know he would do this.” And I broke again. “I don’t want to be with Lucian,” I cried, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring me. “I hate him, Darian. I can’t do this. Please… help me.” His arms tightened around me like he wanted to, like he wished he could fix it all with the way he held me—but he didn’t answer right away. When he did, it was barely above a whisper. “I’m not Alpha yet, Mara. My key mark isn’t active yet. I don’t have the power to stop this.” And that—that—hurt more than I expected. Not because he admitted he was powerless but because of the way his voice cracked. There was grief in it. Regret. Something deeper than duty. “I thought…” he started, then paused. “I thought we had time. I thought there’d be more time.” I pulled back just enough to look at him. “Time for what?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mara. I didn’t know.” I stared at him, trying to piece together what he meant. Time for what? Was he finally saying what I’d always hoped he felt? But now wasn’t the time. Not with everything crashing around us. The hug faded. Slowly. Reluctantly. We stood there, inches apart, staring into each other’s tear-streaked faces, both too full of words we couldn’t say. “Listen to me,” Darian said, his voice low but firm. “I will always be there for you. I won’t let him hurt you, Mara. I swear it. If you ever feel unsafe, if he crosses a line—call me. I don’t care what I’m doing. I’ll come. I will come. You are not alone in this.” I blinked back another wave of tears. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to thank someone for a promise that shouldn’t have to exist. “I wish I’d never trained to be your Beta,” I muttered, my voice barely a breath. “If I’d just taken medical classes instead… Alpha Vander wouldn’t have noticed me. He wouldn’t have picked me for his deranged son.” I looked at Darian again. My heart swelled painfully, and I opened my mouth. “Darian…” He met my eyes, hope flickering there. “What is it, Mara?” I hesitated. I wanted to say it. Gods, I wanted to scream it—I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I didn’t. Because now he wasn’t just the boy I trained beside. He was about to become my brother-in-law. And whatever chance there might have been, it had died the moment his father bound my future to Lucian’s. “Nothing,” I said instead. “Nothing but fear.” He pulled me back into his arms without hesitation. I buried my face in his chest and breathed in his scent one last time like it might be enough to last me forever. I didn’t dare ask for more. I didn’t dare reach for what I truly wanted. Not now. Not when I was about to be forced into the hands of someone I despised. Not when Darian had no power to save me. He held me tight, as if letting go would break him, too. Then he kissed the top of my head—soft, lingering—and pulled away. “We’ll still be best friends,” he said gently. “I don’t care what the pack says. You’re still my best friend, Mara. No one’s replacing you.” And there it was. The final nail. Best friend. The words were supposed to be comforting, but they landed like a blade in my chest. His father thought that same friendship was the key to taming Lucian—like I was a tool, a bridge, a sacrificial peace offering. I didn’t want to be Darian’s best friend. I wanted to be his everything. His Luna. His love. His home. But instead, I got Lucian. Unwanted. Unchosen. Trapped. Maybe being feral wouldn’t be so bad. At least then I’d be free. I could run, disappear, let the wilderness swallow me whole. Anything would be better than this slow suffocation. I wanted to leave. I needed to leave. Mara Darian followed me upstairs to my room. For the first time, it felt… wrong. Foreign. Like something had cracked in the familiar walls we’d built around each other. It had always been a little awkward since I started falling for him, but now—now it felt unbearable. I didn’t know what it would be like living in their house. The Nighthorn mansion. Sharing space with Lucian. Walking the same halls as Darian, seeing him every day while wearing the title of someone else’s mate. His brother’s mate. The thought made me feel sick. I didn’t trust my heart not to betray me in some devastating way. “I’ll wait here,” Darian said softly, settling into the chair by my desk while I headed into the bathroom. As soon as the water hit me, the tears came. I sank to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, sobbing so hard my ribs ached. I cried for the life I almost had. For the love I could never confess. For I was being handed like some twisted reward for being too good. And in that cracked, broken place, I thought about running. Disappearing. Going rogue. Letting the world forget I ever existed. But then I remembered what that meant. What it would do to my family. What it would do to me. I dressed in the bathroom, even though modesty had long since evaporated between Darian and me during years of shifting and training together. But things were different now. Everything was different. Even standing in front of him felt like holding a glass that could shatter if either of us moved too fast. “How are you feeling?” he asked when I stepped back into the room. I just nodded, unable to trust my voice. His eyes were still tinged with crimson, like he’d been holding back more tears of his own. “Lucian doesn’t want the union either,” he said suddenly. I looked up, startled. “What?” “That’s how I found out,” he continued. “I overheard him yelling at our father. He was furious. Said he didn’t want you. Didn’t want any of it. And honestly… that’s what scares me the most.” I understood what he meant before he said it. Lucian didn’t want me. Which meant he’d resent me. And with the kind of man he was—violent, spiteful—that resentment wouldn’t just sit quietly in the corner. He’d find a way to punish me for it. “Then why won’t he reject it?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. Darian exhaled slowly, like the weight of it all was dragging him under too. “Because ever since Father chose me as Alpha instead of him, Lucian hasn’t dared to oppose him. I think the shame crushed something inside him. He’s quiet now, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. And…” He hesitated. “Lucian’s in love—with someone else. Has been for a while.” I swallowed hard. That somehow made it worse. I wasn’t just being forced into a bond with a monster—I was a wedge, a weapon used to separate him from someone he actually cared about. A curse he’d wear every day. “This isn’t fair,” I said bitterly. “Not to me. Not to her. Not to anyone.” Darian didn’t argue. “Will I still be your Gamma?” I asked, knowing it was selfish but needing to ask anyway. Because even if I couldn’t be his mate, I still wanted to stand by his side in some way. Any way. “Yes,” he said softly. “Unless you choose to step down, you’ll remain my Gamma.” I shook my head. I couldn’t make that decision yet. Not when everything inside me felt broken and scattered. I just needed time. Space to breathe, to mourn, to accept the weight of what had been forced on me. Darian left quietly, carrying his own sadness like a wound. I watched him go and felt another piece of me fall apart. I stayed in bed the rest of the day. Staring at the ceiling. Crying into my pillow until it was soaked. My parents tried to check on me—brought food, soft words, empty comfort—but I ignored them all. I didn’t want kindness from the people who had let this happen. I didn’t want anyone. If the Alpha had chosen to bind me to Darian, I would have said yes without hesitation. I would have given him everything. But instead, I was being handed over to his brother. Why Lucian? Of all the wolves in this pack, why did fate—or power, or cruelty—choose him? And what the hll was I supposed to do now? Two weeks. Two long, miserable weeks of crying, sulking, and avoiding the world like it had personally betrayed me—because in a way, it had. I refused to go to any gatherings, skipped every function, and barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t Darian. Not that I saw him much. He’d gotten himself into trouble more than once that week, and Alpha Vander had taken it as an excuse to load him up with responsibilities. I missed him. But missing him was a dangerous thing now. Luna Martha Nighthorn came by twice to speak with my parents about the “arrangements.” She was Darian’s mother—not Lucian’s. Lucian’s biological mother had died when he was young. Alpha Vander had bonded with Martha later, and ever since, everyone just assumed she was the mother of both boys. Everyone except Lucian, who never missed a chance to correct them. I didn’t care for the politics of it. I didn’t care about her visit, her soft reassurances, or the way she avoided looking me in the eye. I didn’t care about any of it. I just wanted to disappear. Burn the whole d'amn future and vanish into ash. But I couldn’t. I was sitting on the patio, trying to catch my breath from another heavy day of doing absolutely nothing, when a sleek black car pulled into our driveway. I squinted at the figure stepping out. A young woman—tall, porcelain-skinned, striking brunette. And angry. I stood slowly, assuming she was lost and needed directions. She didn’t waste time. “Are you Mara Thornridge?” she asked, sharp and cold. I nodded, guarded. “You gold-digging b1tch,” she snapped. “What do your parents have on Alpha Vander? Huh?” I blinked, stunned. What? “Do you know how long Lucian and I have been together?” she choked out, her eyes welling up with tears. “We were sweethearts for years. And now I find out you—you’ve been chosen for him? You?” I stood there, frozen, every cell in my body screaming for a break. I had no words. I was still trying to process this marriage from hll myself, and now this? She stepped closer, her voice low and trembling with rage. “How dare you, Mara? I swear, we will make your life a living hll.” And that was it. I snapped. “Watch it,” I growled, the shift stirring beneath my skin. “I don’t give two fks about Lucian. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want this. So maybe aim that rage where it belongs—at him, or at his father, or at the Moon Goddess herself. Not me.” She blinked, caught off guard. “If you’re so mad, tell your beloved boyfriend to grow a spine and say something to his father. Trust me, you’d be doing me a huge favor. Because let’s be honest—Lucian isn’t exactly a prize. He’s an entitled, violent аs hole, and I wouldn’t want to be bound to him if he was the last breathing wolf in existence.” She stepped toward me like she was about to swing. I didn’t even flinch—I welcomed it. Hll, I needed it. I let out a low, warning growl, eyes locked on hers. “You need to f'k- off, now. While I’m still being nice. Because if you don’t, I swear on every ancestor in my bloodline, I will tear you apart. And right now? I wouldn’t even regret it.” Something in my voice must’ve landed. She backed away slowly, fury still burning in her eyes, but something else too—fear. She slid into her car and slammed the door, then peeled out of the driveway without another word. I stood there breathing hard, body trembling with all the rage and frustration I’d buried these past two weeks. Now I had to deal with Lucian’s girlfriend too? I wasn’t even officially mated to him yet, and already the drama was spilling into my yard like blood on the snow. And Lucian—he hadn’t shown up. Hadn’t spoken to me. Hadn’t so much as sent a message. I guessed the feeling was mutual. This was going to be hll. And it hadn’t even started yet. Mara “Mara!” my mother called from downstairs. Since the day they dropped the bomb about the arrangement, I’d barely left my room. What was the point? Everyone probably knew by now. The whole pack, maybe even the entire dam country. Mara Thornridge, gifted to Lucian Nighthorn like a prized lamb to the family wolf. And just like that, the threats had started rolling in—anonymous messages from a number I didn’t need to trace. I knew exactly who it was. Lucian’s little banshee. The same girl who’d parked in my driveway and tried to claw my face off with words she probably rehearsed in front of a mirror. None of her threats got to me. Not one. If she ever followed through on a single one of them, I might actually respect her. But I knew the truth—lashing out at me was easier than facing Lucian or confronting Alpha Vander. I was the easier target. The quiet one. The one who hadn’t asked for any of this. I got out of bed wearing the same old pajamas I’d worn for two days. It was already afternoon. I didn’t care. My hair was a mess, my eyes were swollen from days of crying, but the tears had stopped. I wasn’t sad anymore. Just empty. Numb. And numbness? It was better. Numbness didn’t ask questions or demand hope. Darian and I still talked every night. His voice was soft, his words kind, and I hated every second of it. He meant well. He was trying. But I didn’t want kindness from him. Not anymore. I wanted what I could never have. Every call was another reminder that I'd never be more than his best friend. So no, the support wasn’t helping. Not even a little. I shuffled downstairs, preparing to grab something quick and head back to my quiet cave of self-pity. But I froze at the bottom step. Alpha Vander Nighthorn and Lucian were in my living room. Just sitting there. Like this was normal. Like they belonged. I felt my parents' disappointment immediately. The way they looked at my unwashed hair and oversized sleep shirt said it all. But maybe, just maybe, the Alpha would take one look at me and change his mind. Maybe I looked pathetic enough to kill this deal. I stepped into the room, lifting my chin, even though my body screamed to turn and run. “Good afternoon, Alpha. Mr. Nighthorn,” I said evenly, voice dry but polite. Alpha Vander sat upright on the couch, perfectly composed. For a man in his early fifties, he looked ten years younger. Thick dark hair, sharp brown eyes, a well-groomed beard. He radiated power and vanity, and somehow it worked. No wonder women in the pack still swooned over him. He had that whole silver fox, age-like-wine aesthetic locked down. And Lucian? He looked like sin incarnate. Dark hair, frost-blue eyes that could pierce through bone, and a jawline that might have been carved from stone. His shirt clung to his body like it didn’t want to let go—tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, tracing the edges of muscle sculpted to perfection. He wasn’t bulky, not like some of the other warriors. He was lean, cut, deadly. His skin was sun-kissed and flawless, his stare unreadable and cold. Everything about him screamed danger, power, trouble. Everything about him made my skin crawl. And yet… he was undeniably beautiful. If I hadn’t known what was behind that face, I might have stared. Might have been flattered. But now? All I saw was the cage I was about to be locked inside. And he hadn’t even bothered to look at me yet. I swallowed hard when I saw him. It had been a while since I last saw Lucian Nighthorn in person, and I hated myself for even noticing how he looked. His presence was magnetic—he didn’t just walk into a room, he took it. He looked like something out of legend: all dark edges, piercing frost-blue eyes, and sculpted features that belonged on a statue. But no matter how stunning the exterior, it couldn’t mask the ugliness I knew sat underneath. Looks didn’t make a man worth loving. And I didn’t want this union. But what I wanted didn’t matter. “Mara,” Alpha Vander said, dragging my attention away from his son. I stood upright and gave him the proper Gamma salute. My posture stiff, my insides screaming. “Congratulations on your future position as Gamma. Mooncrest and Darian are blessed to have you in the ranks.” “Thank you, Alpha,” I replied, my voice steady. “Lucian,” he said, turning to his son, “get to know your mate. Take a walk while I speak with the Thornridges about the event.” Lucian didn’t respond. He just stood and walked outside, offering no glance, no gesture, no courtesy. The kind of silence that dared you to follow—and warned you not to speak. I didn’t want to go with him. He hadn’t asked. But I wasn’t foolish enough to disobey an Alpha’s command. I followed him out. He was sitting on the patio, staring down the street like the world bored him. I didn’t sit. “Don’t get any ideas, little girl,” he said finally, his voice deep, sharp, arrogant. “This arrangement is a joke. An insult. I’ll never love you. You’ll never be my true mate. Let’s get that straight before the wedding so you don’t embarrass yourself hoping for more.” I cleared my throat, keeping my voice even. “Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I’m not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I’d have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue. I expect nothing from you. And I will give you nothing in return.” He finally turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. “You really have no pride, do you?” he said. “You think this is some noble sacrifice? My father’s paying your family a fortune for this. You and your parents—just more middle-class shovel-holders, ready to dig for gold.” I inhaled sharply. My hand twitched. Don’t hit him, I told myself. Not yet. His smirk widened. “Feisty,” he said. “I like that. Quick-tempered too. I’m honestly surprised you made it as Gamma. What did you do? Sleep your way there? Must’ve been quite the climb—though Darian doesn’t fancy you, so maybe you figured you’d settle for the older brother. At least then you get the name, the money, the power. That’s what this is about, right? Being a Nighthorn?” He waited for me to crumble. I didn’t. Instead, I leaned in, voice low and laced with venom. “At least I earned my place in this pack. I’m Gamma because I bled for it, not because I was born into a name. You? You’ll always be the brother of the Alpha. Nothing more.” That hit him. His jaw tightened. His hand lifted halfway, shaking—just a breath away from slapping me. His eyes burned, not with fury alone, but with something deeper. Shame. Insecurity. I flinched, but only slightly. Mara Lucian was stronger than Darian. That much was clear. Where Darian led with loyalty, Lucian ruled with intimidation. His presence filled the air like a storm. And for a moment, just a moment, I felt what it would be like to be tied to this man. Not protected. Not cherished. Owned. Lucian dropped his hand, clenched it into a fist instead. Good. I’d struck the nerve I wanted. And I wouldn’t stop there. “We are not equals,” Lucian said coldly, his voice like ice cracking beneath pressure. “You better watch your mouth, Thornridge, or this arrangement will turn ugly real fast.” He dropped back onto the bench like he owned the space, like even sitting was a statement of dominance. I stayed standing, watching him from above, refusing to shrink. “I came here only to lay down a few ground rules,” he continued. “First, you will never be my mate. So don’t expect affection, don’t ask for loyalty, and don’t even think about what mates are ‘entitled’ to. I already have someone. Someone I actually care about.” I laughed—just once, dry and sharp. “You mean the one who threatened me in my own driveway?” I said. “Tell your little girlfriend that as long as she keeps her claws to herself and stays out of my way, we’ll have no problems. I don’t care what you two do behind closed doors.” He went quiet. I could tell he didn’t like my answer. It wasn’t what he expected. But it was the truth, and I wasn’t here to coddle his ego. “In public, we’ll play the part for my father,” he said, voice dropping lower. “Behind closed doors, we’re strangers. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.” “Fine by me,” I said flatly. “As long as you don’t try to bully me, we won’t have a problem. If your father really did buyme, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you’ll release me.” He chuckled then—low and bitter. “You still don’t get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I’ll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You’ll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently.” Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. I flinched without meaning to, but I didn’t let him see more than that. “What about your girlfriend?” I asked quietly. “She understands,” he replied, surprisingly calm. “I’ll never be Alpha, and I don’t want the job. We’ll find our way around this. She’ll still have my heart. She’ll have my children.” I stared at him, trying to understand how a person could speak of love and cruelty in the same breath. “I guess you’ve got your future mapped out,” I said. “Good for you. But what about me?” He blinked, caught off guard. His tone lost its bite. “What do you mean?” “I mean, you’ve got the girl. The family plan. The political cover. What about my life? My future?” I asked, voice low but unshaking. He looked at me for a long second. Then gave a dismissive shrug. “You’ll figure it out. If you meet someone, fine. Scr'w whoever you want. Just don’t get pregnant and embarrass me. Keep your mess private.” I stared at him, stunned. He wasn’t done. “I’m sure you already have a few boyfriends on the side. Maybe some officials from the academy you spread your legs for—because no woman’s ever made it as Gamma before. So whatever you did to get there, just keep doing it. That’s the only way you’ll hold onto that title. If someone stronger comes along, you’re out.” I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t need to. Let him think what he wanted. Let him imagine a version of me that matched his twisted assumptions. I wasn’t going to defend my body, my choices, or my worth to him. But inside, something cracked. I’d waited. Saved myself. Dreamed of Darian—not for lvst, but for love. And now I was bound to a man who assumed the worst of me. Who would use me as a shield, a pawn, and nothing more. And yet I didn’t cry. Not anymore. The tears were done. Now, there was only fire. “Well,” Lucian said, brushing imaginary dust from his pants like the conversation was just business. “Since everything’s ironed out, I guess we won’t have issues living as husband and wife.” I gave him a nod. Flat. Numb. Resigned. “Do we sleep in the same room?” I asked, not because I wanted to—but because I needed to know what kind of Hll I’d be walking into. He shook his head. “Not exactly. My room has a conjoined space. You’ll sleep in the one I’m not using.” A connected room. No door. No barrier. Just a wall, maybe some air, and all the silence in the world between us. “I’ve fixed it up for you,” he added. “Just don’t expect luxury. It’s the poorer wing of the mansion. My father doesn’t dote on me the way he does on Darian.” I almost laughed. The poorer wing? I would’ve gladly slept in a shed if it meant not sharing space with the man who thought I’d slept my way into the Gamma rank. “I don’t care about the room,” I said simply. And I didn’t. What I cared about was distance. Physical, emotional, spiritual. As much as I could carve out for myself in a life I never asked for. We headed back into the house. Alpha Vander stood, looking pleased with himself—like a man who had just orchestrated a perfect deal, unaware—or perhaps entirely aware—of the people he was crushing in the process. “Ah, I see the lovebirds have come to an understanding,” he said with a smug grin. “I suppose I’ll see you both at the wedding.” My father stepped forward to shake his hand. “Thank you, Alpha. We are honoured.” Alpha Vander turned to him with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Aiden, Arya—you’ve raised a strong, beautiful daughter. I originally wanted her for Darian, you know. She’s Luna material, no doubt about it. But in the end, I knew she’d have more impact on Lucian’s life.” Every word scraped against me like sandpaper. “Darian is already gentle,” he went on. “Lucian needs someone like Mara. Someone sweet, with a steady hand. She’ll soften him. She’s perfect.” And that was the moment I felt it—self-loathing. Deep, hot, gnawing. I should’ve seen it sooner. This wasn’t about love or bonds or the Universe’s will. I’d been chosen because I was safe. A tool. A soothing balm they could apply to their most volatile son. I should’ve been reckless. Cold. Difficult. A bad girl. Maybe then I would’ve been considered for Darian. Maybe then, I would’ve stood a chance. But Lucian—he didn’t let his father get away with it. “It’s not about what you want, Father,” he said suddenly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clean through the room. Alpha Vander turned to him slowly, like a man used to obedience. “Don’t lie to them,” Lucian continued. “This wasn’t your idea. This was Martha’s doing. Luna Martha didn’t want Darian choosing Mara. She didn’t want him with a Thornridge—didn’t want him marrying middle-class. She wants a girl with money. Status. This whole thing? It’s her fix. Her solution.” The air in the room turned sharp. Lucian kept going. “You’re not doing this to help me,” he said. “You’re doing it to ruin me—and Mara. All to clear the path for Darian to marry someone Martha approves of. You paid them off. That’s not honor. That’s manipulation.” Then he turned and walked out without another word. And I stood there—stunned. Not because I was angry at what he said. But because it was true. So painfully, clearly true. Luna Martha didn’t want me in her family. I wasn’t polished enough. Rich enough. Enough of anything, really. And Darian… he never even had a chance to fight it. I never had a chance at him. No matter how hard I trained, no matter how loyal I was, no matter how much I loved him quietly from a distance—I never stood a chance. Lucian was many things—cold, cruel, arrogant—but in that moment, I saw something else too: honesty. Brutal, unfiltered honesty. And it told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice. Mara Four days had passed since Lucian and his father came to the house, and I still hadn’t found my way out of the haze. I sat in the garden behind our home, staring at nothing. Not the flowers. Not the trees. Just the empty space ahead of me, like it might hold some kind of answer if I looked long enough. Lucian’s words still echoed in my mind—cold, cruel, and then, strangely, honest. The truth was a blade that hadn’t stopped cutting. It wasn’t about me being Luna material or helping Lucian. It was about Darian. About removing me from the equation so his mother could shape his future without interference. I didn’t even hear him approach. “You’ve lost weight,” Darian said softly, sitting beside me. I didn’t reply. What was there to say? He sighed and stood again, pacing. Frustrated. Restless. I knew he wanted to talk. He always did. But I couldn’t give him what he was looking for—not when I felt like my whole life had been bargained away by people who never even asked me what I wanted. “Why didn’t you tell me Lucian came to see you?” he finally asked. I looked up at him, calm on the surface, hollow underneath. “I didn’t think it was necessary.” He stopped pacing. “We’re friends, Mara. Everything is necessary. Everything matters.” He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders were tense. I could see the guilt in the way he carried himself, but he didn’t understand. Not yet. “Help me, Darian,” I said, my voice cracking. “Please.” He came to a stop in front of me, eyes full of sorrow. “If I were Alpha, I’d cancel this madness. I swear I would.” “But you’re not,” I whispered. Then I looked him in the eyes, and I said the one thing that had been building in my chest like pressure before a storm. “Your mother set this up.” He frowned, his expression hardening. “Lucian said it in front of your father. And your father didn’t deny it. She was afraid that you and I… that we might end up together. She didn’t want her son marrying someone from a middle-class family. So she pushed this union, forced it, to get me out of your orbit.” Darian’s jaw clenched. “That’s not true. She knows we’re just friends. That there’s nothing between us.” His words landed like stones in my chest. “If I wanted to date you, Mara, I would’ve.” That hurt. I expected it, but it still hurt. “She doesn’t see it that way,” I replied. “To her, I’m a threat to your future. So she ruined mine.” I paused, voice low and shaking. “Please talk to her, Darian. She’s destroying two lives out of fear. Lucian has someone he loves. And me?” My voice broke. “She’s condemning me to a loveless, miserable life. All because I was your friend.” I looked down at my hands, trembling now. “I’ll give up the Gamma position. I’ll leave. Just… help me get out of this.” Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and helpless. “I don’t want to marry your brother. Please.” He sat down beside me again, silent for a long moment. His hand found mine, hesitated, then held it gently. “I’ll talk to her,” he said at last, voice low. “I can’t promise anything, Mara. But I’ll try. I’ll beg her if I have to.” I nodded, even though I wasn’t hopeful. At this point, I just needed to know someone tried. That not everyone stood by and watched my future burn. If Darian hadn’t offered, I might’ve buried myself in silent acceptance. Might’ve forced myself to walk into that cold, loveless match. But Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. He was a murderer. An irresponsible drunk. A walking storm I’d be expected to share a life with. The thought of binding myself to him permanently… it made my skin crawl. We sat in silence for a while after that. Just breathing the same air. Just existing in the same space. Eventually, Darian left. And I was alone again. Sitting in a garden, surrounded by life, while mine slowly withered away. Two days passed. Nothing from Darian. No call. No visit. Not even a message. Just silence. I lay on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling like it might offer some kind of escape. It didn’t. All I saw was the countdown—days slipping away until the wedding. Until my funeral. Because that’s what it felt like. The day I married Lucian would be the day I buried the last of myself. I didn’t know if I’d take the Gamma position when the time came. I doubted it. The fire in me—the one that once pushed me to be the best—was nothing but ash now. Resignation tasted bitter, but it was starting to feel like the only thing I had left. There was a knock at my door. I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. I could already smell her—my mother. And the food tray she was balancing in her hands. I didn’t move, didn’t speak, and just like I knew she would, she let herself in. “Mara,” she said gently, placing the tray on the table. “You need to eat something.” I didn’t even look at the food. I looked at her. Cold. Angry. Broken. “How can you and Dad live with yourselves after selling your daughter?” I asked, my voice flat, my expression disgusted. She froze by the table, her eyes lowering, as if even she couldn’t bear to meet mine. “He gave us no choice, Mara,” she whispered. “The money was to ease his conscience.” “And you took it.” My words were a blade. “Spent it, I’m sure. Did it ever occur to you that Lucian might call it off? That Alpha Vander might want his money back?” She turned to face me slowly, her expression tired and tight. “We had no choice,” she repeated. “It was take it… or be cast out. ‘Take it or get out,’ that’s what he said. We were drowning, Mara. The house, the loans—we were about to lose everything.” I blinked, stunned. “So you sold me to pay off your debts? The loans you took for my education?” “No,” she said quickly. “We were ready to let the house go. We planned to move in with my sister. We didn’t expect Alpha Nighthorn to show up. But when he forced the union, when he said it was happening whether we liked it or not... we took the money. We used it to survive.” “And you used me to survive,” I said bitterly. She flinched. I sat up, my eyes sharp now. “What happens if the deal falls apart? If Lucian calls it off and his father wants the money back?” “Why would he?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Because I told Darian,” I said. “I told him what Lucian said. About the truth—how this wasn’t about Lucian needing a wife but about his mother wanting me out of Darian’s life. He promised he’d talk to her. Try to get her to stop this madness.” My mother’s eyes widened, shocked. She hadn’t expected me to do anything. Maybe she thought I’d just quietly crumble. She slowly sat beside me, her body folding like something had broken inside her. Tears slid down her face. “Mara, my darling…” my mother’s voice cracked as she sat beside me. “I didn’t know you would take it this hard.” I didn’t answer. She reached for my hand, but I didn’t move. My eyes stayed locked on the ceiling, dry now, but only because I had nothing left in me. “I’m hurting too,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I need you to be strong. You’re tougher than this.” I didn’t look at her. “Darian and Rowan left yesterday,” she added carefully. “They won’t be back until it’s time for him to take over the pack.” The words sank in slowly, like poison soaking through my veins. They went on the trip. Without me. Without a word. Darian—the one person I still believed would try to help me—was gone. He didn’t even call. Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t tell me that he had failed or that he’d tried at all. The silence in my chest cracked. My heart broke without sound. “I know what you’re thinking,” my mother said, almost defensively. “It was Luna Martha. She forced the trip.” I turned to her now, eyes stinging again. “She forced him?” I asked, though I already believed it. “Yes,” she nodded. “Jason—Darian’s butler—he came by for a check-up. He told me Darian had a terrible argument with Martha. About Lucian. About you. About how unfair this is. And when she couldn’t control the conversation, she controlled him. She made him leave. Told him it was to ‘gain experience.’ Said he’d return a better Alpha.” My lip trembled, but I didn’t speak. It was my fault. I asked him to intervene. I pulled him into this. And now he was gone. Banished under the guise of training. And nothing had changed. Lucian was still my future. And Darian… Darian had become part of the past. I sat in silence as the tears returned—slow, steady, quiet. “I’m sorry, baby,” my mother whispered. “But please… eat something. Don’t let this kill you. You’re one of the strongest wolves this pack has ever seen. A woman winning Gamma? That’s not luck. That’s grit. That’s fire. You will find a way to cope.” I didn’t believe her. Not even a little. She pulled me close, kissed my forehead, then left the room without waiting for a response. I stared at the food. The smell turned my stomach. Fear had coiled itself so tightly around my gut I could barely breathe, let alone eat. I picked at the plate. Flushed it all down the toilet. Washed the dishes in silence. I wanted to fade out of existence. But I couldn’t. I was still here. Trapped in a body with no escape, in a life that no longer felt like mine. They hadn’t even set a date yet. That should’ve been a good thing—more time, more room to plan, to hope—but instead, it made it worse. The anticipation, the waiting. The illusion of freedom. Alpha Vander was “putting things in order,” whatever that meant. Maybe planning some extravagant public affair to mask the fact that the union was a sentence, not a celebration. Forced marriages weren’t supposed to be grand. But this one was. Because it wasn’t about love—it was about control. I climbed back into bed, curled beneath the blanket, and tried to breathe past the panic rising in my throat. Please, I thought. Let time fly. Let it fly fast. Lucian My father was a weak man. Spineless, really. Letting his Luna orchestrate the ruin of two lives just to soothe her own insecurities? That wasn’t leadership—that was cowardice dressed in politics. Where does Martha’s manipulation stop? It was bad enough she turned my father against me—made sure I was never considered fit to be Alpha. But now? She’s bound me to a girl I barely know, all because she couldn't stomach the idea of Darian marrying someone who wasn’t bred from power or money. Mara Thornridge and I? We were just casualties of her fear. Collateral damage in her obsession with keeping Darian’s path clean and elite. When my father dragged me to the Thornridge house, I said what I needed to say. Cold, cruel, calculated—because I needed to understand. Martha told me the Thornridges requested the union, claimed they believed their daughter was too strong not to be Luna. Claimed they wanted her to take her “rightful place.” Said they had agreed to settle for me instead of Darian. All of it? Complete bullsh1t. Everyone knew Mara had a crush on Darian. It wasn’t some secret scandal. Even Darian knew—he just ignored it. Let it stew. Let her orbit him for years. A harmless crush, people said. But what that girl gave up for him wasn’t harmless. She left her original path. Signed up at the academy. Trained harder than anyone expected. Finished second. All for a boy who didn’t have the guts to be honest with her. At first, even I assumed her ambition was calculated—that finishing second was her power play to get chosen as Luna. But after speaking with her, however awkwardly… I realized how wrong I was. She didn’t chase power. She chased purpose. And maybe, quietly, she chased hope. The way she looked at me—guarded, hurt, angry. That wasn’t the gaze of someone who’d schemed her way up. That was someone trying not to drown in something too big for her. And I hated it. I hated how Martha had spun this lie and dragged me into it. I hated how my father let her do it. I hated that Mara—this tough, stubborn, determined girl—was being broken apart by people who claimed to protect the pack. So when we went back inside, I told the truth. I was done playing along. Let the Thornridges hear it all—how this wasn’t about what was best for me or Mara or even Darian. It was about Martha’s ego. About keeping “middle-class blood” away from her precious son. I almost told Mara that Darian had known. That he could’ve stopped this earlier. But I didn’t. Because she already looked like she was barely holding it together. That truth would’ve shattered her. But I blame him too. He knew how she felt. He saw it in her eyes every Dam time she looked at him. And instead of setting her free, he kept her close. He strung her along, let her believe maybe… maybe one day. I heard him brag once—to his friends—that she’d made passes at him. After meeting her, I knew that was a lie. Mara Thornridge doesn’t beg. She’d rather die than admit she’s vulnerable. She would’ve made a great Luna. Not just to Darian—but to the pack. She’s sharp, strong, and smarter than half the men who outranked her. And instead of letting her shine, Martha decided to bury her. Tie her to me. Punish her for something that never even happened. And now they expect her to stand at Darian’s side as Gamma? To give her best while living half-alive? Unbelievable. No one’s asking what this will do to her. No one’s thinking about what she’s being forced to give up just to survive. I didn’t know what to do with Mara. I didn’t want to touch her. I didn’t want to claim her—not because I hated her, but because I respected her. She didn’t ask for this, and I’m not the kind of man who takes what isn’t given freely. I wouldn’t mate with her against her will. I wasn’t like Darian. He wore his charm like armor and left a trail of wreckage behind him—wolves he used, hearts he broke, girls who wound up pregnant and scared. And every time, Father and Martha cleaned it up quietly, buried the mess, and painted him as the perfect heir. Looking back now, I saw it all more clearly than I ever had. Darian—the golden boy, the spoiled prince. Martha’s precious son, her ticket to power, the puppet she dressed up as a leader. And then there was me. An accident at the wrong time, the wrong place, gave her everything she needed to destroy me. The biker didn’t die because of me—not really. My brakes failed. There was silver in the wreckage, and to this day, I still don’t know how it got there. The biker would’ve survived without it. But no one listened. No one cared. My father didn’t even pretend to investigate. He just... wrote me off. They said I was drunk, been partying all. Night but that was a lie, yet no one cared. Martha escalated the fallout like she’d been waiting for it. And Darian? He got a free pass. Over and over. “They wanted him,” my father would say. “He didn’t stand a chance. Every girl wants the Luna title. It’s not the same.” It wasn’t the same because Darian was untouchable. I’d only ever loved one girl. Tina Livingston. I’d been loyal, careful, focused. But now, thanks to Martha, I had to break her heart. Just another name sacrificed on the altar of Darian’s future. Martha had destroyed three lives. Maybe four, if Mara had someone before all of this—someone she never got to choose. And yet, I couldn’t even bring myself to hate her. Not fully. She was protecting her son. Ruthless, yes—but my real anger was reserved for the man who allowed her to do it all. My father. The Alpha. The coward. If my mother had lived… maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe she would’ve fought for me. For balance. For justice. But she was gone. And in her absence, Martha filled the void with poison and control. Now here we were. A forced union. A fake marriage. A girl who didn’t want me, and a pack that would celebrate it anyway like it was some kind of alliance—when in truth, it was just another silent war. I moved my things into the smaller of the conjoined rooms and fixed up the larger one for Mara. I wanted her to be comfortable. Or at the very least, able to cope. She wasn’t what I’d accused her of—she wasn’t a gold digger or a social climber. I said those things to provoke, to test, to understand. But now I knew better. She was nineteen. A kid, really. Brave as hll, smart, and stubborn. And stuck. Her parents weren’t to blame either. They had no power, no rank, no options. The offer from my father wasn’t an opportunity—it was a threat in disguise. Because being cast out wasn’t just exile. It was death by slow erasure. When a wolf is stripped of their pack mark, it fades over time. And once it’s gone, they lose their human form. They go feral. Wild. Forgotten. That’s what happens to rogues. There’s no mercy in that system, no redemption. A wolf only belongs to one pack in their lifetime. One. And if that bond is broken, there’s no going back. It was a cruel mechanism, a brutal leash disguised as tradition. One the Alpha family had full control over. And my father wielded it without hesitation. Mara was a victim. Just like I was. But unlike me, she didn’t even have the illusion of choice. Lucian I was just adjusting my cufflinks, getting ready for my date with Tina, when Austin, my butler, stepped into the room with his usual composed tone. “Master Lucian, the boutique is here to deliver your bride’s clothes.” My bride. The words felt like gravel in my mouth every time I heard them. I stood and walked into the master bedroom I’d had prepped for Mara. I’d never used it. It was larger, more extravagant, more central—but I’d always preferred the smaller room. Quieter. Less suffocating. But now, someone would finally be living here. Sleeping in a bed under this roof because she had no other choice. “Have them arrange her things in the walk-in closet,” I said. “Move my things to the wardrobe, and put the rest of my stuff in storage. I don’t use most of it anyway.” Austin nodded, ever the quiet professional. “Your father has invited you to a late lunch in the breakfast room,” he added. “It starts in fifteen minutes.” I checked the time, irritated. Great. I had plans with Tina—plans that actually mattered to me—but as usual, Father’s whims trumped everything. If he wanted something, it was dropped on my lap like gospel. No warning, no regard. I left without responding, heading toward the right wing of the mansion—the golden, polished side of the estate where Martha, Darian, and Father lived. Everything there was curated, flashy, fake. Just like them. Martha loved the money. Loved the title. The image. She wore luxury like armor. And yet she had the nerve to call otherwomen gold diggers, while she pretended to play noble Luna. The real digger in this house wore silk and control like a second skin. And Darian? He was a walking performance. The dutiful heir, the golden child. The pack believed in him like he was some messiah. But only those of us who’d seen behind the curtain knew the truth. The girls. The lies. The messes swept under thick rugs of privilege. He got away with everything. And me? I was the one they all whispered about. The drunk. The murderer. The irresponsible son. I stepped into the breakfast room and found them both—Father and her—eating like nothing was wrong in the world. “Have a seat, Lucian,” my father said with a manufactured smile. There was a thick folder on the table. Blank on the outside. I eyed it but said nothing. This was a game, and I already knew I was a piece. “Have you finally accepted the union?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. It was a test. And I already knew what the right answer was. “Yes,” I said smoothly, swallowing down my resentment like it was ash. Martha didn't miss a beat. “Make sure you keep her out of Darian’s hair.” I wanted to speak. Gods, I wanted to snap. But I bit down on the urge. “She’s already out of Darian’s hair,” my father said before I could respond. “She has been, ever since her parents told her about the arrangement.” Martha rolled her eyes, dismissive as always. “So she sent my son to fight me?” she asked, mouth tight. “That was Darian’s choice,” Father said. “Stop trying to pin this on Mara. Did it ever occur to you that maybe—just maybe—Darian genuinely liked the girl and only stayed away because of you?” I nearly laughed. Darian like someone? Please. The only person Darian had ever truly loved was himself. He kept Mara close because she worshipped him. He fed on that loyalty, that quiet hope in her eyes. And when she finally became inconvenient, he let Martha clean it up. But I stayed silent. “Anyway,” my father said, suddenly annoyed, “I didn’t call Lucian here to discuss Darian. You somehow always find a way to bring it back to him.” Martha turned her head away, eyes cold and narrowed. I stared at the file again. And for the first time, I truly realized how deeply buried we all were in this family's lies. We were weapons. Symbols. Bargaining chips. Everything but people. “Take this,” my father said, sliding the thick folder across the table toward me. I didn’t move immediately. “Sign them and keep a copy,” he added. “My signature is already there.” I stared at the folder. “What is it, Father?” He sighed like he was finally ready to put something to rest. “Since you won’t be succeeding me as Alpha,” he said, “it’s only fair I hand the company over to you.” Martha slammed her hand down on the table. “Impossible!” she snapped, venom lacing her voice. My father didn’t flinch. “The deed is done, Martha. I can’t undo it.”
"""I'll never love you. You'll never be my true mate. This arrangement is a joke. An insult."" My husband sneered. ""Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I'm not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I'd have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue."" ""Feisty,"" he said. ""I like that. Quick-tempered too."" ""As long as you don't try to bully me, we won't have a problem. If your father really did buy me, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you'll release me."" I said flatly. He chuckled then—low and bitter. ""You still don't get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I'll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You'll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently."" Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. He told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice." That actually made me smile. It was such a him thing to say. “That’s so cool, Rowan,” I said, wide-eyed. Then, on impulse, the words slipped out before I could second-guess them. “Do you mind if I come?” Rowan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at Darian, almost like he needed permission. And Darian—bless him—gave me that soft smile again. “If you go with him,” he said, “who’s going to be my friend and keep me company here?” I knew the answer. We all did. Tiffany. Tiffany would. But if I said that out loud, it would expose everything—my jealousy, my feelings, my pain. It would ruin whatever fragile friendship we still had. So I said nothing. Just sat there, heart breaking quietly behind steady eyes. Mara “I’m sure you’ve got other friends to keep you company,” I said, keeping my voice calm, eyes steady on Tiffany. “Better—and maybe more interesting—company than I could ever be.” Tiffany caught the meaning instantly and smiled, smug and satisfied. “That’s right, Darian,” she purred, looping her arm through his. “I’m all the company you’ll need.” Then, like it was some kind of private joke, she leaned in and licked his earlobe again. I looked away, jaw tight. She wanted to be Luna so badly it was dripping off her. Most of the girls who threw themselves at Darian did. It wasn’t about him. It was about the title, the power, the image. But not me. Even if Darian wasn’t going to be Alpha, I’d still feel this way about him. That was the difference. “I want to come with you, Rowan,” I said suddenly, turning to him. My voice was clearer than I expected. Firm. I needed distance. Space. A whole dam continent between me and Darian if I was going to get over him. He would never see me. Never choose me. And I had to stop holding out hope like it was some kind of twisted comfort blanket. “This trip... it’ll be good for me,” I added, mostly to myself. Darian smiled, watching me a little too closely. “Maybe I’ll come too.” And just like that, the air left my lungs. No. No, he couldn’t. That would ruin everything. I’d just end up exactly where I was—his loyal shadow, his best buddy, watching Tiffany swallow his attention whole. “You’ll bring me along?” Tiffany asked, all wide eyes and sugar-laced eagerness. I could almost hear the flutter of her lashes. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. If she came too, I’d lose my mind watching her cling to Darian like a barnacle in heat. Her tongue alone would be enough to make me puke somewhere around the border of the first town we hit. “I’ll think about it,” Darian replied, and Tiffany's face fell. She frowned, and then her eyes flicked to me, sharp and accusing, like it was my fault. She wasn’t entirely wrong. But also not right. I didn’t want Darian to come—not because I wanted to hoard him for myself, but because I needed to finally let go of him. We stayed a little longer, had a couple drinks, careful not to go overboard. It was a quiet ending to a loud night. Eventually, we all called it and got ready to leave. “Let’s go hunting tomorrow morning,” Darian said casually as we stepped out into the night. His voice was light, but his eyes were on me. I hesitated. Waiting. Because, of course, I needed to hear what she would say. “I want to come too,” Tiffany piped up, bouncing slightly in her heels like she was volunteering for a game of tag. I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. Darian caught it and laughed. “I guess the three of you will have to go without me,” I said flatly, already turning away. Darian frowned. “Come on, Mara. You and I—we’re a good team.” Oh, how I wished that was true. But in reality? It was just another sweet lie I’d told myself over the years. “You, Rowan, and Tiffany will be a formidable team,” I replied, eyes on the pavement, not bothering to look at her. I could already feel the weight of her glare. I didn’t blame her. If I were her, I wouldn’t like me either. Not when the guy I wanted kept paying attention to someone else. Darian told me to think about it. I wouldn’t. I didn’t need to. I already knew I wasn’t going. When I got home, the house was quiet—everyone asleep. I slipped inside like a ghost and made my way to my room, shutting the door behind me without making a sound. I didn’t want to wake anyone. I didn’t want to talk. All I wanted was to stop loving someone who would never love me back. Morning came too fast. I sat on the edge of my bed, still wrapped in the fog of everything I was trying to forget. The hunt was supposed to be today. Part of me wanted to go—just to breathe outside this house, outside of him. But the thought of Tiffany tagging along made my stomach twist. I already knew she’d spent the night at the Nighthorn mansion. There was no way Darian would leave her behind now. Not after that. I dragged myself downstairs, hungry but not in the mood. I hated shifting when I hadn’t eaten—it made me edgy, short-tempered. I didn’t want to lose it in the woods and end up looking unhinged. What I didn’t expect was to find my parents waiting in the kitchen. They weren’t eating. They weren’t smiling. They were just… there, sitting stiffly at the table with this look in their eyes that made something inside me tighten. My mother, usually bright-eyed and warm, gave me a small, nervous smile. “Morning, Mara. How was your night?” I forced a shrug. “Great,” I lied, trying not to read too much into their mood. She just nodded. My father cleared his throat, and the sound already made my heart beat faster. “Sweetheart, we need to talk to you about something important.” And just like that, my stomach dropped. They didn’t speak in the kitchen. My dad gestured toward the living room, and we all moved, silent as ghosts. I sat on the couch across from them, trying not to let my mind spiral. Then they looked at each other. That kind of look—the silent, mind-link kind of conversation they always had when something was wrong. Something they didn’t want to say out loud. I wasn’t part of it. Not yet. Not until they decided I had to be. “Mara,” my father said slowly, “you know how much we love you, right?” Wrong way to start. My pulse spiked. I swallowed hard. “Yes,” I said, and my voice cracked. He looked down for a moment, then back up at me with tired eyes. “We’ve always wanted the best for you. But… we also have duties to the pack. Responsibilities. And—” “We should’ve told you sooner,” my mother cut in, her voice trembling. “But we wanted you to have your graduation, your moment of celebration, before we… before we said anything.” Her eyes welled up with tears. That’s when I started crying too. Because whatever could make my mother cry like that—whatever they were about to say—it was going to rip something out of me. “Mara,” my father said again, quieter this time, “Alpha Vander Nighthorn has chosen you to be joined with his eldest son, Lucian.” My breath caught. “He’s decided,” he continued, “that since you finished second overall in the academy, top among the female wolves, and since you’re known for your strength, your discipline… that you’re the best choice for Lucian. He believes your character will help shape him into a man fit to stand beside his brother when Darian becomes Alpha. He also believes that your friendship with Darian will help settle the conflict between the brothers and bring unity to the future leadership of this pack.” I was frozen. The words didn’t even register at first. It didn’t feel real. “It’s not a suggestion, Mara,” my father added. “It’s an order. One we had no power to refuse.” That was it. The sound that left my throat wasn’t even human. I screamed. A raw, guttural cry that tore from my chest like something inside me had shattered. Mara “This must be a joke,” I whispered, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. My eyes burned, and the tears wouldn’t stop. My mother shook her head slowly, her face soaked with grief. “It’s not a joke,” she said, broken. I choked on a sob. “Lucian? Lucian?! He’s a monster. A cruel, vicious bаst3rd. He lies, cheats, bullies anyone weaker than him—and he killed someone, an innocent person. And now you want me to what? Play house with the devil?” I knew they didn’t have a choice. I knew it wasn’t really their fault. But I needed someone to blame, and they were standing right in front of me, and I was drowning. “We had no say,” my father said, voice low and defeated. “They said you’re the strongest female of your generation. They believe you’ll match him. Tame him.” “Enough!” I snapped, standing up so fast the room spun. “You can’t tame people, Dad. You don’t ‘fix’ someone like Lucian. He’s not broken. He’s rotten. He was born that way.” My breath came fast, too fast. My chest felt tight like I was suffocating. “I’m supposed to be Darian’s Gamma! That job—our futures—they’re built on trust, on teamwork. How am I supposed to do that while being shackled to a psychopath?” They had no answers. Just silence. My mother’s silent weeping. My father’s helpless stare. “I’m done. I’m leaving. I don’t want the Gamma position. They can keep it—and let them gift someone else to that monster.” I turned, storming toward the stairs. I didn’t know where I’d go, but anywhere was better than here. Anywhere but thislife. “You can’t leave, Mara,” my father called after me, voice desperate. “If you refuse the bond, Alpha Nighthorn will cast us out. We’ll become rogues. Once the mark of Mooncrest fades, we’ll lose everything—our protection, our humanity. You know what happens to rogues. You’ll turn feral. We all will. They rule this entire country, Mara. There’s no where for you to go,” I stopped in my tracks. Feral. Cast out. Doomed. I turned slowly and looked at my mother. Her shoulders were trembling. She couldn’t even look me in the eyes. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?” I said, my voice shaking with fury and despair. “You’re asking me to throw my life away. You’re asking me to bind myself to someone who might kill me in my sleep.” She nodded through her tears. “I’m sorry.” Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. Even Alpha Vander didn’t trust him to lead, which was why Darian had been groomed from day one to take over. Darian, with his calm and strength and sense of duty. Meanwhile, his older brother was out there, spiraling, and now they wanted me to steady him. They wouldn’t have picked me if I wasn’t so perfect—so well-behaved, so disciplined, so obsessed with Darian that I molded myself into the model warrior. Maybe if I’d been reckless, mean, or a bitter b1tch, they wouldn’t have even considered me. But no. I had played the part. And now, this was my reward: unrequited love, a forced marriage, a future I couldn’t escape. I hated my life in that moment. I was about to turn away again when the doorbell rang. We all froze. My mother rose to answer it, and the scent hit me before she opened the door—him. Darian. He stepped inside, and I almost didn’t recognize him. His eyes were red, brimming with tears. His hands trembled. He looked like someone had carved a hole into his chest and left it gaping. “Mara,” he said softly, his voice cracked and hoarse. He opened his arms. He didn’t need to say anything else. I walked into him, into the arms I had longed for more than I ever admitted, and he held me—tight, like he was the one about to fall apart. My parents quietly stepped away, leaving us in the silence of shared pain. And I broke. I cried, and this time, it wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t polite. It was everything I had been holding in—fear, betrayal, grief, hopelessness—all pouring out while he held me. And still, I knew… even this wouldn’t change anything. “I’m sorry, Mara,” Darian whispered against my hair, his voice thick with something heavier than guilt. “I didn’t know they would do this. I didn’t know he would do this.” And I broke again. “I don’t want to be with Lucian,” I cried, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring me. “I hate him, Darian. I can’t do this. Please… help me.” His arms tightened around me like he wanted to, like he wished he could fix it all with the way he held me—but he didn’t answer right away. When he did, it was barely above a whisper. “I’m not Alpha yet, Mara. My key mark isn’t active yet. I don’t have the power to stop this.” And that—that—hurt more than I expected. Not because he admitted he was powerless but because of the way his voice cracked. There was grief in it. Regret. Something deeper than duty. “I thought…” he started, then paused. “I thought we had time. I thought there’d be more time.” I pulled back just enough to look at him. “Time for what?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mara. I didn’t know.” I stared at him, trying to piece together what he meant. Time for what? Was he finally saying what I’d always hoped he felt? But now wasn’t the time. Not with everything crashing around us. The hug faded. Slowly. Reluctantly. We stood there, inches apart, staring into each other’s tear-streaked faces, both too full of words we couldn’t say. “Listen to me,” Darian said, his voice low but firm. “I will always be there for you. I won’t let him hurt you, Mara. I swear it. If you ever feel unsafe, if he crosses a line—call me. I don’t care what I’m doing. I’ll come. I will come. You are not alone in this.” I blinked back another wave of tears. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to thank someone for a promise that shouldn’t have to exist. “I wish I’d never trained to be your Beta,” I muttered, my voice barely a breath. “If I’d just taken medical classes instead… Alpha Vander wouldn’t have noticed me. He wouldn’t have picked me for his deranged son.” I looked at Darian again. My heart swelled painfully, and I opened my mouth. “Darian…” He met my eyes, hope flickering there. “What is it, Mara?” I hesitated. I wanted to say it. Gods, I wanted to scream it—I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I didn’t. Because now he wasn’t just the boy I trained beside. He was about to become my brother-in-law. And whatever chance there might have been, it had died the moment his father bound my future to Lucian’s. “Nothing,” I said instead. “Nothing but fear.” He pulled me back into his arms without hesitation. I buried my face in his chest and breathed in his scent one last time like it might be enough to last me forever. I didn’t dare ask for more. I didn’t dare reach for what I truly wanted. Not now. Not when I was about to be forced into the hands of someone I despised. Not when Darian had no power to save me. He held me tight, as if letting go would break him, too. Then he kissed the top of my head—soft, lingering—and pulled away. “We’ll still be best friends,” he said gently. “I don’t care what the pack says. You’re still my best friend, Mara. No one’s replacing you.” And there it was. The final nail. Best friend. The words were supposed to be comforting, but they landed like a blade in my chest. His father thought that same friendship was the key to taming Lucian—like I was a tool, a bridge, a sacrificial peace offering. I didn’t want to be Darian’s best friend. I wanted to be his everything. His Luna. His love. His home. But instead, I got Lucian. Unwanted. Unchosen. Trapped. Maybe being feral wouldn’t be so bad. At least then I’d be free. I could run, disappear, let the wilderness swallow me whole. Anything would be better than this slow suffocation. I wanted to leave. I needed to leave. Mara Darian followed me upstairs to my room. For the first time, it felt… wrong. Foreign. Like something had cracked in the familiar walls we’d built around each other. It had always been a little awkward since I started falling for him, but now—now it felt unbearable. I didn’t know what it would be like living in their house. The Nighthorn mansion. Sharing space with Lucian. Walking the same halls as Darian, seeing him every day while wearing the title of someone else’s mate. His brother’s mate. The thought made me feel sick. I didn’t trust my heart not to betray me in some devastating way. “I’ll wait here,” Darian said softly, settling into the chair by my desk while I headed into the bathroom. As soon as the water hit me, the tears came. I sank to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, sobbing so hard my ribs ached. I cried for the life I almost had. For the love I could never confess. For I was being handed like some twisted reward for being too good. And in that cracked, broken place, I thought about running. Disappearing. Going rogue. Letting the world forget I ever existed. But then I remembered what that meant. What it would do to my family. What it would do to me. I dressed in the bathroom, even though modesty had long since evaporated between Darian and me during years of shifting and training together. But things were different now. Everything was different. Even standing in front of him felt like holding a glass that could shatter if either of us moved too fast. “How are you feeling?” he asked when I stepped back into the room. I just nodded, unable to trust my voice. His eyes were still tinged with crimson, like he’d been holding back more tears of his own. “Lucian doesn’t want the union either,” he said suddenly. I looked up, startled. “What?” “That’s how I found out,” he continued. “I overheard him yelling at our father. He was furious. Said he didn’t want you. Didn’t want any of it. And honestly… that’s what scares me the most.” I understood what he meant before he said it. Lucian didn’t want me. Which meant he’d resent me. And with the kind of man he was—violent, spiteful—that resentment wouldn’t just sit quietly in the corner. He’d find a way to punish me for it. “Then why won’t he reject it?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. Darian exhaled slowly, like the weight of it all was dragging him under too. “Because ever since Father chose me as Alpha instead of him, Lucian hasn’t dared to oppose him. I think the shame crushed something inside him. He’s quiet now, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. And…” He hesitated. “Lucian’s in love—with someone else. Has been for a while.” I swallowed hard. That somehow made it worse. I wasn’t just being forced into a bond with a monster—I was a wedge, a weapon used to separate him from someone he actually cared about. A curse he’d wear every day. “This isn’t fair,” I said bitterly. “Not to me. Not to her. Not to anyone.” Darian didn’t argue. “Will I still be your Gamma?” I asked, knowing it was selfish but needing to ask anyway. Because even if I couldn’t be his mate, I still wanted to stand by his side in some way. Any way. “Yes,” he said softly. “Unless you choose to step down, you’ll remain my Gamma.” I shook my head. I couldn’t make that decision yet. Not when everything inside me felt broken and scattered. I just needed time. Space to breathe, to mourn, to accept the weight of what had been forced on me. Darian left quietly, carrying his own sadness like a wound. I watched him go and felt another piece of me fall apart. I stayed in bed the rest of the day. Staring at the ceiling. Crying into my pillow until it was soaked. My parents tried to check on me—brought food, soft words, empty comfort—but I ignored them all. I didn’t want kindness from the people who had let this happen. I didn’t want anyone. If the Alpha had chosen to bind me to Darian, I would have said yes without hesitation. I would have given him everything. But instead, I was being handed over to his brother. Why Lucian? Of all the wolves in this pack, why did fate—or power, or cruelty—choose him? And what the hll was I supposed to do now? Two weeks. Two long, miserable weeks of crying, sulking, and avoiding the world like it had personally betrayed me—because in a way, it had. I refused to go to any gatherings, skipped every function, and barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t Darian. Not that I saw him much. He’d gotten himself into trouble more than once that week, and Alpha Vander had taken it as an excuse to load him up with responsibilities. I missed him. But missing him was a dangerous thing now. Luna Martha Nighthorn came by twice to speak with my parents about the “arrangements.” She was Darian’s mother—not Lucian’s. Lucian’s biological mother had died when he was young. Alpha Vander had bonded with Martha later, and ever since, everyone just assumed she was the mother of both boys. Everyone except Lucian, who never missed a chance to correct them. I didn’t care for the politics of it. I didn’t care about her visit, her soft reassurances, or the way she avoided looking me in the eye. I didn’t care about any of it. I just wanted to disappear. Burn the whole d'amn future and vanish into ash. But I couldn’t. I was sitting on the patio, trying to catch my breath from another heavy day of doing absolutely nothing, when a sleek black car pulled into our driveway. I squinted at the figure stepping out. A young woman—tall, porcelain-skinned, striking brunette. And angry. I stood slowly, assuming she was lost and needed directions. She didn’t waste time. “Are you Mara Thornridge?” she asked, sharp and cold. I nodded, guarded. “You gold-digging b1tch,” she snapped. “What do your parents have on Alpha Vander? Huh?” I blinked, stunned. What? “Do you know how long Lucian and I have been together?” she choked out, her eyes welling up with tears. “We were sweethearts for years. And now I find out you—you’ve been chosen for him? You?” I stood there, frozen, every cell in my body screaming for a break. I had no words. I was still trying to process this marriage from hll myself, and now this? She stepped closer, her voice low and trembling with rage. “How dare you, Mara? I swear, we will make your life a living hll.” And that was it. I snapped. “Watch it,” I growled, the shift stirring beneath my skin. “I don’t give two fks about Lucian. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want this. So maybe aim that rage where it belongs—at him, or at his father, or at the Moon Goddess herself. Not me.” She blinked, caught off guard. “If you’re so mad, tell your beloved boyfriend to grow a spine and say something to his father. Trust me, you’d be doing me a huge favor. Because let’s be honest—Lucian isn’t exactly a prize. He’s an entitled, violent аs hole, and I wouldn’t want to be bound to him if he was the last breathing wolf in existence.” She stepped toward me like she was about to swing. I didn’t even flinch—I welcomed it. Hll, I needed it. I let out a low, warning growl, eyes locked on hers. “You need to f'k- off, now. While I’m still being nice. Because if you don’t, I swear on every ancestor in my bloodline, I will tear you apart. And right now? I wouldn’t even regret it.” Something in my voice must’ve landed. She backed away slowly, fury still burning in her eyes, but something else too—fear. She slid into her car and slammed the door, then peeled out of the driveway without another word. I stood there breathing hard, body trembling with all the rage and frustration I’d buried these past two weeks. Now I had to deal with Lucian’s girlfriend too? I wasn’t even officially mated to him yet, and already the drama was spilling into my yard like blood on the snow. And Lucian—he hadn’t shown up. Hadn’t spoken to me. Hadn’t so much as sent a message. I guessed the feeling was mutual. This was going to be hll. And it hadn’t even started yet. Mara “Mara!” my mother called from downstairs. Since the day they dropped the bomb about the arrangement, I’d barely left my room. What was the point? Everyone probably knew by now. The whole pack, maybe even the entire dam country. Mara Thornridge, gifted to Lucian Nighthorn like a prized lamb to the family wolf. And just like that, the threats had started rolling in—anonymous messages from a number I didn’t need to trace. I knew exactly who it was. Lucian’s little banshee. The same girl who’d parked in my driveway and tried to claw my face off with words she probably rehearsed in front of a mirror. None of her threats got to me. Not one. If she ever followed through on a single one of them, I might actually respect her. But I knew the truth—lashing out at me was easier than facing Lucian or confronting Alpha Vander. I was the easier target. The quiet one. The one who hadn’t asked for any of this. I got out of bed wearing the same old pajamas I’d worn for two days. It was already afternoon. I didn’t care. My hair was a mess, my eyes were swollen from days of crying, but the tears had stopped. I wasn’t sad anymore. Just empty. Numb. And numbness? It was better. Numbness didn’t ask questions or demand hope. Darian and I still talked every night. His voice was soft, his words kind, and I hated every second of it. He meant well. He was trying. But I didn’t want kindness from him. Not anymore. I wanted what I could never have. Every call was another reminder that I'd never be more than his best friend. So no, the support wasn’t helping. Not even a little. I shuffled downstairs, preparing to grab something quick and head back to my quiet cave of self-pity. But I froze at the bottom step. Alpha Vander Nighthorn and Lucian were in my living room. Just sitting there. Like this was normal. Like they belonged. I felt my parents' disappointment immediately. The way they looked at my unwashed hair and oversized sleep shirt said it all. But maybe, just maybe, the Alpha would take one look at me and change his mind. Maybe I looked pathetic enough to kill this deal. I stepped into the room, lifting my chin, even though my body screamed to turn and run. “Good afternoon, Alpha. Mr. Nighthorn,” I said evenly, voice dry but polite. Alpha Vander sat upright on the couch, perfectly composed. For a man in his early fifties, he looked ten years younger. Thick dark hair, sharp brown eyes, a well-groomed beard. He radiated power and vanity, and somehow it worked. No wonder women in the pack still swooned over him. He had that whole silver fox, age-like-wine aesthetic locked down. And Lucian? He looked like sin incarnate. Dark hair, frost-blue eyes that could pierce through bone, and a jawline that might have been carved from stone. His shirt clung to his body like it didn’t want to let go—tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, tracing the edges of muscle sculpted to perfection. He wasn’t bulky, not like some of the other warriors. He was lean, cut, deadly. His skin was sun-kissed and flawless, his stare unreadable and cold. Everything about him screamed danger, power, trouble. Everything about him made my skin crawl. And yet… he was undeniably beautiful. If I hadn’t known what was behind that face, I might have stared. Might have been flattered. But now? All I saw was the cage I was about to be locked inside. And he hadn’t even bothered to look at me yet. I swallowed hard when I saw him. It had been a while since I last saw Lucian Nighthorn in person, and I hated myself for even noticing how he looked. His presence was magnetic—he didn’t just walk into a room, he took it. He looked like something out of legend: all dark edges, piercing frost-blue eyes, and sculpted features that belonged on a statue. But no matter how stunning the exterior, it couldn’t mask the ugliness I knew sat underneath. Looks didn’t make a man worth loving. And I didn’t want this union. But what I wanted didn’t matter. “Mara,” Alpha Vander said, dragging my attention away from his son. I stood upright and gave him the proper Gamma salute. My posture stiff, my insides screaming. “Congratulations on your future position as Gamma. Mooncrest and Darian are blessed to have you in the ranks.” “Thank you, Alpha,” I replied, my voice steady. “Lucian,” he said, turning to his son, “get to know your mate. Take a walk while I speak with the Thornridges about the event.” Lucian didn’t respond. He just stood and walked outside, offering no glance, no gesture, no courtesy. The kind of silence that dared you to follow—and warned you not to speak. I didn’t want to go with him. He hadn’t asked. But I wasn’t foolish enough to disobey an Alpha’s command. I followed him out. He was sitting on the patio, staring down the street like the world bored him. I didn’t sit. “Don’t get any ideas, little girl,” he said finally, his voice deep, sharp, arrogant. “This arrangement is a joke. An insult. I’ll never love you. You’ll never be my true mate. Let’s get that straight before the wedding so you don’t embarrass yourself hoping for more.” I cleared my throat, keeping my voice even. “Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I’m not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I’d have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue. I expect nothing from you. And I will give you nothing in return.” He finally turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. “You really have no pride, do you?” he said. “You think this is some noble sacrifice? My father’s paying your family a fortune for this. You and your parents—just more middle-class shovel-holders, ready to dig for gold.” I inhaled sharply. My hand twitched. Don’t hit him, I told myself. Not yet. His smirk widened. “Feisty,” he said. “I like that. Quick-tempered too. I’m honestly surprised you made it as Gamma. What did you do? Sleep your way there? Must’ve been quite the climb—though Darian doesn’t fancy you, so maybe you figured you’d settle for the older brother. At least then you get the name, the money, the power. That’s what this is about, right? Being a Nighthorn?” He waited for me to crumble. I didn’t. Instead, I leaned in, voice low and laced with venom. “At least I earned my place in this pack. I’m Gamma because I bled for it, not because I was born into a name. You? You’ll always be the brother of the Alpha. Nothing more.” That hit him. His jaw tightened. His hand lifted halfway, shaking—just a breath away from slapping me. His eyes burned, not with fury alone, but with something deeper. Shame. Insecurity. I flinched, but only slightly. Mara Lucian was stronger than Darian. That much was clear. Where Darian led with loyalty, Lucian ruled with intimidation. His presence filled the air like a storm. And for a moment, just a moment, I felt what it would be like to be tied to this man. Not protected. Not cherished. Owned. Lucian dropped his hand, clenched it into a fist instead. Good. I’d struck the nerve I wanted. And I wouldn’t stop there. “We are not equals,” Lucian said coldly, his voice like ice cracking beneath pressure. “You better watch your mouth, Thornridge, or this arrangement will turn ugly real fast.” He dropped back onto the bench like he owned the space, like even sitting was a statement of dominance. I stayed standing, watching him from above, refusing to shrink. “I came here only to lay down a few ground rules,” he continued. “First, you will never be my mate. So don’t expect affection, don’t ask for loyalty, and don’t even think about what mates are ‘entitled’ to. I already have someone. Someone I actually care about.” I laughed—just once, dry and sharp. “You mean the one who threatened me in my own driveway?” I said. “Tell your little girlfriend that as long as she keeps her claws to herself and stays out of my way, we’ll have no problems. I don’t care what you two do behind closed doors.” He went quiet. I could tell he didn’t like my answer. It wasn’t what he expected. But it was the truth, and I wasn’t here to coddle his ego. “In public, we’ll play the part for my father,” he said, voice dropping lower. “Behind closed doors, we’re strangers. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.” “Fine by me,” I said flatly. “As long as you don’t try to bully me, we won’t have a problem. If your father really did buyme, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you’ll release me.” He chuckled then—low and bitter. “You still don’t get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I’ll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You’ll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently.” Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. I flinched without meaning to, but I didn’t let him see more than that. “What about your girlfriend?” I asked quietly. “She understands,” he replied, surprisingly calm. “I’ll never be Alpha, and I don’t want the job. We’ll find our way around this. She’ll still have my heart. She’ll have my children.” I stared at him, trying to understand how a person could speak of love and cruelty in the same breath. “I guess you’ve got your future mapped out,” I said. “Good for you. But what about me?” He blinked, caught off guard. His tone lost its bite. “What do you mean?” “I mean, you’ve got the girl. The family plan. The political cover. What about my life? My future?” I asked, voice low but unshaking. He looked at me for a long second. Then gave a dismissive shrug. “You’ll figure it out. If you meet someone, fine. Scr'w whoever you want. Just don’t get pregnant and embarrass me. Keep your mess private.” I stared at him, stunned. He wasn’t done. “I’m sure you already have a few boyfriends on the side. Maybe some officials from the academy you spread your legs for—because no woman’s ever made it as Gamma before. So whatever you did to get there, just keep doing it. That’s the only way you’ll hold onto that title. If someone stronger comes along, you’re out.” I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t need to. Let him think what he wanted. Let him imagine a version of me that matched his twisted assumptions. I wasn’t going to defend my body, my choices, or my worth to him. But inside, something cracked. I’d waited. Saved myself. Dreamed of Darian—not for lvst, but for love. And now I was bound to a man who assumed the worst of me. Who would use me as a shield, a pawn, and nothing more. And yet I didn’t cry. Not anymore. The tears were done. Now, there was only fire. “Well,” Lucian said, brushing imaginary dust from his pants like the conversation was just business. “Since everything’s ironed out, I guess we won’t have issues living as husband and wife.” I gave him a nod. Flat. Numb. Resigned. “Do we sleep in the same room?” I asked, not because I wanted to—but because I needed to know what kind of Hll I’d be walking into. He shook his head. “Not exactly. My room has a conjoined space. You’ll sleep in the one I’m not using.” A connected room. No door. No barrier. Just a wall, maybe some air, and all the silence in the world between us. “I’ve fixed it up for you,” he added. “Just don’t expect luxury. It’s the poorer wing of the mansion. My father doesn’t dote on me the way he does on Darian.” I almost laughed. The poorer wing? I would’ve gladly slept in a shed if it meant not sharing space with the man who thought I’d slept my way into the Gamma rank. “I don’t care about the room,” I said simply. And I didn’t. What I cared about was distance. Physical, emotional, spiritual. As much as I could carve out for myself in a life I never asked for. We headed back into the house. Alpha Vander stood, looking pleased with himself—like a man who had just orchestrated a perfect deal, unaware—or perhaps entirely aware—of the people he was crushing in the process. “Ah, I see the lovebirds have come to an understanding,” he said with a smug grin. “I suppose I’ll see you both at the wedding.” My father stepped forward to shake his hand. “Thank you, Alpha. We are honoured.” Alpha Vander turned to him with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Aiden, Arya—you’ve raised a strong, beautiful daughter. I originally wanted her for Darian, you know. She’s Luna material, no doubt about it. But in the end, I knew she’d have more impact on Lucian’s life.” Every word scraped against me like sandpaper. “Darian is already gentle,” he went on. “Lucian needs someone like Mara. Someone sweet, with a steady hand. She’ll soften him. She’s perfect.” And that was the moment I felt it—self-loathing. Deep, hot, gnawing. I should’ve seen it sooner. This wasn’t about love or bonds or the Universe’s will. I’d been chosen because I was safe. A tool. A soothing balm they could apply to their most volatile son. I should’ve been reckless. Cold. Difficult. A bad girl. Maybe then I would’ve been considered for Darian. Maybe then, I would’ve stood a chance. But Lucian—he didn’t let his father get away with it. “It’s not about what you want, Father,” he said suddenly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clean through the room. Alpha Vander turned to him slowly, like a man used to obedience. “Don’t lie to them,” Lucian continued. “This wasn’t your idea. This was Martha’s doing. Luna Martha didn’t want Darian choosing Mara. She didn’t want him with a Thornridge—didn’t want him marrying middle-class. She wants a girl with money. Status. This whole thing? It’s her fix. Her solution.” The air in the room turned sharp. Lucian kept going. “You’re not doing this to help me,” he said. “You’re doing it to ruin me—and Mara. All to clear the path for Darian to marry someone Martha approves of. You paid them off. That’s not honor. That’s manipulation.” Then he turned and walked out without another word. And I stood there—stunned. Not because I was angry at what he said. But because it was true. So painfully, clearly true. Luna Martha didn’t want me in her family. I wasn’t polished enough. Rich enough. Enough of anything, really. And Darian… he never even had a chance to fight it. I never had a chance at him. No matter how hard I trained, no matter how loyal I was, no matter how much I loved him quietly from a distance—I never stood a chance. Lucian was many things—cold, cruel, arrogant—but in that moment, I saw something else too: honesty. Brutal, unfiltered honesty. And it told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice. Mara Four days had passed since Lucian and his father came to the house, and I still hadn’t found my way out of the haze. I sat in the garden behind our home, staring at nothing. Not the flowers. Not the trees. Just the empty space ahead of me, like it might hold some kind of answer if I looked long enough. Lucian’s words still echoed in my mind—cold, cruel, and then, strangely, honest. The truth was a blade that hadn’t stopped cutting. It wasn’t about me being Luna material or helping Lucian. It was about Darian. About removing me from the equation so his mother could shape his future without interference. I didn’t even hear him approach. “You’ve lost weight,” Darian said softly, sitting beside me. I didn’t reply. What was there to say? He sighed and stood again, pacing. Frustrated. Restless. I knew he wanted to talk. He always did. But I couldn’t give him what he was looking for—not when I felt like my whole life had been bargained away by people who never even asked me what I wanted. “Why didn’t you tell me Lucian came to see you?” he finally asked. I looked up at him, calm on the surface, hollow underneath. “I didn’t think it was necessary.” He stopped pacing. “We’re friends, Mara. Everything is necessary. Everything matters.” He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders were tense. I could see the guilt in the way he carried himself, but he didn’t understand. Not yet. “Help me, Darian,” I said, my voice cracking. “Please.” He came to a stop in front of me, eyes full of sorrow. “If I were Alpha, I’d cancel this madness. I swear I would.” “But you’re not,” I whispered. Then I looked him in the eyes, and I said the one thing that had been building in my chest like pressure before a storm. “Your mother set this up.” He frowned, his expression hardening. “Lucian said it in front of your father. And your father didn’t deny it. She was afraid that you and I… that we might end up together. She didn’t want her son marrying someone from a middle-class family. So she pushed this union, forced it, to get me out of your orbit.” Darian’s jaw clenched. “That’s not true. She knows we’re just friends. That there’s nothing between us.” His words landed like stones in my chest. “If I wanted to date you, Mara, I would’ve.” That hurt. I expected it, but it still hurt. “She doesn’t see it that way,” I replied. “To her, I’m a threat to your future. So she ruined mine.” I paused, voice low and shaking. “Please talk to her, Darian. She’s destroying two lives out of fear. Lucian has someone he loves. And me?” My voice broke. “She’s condemning me to a loveless, miserable life. All because I was your friend.” I looked down at my hands, trembling now. “I’ll give up the Gamma position. I’ll leave. Just… help me get out of this.” Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and helpless. “I don’t want to marry your brother. Please.” He sat down beside me again, silent for a long moment. His hand found mine, hesitated, then held it gently. “I’ll talk to her,” he said at last, voice low. “I can’t promise anything, Mara. But I’ll try. I’ll beg her if I have to.” I nodded, even though I wasn’t hopeful. At this point, I just needed to know someone tried. That not everyone stood by and watched my future burn. If Darian hadn’t offered, I might’ve buried myself in silent acceptance. Might’ve forced myself to walk into that cold, loveless match. But Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. He was a murderer. An irresponsible drunk. A walking storm I’d be expected to share a life with. The thought of binding myself to him permanently… it made my skin crawl. We sat in silence for a while after that. Just breathing the same air. Just existing in the same space. Eventually, Darian left. And I was alone again. Sitting in a garden, surrounded by life, while mine slowly withered away. Two days passed. Nothing from Darian. No call. No visit. Not even a message. Just silence. I lay on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling like it might offer some kind of escape. It didn’t. All I saw was the countdown—days slipping away until the wedding. Until my funeral. Because that’s what it felt like. The day I married Lucian would be the day I buried the last of myself. I didn’t know if I’d take the Gamma position when the time came. I doubted it. The fire in me—the one that once pushed me to be the best—was nothing but ash now. Resignation tasted bitter, but it was starting to feel like the only thing I had left. There was a knock at my door. I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. I could already smell her—my mother. And the food tray she was balancing in her hands. I didn’t move, didn’t speak, and just like I knew she would, she let herself in. “Mara,” she said gently, placing the tray on the table. “You need to eat something.” I didn’t even look at the food. I looked at her. Cold. Angry. Broken. “How can you and Dad live with yourselves after selling your daughter?” I asked, my voice flat, my expression disgusted. She froze by the table, her eyes lowering, as if even she couldn’t bear to meet mine. “He gave us no choice, Mara,” she whispered. “The money was to ease his conscience.” “And you took it.” My words were a blade. “Spent it, I’m sure. Did it ever occur to you that Lucian might call it off? That Alpha Vander might want his money back?” She turned to face me slowly, her expression tired and tight. “We had no choice,” she repeated. “It was take it… or be cast out. ‘Take it or get out,’ that’s what he said. We were drowning, Mara. The house, the loans—we were about to lose everything.” I blinked, stunned. “So you sold me to pay off your debts? The loans you took for my education?” “No,” she said quickly. “We were ready to let the house go. We planned to move in with my sister. We didn’t expect Alpha Nighthorn to show up. But when he forced the union, when he said it was happening whether we liked it or not... we took the money. We used it to survive.” “And you used me to survive,” I said bitterly. She flinched. I sat up, my eyes sharp now. “What happens if the deal falls apart? If Lucian calls it off and his father wants the money back?” “Why would he?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Because I told Darian,” I said. “I told him what Lucian said. About the truth—how this wasn’t about Lucian needing a wife but about his mother wanting me out of Darian’s life. He promised he’d talk to her. Try to get her to stop this madness.” My mother’s eyes widened, shocked. She hadn’t expected me to do anything. Maybe she thought I’d just quietly crumble. She slowly sat beside me, her body folding like something had broken inside her. Tears slid down her face. “Mara, my darling…” my mother’s voice cracked as she sat beside me. “I didn’t know you would take it this hard.” I didn’t answer. She reached for my hand, but I didn’t move. My eyes stayed locked on the ceiling, dry now, but only because I had nothing left in me. “I’m hurting too,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I need you to be strong. You’re tougher than this.” I didn’t look at her. “Darian and Rowan left yesterday,” she added carefully. “They won’t be back until it’s time for him to take over the pack.” The words sank in slowly, like poison soaking through my veins. They went on the trip. Without me. Without a word. Darian—the one person I still believed would try to help me—was gone. He didn’t even call. Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t tell me that he had failed or that he’d tried at all. The silence in my chest cracked. My heart broke without sound. “I know what you’re thinking,” my mother said, almost defensively. “It was Luna Martha. She forced the trip.” I turned to her now, eyes stinging again. “She forced him?” I asked, though I already believed it. “Yes,” she nodded. “Jason—Darian’s butler—he came by for a check-up. He told me Darian had a terrible argument with Martha. About Lucian. About you. About how unfair this is. And when she couldn’t control the conversation, she controlled him. She made him leave. Told him it was to ‘gain experience.’ Said he’d return a better Alpha.” My lip trembled, but I didn’t speak. It was my fault. I asked him to intervene. I pulled him into this. And now he was gone. Banished under the guise of training. And nothing had changed. Lucian was still my future. And Darian… Darian had become part of the past. I sat in silence as the tears returned—slow, steady, quiet. “I’m sorry, baby,” my mother whispered. “But please… eat something. Don’t let this kill you. You’re one of the strongest wolves this pack has ever seen. A woman winning Gamma? That’s not luck. That’s grit. That’s fire. You will find a way to cope.” I didn’t believe her. Not even a little. She pulled me close, kissed my forehead, then left the room without waiting for a response. I stared at the food. The smell turned my stomach. Fear had coiled itself so tightly around my gut I could barely breathe, let alone eat. I picked at the plate. Flushed it all down the toilet. Washed the dishes in silence. I wanted to fade out of existence. But I couldn’t. I was still here. Trapped in a body with no escape, in a life that no longer felt like mine. They hadn’t even set a date yet. That should’ve been a good thing—more time, more room to plan, to hope—but instead, it made it worse. The anticipation, the waiting. The illusion of freedom. Alpha Vander was “putting things in order,” whatever that meant. Maybe planning some extravagant public affair to mask the fact that the union was a sentence, not a celebration. Forced marriages weren’t supposed to be grand. But this one was. Because it wasn’t about love—it was about control. I climbed back into bed, curled beneath the blanket, and tried to breathe past the panic rising in my throat. Please, I thought. Let time fly. Let it fly fast. Lucian My father was a weak man. Spineless, really. Letting his Luna orchestrate the ruin of two lives just to soothe her own insecurities? That wasn’t leadership—that was cowardice dressed in politics. Where does Martha’s manipulation stop? It was bad enough she turned my father against me—made sure I was never considered fit to be Alpha. But now? She’s bound me to a girl I barely know, all because she couldn't stomach the idea of Darian marrying someone who wasn’t bred from power or money. Mara Thornridge and I? We were just casualties of her fear. Collateral damage in her obsession with keeping Darian’s path clean and elite. When my father dragged me to the Thornridge house, I said what I needed to say. Cold, cruel, calculated—because I needed to understand. Martha told me the Thornridges requested the union, claimed they believed their daughter was too strong not to be Luna. Claimed they wanted her to take her “rightful place.” Said they had agreed to settle for me instead of Darian. All of it? Complete bullsh1t. Everyone knew Mara had a crush on Darian. It wasn’t some secret scandal. Even Darian knew—he just ignored it. Let it stew. Let her orbit him for years. A harmless crush, people said. But what that girl gave up for him wasn’t harmless. She left her original path. Signed up at the academy. Trained harder than anyone expected. Finished second. All for a boy who didn’t have the guts to be honest with her. At first, even I assumed her ambition was calculated—that finishing second was her power play to get chosen as Luna. But after speaking with her, however awkwardly… I realized how wrong I was. She didn’t chase power. She chased purpose. And maybe, quietly, she chased hope. The way she looked at me—guarded, hurt, angry. That wasn’t the gaze of someone who’d schemed her way up. That was someone trying not to drown in something too big for her. And I hated it. I hated how Martha had spun this lie and dragged me into it. I hated how my father let her do it. I hated that Mara—this tough, stubborn, determined girl—was being broken apart by people who claimed to protect the pack. So when we went back inside, I told the truth. I was done playing along. Let the Thornridges hear it all—how this wasn’t about what was best for me or Mara or even Darian. It was about Martha’s ego. About keeping “middle-class blood” away from her precious son. I almost told Mara that Darian had known. That he could’ve stopped this earlier. But I didn’t. Because she already looked like she was barely holding it together. That truth would’ve shattered her. But I blame him too. He knew how she felt. He saw it in her eyes every Dam time she looked at him. And instead of setting her free, he kept her close. He strung her along, let her believe maybe… maybe one day. I heard him brag once—to his friends—that she’d made passes at him. After meeting her, I knew that was a lie. Mara Thornridge doesn’t beg. She’d rather die than admit she’s vulnerable. She would’ve made a great Luna. Not just to Darian—but to the pack. She’s sharp, strong, and smarter than half the men who outranked her. And instead of letting her shine, Martha decided to bury her. Tie her to me. Punish her for something that never even happened. And now they expect her to stand at Darian’s side as Gamma? To give her best while living half-alive? Unbelievable. No one’s asking what this will do to her. No one’s thinking about what she’s being forced to give up just to survive. I didn’t know what to do with Mara. I didn’t want to touch her. I didn’t want to claim her—not because I hated her, but because I respected her. She didn’t ask for this, and I’m not the kind of man who takes what isn’t given freely. I wouldn’t mate with her against her will. I wasn’t like Darian. He wore his charm like armor and left a trail of wreckage behind him—wolves he used, hearts he broke, girls who wound up pregnant and scared. And every time, Father and Martha cleaned it up quietly, buried the mess, and painted him as the perfect heir. Looking back now, I saw it all more clearly than I ever had. Darian—the golden boy, the spoiled prince. Martha’s precious son, her ticket to power, the puppet she dressed up as a leader. And then there was me. An accident at the wrong time, the wrong place, gave her everything she needed to destroy me. The biker didn’t die because of me—not really. My brakes failed. There was silver in the wreckage, and to this day, I still don’t know how it got there. The biker would’ve survived without it. But no one listened. No one cared. My father didn’t even pretend to investigate. He just... wrote me off. They said I was drunk, been partying all. Night but that was a lie, yet no one cared. Martha escalated the fallout like she’d been waiting for it. And Darian? He got a free pass. Over and over. “They wanted him,” my father would say. “He didn’t stand a chance. Every girl wants the Luna title. It’s not the same.” It wasn’t the same because Darian was untouchable. I’d only ever loved one girl. Tina Livingston. I’d been loyal, careful, focused. But now, thanks to Martha, I had to break her heart. Just another name sacrificed on the altar of Darian’s future. Martha had destroyed three lives. Maybe four, if Mara had someone before all of this—someone she never got to choose. And yet, I couldn’t even bring myself to hate her. Not fully. She was protecting her son. Ruthless, yes—but my real anger was reserved for the man who allowed her to do it all. My father. The Alpha. The coward. If my mother had lived… maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe she would’ve fought for me. For balance. For justice. But she was gone. And in her absence, Martha filled the void with poison and control. Now here we were. A forced union. A fake marriage. A girl who didn’t want me, and a pack that would celebrate it anyway like it was some kind of alliance—when in truth, it was just another silent war. I moved my things into the smaller of the conjoined rooms and fixed up the larger one for Mara. I wanted her to be comfortable. Or at the very least, able to cope. She wasn’t what I’d accused her of—she wasn’t a gold digger or a social climber. I said those things to provoke, to test, to understand. But now I knew better. She was nineteen. A kid, really. Brave as hll, smart, and stubborn. And stuck. Her parents weren’t to blame either. They had no power, no rank, no options. The offer from my father wasn’t an opportunity—it was a threat in disguise. Because being cast out wasn’t just exile. It was death by slow erasure. When a wolf is stripped of their pack mark, it fades over time. And once it’s gone, they lose their human form. They go feral. Wild. Forgotten. That’s what happens to rogues. There’s no mercy in that system, no redemption. A wolf only belongs to one pack in their lifetime. One. And if that bond is broken, there’s no going back. It was a cruel mechanism, a brutal leash disguised as tradition. One the Alpha family had full control over. And my father wielded it without hesitation. Mara was a victim. Just like I was. But unlike me, she didn’t even have the illusion of choice. Lucian I was just adjusting my cufflinks, getting ready for my date with Tina, when Austin, my butler, stepped into the room with his usual composed tone. “Master Lucian, the boutique is here to deliver your bride’s clothes.” My bride. The words felt like gravel in my mouth every time I heard them. I stood and walked into the master bedroom I’d had prepped for Mara. I’d never used it. It was larger, more extravagant, more central—but I’d always preferred the smaller room. Quieter. Less suffocating. But now, someone would finally be living here. Sleeping in a bed under this roof because she had no other choice. “Have them arrange her things in the walk-in closet,” I said. “Move my things to the wardrobe, and put the rest of my stuff in storage. I don’t use most of it anyway.” Austin nodded, ever the quiet professional. “Your father has invited you to a late lunch in the breakfast room,” he added. “It starts in fifteen minutes.” I checked the time, irritated. Great. I had plans with Tina—plans that actually mattered to me—but as usual, Father’s whims trumped everything. If he wanted something, it was dropped on my lap like gospel. No warning, no regard. I left without responding, heading toward the right wing of the mansion—the golden, polished side of the estate where Martha, Darian, and Father lived. Everything there was curated, flashy, fake. Just like them. Martha loved the money. Loved the title. The image. She wore luxury like armor. And yet she had the nerve to call otherwomen gold diggers, while she pretended to play noble Luna. The real digger in this house wore silk and control like a second skin. And Darian? He was a walking performance. The dutiful heir, the golden child. The pack believed in him like he was some messiah. But only those of us who’d seen behind the curtain knew the truth. The girls. The lies. The messes swept under thick rugs of privilege. He got away with everything. And me? I was the one they all whispered about. The drunk. The murderer. The irresponsible son. I stepped into the breakfast room and found them both—Father and her—eating like nothing was wrong in the world. “Have a seat, Lucian,” my father said with a manufactured smile. There was a thick folder on the table. Blank on the outside. I eyed it but said nothing. This was a game, and I already knew I was a piece. “Have you finally accepted the union?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. It was a test. And I already knew what the right answer was. “Yes,” I said smoothly, swallowing down my resentment like it was ash. Martha didn't miss a beat. “Make sure you keep her out of Darian’s hair.” I wanted to speak. Gods, I wanted to snap. But I bit down on the urge. “She’s already out of Darian’s hair,” my father said before I could respond. “She has been, ever since her parents told her about the arrangement.” Martha rolled her eyes, dismissive as always. “So she sent my son to fight me?” she asked, mouth tight. “That was Darian’s choice,” Father said. “Stop trying to pin this on Mara. Did it ever occur to you that maybe—just maybe—Darian genuinely liked the girl and only stayed away because of you?” I nearly laughed. Darian like someone? Please. The only person Darian had ever truly loved was himself. He kept Mara close because she worshipped him. He fed on that loyalty, that quiet hope in her eyes. And when she finally became inconvenient, he let Martha clean it up. But I stayed silent. “Anyway,” my father said, suddenly annoyed, “I didn’t call Lucian here to discuss Darian. You somehow always find a way to bring it back to him.” Martha turned her head away, eyes cold and narrowed. I stared at the file again. And for the first time, I truly realized how deeply buried we all were in this family's lies. We were weapons. Symbols. Bargaining chips. Everything but people. “Take this,” my father said, sliding the thick folder across the table toward me. I didn’t move immediately. “Sign them and keep a copy,” he added. “My signature is already there.” I stared at the folder. “What is it, Father?” He sighed like he was finally ready to put something to rest. “Since you won’t be succeeding me as Alpha,” he said, “it’s only fair I hand the company over to you.” Martha slammed her hand down on the table. “Impossible!” she snapped, venom lacing her voice. My father didn’t flinch. “The deed is done, Martha. I can’t undo it.”
"""I'll never love you. You'll never be my true mate. This arrangement is a joke. An insult."" My husband sneered. ""Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I'm not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I'd have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue."" ""Feisty,"" he said. ""I like that. Quick-tempered too."" ""As long as you don't try to bully me, we won't have a problem. If your father really did buy me, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you'll release me."" I said flatly. He chuckled then—low and bitter. ""You still don't get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I'll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You'll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently."" Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. He told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice." That actually made me smile. It was such a him thing to say. “That’s so cool, Rowan,” I said, wide-eyed. Then, on impulse, the words slipped out before I could second-guess them. “Do you mind if I come?” Rowan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at Darian, almost like he needed permission. And Darian—bless him—gave me that soft smile again. “If you go with him,” he said, “who’s going to be my friend and keep me company here?” I knew the answer. We all did. Tiffany. Tiffany would. But if I said that out loud, it would expose everything—my jealousy, my feelings, my pain. It would ruin whatever fragile friendship we still had. So I said nothing. Just sat there, heart breaking quietly behind steady eyes. Mara “I’m sure you’ve got other friends to keep you company,” I said, keeping my voice calm, eyes steady on Tiffany. “Better—and maybe more interesting—company than I could ever be.” Tiffany caught the meaning instantly and smiled, smug and satisfied. “That’s right, Darian,” she purred, looping her arm through his. “I’m all the company you’ll need.” Then, like it was some kind of private joke, she leaned in and licked his earlobe again. I looked away, jaw tight. She wanted to be Luna so badly it was dripping off her. Most of the girls who threw themselves at Darian did. It wasn’t about him. It was about the title, the power, the image. But not me. Even if Darian wasn’t going to be Alpha, I’d still feel this way about him. That was the difference. “I want to come with you, Rowan,” I said suddenly, turning to him. My voice was clearer than I expected. Firm. I needed distance. Space. A whole dam continent between me and Darian if I was going to get over him. He would never see me. Never choose me. And I had to stop holding out hope like it was some kind of twisted comfort blanket. “This trip... it’ll be good for me,” I added, mostly to myself. Darian smiled, watching me a little too closely. “Maybe I’ll come too.” And just like that, the air left my lungs. No. No, he couldn’t. That would ruin everything. I’d just end up exactly where I was—his loyal shadow, his best buddy, watching Tiffany swallow his attention whole. “You’ll bring me along?” Tiffany asked, all wide eyes and sugar-laced eagerness. I could almost hear the flutter of her lashes. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. If she came too, I’d lose my mind watching her cling to Darian like a barnacle in heat. Her tongue alone would be enough to make me puke somewhere around the border of the first town we hit. “I’ll think about it,” Darian replied, and Tiffany's face fell. She frowned, and then her eyes flicked to me, sharp and accusing, like it was my fault. She wasn’t entirely wrong. But also not right. I didn’t want Darian to come—not because I wanted to hoard him for myself, but because I needed to finally let go of him. We stayed a little longer, had a couple drinks, careful not to go overboard. It was a quiet ending to a loud night. Eventually, we all called it and got ready to leave. “Let’s go hunting tomorrow morning,” Darian said casually as we stepped out into the night. His voice was light, but his eyes were on me. I hesitated. Waiting. Because, of course, I needed to hear what she would say. “I want to come too,” Tiffany piped up, bouncing slightly in her heels like she was volunteering for a game of tag. I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. Darian caught it and laughed. “I guess the three of you will have to go without me,” I said flatly, already turning away. Darian frowned. “Come on, Mara. You and I—we’re a good team.” Oh, how I wished that was true. But in reality? It was just another sweet lie I’d told myself over the years. “You, Rowan, and Tiffany will be a formidable team,” I replied, eyes on the pavement, not bothering to look at her. I could already feel the weight of her glare. I didn’t blame her. If I were her, I wouldn’t like me either. Not when the guy I wanted kept paying attention to someone else. Darian told me to think about it. I wouldn’t. I didn’t need to. I already knew I wasn’t going. When I got home, the house was quiet—everyone asleep. I slipped inside like a ghost and made my way to my room, shutting the door behind me without making a sound. I didn’t want to wake anyone. I didn’t want to talk. All I wanted was to stop loving someone who would never love me back. Morning came too fast. I sat on the edge of my bed, still wrapped in the fog of everything I was trying to forget. The hunt was supposed to be today. Part of me wanted to go—just to breathe outside this house, outside of him. But the thought of Tiffany tagging along made my stomach twist. I already knew she’d spent the night at the Nighthorn mansion. There was no way Darian would leave her behind now. Not after that. I dragged myself downstairs, hungry but not in the mood. I hated shifting when I hadn’t eaten—it made me edgy, short-tempered. I didn’t want to lose it in the woods and end up looking unhinged. What I didn’t expect was to find my parents waiting in the kitchen. They weren’t eating. They weren’t smiling. They were just… there, sitting stiffly at the table with this look in their eyes that made something inside me tighten. My mother, usually bright-eyed and warm, gave me a small, nervous smile. “Morning, Mara. How was your night?” I forced a shrug. “Great,” I lied, trying not to read too much into their mood. She just nodded. My father cleared his throat, and the sound already made my heart beat faster. “Sweetheart, we need to talk to you about something important.” And just like that, my stomach dropped. They didn’t speak in the kitchen. My dad gestured toward the living room, and we all moved, silent as ghosts. I sat on the couch across from them, trying not to let my mind spiral. Then they looked at each other. That kind of look—the silent, mind-link kind of conversation they always had when something was wrong. Something they didn’t want to say out loud. I wasn’t part of it. Not yet. Not until they decided I had to be. “Mara,” my father said slowly, “you know how much we love you, right?” Wrong way to start. My pulse spiked. I swallowed hard. “Yes,” I said, and my voice cracked. He looked down for a moment, then back up at me with tired eyes. “We’ve always wanted the best for you. But… we also have duties to the pack. Responsibilities. And—” “We should’ve told you sooner,” my mother cut in, her voice trembling. “But we wanted you to have your graduation, your moment of celebration, before we… before we said anything.” Her eyes welled up with tears. That’s when I started crying too. Because whatever could make my mother cry like that—whatever they were about to say—it was going to rip something out of me. “Mara,” my father said again, quieter this time, “Alpha Vander Nighthorn has chosen you to be joined with his eldest son, Lucian.” My breath caught. “He’s decided,” he continued, “that since you finished second overall in the academy, top among the female wolves, and since you’re known for your strength, your discipline… that you’re the best choice for Lucian. He believes your character will help shape him into a man fit to stand beside his brother when Darian becomes Alpha. He also believes that your friendship with Darian will help settle the conflict between the brothers and bring unity to the future leadership of this pack.” I was frozen. The words didn’t even register at first. It didn’t feel real. “It’s not a suggestion, Mara,” my father added. “It’s an order. One we had no power to refuse.” That was it. The sound that left my throat wasn’t even human. I screamed. A raw, guttural cry that tore from my chest like something inside me had shattered. Mara “This must be a joke,” I whispered, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. My eyes burned, and the tears wouldn’t stop. My mother shook her head slowly, her face soaked with grief. “It’s not a joke,” she said, broken. I choked on a sob. “Lucian? Lucian?! He’s a monster. A cruel, vicious bаst3rd. He lies, cheats, bullies anyone weaker than him—and he killed someone, an innocent person. And now you want me to what? Play house with the devil?” I knew they didn’t have a choice. I knew it wasn’t really their fault. But I needed someone to blame, and they were standing right in front of me, and I was drowning. “We had no say,” my father said, voice low and defeated. “They said you’re the strongest female of your generation. They believe you’ll match him. Tame him.” “Enough!” I snapped, standing up so fast the room spun. “You can’t tame people, Dad. You don’t ‘fix’ someone like Lucian. He’s not broken. He’s rotten. He was born that way.” My breath came fast, too fast. My chest felt tight like I was suffocating. “I’m supposed to be Darian’s Gamma! That job—our futures—they’re built on trust, on teamwork. How am I supposed to do that while being shackled to a psychopath?” They had no answers. Just silence. My mother’s silent weeping. My father’s helpless stare. “I’m done. I’m leaving. I don’t want the Gamma position. They can keep it—and let them gift someone else to that monster.” I turned, storming toward the stairs. I didn’t know where I’d go, but anywhere was better than here. Anywhere but thislife. “You can’t leave, Mara,” my father called after me, voice desperate. “If you refuse the bond, Alpha Nighthorn will cast us out. We’ll become rogues. Once the mark of Mooncrest fades, we’ll lose everything—our protection, our humanity. You know what happens to rogues. You’ll turn feral. We all will. They rule this entire country, Mara. There’s no where for you to go,” I stopped in my tracks. Feral. Cast out. Doomed. I turned slowly and looked at my mother. Her shoulders were trembling. She couldn’t even look me in the eyes. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?” I said, my voice shaking with fury and despair. “You’re asking me to throw my life away. You’re asking me to bind myself to someone who might kill me in my sleep.” She nodded through her tears. “I’m sorry.” Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. Even Alpha Vander didn’t trust him to lead, which was why Darian had been groomed from day one to take over. Darian, with his calm and strength and sense of duty. Meanwhile, his older brother was out there, spiraling, and now they wanted me to steady him. They wouldn’t have picked me if I wasn’t so perfect—so well-behaved, so disciplined, so obsessed with Darian that I molded myself into the model warrior. Maybe if I’d been reckless, mean, or a bitter b1tch, they wouldn’t have even considered me. But no. I had played the part. And now, this was my reward: unrequited love, a forced marriage, a future I couldn’t escape. I hated my life in that moment. I was about to turn away again when the doorbell rang. We all froze. My mother rose to answer it, and the scent hit me before she opened the door—him. Darian. He stepped inside, and I almost didn’t recognize him. His eyes were red, brimming with tears. His hands trembled. He looked like someone had carved a hole into his chest and left it gaping. “Mara,” he said softly, his voice cracked and hoarse. He opened his arms. He didn’t need to say anything else. I walked into him, into the arms I had longed for more than I ever admitted, and he held me—tight, like he was the one about to fall apart. My parents quietly stepped away, leaving us in the silence of shared pain. And I broke. I cried, and this time, it wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t polite. It was everything I had been holding in—fear, betrayal, grief, hopelessness—all pouring out while he held me. And still, I knew… even this wouldn’t change anything. “I’m sorry, Mara,” Darian whispered against my hair, his voice thick with something heavier than guilt. “I didn’t know they would do this. I didn’t know he would do this.” And I broke again. “I don’t want to be with Lucian,” I cried, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring me. “I hate him, Darian. I can’t do this. Please… help me.” His arms tightened around me like he wanted to, like he wished he could fix it all with the way he held me—but he didn’t answer right away. When he did, it was barely above a whisper. “I’m not Alpha yet, Mara. My key mark isn’t active yet. I don’t have the power to stop this.” And that—that—hurt more than I expected. Not because he admitted he was powerless but because of the way his voice cracked. There was grief in it. Regret. Something deeper than duty. “I thought…” he started, then paused. “I thought we had time. I thought there’d be more time.” I pulled back just enough to look at him. “Time for what?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mara. I didn’t know.” I stared at him, trying to piece together what he meant. Time for what? Was he finally saying what I’d always hoped he felt? But now wasn’t the time. Not with everything crashing around us. The hug faded. Slowly. Reluctantly. We stood there, inches apart, staring into each other’s tear-streaked faces, both too full of words we couldn’t say. “Listen to me,” Darian said, his voice low but firm. “I will always be there for you. I won’t let him hurt you, Mara. I swear it. If you ever feel unsafe, if he crosses a line—call me. I don’t care what I’m doing. I’ll come. I will come. You are not alone in this.” I blinked back another wave of tears. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to thank someone for a promise that shouldn’t have to exist. “I wish I’d never trained to be your Beta,” I muttered, my voice barely a breath. “If I’d just taken medical classes instead… Alpha Vander wouldn’t have noticed me. He wouldn’t have picked me for his deranged son.” I looked at Darian again. My heart swelled painfully, and I opened my mouth. “Darian…” He met my eyes, hope flickering there. “What is it, Mara?” I hesitated. I wanted to say it. Gods, I wanted to scream it—I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I didn’t. Because now he wasn’t just the boy I trained beside. He was about to become my brother-in-law. And whatever chance there might have been, it had died the moment his father bound my future to Lucian’s. “Nothing,” I said instead. “Nothing but fear.” He pulled me back into his arms without hesitation. I buried my face in his chest and breathed in his scent one last time like it might be enough to last me forever. I didn’t dare ask for more. I didn’t dare reach for what I truly wanted. Not now. Not when I was about to be forced into the hands of someone I despised. Not when Darian had no power to save me. He held me tight, as if letting go would break him, too. Then he kissed the top of my head—soft, lingering—and pulled away. “We’ll still be best friends,” he said gently. “I don’t care what the pack says. You’re still my best friend, Mara. No one’s replacing you.” And there it was. The final nail. Best friend. The words were supposed to be comforting, but they landed like a blade in my chest. His father thought that same friendship was the key to taming Lucian—like I was a tool, a bridge, a sacrificial peace offering. I didn’t want to be Darian’s best friend. I wanted to be his everything. His Luna. His love. His home. But instead, I got Lucian. Unwanted. Unchosen. Trapped. Maybe being feral wouldn’t be so bad. At least then I’d be free. I could run, disappear, let the wilderness swallow me whole. Anything would be better than this slow suffocation. I wanted to leave. I needed to leave. Mara Darian followed me upstairs to my room. For the first time, it felt… wrong. Foreign. Like something had cracked in the familiar walls we’d built around each other. It had always been a little awkward since I started falling for him, but now—now it felt unbearable. I didn’t know what it would be like living in their house. The Nighthorn mansion. Sharing space with Lucian. Walking the same halls as Darian, seeing him every day while wearing the title of someone else’s mate. His brother’s mate. The thought made me feel sick. I didn’t trust my heart not to betray me in some devastating way. “I’ll wait here,” Darian said softly, settling into the chair by my desk while I headed into the bathroom. As soon as the water hit me, the tears came. I sank to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, sobbing so hard my ribs ached. I cried for the life I almost had. For the love I could never confess. For I was being handed like some twisted reward for being too good. And in that cracked, broken place, I thought about running. Disappearing. Going rogue. Letting the world forget I ever existed. But then I remembered what that meant. What it would do to my family. What it would do to me. I dressed in the bathroom, even though modesty had long since evaporated between Darian and me during years of shifting and training together. But things were different now. Everything was different. Even standing in front of him felt like holding a glass that could shatter if either of us moved too fast. “How are you feeling?” he asked when I stepped back into the room. I just nodded, unable to trust my voice. His eyes were still tinged with crimson, like he’d been holding back more tears of his own. “Lucian doesn’t want the union either,” he said suddenly. I looked up, startled. “What?” “That’s how I found out,” he continued. “I overheard him yelling at our father. He was furious. Said he didn’t want you. Didn’t want any of it. And honestly… that’s what scares me the most.” I understood what he meant before he said it. Lucian didn’t want me. Which meant he’d resent me. And with the kind of man he was—violent, spiteful—that resentment wouldn’t just sit quietly in the corner. He’d find a way to punish me for it. “Then why won’t he reject it?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. Darian exhaled slowly, like the weight of it all was dragging him under too. “Because ever since Father chose me as Alpha instead of him, Lucian hasn’t dared to oppose him. I think the shame crushed something inside him. He’s quiet now, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. And…” He hesitated. “Lucian’s in love—with someone else. Has been for a while.” I swallowed hard. That somehow made it worse. I wasn’t just being forced into a bond with a monster—I was a wedge, a weapon used to separate him from someone he actually cared about. A curse he’d wear every day. “This isn’t fair,” I said bitterly. “Not to me. Not to her. Not to anyone.” Darian didn’t argue. “Will I still be your Gamma?” I asked, knowing it was selfish but needing to ask anyway. Because even if I couldn’t be his mate, I still wanted to stand by his side in some way. Any way. “Yes,” he said softly. “Unless you choose to step down, you’ll remain my Gamma.” I shook my head. I couldn’t make that decision yet. Not when everything inside me felt broken and scattered. I just needed time. Space to breathe, to mourn, to accept the weight of what had been forced on me. Darian left quietly, carrying his own sadness like a wound. I watched him go and felt another piece of me fall apart. I stayed in bed the rest of the day. Staring at the ceiling. Crying into my pillow until it was soaked. My parents tried to check on me—brought food, soft words, empty comfort—but I ignored them all. I didn’t want kindness from the people who had let this happen. I didn’t want anyone. If the Alpha had chosen to bind me to Darian, I would have said yes without hesitation. I would have given him everything. But instead, I was being handed over to his brother. Why Lucian? Of all the wolves in this pack, why did fate—or power, or cruelty—choose him? And what the hll was I supposed to do now? Two weeks. Two long, miserable weeks of crying, sulking, and avoiding the world like it had personally betrayed me—because in a way, it had. I refused to go to any gatherings, skipped every function, and barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t Darian. Not that I saw him much. He’d gotten himself into trouble more than once that week, and Alpha Vander had taken it as an excuse to load him up with responsibilities. I missed him. But missing him was a dangerous thing now. Luna Martha Nighthorn came by twice to speak with my parents about the “arrangements.” She was Darian’s mother—not Lucian’s. Lucian’s biological mother had died when he was young. Alpha Vander had bonded with Martha later, and ever since, everyone just assumed she was the mother of both boys. Everyone except Lucian, who never missed a chance to correct them. I didn’t care for the politics of it. I didn’t care about her visit, her soft reassurances, or the way she avoided looking me in the eye. I didn’t care about any of it. I just wanted to disappear. Burn the whole d'amn future and vanish into ash. But I couldn’t. I was sitting on the patio, trying to catch my breath from another heavy day of doing absolutely nothing, when a sleek black car pulled into our driveway. I squinted at the figure stepping out. A young woman—tall, porcelain-skinned, striking brunette. And angry. I stood slowly, assuming she was lost and needed directions. She didn’t waste time. “Are you Mara Thornridge?” she asked, sharp and cold. I nodded, guarded. “You gold-digging b1tch,” she snapped. “What do your parents have on Alpha Vander? Huh?” I blinked, stunned. What? “Do you know how long Lucian and I have been together?” she choked out, her eyes welling up with tears. “We were sweethearts for years. And now I find out you—you’ve been chosen for him? You?” I stood there, frozen, every cell in my body screaming for a break. I had no words. I was still trying to process this marriage from hll myself, and now this? She stepped closer, her voice low and trembling with rage. “How dare you, Mara? I swear, we will make your life a living hll.” And that was it. I snapped. “Watch it,” I growled, the shift stirring beneath my skin. “I don’t give two fks about Lucian. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want this. So maybe aim that rage where it belongs—at him, or at his father, or at the Moon Goddess herself. Not me.” She blinked, caught off guard. “If you’re so mad, tell your beloved boyfriend to grow a spine and say something to his father. Trust me, you’d be doing me a huge favor. Because let’s be honest—Lucian isn’t exactly a prize. He’s an entitled, violent аs hole, and I wouldn’t want to be bound to him if he was the last breathing wolf in existence.” She stepped toward me like she was about to swing. I didn’t even flinch—I welcomed it. Hll, I needed it. I let out a low, warning growl, eyes locked on hers. “You need to f'k- off, now. While I’m still being nice. Because if you don’t, I swear on every ancestor in my bloodline, I will tear you apart. And right now? I wouldn’t even regret it.” Something in my voice must’ve landed. She backed away slowly, fury still burning in her eyes, but something else too—fear. She slid into her car and slammed the door, then peeled out of the driveway without another word. I stood there breathing hard, body trembling with all the rage and frustration I’d buried these past two weeks. Now I had to deal with Lucian’s girlfriend too? I wasn’t even officially mated to him yet, and already the drama was spilling into my yard like blood on the snow. And Lucian—he hadn’t shown up. Hadn’t spoken to me. Hadn’t so much as sent a message. I guessed the feeling was mutual. This was going to be hll. And it hadn’t even started yet. Mara “Mara!” my mother called from downstairs. Since the day they dropped the bomb about the arrangement, I’d barely left my room. What was the point? Everyone probably knew by now. The whole pack, maybe even the entire dam country. Mara Thornridge, gifted to Lucian Nighthorn like a prized lamb to the family wolf. And just like that, the threats had started rolling in—anonymous messages from a number I didn’t need to trace. I knew exactly who it was. Lucian’s little banshee. The same girl who’d parked in my driveway and tried to claw my face off with words she probably rehearsed in front of a mirror. None of her threats got to me. Not one. If she ever followed through on a single one of them, I might actually respect her. But I knew the truth—lashing out at me was easier than facing Lucian or confronting Alpha Vander. I was the easier target. The quiet one. The one who hadn’t asked for any of this. I got out of bed wearing the same old pajamas I’d worn for two days. It was already afternoon. I didn’t care. My hair was a mess, my eyes were swollen from days of crying, but the tears had stopped. I wasn’t sad anymore. Just empty. Numb. And numbness? It was better. Numbness didn’t ask questions or demand hope. Darian and I still talked every night. His voice was soft, his words kind, and I hated every second of it. He meant well. He was trying. But I didn’t want kindness from him. Not anymore. I wanted what I could never have. Every call was another reminder that I'd never be more than his best friend. So no, the support wasn’t helping. Not even a little. I shuffled downstairs, preparing to grab something quick and head back to my quiet cave of self-pity. But I froze at the bottom step. Alpha Vander Nighthorn and Lucian were in my living room. Just sitting there. Like this was normal. Like they belonged. I felt my parents' disappointment immediately. The way they looked at my unwashed hair and oversized sleep shirt said it all. But maybe, just maybe, the Alpha would take one look at me and change his mind. Maybe I looked pathetic enough to kill this deal. I stepped into the room, lifting my chin, even though my body screamed to turn and run. “Good afternoon, Alpha. Mr. Nighthorn,” I said evenly, voice dry but polite. Alpha Vander sat upright on the couch, perfectly composed. For a man in his early fifties, he looked ten years younger. Thick dark hair, sharp brown eyes, a well-groomed beard. He radiated power and vanity, and somehow it worked. No wonder women in the pack still swooned over him. He had that whole silver fox, age-like-wine aesthetic locked down. And Lucian? He looked like sin incarnate. Dark hair, frost-blue eyes that could pierce through bone, and a jawline that might have been carved from stone. His shirt clung to his body like it didn’t want to let go—tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, tracing the edges of muscle sculpted to perfection. He wasn’t bulky, not like some of the other warriors. He was lean, cut, deadly. His skin was sun-kissed and flawless, his stare unreadable and cold. Everything about him screamed danger, power, trouble. Everything about him made my skin crawl. And yet… he was undeniably beautiful. If I hadn’t known what was behind that face, I might have stared. Might have been flattered. But now? All I saw was the cage I was about to be locked inside. And he hadn’t even bothered to look at me yet. I swallowed hard when I saw him. It had been a while since I last saw Lucian Nighthorn in person, and I hated myself for even noticing how he looked. His presence was magnetic—he didn’t just walk into a room, he took it. He looked like something out of legend: all dark edges, piercing frost-blue eyes, and sculpted features that belonged on a statue. But no matter how stunning the exterior, it couldn’t mask the ugliness I knew sat underneath. Looks didn’t make a man worth loving. And I didn’t want this union. But what I wanted didn’t matter. “Mara,” Alpha Vander said, dragging my attention away from his son. I stood upright and gave him the proper Gamma salute. My posture stiff, my insides screaming. “Congratulations on your future position as Gamma. Mooncrest and Darian are blessed to have you in the ranks.” “Thank you, Alpha,” I replied, my voice steady. “Lucian,” he said, turning to his son, “get to know your mate. Take a walk while I speak with the Thornridges about the event.” Lucian didn’t respond. He just stood and walked outside, offering no glance, no gesture, no courtesy. The kind of silence that dared you to follow—and warned you not to speak. I didn’t want to go with him. He hadn’t asked. But I wasn’t foolish enough to disobey an Alpha’s command. I followed him out. He was sitting on the patio, staring down the street like the world bored him. I didn’t sit. “Don’t get any ideas, little girl,” he said finally, his voice deep, sharp, arrogant. “This arrangement is a joke. An insult. I’ll never love you. You’ll never be my true mate. Let’s get that straight before the wedding so you don’t embarrass yourself hoping for more.” I cleared my throat, keeping my voice even. “Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I’m not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I’d have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue. I expect nothing from you. And I will give you nothing in return.” He finally turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. “You really have no pride, do you?” he said. “You think this is some noble sacrifice? My father’s paying your family a fortune for this. You and your parents—just more middle-class shovel-holders, ready to dig for gold.” I inhaled sharply. My hand twitched. Don’t hit him, I told myself. Not yet. His smirk widened. “Feisty,” he said. “I like that. Quick-tempered too. I’m honestly surprised you made it as Gamma. What did you do? Sleep your way there? Must’ve been quite the climb—though Darian doesn’t fancy you, so maybe you figured you’d settle for the older brother. At least then you get the name, the money, the power. That’s what this is about, right? Being a Nighthorn?” He waited for me to crumble. I didn’t. Instead, I leaned in, voice low and laced with venom. “At least I earned my place in this pack. I’m Gamma because I bled for it, not because I was born into a name. You? You’ll always be the brother of the Alpha. Nothing more.” That hit him. His jaw tightened. His hand lifted halfway, shaking—just a breath away from slapping me. His eyes burned, not with fury alone, but with something deeper. Shame. Insecurity. I flinched, but only slightly. Mara Lucian was stronger than Darian. That much was clear. Where Darian led with loyalty, Lucian ruled with intimidation. His presence filled the air like a storm. And for a moment, just a moment, I felt what it would be like to be tied to this man. Not protected. Not cherished. Owned. Lucian dropped his hand, clenched it into a fist instead. Good. I’d struck the nerve I wanted. And I wouldn’t stop there. “We are not equals,” Lucian said coldly, his voice like ice cracking beneath pressure. “You better watch your mouth, Thornridge, or this arrangement will turn ugly real fast.” He dropped back onto the bench like he owned the space, like even sitting was a statement of dominance. I stayed standing, watching him from above, refusing to shrink. “I came here only to lay down a few ground rules,” he continued. “First, you will never be my mate. So don’t expect affection, don’t ask for loyalty, and don’t even think about what mates are ‘entitled’ to. I already have someone. Someone I actually care about.” I laughed—just once, dry and sharp. “You mean the one who threatened me in my own driveway?” I said. “Tell your little girlfriend that as long as she keeps her claws to herself and stays out of my way, we’ll have no problems. I don’t care what you two do behind closed doors.” He went quiet. I could tell he didn’t like my answer. It wasn’t what he expected. But it was the truth, and I wasn’t here to coddle his ego. “In public, we’ll play the part for my father,” he said, voice dropping lower. “Behind closed doors, we’re strangers. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.” “Fine by me,” I said flatly. “As long as you don’t try to bully me, we won’t have a problem. If your father really did buyme, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you’ll release me.” He chuckled then—low and bitter. “You still don’t get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I’ll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You’ll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently.” Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. I flinched without meaning to, but I didn’t let him see more than that. “What about your girlfriend?” I asked quietly. “She understands,” he replied, surprisingly calm. “I’ll never be Alpha, and I don’t want the job. We’ll find our way around this. She’ll still have my heart. She’ll have my children.” I stared at him, trying to understand how a person could speak of love and cruelty in the same breath. “I guess you’ve got your future mapped out,” I said. “Good for you. But what about me?” He blinked, caught off guard. His tone lost its bite. “What do you mean?” “I mean, you’ve got the girl. The family plan. The political cover. What about my life? My future?” I asked, voice low but unshaking. He looked at me for a long second. Then gave a dismissive shrug. “You’ll figure it out. If you meet someone, fine. Scr'w whoever you want. Just don’t get pregnant and embarrass me. Keep your mess private.” I stared at him, stunned. He wasn’t done. “I’m sure you already have a few boyfriends on the side. Maybe some officials from the academy you spread your legs for—because no woman’s ever made it as Gamma before. So whatever you did to get there, just keep doing it. That’s the only way you’ll hold onto that title. If someone stronger comes along, you’re out.” I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t need to. Let him think what he wanted. Let him imagine a version of me that matched his twisted assumptions. I wasn’t going to defend my body, my choices, or my worth to him. But inside, something cracked. I’d waited. Saved myself. Dreamed of Darian—not for lvst, but for love. And now I was bound to a man who assumed the worst of me. Who would use me as a shield, a pawn, and nothing more. And yet I didn’t cry. Not anymore. The tears were done. Now, there was only fire. “Well,” Lucian said, brushing imaginary dust from his pants like the conversation was just business. “Since everything’s ironed out, I guess we won’t have issues living as husband and wife.” I gave him a nod. Flat. Numb. Resigned. “Do we sleep in the same room?” I asked, not because I wanted to—but because I needed to know what kind of Hll I’d be walking into. He shook his head. “Not exactly. My room has a conjoined space. You’ll sleep in the one I’m not using.” A connected room. No door. No barrier. Just a wall, maybe some air, and all the silence in the world between us. “I’ve fixed it up for you,” he added. “Just don’t expect luxury. It’s the poorer wing of the mansion. My father doesn’t dote on me the way he does on Darian.” I almost laughed. The poorer wing? I would’ve gladly slept in a shed if it meant not sharing space with the man who thought I’d slept my way into the Gamma rank. “I don’t care about the room,” I said simply. And I didn’t. What I cared about was distance. Physical, emotional, spiritual. As much as I could carve out for myself in a life I never asked for. We headed back into the house. Alpha Vander stood, looking pleased with himself—like a man who had just orchestrated a perfect deal, unaware—or perhaps entirely aware—of the people he was crushing in the process. “Ah, I see the lovebirds have come to an understanding,” he said with a smug grin. “I suppose I’ll see you both at the wedding.” My father stepped forward to shake his hand. “Thank you, Alpha. We are honoured.” Alpha Vander turned to him with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Aiden, Arya—you’ve raised a strong, beautiful daughter. I originally wanted her for Darian, you know. She’s Luna material, no doubt about it. But in the end, I knew she’d have more impact on Lucian’s life.” Every word scraped against me like sandpaper. “Darian is already gentle,” he went on. “Lucian needs someone like Mara. Someone sweet, with a steady hand. She’ll soften him. She’s perfect.” And that was the moment I felt it—self-loathing. Deep, hot, gnawing. I should’ve seen it sooner. This wasn’t about love or bonds or the Universe’s will. I’d been chosen because I was safe. A tool. A soothing balm they could apply to their most volatile son. I should’ve been reckless. Cold. Difficult. A bad girl. Maybe then I would’ve been considered for Darian. Maybe then, I would’ve stood a chance. But Lucian—he didn’t let his father get away with it. “It’s not about what you want, Father,” he said suddenly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clean through the room. Alpha Vander turned to him slowly, like a man used to obedience. “Don’t lie to them,” Lucian continued. “This wasn’t your idea. This was Martha’s doing. Luna Martha didn’t want Darian choosing Mara. She didn’t want him with a Thornridge—didn’t want him marrying middle-class. She wants a girl with money. Status. This whole thing? It’s her fix. Her solution.” The air in the room turned sharp. Lucian kept going. “You’re not doing this to help me,” he said. “You’re doing it to ruin me—and Mara. All to clear the path for Darian to marry someone Martha approves of. You paid them off. That’s not honor. That’s manipulation.” Then he turned and walked out without another word. And I stood there—stunned. Not because I was angry at what he said. But because it was true. So painfully, clearly true. Luna Martha didn’t want me in her family. I wasn’t polished enough. Rich enough. Enough of anything, really. And Darian… he never even had a chance to fight it. I never had a chance at him. No matter how hard I trained, no matter how loyal I was, no matter how much I loved him quietly from a distance—I never stood a chance. Lucian was many things—cold, cruel, arrogant—but in that moment, I saw something else too: honesty. Brutal, unfiltered honesty. And it told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice. Mara Four days had passed since Lucian and his father came to the house, and I still hadn’t found my way out of the haze. I sat in the garden behind our home, staring at nothing. Not the flowers. Not the trees. Just the empty space ahead of me, like it might hold some kind of answer if I looked long enough. Lucian’s words still echoed in my mind—cold, cruel, and then, strangely, honest. The truth was a blade that hadn’t stopped cutting. It wasn’t about me being Luna material or helping Lucian. It was about Darian. About removing me from the equation so his mother could shape his future without interference. I didn’t even hear him approach. “You’ve lost weight,” Darian said softly, sitting beside me. I didn’t reply. What was there to say? He sighed and stood again, pacing. Frustrated. Restless. I knew he wanted to talk. He always did. But I couldn’t give him what he was looking for—not when I felt like my whole life had been bargained away by people who never even asked me what I wanted. “Why didn’t you tell me Lucian came to see you?” he finally asked. I looked up at him, calm on the surface, hollow underneath. “I didn’t think it was necessary.” He stopped pacing. “We’re friends, Mara. Everything is necessary. Everything matters.” He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders were tense. I could see the guilt in the way he carried himself, but he didn’t understand. Not yet. “Help me, Darian,” I said, my voice cracking. “Please.” He came to a stop in front of me, eyes full of sorrow. “If I were Alpha, I’d cancel this madness. I swear I would.” “But you’re not,” I whispered. Then I looked him in the eyes, and I said the one thing that had been building in my chest like pressure before a storm. “Your mother set this up.” He frowned, his expression hardening. “Lucian said it in front of your father. And your father didn’t deny it. She was afraid that you and I… that we might end up together. She didn’t want her son marrying someone from a middle-class family. So she pushed this union, forced it, to get me out of your orbit.” Darian’s jaw clenched. “That’s not true. She knows we’re just friends. That there’s nothing between us.” His words landed like stones in my chest. “If I wanted to date you, Mara, I would’ve.” That hurt. I expected it, but it still hurt. “She doesn’t see it that way,” I replied. “To her, I’m a threat to your future. So she ruined mine.” I paused, voice low and shaking. “Please talk to her, Darian. She’s destroying two lives out of fear. Lucian has someone he loves. And me?” My voice broke. “She’s condemning me to a loveless, miserable life. All because I was your friend.” I looked down at my hands, trembling now. “I’ll give up the Gamma position. I’ll leave. Just… help me get out of this.” Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and helpless. “I don’t want to marry your brother. Please.” He sat down beside me again, silent for a long moment. His hand found mine, hesitated, then held it gently. “I’ll talk to her,” he said at last, voice low. “I can’t promise anything, Mara. But I’ll try. I’ll beg her if I have to.” I nodded, even though I wasn’t hopeful. At this point, I just needed to know someone tried. That not everyone stood by and watched my future burn. If Darian hadn’t offered, I might’ve buried myself in silent acceptance. Might’ve forced myself to walk into that cold, loveless match. But Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. He was a murderer. An irresponsible drunk. A walking storm I’d be expected to share a life with. The thought of binding myself to him permanently… it made my skin crawl. We sat in silence for a while after that. Just breathing the same air. Just existing in the same space. Eventually, Darian left. And I was alone again. Sitting in a garden, surrounded by life, while mine slowly withered away. Two days passed. Nothing from Darian. No call. No visit. Not even a message. Just silence. I lay on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling like it might offer some kind of escape. It didn’t. All I saw was the countdown—days slipping away until the wedding. Until my funeral. Because that’s what it felt like. The day I married Lucian would be the day I buried the last of myself. I didn’t know if I’d take the Gamma position when the time came. I doubted it. The fire in me—the one that once pushed me to be the best—was nothing but ash now. Resignation tasted bitter, but it was starting to feel like the only thing I had left. There was a knock at my door. I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. I could already smell her—my mother. And the food tray she was balancing in her hands. I didn’t move, didn’t speak, and just like I knew she would, she let herself in. “Mara,” she said gently, placing the tray on the table. “You need to eat something.” I didn’t even look at the food. I looked at her. Cold. Angry. Broken. “How can you and Dad live with yourselves after selling your daughter?” I asked, my voice flat, my expression disgusted. She froze by the table, her eyes lowering, as if even she couldn’t bear to meet mine. “He gave us no choice, Mara,” she whispered. “The money was to ease his conscience.” “And you took it.” My words were a blade. “Spent it, I’m sure. Did it ever occur to you that Lucian might call it off? That Alpha Vander might want his money back?” She turned to face me slowly, her expression tired and tight. “We had no choice,” she repeated. “It was take it… or be cast out. ‘Take it or get out,’ that’s what he said. We were drowning, Mara. The house, the loans—we were about to lose everything.” I blinked, stunned. “So you sold me to pay off your debts? The loans you took for my education?” “No,” she said quickly. “We were ready to let the house go. We planned to move in with my sister. We didn’t expect Alpha Nighthorn to show up. But when he forced the union, when he said it was happening whether we liked it or not... we took the money. We used it to survive.” “And you used me to survive,” I said bitterly. She flinched. I sat up, my eyes sharp now. “What happens if the deal falls apart? If Lucian calls it off and his father wants the money back?” “Why would he?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Because I told Darian,” I said. “I told him what Lucian said. About the truth—how this wasn’t about Lucian needing a wife but about his mother wanting me out of Darian’s life. He promised he’d talk to her. Try to get her to stop this madness.” My mother’s eyes widened, shocked. She hadn’t expected me to do anything. Maybe she thought I’d just quietly crumble. She slowly sat beside me, her body folding like something had broken inside her. Tears slid down her face. “Mara, my darling…” my mother’s voice cracked as she sat beside me. “I didn’t know you would take it this hard.” I didn’t answer. She reached for my hand, but I didn’t move. My eyes stayed locked on the ceiling, dry now, but only because I had nothing left in me. “I’m hurting too,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I need you to be strong. You’re tougher than this.” I didn’t look at her. “Darian and Rowan left yesterday,” she added carefully. “They won’t be back until it’s time for him to take over the pack.” The words sank in slowly, like poison soaking through my veins. They went on the trip. Without me. Without a word. Darian—the one person I still believed would try to help me—was gone. He didn’t even call. Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t tell me that he had failed or that he’d tried at all. The silence in my chest cracked. My heart broke without sound. “I know what you’re thinking,” my mother said, almost defensively. “It was Luna Martha. She forced the trip.” I turned to her now, eyes stinging again. “She forced him?” I asked, though I already believed it. “Yes,” she nodded. “Jason—Darian’s butler—he came by for a check-up. He told me Darian had a terrible argument with Martha. About Lucian. About you. About how unfair this is. And when she couldn’t control the conversation, she controlled him. She made him leave. Told him it was to ‘gain experience.’ Said he’d return a better Alpha.” My lip trembled, but I didn’t speak. It was my fault. I asked him to intervene. I pulled him into this. And now he was gone. Banished under the guise of training. And nothing had changed. Lucian was still my future. And Darian… Darian had become part of the past. I sat in silence as the tears returned—slow, steady, quiet. “I’m sorry, baby,” my mother whispered. “But please… eat something. Don’t let this kill you. You’re one of the strongest wolves this pack has ever seen. A woman winning Gamma? That’s not luck. That’s grit. That’s fire. You will find a way to cope.” I didn’t believe her. Not even a little. She pulled me close, kissed my forehead, then left the room without waiting for a response. I stared at the food. The smell turned my stomach. Fear had coiled itself so tightly around my gut I could barely breathe, let alone eat. I picked at the plate. Flushed it all down the toilet. Washed the dishes in silence. I wanted to fade out of existence. But I couldn’t. I was still here. Trapped in a body with no escape, in a life that no longer felt like mine. They hadn’t even set a date yet. That should’ve been a good thing—more time, more room to plan, to hope—but instead, it made it worse. The anticipation, the waiting. The illusion of freedom. Alpha Vander was “putting things in order,” whatever that meant. Maybe planning some extravagant public affair to mask the fact that the union was a sentence, not a celebration. Forced marriages weren’t supposed to be grand. But this one was. Because it wasn’t about love—it was about control. I climbed back into bed, curled beneath the blanket, and tried to breathe past the panic rising in my throat. Please, I thought. Let time fly. Let it fly fast. Lucian My father was a weak man. Spineless, really. Letting his Luna orchestrate the ruin of two lives just to soothe her own insecurities? That wasn’t leadership—that was cowardice dressed in politics. Where does Martha’s manipulation stop? It was bad enough she turned my father against me—made sure I was never considered fit to be Alpha. But now? She’s bound me to a girl I barely know, all because she couldn't stomach the idea of Darian marrying someone who wasn’t bred from power or money. Mara Thornridge and I? We were just casualties of her fear. Collateral damage in her obsession with keeping Darian’s path clean and elite. When my father dragged me to the Thornridge house, I said what I needed to say. Cold, cruel, calculated—because I needed to understand. Martha told me the Thornridges requested the union, claimed they believed their daughter was too strong not to be Luna. Claimed they wanted her to take her “rightful place.” Said they had agreed to settle for me instead of Darian. All of it? Complete bullsh1t. Everyone knew Mara had a crush on Darian. It wasn’t some secret scandal. Even Darian knew—he just ignored it. Let it stew. Let her orbit him for years. A harmless crush, people said. But what that girl gave up for him wasn’t harmless. She left her original path. Signed up at the academy. Trained harder than anyone expected. Finished second. All for a boy who didn’t have the guts to be honest with her. At first, even I assumed her ambition was calculated—that finishing second was her power play to get chosen as Luna. But after speaking with her, however awkwardly… I realized how wrong I was. She didn’t chase power. She chased purpose. And maybe, quietly, she chased hope. The way she looked at me—guarded, hurt, angry. That wasn’t the gaze of someone who’d schemed her way up. That was someone trying not to drown in something too big for her. And I hated it. I hated how Martha had spun this lie and dragged me into it. I hated how my father let her do it. I hated that Mara—this tough, stubborn, determined girl—was being broken apart by people who claimed to protect the pack. So when we went back inside, I told the truth. I was done playing along. Let the Thornridges hear it all—how this wasn’t about what was best for me or Mara or even Darian. It was about Martha’s ego. About keeping “middle-class blood” away from her precious son. I almost told Mara that Darian had known. That he could’ve stopped this earlier. But I didn’t. Because she already looked like she was barely holding it together. That truth would’ve shattered her. But I blame him too. He knew how she felt. He saw it in her eyes every Dam time she looked at him. And instead of setting her free, he kept her close. He strung her along, let her believe maybe… maybe one day. I heard him brag once—to his friends—that she’d made passes at him. After meeting her, I knew that was a lie. Mara Thornridge doesn’t beg. She’d rather die than admit she’s vulnerable. She would’ve made a great Luna. Not just to Darian—but to the pack. She’s sharp, strong, and smarter than half the men who outranked her. And instead of letting her shine, Martha decided to bury her. Tie her to me. Punish her for something that never even happened. And now they expect her to stand at Darian’s side as Gamma? To give her best while living half-alive? Unbelievable. No one’s asking what this will do to her. No one’s thinking about what she’s being forced to give up just to survive. I didn’t know what to do with Mara. I didn’t want to touch her. I didn’t want to claim her—not because I hated her, but because I respected her. She didn’t ask for this, and I’m not the kind of man who takes what isn’t given freely. I wouldn’t mate with her against her will. I wasn’t like Darian. He wore his charm like armor and left a trail of wreckage behind him—wolves he used, hearts he broke, girls who wound up pregnant and scared. And every time, Father and Martha cleaned it up quietly, buried the mess, and painted him as the perfect heir. Looking back now, I saw it all more clearly than I ever had. Darian—the golden boy, the spoiled prince. Martha’s precious son, her ticket to power, the puppet she dressed up as a leader. And then there was me. An accident at the wrong time, the wrong place, gave her everything she needed to destroy me. The biker didn’t die because of me—not really. My brakes failed. There was silver in the wreckage, and to this day, I still don’t know how it got there. The biker would’ve survived without it. But no one listened. No one cared. My father didn’t even pretend to investigate. He just... wrote me off. They said I was drunk, been partying all. Night but that was a lie, yet no one cared. Martha escalated the fallout like she’d been waiting for it. And Darian? He got a free pass. Over and over. “They wanted him,” my father would say. “He didn’t stand a chance. Every girl wants the Luna title. It’s not the same.” It wasn’t the same because Darian was untouchable. I’d only ever loved one girl. Tina Livingston. I’d been loyal, careful, focused. But now, thanks to Martha, I had to break her heart. Just another name sacrificed on the altar of Darian’s future. Martha had destroyed three lives. Maybe four, if Mara had someone before all of this—someone she never got to choose. And yet, I couldn’t even bring myself to hate her. Not fully. She was protecting her son. Ruthless, yes—but my real anger was reserved for the man who allowed her to do it all. My father. The Alpha. The coward. If my mother had lived… maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe she would’ve fought for me. For balance. For justice. But she was gone. And in her absence, Martha filled the void with poison and control. Now here we were. A forced union. A fake marriage. A girl who didn’t want me, and a pack that would celebrate it anyway like it was some kind of alliance—when in truth, it was just another silent war. I moved my things into the smaller of the conjoined rooms and fixed up the larger one for Mara. I wanted her to be comfortable. Or at the very least, able to cope. She wasn’t what I’d accused her of—she wasn’t a gold digger or a social climber. I said those things to provoke, to test, to understand. But now I knew better. She was nineteen. A kid, really. Brave as hll, smart, and stubborn. And stuck. Her parents weren’t to blame either. They had no power, no rank, no options. The offer from my father wasn’t an opportunity—it was a threat in disguise. Because being cast out wasn’t just exile. It was death by slow erasure. When a wolf is stripped of their pack mark, it fades over time. And once it’s gone, they lose their human form. They go feral. Wild. Forgotten. That’s what happens to rogues. There’s no mercy in that system, no redemption. A wolf only belongs to one pack in their lifetime. One. And if that bond is broken, there’s no going back. It was a cruel mechanism, a brutal leash disguised as tradition. One the Alpha family had full control over. And my father wielded it without hesitation. Mara was a victim. Just like I was. But unlike me, she didn’t even have the illusion of choice. Lucian I was just adjusting my cufflinks, getting ready for my date with Tina, when Austin, my butler, stepped into the room with his usual composed tone. “Master Lucian, the boutique is here to deliver your bride’s clothes.” My bride. The words felt like gravel in my mouth every time I heard them. I stood and walked into the master bedroom I’d had prepped for Mara. I’d never used it. It was larger, more extravagant, more central—but I’d always preferred the smaller room. Quieter. Less suffocating. But now, someone would finally be living here. Sleeping in a bed under this roof because she had no other choice. “Have them arrange her things in the walk-in closet,” I said. “Move my things to the wardrobe, and put the rest of my stuff in storage. I don’t use most of it anyway.” Austin nodded, ever the quiet professional. “Your father has invited you to a late lunch in the breakfast room,” he added. “It starts in fifteen minutes.” I checked the time, irritated. Great. I had plans with Tina—plans that actually mattered to me—but as usual, Father’s whims trumped everything. If he wanted something, it was dropped on my lap like gospel. No warning, no regard. I left without responding, heading toward the right wing of the mansion—the golden, polished side of the estate where Martha, Darian, and Father lived. Everything there was curated, flashy, fake. Just like them. Martha loved the money. Loved the title. The image. She wore luxury like armor. And yet she had the nerve to call otherwomen gold diggers, while she pretended to play noble Luna. The real digger in this house wore silk and control like a second skin. And Darian? He was a walking performance. The dutiful heir, the golden child. The pack believed in him like he was some messiah. But only those of us who’d seen behind the curtain knew the truth. The girls. The lies. The messes swept under thick rugs of privilege. He got away with everything. And me? I was the one they all whispered about. The drunk. The murderer. The irresponsible son. I stepped into the breakfast room and found them both—Father and her—eating like nothing was wrong in the world. “Have a seat, Lucian,” my father said with a manufactured smile. There was a thick folder on the table. Blank on the outside. I eyed it but said nothing. This was a game, and I already knew I was a piece. “Have you finally accepted the union?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. It was a test. And I already knew what the right answer was. “Yes,” I said smoothly, swallowing down my resentment like it was ash. Martha didn't miss a beat. “Make sure you keep her out of Darian’s hair.” I wanted to speak. Gods, I wanted to snap. But I bit down on the urge. “She’s already out of Darian’s hair,” my father said before I could respond. “She has been, ever since her parents told her about the arrangement.” Martha rolled her eyes, dismissive as always. “So she sent my son to fight me?” she asked, mouth tight. “That was Darian’s choice,” Father said. “Stop trying to pin this on Mara. Did it ever occur to you that maybe—just maybe—Darian genuinely liked the girl and only stayed away because of you?” I nearly laughed. Darian like someone? Please. The only person Darian had ever truly loved was himself. He kept Mara close because she worshipped him. He fed on that loyalty, that quiet hope in her eyes. And when she finally became inconvenient, he let Martha clean it up. But I stayed silent. “Anyway,” my father said, suddenly annoyed, “I didn’t call Lucian here to discuss Darian. You somehow always find a way to bring it back to him.” Martha turned her head away, eyes cold and narrowed. I stared at the file again. And for the first time, I truly realized how deeply buried we all were in this family's lies. We were weapons. Symbols. Bargaining chips. Everything but people. “Take this,” my father said, sliding the thick folder across the table toward me. I didn’t move immediately. “Sign them and keep a copy,” he added. “My signature is already there.” I stared at the folder. “What is it, Father?” He sighed like he was finally ready to put something to rest. “Since you won’t be succeeding me as Alpha,” he said, “it’s only fair I hand the company over to you.” Martha slammed her hand down on the table. “Impossible!” she snapped, venom lacing her voice. My father didn’t flinch. “The deed is done, Martha. I can’t undo it.”
I stopped keeping my bread in plastic the moment I understood what it was actually doing to it. For years, I never questioned it. It was simply part of the routine, bring a loaf home from the village bakery, place it inside a plastic bag, twist it shut, and leave it on the wooden table by the window. That was just how things were done. No thought behind it. No reason to question it. Or at least, that’s what I believed. But over time, I began to notice small details that didn’t quite sit right. Nothing obvious at first, just subtle changes that became harder to ignore the longer I lived alone out here. Each time I reached into the bag, something felt different. The crust, which should have held a certain firmness, lost its character. It became soft, almost tacky to the touch. And the inside felt slightly damp. Not enough to throw away immediately, but enough to make me hesitate before cutting into it. Sometimes there was even a faint smell. Not unpleasant, just… questionable. That’s when the thought kept coming back: why does bread seem worse after sitting in plastic? It didn’t make sense at first. So I paid closer attention, and eventually, I began to look into it. What I found changed the way I saw something I had taken for granted my entire life. Plastic doesn’t preserve bread the way we assume, it traps moisture. When bread is sealed inside, the moisture it naturally releases has nowhere to go. It builds slowly, almost invisibly. At first, you don’t notice it. But then the crust softens, the texture shifts, and the bread begins to break down faster than it should. Eventually, it creates the perfect conditions for it to spoil sooner not later. Not because the bread is poor, but because of the environment around it. That realization stayed with me. I wasn’t just storing bread, I was creating the exact conditions that were ruining it. And what unsettled me even more was that it wasn’t only about freshness. It was about what I was using. Plastic. Something I had already started removing from other parts of my life. Fewer bags, less waste, more intention in small things. And yet, every day, I was wrapping something as simple as bread in it. It didn’t sit well with me anymore. That’s when I came across something I hadn’t considered before a beeswax bread bag. At first, I dismissed it. It sounded like one of those ideas people talk about but rarely continue using. Something temporary. Something unnecessary. But something about it stayed with me. So I looked into it more carefully, and the more I understood, the more it made sense. Because this wasn’t new at all. Long before plastic, bread was never sealed away like that. It was kept covered in cloth, but not suffocated. Protected, but allowed to breathe. Because bread was never meant to exist in a sealed space. It needs air, but not too much. Just enough. That balance was what I had been missing all along. The one I eventually chose was from Elveria. What stood out wasn’t just the idea, but how it was made of natural cotton, real beeswax, not applied lightly on the surface but worked deeply into the fabric itself. And that difference matters, because it changes how the material behaves. The beeswax forms a protective layer while still allowing controlled airflow. So instead of trapping moisture, it regulates enough movement to prevent dampness, enough structure to prevent drying. A quiet balance. And that, I realized, was exactly what I had been lacking. The first time I used it, I didn’t expect much. I followed the same routine, brought bread home, placed it inside, folded it closed, and left it where I always do. Then I forgot about it. A few days later, I checked, and immediately, I noticed something had changed. The bread wasn’t damp. The crust still had its form. The inside remained soft, not freshly baked, but steady. Consistent. By the third day, I expected the usual decline, but it didn’t happen. By the fourth, still the same. By the fifth, I realized I had stopped checking altogether. No hesitation, no second thoughts, no adjustments. It simply stayed as it should. And that’s when everything became clear. It was never about finding better bread. It was about giving it the right conditions. Because once that part is correct, everything else becomes simple. Now, it’s part of how I live. No plastic, no unnecessary steps, no overthinking, just a small change that makes sense. And what surprised me most wasn’t only how the bread held up, but how it felt knowing I had removed something unnecessary from my daily life. Reusable, natural, simple it fits. Even caring for it is easy. A rinse with cool water, left to dry, then used again. Nothing wasted. Nothing complicated. If you’ve been storing your bread the way I used to, it might be worth stepping back for a moment and looking at what’s really happening inside that bag. Because once you understand it, you can’t quite ignore it anymore. And once you experience the difference for yourself, it’s difficult to return to how it was before. Sometimes, nothing dramatic is needed. Just a small shift. And suddenly, even something as simple as bread feels right again. I’ll share the link below if you want to see what I’ve been using... https://myelveria.com/products/premium-100-cotton-beeswax-bread-bags I hope it helps you too.
Chapter 1 Island Survival [Welcome to the Island Survival Game.] [Treasure chests will appear in the sea every day from 8:00 AM to 12:00 PM. Players can use fishing rods to pull up chests and get supplies.] [Players between the ages of 16 and 55 are selected. Family members will be grouped together when possible.] [The beginner protection period lasts for three days. If you die in the game, you die for real.] [The game begins.] [Today's weather: cloudy, 60 to 80 degrees Fahrenheit.] A robotic voice announced. Jane Quinn looked around, completely confused. One moment, she was celebrating a fresh start and planning a barbecue dinner, and the next, she was standing on a deserted island. [Please enter your username. If you do not pick one in ten seconds, your real name will be used.] A blank line and a countdown appeared in front of her. [Ten, nine, eight...] Jane thought, 'What the hell is this?' [Seven, six, five...] Jane barely had time to think. She typed "J.Ivy" as her username. [Scanning player information.] A holographic data panel suddenly popped up in front of Jane. [Player: J.Ivy] [Gender: Female] [Level: 1 (EXP: 0/50)] [Constitution: 7 (above average, not bad)] [Attack: 5 (pretty pathetic)] [Defense: 5 (pretty weak)] [Intelligence: 9 (super smart)] [Speed: 6 (barely faster than a turtle)] [Luck: 8 (pretty lucky)] [Magic attributes: Ice Magic: 8; Light Magic: 9] [All base stats are capped at 10, except for level, which can go up to 100.] [Health Points (HP): 70] [Magic Points (MP): 90] Jane thought, 'Player info? Am I actually in a game? And is that luck stat for real? I've always had terrible luck. The one time I won the lottery is the only exception.' The holographic status screen came from a watch on her wrist. Besides the stats panel, there were tabs for the chatroom, trading section, and friends list. In the bottom right, a display read 100,000/100,000 for players. It looked like the games she used to play. The chatroom was already blowing up. BigDaddy: [Where the hell am I? I was just eating dinner.] Pitviper: [I was on the toilet.] MorningStar: [Didn't you hear that voice? This is a survival game.] Sunset: [I don't want to be stuck in this hellhole. I want to go home.] Rocky: [I want to go home, too.] Southshore: [Looks like we can't go back.] Sunrise: [The beginner protection only lasts three days. We must hurry up and gather supplies, or we'll be dead soon.] Seeing the chat rolling, Jane started to feel uneasy inside, too. [J.Ivy, your parents have been detected in the game. Would you like to teleport them into your area?] Jane bit her lip and picked "No." Jane was the heiress of a rich family who'd been switched with another baby at the hospital after birth. The Quinn family, the one that adopted her, was poor. With a spoiled younger brother, Jane had to do the housework from a young age. She was constantly yelled at and even hit, and her life was miserable. Later, the truth came out, and Jane learned that the Quinns themselves had arranged the switch. The Quinns had abused her not because they favored boys but because they'd known she wasn't their daughter. They had switched her with Eve Goodwin, their real daughter, so Eve could lead a better life. Jane wanted to call the police, but Elena Goodwin, Jane's real mother, couldn't let go of the girl she'd raised for twenty years. After Eve's tearful pleas, Elena forgave the Quinns regardless of Jane's feelings, kept Eve by her side, and ended up being even closer to her than to Jane. Eve was the girl Elena had raised as her own for twenty years, a perfect lady skilled in all the arts, whereas Jane, her real daughter that she'd just met, had grown up in a small town, doing farm work. Desmond Goodwin, Jane's real father, and Elena chose Eve without hesitation. They doted on Eve, and Jane was ignored and left to survive on her own. But Eve always pretended to be pure and innocent, but she was secretly scheming. She kept framing Jane, and the more it happened, the less Desmond and Elena liked Jane. To them, Jane was some uncouth, petty girl. Then Eve pulled the trick again, blaming Jane for breaking Elena's favorite antique vase, worth millions. This time Jane was ready. She had bought a recorder and caught Eve on tape. When Eve went to complain, Jane pressed play for everyone to hear. Jane expected the truth to change Desmond and Elena, but Eve started to sob and said, "I was scared because I'm not your real daughter." Desmond and Elena softened and wanted to let it go. Jane was disappointed. She called the police. Desmond and Elena were furious. They thought Jane was cruel and that she called the cops over something so trivial and tried to get Eve thrown in jail. Jane did not actually want Eve jailed. She knew that unless Elena pressed charges over the vase, Eve would be perfectly fine. Jane only wanted to make a clean break from both families, and she wanted to do it in front of the police. If she stayed, Jane had no idea how much more she would have to put up with. With the police's help, Jane formally changed her residency and signed the papers to cut ties with Desmond and Elena. She was about to celebrate with a barbecue when she found herself dumped into a strange game world. A system prompt hovered in front of her, asking if she'd like to teleport her parents to her side. Jane scoffed. She had already severed the relationship. 'Let Eve, their perfect daughter, take care of them instead,' she thought. Jane couldn't stop thinking about her luck stat. 'Even someone as unlucky as me got an 8, so Eve, who's spoiled rotten and adored by everyone, must have a perfect 10,' she thought. That really made her unhappy. [Treasure chests are now spawning. Players, start fishing.] Jane was dazed for a moment before she snapped out of it. She had no time to get sentimental. She didn't even know where she was. That robotic voice sounded legit. They were here to survive, and if she died here, she'd be dead for real. The voice said the beginner protection lasted three days. What came after that could be lethal. All she knew was, right now, she had to grab as many resources as she could before the protection ended. Jane had checked her gear. She only had a ten-slot inventory, a fishing rod, and a shabby thatched hut that would be useless in a heavy storm. If she wanted to survive, she had to build a proper shelter. Jane walked to the shore, baited her hook, and cast her line into the sea. She waited quietly for a long time until she finally felt a tug. Her eyes lit up. She reeled it in fast. It was heavy, but since she'd been doing farm work and had grown strong muscles, she pulled it up easily. What she hauled in was a knee-high wooden crate. She didn't open it yet, only tossed it into her inventory to check later. Right now, she wanted to fish up as many crates as she could. Chapter 2 Opening Wooden Crates and Exploring Jane threw more bait into the sea. This time, she waited almost an hour before she got another crate. After storing it, she noticed it still took only one slot of the inventory, but the number on the crate now showed two. Good thing same items could stack; otherwise, her ten slots would fill up very soon. Time slowly passed. Jane checked her watch and frowned. It was 11:55, only five minutes left before crates stopped appearing. She'd only caught three crates in four hours, and she wasn't sure that would be enough. It was almost noon. Jane started to reel in her line when something tugged hard, shaking her rod wildly. She pulled up quickly. This crate felt much heavier than the others. Jane struggled to haul it in, her rod trembling. She worried it might snap. The crate landed hard on the sand. It was still wooden but heavier than the rest. Jane stored it in her inventory. 'Hope this one has more supplies,' she thought. It was noon. Jane packed up her fishing rod and headed toward the thatched hut. The hut sat on higher ground, probably to keep it from flooding when the tide came. As she got closer, Jane's lips twitched in disbelief. This was no hut. It was just a pile of weeds tied together into a tiny shelter. Inside, there was only a heap of weeds on the floor and holes in the roof. There was no place to hide anything. Jane pulled out all four wooden crates, ready to open them. Inside the first crate, she found a windproof lighter, a knife, and five units of wood. In the second, there were three units of refined iron and five units of plastic. Jane's mood sank. Neither had any food or water. The third crate gave her 34 fluid ounces of water in two bottles and 14 ounces of bread. 'Finally, some real food,' she thought. Then she eagerly opened the last, heavier crate. Inside were a stone axe, two apples, and two sandwiches. A prompt popped up on her holo display: [Stone axe: Attack: 10; Durability: 100/100; Good for chopping down trees.] 'No wonder it was so heavy. It's a weapon,' Jane thought. 'The supplies aren't much, but at least I have enough to get through today.' The system asked, [You have four wooden crates. Do you want to dismantle them?] 'Wait, I can dismantle these?' Jane thought. She tapped "Yes." The four crates were dismantled into 24 pieces of wood. 'So each crate gives six units of wood,' she thought. Now Jane had a windproof lighter, a knife, a stone axe, three refined iron pieces, 29 pieces of wood, five pieces of plastic, two bottles of water, 14 ounces of bread, two apples, and two sandwiches. Jane looked at the rundown shelter, sighed, and patted it. 'How am I supposed to live in this?' she thought. Just then, a system message appeared. [J.Ivy's shelter: level-1 shabby shelter, can't keep out wind or rain] [Next level: level-2 sturdy shelter, can keep out wind and rain] [Materials needed: thatch ×30, wood ×10] 'So I can upgrade it,' Jane thought. 'But where do I find thatch?' She took out a piece of bread and an apple, drank some water, and barely filled her stomach. Jane decided to look for resources. She couldn't wait for the system to deliver crates every day. Besides, since it was still the beginner protection period, it was the best time to explore. With her stone axe in hand, Jane made her way toward the forest near the beach. The place was deep and eerily quiet, and Jane felt a weird sense of danger. She only dared to stay near the edge. In a patch of bushes, she spotted something like thatch and pulled it up. It was thatch. Jane gathered all thatch she could find in the area, ending up with 36 units of thatch and 36 EXP. 'Wait, I get EXP for this?' she wondered, still unsure what EXP and levels were for. Then there were things like Magic Points, Ice Magic, and Light Magic. From her gaming experience, Jane guessed she'd learn Ice and Light spells someday. But right now, she didn't know how to unlock them. Nearby stood seven banyan trees. Jane pulled out her stone axe and started chopping. Each tree took a dozen swings, but she ended up with 35 units of wood and 35 EXP. [Congratulations. You've reached Level 2 and gained one attribute point for each attribute except Luck and Magic attributes, plus five free attribute points (excluding Luck and Magic attributes).] Jane checked her stats panel, and it had changed. [Player: J.Ivy] [Gender: Female] [Level: 2 (EXP: 21/80)] [Constitution: 8 (not bad)] [Attack: 6 (still not much of a punch)] [Defense: 6 (still pretty fragile)] [Intelligence: 10 (awesome)] [Speed: 7 (decent)] [Luck: 8 (pretty lucky)] [Magic attributes: Ice Magic: 8; Light Magic: 9] [All base stats are capped at 10, except for level, which can go up to 100.] [Health Points (HP): 80] [Magic Points (MP): 100] Jane noticed that when her Constitution was 7, her HP was 70. Now that it was 8, her HP had risen to 80. And Intelligence and Magic Points seemed to be linked. Magic Points mattered, but Jane still didn't know how to unlock spells. She put three free attribute points into Constitution and two into Attack. Now her Constitution was 11, her HP jumped to 110, and Attack reached 8. 'Finally, I'm not so weak anymore,' she thought. The axe's durability had dropped to 90/100. "This axe wears out so fast," Jane sighed. Jane ventured a bit deeper into the woods and spotted some long, slender vines. Her eyes lit up. She chopped one down and tested its strength with a tug, nodding in satisfaction. 'These are sturdy enough to weave fish traps,' she thought. 'I can set them in the sea and catch dinner.' Back in the small town, Jane had often gone hungry. She'd learned to weave fish traps from her neighbor Wayne, setting them in the river to catch food. She never imagined that skill would be useful in a survival game. Jane's fingers moved quickly, and soon she had several well-made traps. She glanced at the time. It was already 3:30 PM. She was surprised she'd spent three hours chopping trees and gathering materials. 'Time to head out,' she thought, taking one last look into the forest before turning toward the beach. She walked along the shoreline for about 30 minutes and finally found a spot with rocky outcrops. She placed her traps at different points among the rocks. Then, to her delight, she spotted three coconut trees growing on the beach. Jane loved coconut water, but she always thought bottled drinks couldn't compare to fresh coconut water straight from the fruit. She grabbed her stone axe and worked on the coconut trees. After some effort, she got nine coconuts, nine pieces of wood, and 15 EXP. 'Coconut trees give less wood than regular ones,' she thought. 'But having coconuts is already a win.' Jane checked the time. It was 4:30 PM, and the sky was starting to darken. 'Better head back,' she thought. 'The night out here feels dangerous.' Chapter 3 Upgrading the Shelter Jane returned to her shelter by five o'clock. The sky had turned completely dark. She started a fire using two bundles of thatch, one piece of wood, and her lighter. Warm light instantly filled the hut. Then, using thirty bundles of thatch and ten pieces of wood, she spent ten minutes upgrading the dilapidated hut into a sturdy one. It was still a thatched shelter, but now it wouldn't collapse. [Congratulations, J.Ivy. You have upgraded your shelter to Level 2 and gained 20 EXP.] Jane checked the materials needed for the next upgrade. [Wooden Shelter: Level 3 (protects against ordinary monsters). Upgrade requires: wood ×80, stone ×30.] 'Ordinary monsters,' she thought. 'So monsters will attack players.' She'd already guessed this world was dangerous, but the thought still unsettled her. Her stomach growled loudly. She really needed to grab something to eat. All she'd had today was some bread and an apple. Jane grabbed her axe and cracked open a coconut. She downed the coconut water, scooped out the meat, and then punched two small holes in the shell with her knife. She threaded some leftover vines through the holes, poured in half a bottle of water, and hung the shell over the fire using the vines as a handle. She planned to heat up a sandwich, saving the bread and apple for breakfast. The fire in the game burned intensely hot, and the water boiled almost instantly. Jane took out a sandwich and used only half of the flavor packet. She didn't like salty food much, so she saved the rest to use as seasoning later. She knew that without enough salt, over time, her health would decline. The warm sandwich helped settle her stomach. As she ate, she reviewed her supplies. Things seemed okay, but she couldn't shake the feeling that food and water were running low. She remembered she was still in the beginner protection period. Once that ended, gathering resources would become much harder. That meant she had to keep scavenging tomorrow. After finishing the sandwich, she felt bored. The day's exertion and the quiet surroundings made it easy for her to drift off to sleep. Jane woke up at 7:30 in the morning. She rinsed her mouth with bottled water and ate a piece of bread, which was just enough to ease her hunger. She checked the weather. [Today's weather: Sunny, 66°F to 86°F.] The treasure chests hadn't respawned yet, and Jane began to wonder how the other survivors in her zone were doing. She opened the chatroom and saw the region tab had 999+ unread messages, all from last night. IronWill: [How many chests did you guys get? I only got two.] Teddy: [Same. Just two. And all I got was plastic and wood. I'm starving and dying of thirst. Can anyone share some food or water? Please.] SpringDrizzle: [Same.] FlyingBird: [Me too.] SuccessfulMe: [I only found a piece of bread and a bottle of water. Not enough to survive.] LongWay: [Honestly, just having food is pretty lucky already.] LuckyKing: [Huh? You guys got so little? I got five MREs, ten bottles of water, and ten apples. That should last me two days.] Jane was surprised. 'This guy's luck is unreal,' she thought. 'But is it really smart to let everyone know he's got so much food?' Sure enough, the chat went wild as soon as everyone saw LuckyKing's message. FlyingBird: [Damn, you're lucky.] Teddy: [Hey, LuckyKing, can you spare me some food? I didn't get anything at all. Please, I'm starving here.] LongWay: [I've got my parents with me. They're both in their fifties. Can you help us out? We'll definitely pay you back once we get some food.] LuckyKing didn't reply after that. He probably realized it wasn't a good idea to tell everyone he had so much food. Teddy: [@LuckyKing, come on. Say something. You can't let us die out here.] LongWay: [Yeah. With your luck, you'll probably find more tomorrow. Share a bit. It won't hurt you.] PrettyFace: [We're all from Centlandia. We should help each other when things are tough.] HazySurface: [How can you ask for that? Why should he share what he worked for?] HungryBelly: [Exactly. If you want to survive, find food yourselves. Stop relying on others. This is a survival game. Only the strong survive.] LuckyKing: [Sure, I'm lucky, but I'm not playing saint. If you want something, trade for it. Nothing's free.] Teddy: [Guys, don't you care about your fellow countrymen at all?] UsTogether: [Survival matters now, not solidarity. If you had food, would you give it away? Don't expect others to do what you wouldn't.] Seeing more and more people criticize them, the freeloaders quickly stopped talking. Jane agreed with LuckyKing and the others. She was willing to trade resources, but if anyone expected free handouts, they were out of luck. 'Why should anyone give away what they worked hard to get? Who do they think they are?' she thought. ***** At exactly eight o'clock, Jane sat by the shore. She cast her hook into the sea, waiting for the next round of supplies. Today she pulled up four wooden crates. Inside she found a stone pickaxe, 5 units of refined iron, 5 units of plastic, 5 units of glass, and 3 bottles of water, 21 ounces of bread, and two ham sausages. [Stone Pickaxe: Attack: 10; Durability: 100; Can be used to gather stone.] Jane felt a bit down. She'd gotten even less food than yesterday, so she'd have to stretch her supplies. Still, finding a new tool made her feel a little better. She dismantled the wooden crates and collected 24 pieces of wood. At the moment, Jane's inventory included: a windproof lighter, a knife, a stone axe with 85 durability, a stone pickaxe, 8 units of refined iron, 86 pieces of wood, 4 bundles of thatch, 10 units of plastic... 5 pieces of glass, 4 bottles of water, 28 ounces of bread, 1 apple, 1 sandwich, 8 coconuts, and 2 ham sausages. Back at the shelter, Jane ate some bread and opened up a coconut. She didn't eat anything else. Good thing she didn't have much of an appetite. She left anything she didn't need for the day inside the shelter, taking only her stone axe, stone pickaxe, a bottle of water, and a ham sausage, just in case she got hungry later. Today, Jane headed to the forest again, but instead of yesterday's spot, she chose the area next to where she'd left her fish basket, so she wouldn't have to trek back later. Chapter 4 First Deal The forest here was much thicker. Jane chopped down three banyan trees, collecting 15 pieces of wood and 15 EXP. Then she decided to move on. Today, her goal was to gather stones and explore further. She didn't want to waste too much time chopping trees. She pushed aside the vines blocking her path and continued deeper into the forest. The plants grew denser, some sprinkled with tiny yellow and white flowers she couldn't name. She spotted plenty of mushrooms with bright red caps and white stems. They looked beautiful, but she remembered an old warning: Red cap, white stalk. Eat them and you'll be laid out flat. That kept her from picking any. Still, with all this thick greenery and so many mushrooms around, Jane figured there was probably a water source nearby. She checked the time. It was 3. If she hurried, it would take about an hour to get out of the forest. She needed to collect her fishing traps, and it would take another 30 minutes to get back. She had to leave now. On her way out, Jane was hungry. She washed down a sausage with bottled water in two bites. Once she stepped out of the forest, the whole world seemed to brighten up. The forest had been so gloomy. It really wasn't a place for people. She hurried over to the shallows and took a quick look. Jane's mouth twitched. Unfortunately, out of the five fishing traps she'd set, only two remained. The rest must have been swept away by the wind. She hauled up the two remaining traps and dumped them onto the sand. The haul was disappointingly small. Just two sea snails, a palm-sized fish, and a few handfuls of seaweed. That was all she got. [Would you disassemble them?] Naturally, Jane tapped "Yes." It was a convenient way. [Received: snail meat ×2, 3.5 ounces of fish meat, seaweed ×2.] Jane didn't stick around. She tossed the two fishing traps back into the sea and headed for her shelter. On her way, she spotted a few large rocks. She pulled out her stone pickaxe and started chipping away, getting 15 pieces of stones and 15 EXP. Jane couldn't help but complain inwardly, 'Seriously? Those rocks were huge, but I only get 15 units of stones? That's stingy.' [Congratulations. You've reached Level 3. You've gained one attribute point for each stat except Luck and Magic attributes, plus five free attribute points (excluding Luck and Magic attributes).] After two days of running around, Jane realized Speed was as important as Constitution. Moving faster meant she could explore more places and gather more loot. So this time, she put 3 points into Constitution and 2 into Speed. Her status panel now looked like this: [Player: J.Ivy] [Gender: Female] [Level: 3 (EXP: 6/150)] [Constitution: 15 (very strong)] [Attack: 9 (not too shabby on the attack front)] [Defense: 7 (could be worse)] [Intelligence: 11 (pretty sharp)] [Speed: 10 (very quick)] [Luck: 8 (pretty lucky)] [Magic attributes: Ice Magic: 8; Light Magic: 9] [All base stats are capped at 10, except for level, which can go up to 100.] [Health Points (HP): 150] [Magic Points (MP): 110] With her Constitution now at 15, Jane was amazed. Her body had been completely worn out from the afternoon's work, but suddenly, it was as if all her exhaustion vanished. And with Speed bumped up to 10, Jane raced back to the shelter much faster than before. 'This is unreal,' she thought. Even with her new speed, it was nearly five o'clock when she made it back. Just like always, Jane started a fire with 2 bundles of thatch and 1 piece of wood. She decided to cook the seafood she'd caught. It wouldn't keep for long, and even though her inventory stopped food from spoiling, space was limited. She couldn't carry everything forever, so she figured she should deal with it now. Jane poured the rest of her half bottle of water into yesterday's coconut-shell pot, added 2 pieces of snail meat, 3.5 ounces of fish, and the leftover half packet of seasoning from yesterday. She set the coconut shell over the fire to simmer. When the seafood was nearly done, Jane took out her last sandwich. She saved the seasoning packet for later and dropped the sandwich into the coconut shell to cook with the seafood. Soon, the mouthwatering smell of seafood and sandwich filled the air. Jane was drooling. It smelled so good. Too bad it was her last sandwich. She finished the seafood and sandwich and slurped up every drop of soup. Finally, she was full. With nothing else to do that evening, Jane started sorting through her supplies. After checking everything over, she felt anxious. There wasn't enough food to last another day. If tomorrow's haul was bad, she'd be in trouble. Jane decided to check the trading section to see what was available. [Wood ×10: trade for any food] [Thatch ×10: trade for water] [Glass ×5: trade for at least 7 ounces of food] [Refined iron ×5: trade for any food] [Stone ×10: trade for food] The list went on. Most of the listings were people trying to swap their supplies for food or water. No one was offering food for other items. 'Guess food is really scarce,' Jane thought. Seeing the listings for stones, Jane felt tempted. She'd only managed to get 15 stones all afternoon, and it was hard work. As for food, she still had a few coconuts to trade. Coconuts weren't super filling, but they were packed with energy. Jane traded four coconuts for 20 pieces of stone, 5 pieces of glass, and 5 pieces of refined iron. She wasn't sure what glass or refined iron were for, but she figured they'd be useful later. [You're making a trade. Do you want to stay anonymous?] Jane hit "Yes." Four coconuts wasn't a big deal, but if she traded them openly, people would know she had extra food. She didn't want anyone eyeing her supplies or getting any ideas. She checked the chat, and sure enough, people were talking about the trades. LittleBlossom: [Someone traded a coconut for 10 pieces of my stone. I thought the stone would never sell. Thanks, anonymous buyer.] SpringFeast: [Same. I traded five pieces of glass for a coconut.] Funster: [I traded five pieces of refined iron for a coconut. Coconut water is so good!] Conqueror: [An anonymous buyer? More like a profiteer. Use your brains, guys. Stone is for upgrading your hut, and refined iron and glass are important materials. Trading all that for a coconut? How are you supposed to upgrade your shelter?] Then, a bunch of people thought Jane was ruthless. 'A coconut doesn't even fill one up, and that buyer's swapping it for so much stuff. We're all Centlandians, all in the same boat. Shouldn't we help each other out?' they thought. Chapter 5 Axe Blueprint But someone quickly disagreed. Funster: [For the past two days, all I've gotten from crates is stone and refined iron. The only food I found was a sandwich and a bottle of water. If it weren't for this coconut, I'll be dead. I owe the coconut seller big time.] SpringFeast: [Yeah. Making it through the day is hard enough. Who cares about the future? At least I can eat the coconut, but I can't eat materials.] HungryBelly: [Food is precious right now. It's already generous for someone to offer it up for trade. If you think they're ripping people off, why not put up some filling food yourself? I'm sure everyone would thank you for it.] UsTogether: [@Conqueror, how about trading 5 pieces of refined iron for 5.5 pounds of wheat? Since refined iron is so valuable, I bet you'll agree, right?] Conqueror: [No good deed goes unpunished. Whatever, I'm not wasting my breath on you guys.] UsTogether: [Wait. Don't go. I'm serious about the trade.] No matter how many people tagged Conqueror, he stayed silent. Watching all this go down, Jane felt totally satisfied. She made a mental note of Conqueror's name. She'd never trade anything valuable with him. Jane had 100 pieces of wood and 35 pieces of stone. They were enough to upgrade her wood cabin. She spent 80 pieces of wood and 30 pieces of stone and jumped into the upgrade. About half an hour later, her new wooden cabin was finished. It was much larger than her old thatched hut and looked solidly built. No wonder it could hold up against ordinary monster attacks. [Congratulations, player J.Ivy, for upgrading your shelter to level 3. You've got 50 EXP.] Jane checked the requirements for the next upgrade. [Stone cabin: Level 4 (can withstand attacks from level-1 monsters). Upgrade materials required: stone ×500, wood ×300, glass ×60.] 'That's a huge amount of materials for level four,' she thought. 'Everything is doubling now.' After the upgrade, Jane was low on supplies. Tomorrow was the final day of the beginner protection period, and she wasn't sure what would happen after it ended. She set her alarm for 5:30 AM. She wasn't going to sleep until seven again. Time was tight, and she needed to gather more resources. 'I should have gotten up early this morning too,' Jane thought. 'I went to bed early and wasted all that time.' With that, she let her thoughts fade and fell into a deep sleep. ***** The next morning, Jane woke up at 5:30 to the sound of her alarm. [Today's weather: Cloudy. Temperature between 57°F and 77°F.] She ate some bread for breakfast, drank a little water, and tossed a sausage into her inventory before heading out. By 5:30, it was already bright outside. Jane returned to the forest she had visited on her first afternoon. When she noticed a bunch of vines, she remembered her trip to the Shallow Bay yesterday. The wind had left her with only two fish traps. Worried they might be gone today, she grabbed some vines and stuffed them into her inventory. Making fish traps took too much time, so Jane decided she would work on them tonight when she was free. She kept walking until she came across a pine forest. 'Time to gather more wood,' she thought. Jane took out her stone axe and began chopping. After about ten swings, the pine tree fell. She collected 5 pieces of wood, 1 unit of pine resin, 17.5 ounces of pine nuts, and gained 5 EXP. 'Chopping pine trees gives me resin and nuts too?' she thought. Pine resin was a sticky substance that seeped from pine trees. It worked well for starting fires and could be used as medicine. It helped relieve pain and itching, reduce swelling, detoxify, and stop bleeding. Jane had tasted pine nuts at her relatives' house during the holidays. They were rich and fragrant. The ones from the system were already processed, and it saved her strength. Seeing how much the pine trees were dropping, she felt motivated. She picked up her axe and started chopping again. As her inventory filled with pine resin and pine nuts, Jane couldn't hold back her smile. By 7:50, she decided to stop. Crate fishing was about to begin, and that was her top priority. All morning, she had collected 80 pieces of wood, 16 units of pine resin, 16 portions of pine nuts (each 17.5 ounces), and gained 80 EXP. Jane felt satisfied. Last time she was here, she only gathered 35 pieces of wood, but that was because she spent too much time weaving five fish traps. Now she knew how to plan better. Since making fish traps didn't depend on location, she would save that for the evenings, leaving daylight hours free for gathering supplies. Jane walked to her usual crate fishing spot. Sitting quietly on the beach and waiting for the crates to appear, she was absolutely famished. She had been doing physical work all morning and only had a small 7 ounces pack of bread to keep her going. She took a sip of water, pulled out her last sausage and finished it in a few bites. At least now her stomach finally settled. Jane got lucky today. She caught six crates, and one of them was a black iron crate, clearly better than the usual wooden ones. She went back to her shelter and started opening the crates. The first wooden crate held 5 bottles of water, 5 packs of 7 ounces bread, and 5 sandwiches. 'I'm on a roll today. That's a lot of food,' Jane thought. The second wooden crate contained 10 units of stone, 10 pieces of refined iron, and 10 units of plastic. The third held 5 apples, 5 bananas, and 10 strawberries. The fourth crate had an 80 inches ×80 inches cashmere blanket and an 80 inches ×80 inches mattress. 'A mattress and a blanket?' Jane thought. 'Maybe I don't have to sleep on itchy straw anymore. It always got cold once the fire died at night.' The fifth wooden crate contained 3 sets of women's underwear and a set of women's autumn outfit. 'New clothes,' she thought. 'I've felt so grimy these last few days. Now I can finally change out of these dirty rags.' Jane stared at the last black iron crate, her face full of anticipation. 'The wooden ones were packed,' she thought. 'Don't let me down now.' [1 blueprint, 5 Inventory Expansion Cards.] Jane's hands trembled slightly as she opened the blueprint. [Axe blueprint unlocked.] [Stone axe: Requires stone ×6, wood ×3; Attack: 10; Durability: 100/100] [Iron axe: Requires refined iron ×6, stone ×3; Attack: 15; Durability: 150/150] [Copper axe: Requires bronze ×6, refined iron ×3; Attack: 20; Durability: 200/200] [Silver axe: Requires silver ×6, bronze ×3; Attack: 30; Durability: 300/300] [Gold axe: Requires gold ×6, silver ×3; Attack: 50; Durability: 500/500] 'There are so many types of axes?' Jane thought. She used 6 pieces of refined iron and 3 pieces of stone and crafted an iron axe right away. Chapter 6 Slaying a Level-1 Monster While waiting for the iron axe to finish crafting, Jane grabbed a quick lunch: an apple, three strawberries, and a bag of bread. In less than ten minutes, the iron axe was ready. [Iron axe: Attack: 15; Durability: 150/150] 'Not bad. This should make chopping trees faster,' Jane thought. Next, she checked out the Inventory Expansion Cards. [Inventory Expansion Card: Use to add one slot to your inventory.] Jane used all five cards, so now her inventory had fifteen slots. She could bring way more gear when she headed out without worrying about space. [You've got six chests. Would you like to break them down?] Jane tapped "No." She'd gathered so much stuff lately that her inventory was full, and dumping everything on the ground made her shelter look like a junkyard. These chests would be right for sorting out all her gear. Her supplies were mostly food, tools, and daily necessities. She stored all of it in the chests inside her shelter. Jane only brought an iron axe, a stone pickaxe, a half-empty bottle of water, and two bananas before heading out. 'Bananas are more filling,' she thought as she grabbed them. Jane returned to the spot she'd explored yesterday afternoon, planning to keep searching for water. On an island like this, freshwater was essential. If she found any, she could trade it for other supplies in the trading section. The jungle was so dense that sunlight barely reached the ground, making the whole forest feel dark and gloomy. Jane held a stick in her left hand to push aside the undergrowth, while her right hand gripped the iron axe, ready for anything. She passed quickly by the cluster of red-capped, white-stemmed mushrooms she'd seen last time without stopping. After another ten minutes or so, Jane thought she heard the gentle sound of water flowing nearby. Her eyes brightened. 'Could this be the water source?' she thought. After another seven or eight minutes, she finally spotted a long stream ahead, with thicket and agaves stretching far along both banks. Jane's eyes brightened. Agave was incredibly useful. Every part of it could be used, and there might even be groundhogs there. The wood here was thick, perfect for making fishing spears to catch fish. She cut down a tree with her iron axe but didn't receive any EXP. She guessed only collecting certain items, like wood, stone, or thatch, gave her experience points. She sharpened one end of the branch into several prongs and headed to the stream with her new spear. The water was clear, and she could see fish swimming. She waited for the right moment and jabbed down, but she missed. 'What's wrong with me?' she thought. She used to be skilled at spear fishing back in the small town, but today her timing was off. She tried again, waited for the perfect moment, and jabbed her spear down. This time, she finally got lucky and snagged a bluegill that must have weighed about 4 pounds. [Would you disassemble them?] Jane tapped "Yes" and received 2 pounds of bluegill fillets. She stared at the screen, confused. 'That fish was big, and the system only gave me 2 pounds?' she thought. 'How could it discard everything else?' Jane kept grumbling quietly, but her hands never stopped moving. Over the next half hour, she caught two more fish. After processing them, the system gave her 2 pounds of bluegill fillets and 2 pounds of crappie fillets. She decided to stop. Fish wouldn't keep long, and her inventory was already filling up. She could come back another day. Now she planned to chop some river cane and make containers to carry water back to her shelter. Each slot in her inventory could hold up to 99 items. She already used six slots, so she decided to use five more for water. After over an hour of work, Jane ended up with 495 river cane tubes. She was exhausted and hungry. Sitting by the stream, she put river cane containers filled with water into her inventory while eating bananas. Once she finished them, her stomach finally felt settled. It took nearly another hour to fill all five slots with water using the containers. 📖 The story gets hotter—click "Download" to read the uncensored chapters! 👇
The Divorce The small law office smelled faintly of dust and old paper. A flickering lamp in the corner gave off a weak, tired glow, casting shadows across the stacks of files lining the shelves. I sat across from Mr. Ricci, an older man with sharp glasses and sharper instincts. “You’re sure about this, Mrs. Russo?” he asked quietly, hands folded over the folder in front of him. The name sounded strange, like it belonged to someone else. “Yes,” I said, my voice steady even though my pulse wasn’t. “I want the divorce filed quietly. I don’t want my husband or his people knowing until everything’s finalized.” Ricci gave me a long, measuring look, but he didn’t question me further. Instead, he slid the paperwork towards me. “You’ll need his signature on these.” I nodded, slipping the papers into my leather folder. When I came back to the Russo mansion, it felt too quiet. The guards at the gate didn't even spare me a second glance as I walked in. No one here paid me any attention now that I was reduced to the side piece in my own marriage. And the worst part? The worst part was my husband didn't even care. Knowing he would be in the study, I moved towards it and was proven right when Alessia's laughter tinkled out through the half open door. These days, where Alessia was, my husband wasn't too far away. "—so funny," Alessia, my husband's childhood best friend, who was back in the city after her divorce was saying. "I know, I'm the best," came Dominic's reply, his tone the most casual and relaxed I'd ever heard it be. On instinct, I opened the study door all the way through and stepped inside. Dominic Russo froze with his whisky glass halfway to his mouth as he looked at me standing in the doorway, his smile dropping at once. "Oh, hey, Isabella! You're back from your studio already?" Alessia said, her perfectly painted lips pulling into a broad smile as she looked at me. I simply nodded in reply, but Alessia carried on the conversation before I could so much as open my mouth to speak. "That's great. I was just telling Dominic how he hasn't lost his sense of humour. It's the same as when we were kids," she said, chuckling and oh so casually running her hand along his arm as she did so. Dominic didn't say anything, didn't push her away like I so desparately wanted him to. He just quietly sipped on his whiskey, like there was nothing wrong with a woman who wasn't his wife to be practically sitting on his lap and touching him almost intimately like they were lovers. I looked away, unable to see the two of them so close. And sense of humour, huh? He hadn't ever so much as cracked a joke with me in all our three years of marriage. Yet here he was, making another woman laugh with his words. "Right. I just needed you to sign a few documents for me," I said, swallowing past the lump in my throat and pulling out the divorce papers from my bag. I quickly flipped to the page I wanted him to sign before placing it on the table in front of him. "What's this?" Dominic asked, frowning at the papers. "It's just a safety liability form for a new project I'm going to be starting soon for a company," I said, sliding the papers across the polished wooden desk towards him. "I need you to sign it, since you're my only family now," I explained. The truth sat heavy between us. My parents had died when I was seventeen in a freak car accident. Dominic's father, the Don of the Russo family at the time, had taken me under his wing because my father had worked for him for years. "Let me just have a look," Dominic muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pulled the papers towards him. My heart dropped to my stomach. Normally, he didn't read anything. Every paper related to my work I'd ever given to him, he had signed without a second glance. Why today? Why now? If he read what was written on those papers— "Oh, Dom," Alessia chuckled. "You're being too serious. It's just a formality. You know how many of those we have to fulfill on a daily basis. Just get it done and over with." As heiress to the Moretti enterprises, close business partners of the Russo family, Alessia had moved effortlessly in Dominic's world since her return almost a year back. They were always together now—at galas, public events, casino backrooms where deals got made. Everywhere Dominic went, Alessia was by his side, complimenting his tailor made tuxedos with her designer dresses. Dominic hesitated for a moment before picking up a pen and signing with a flourish, the same way he signed deals and death warrants. I quickly grabbed the papers from the desk before he could turn to the front page and read 'DIVORCE PETITION', written in bold across the front. I turned and walked out before either of them could see my hands shake. I was free. I clutched the divorce papers in my hand tightly as I walked upstairs to our room. The ink on the paper was barely dry, but our marriage had been over long before now. Though, it hadn't always been like this between us. There was a time when Dominic could barely keep his hands off of me. A time when he would pull me into dark hallways to steal passionate kisses in the middle of a family gathering. Now, he barely acknowledged my existence. Dominic was everything a woman shouldn't want—cold, ruthless, and dangerous. At only twenty six, he had taken over nearly half his father's business with his sharp wit, ruthless decisions and iron clad control. The media called him a young entrepreneur, but the streets knew better. I'd always kept my distance from him, never crossing paths unless it was absolutely necessary. Until that night three years ago that changed everything between us. He came home late at night, covered in someone else's blood, while I was at the kitchen counter patching up my own knife wound—courtesy of one of his father's men who thought the boss' charity case was easy prey. Dominic helped patch me up, offering me more than just some first aid in return. He offered to marry me that night. A marriage of convenience, a business arrangement so to speak. Protection for me, and legitimacy for him. I agreed on a whim, and we got married a week later. He wasn't particularly romantic, but the physical attraction between us burned brighter than anything I'd felt before. He fell in love with my body, while I ended up falling in love with all of him. I had almost convinced myself that I could, some day, make him love me back, too. But all my illusions shattered like broken glass when Alessia Moretti came back into our lives, and his late night meetings doubled. Suddenly, she was everywhere. In his meetings. In his car. In his study. Last month at Luigi's proved it. Luigi's is an Italian restaurant owned by Dominic where we were supposed to have a romantic dinner for our three year marriage anniversary. I waited five hours for Dominic to show up, until his right hand man Eduardo came with pity in his eyes and a diamond necklace in his hands— an apology from Dominic for not being able to make it because of some 'urgent business matter'. The 'urgent business matter' ended up being a gala he had attended with Alessia by his side—something I'd seen in the gossip column of the tabloids next morning. That was when I'd started planning my exit. I couldn't stay here all my life, waiting for scraps of affection from a man who clearly didn't give a damn about me. I quietly placed the divorce papers in the deepest corner of my closet where no one but me could reach them. This was going to be my ticket to freedom in a month. No more cages. No more pretending. Dominic could keep his business. His life. His Alessia. I refused to be the half forgotten side piece in my own marriage. Hope I had finalized the divorce already, now it was time for the next step. Two days later, I met with the HR director of a luxury design firm based in Florence. They had been following my work for months, impressed by my portfolio and my knack for creating bespoke interiors that balanced elegance with practicality. “We’d be lucky to have you,” the director had said with a warm smile. “The position is yours if you want it. Start date is flexible, but we’d like you in Florence within the next two months.” I accepted without hesitation. Finally, I was going to live a life that belonged to me. Later that day, I sat in the room I'd converted to my home studio of sorts, a quiet place to work at on days I didn't feel like going to my studio in the city, or for when inspiration struck late at night. The first box I packed was hidden beneath layers of fabric swatches and old sketchbooks in there. It wasn't much-just framed photographs, my mother's necklace, and a single pair of well-worn ballet shoes I hadn't danced in for years-but even touching those things felt dangerous, like I was smuggling contraband out of enemy territory. Every day, I packed a little more. Quietly. Slowly. Because no one could know I was leaving. Not until I was gone. Three days later, Dominic came into the home studio unannounced. "Didn't know you still hid out here," came his voice from behind me, startling me. I turned around to see him leaning against the doorframe, his lips turned into a rare half smile. "It's the only place where no one bothers me," I replied, half teasing. "Even me?" I arched an eyebrow. "Especially you." It was light banter, almost flirtatious, and for a moment I caught a flicker of something in his eyes-something that made my heartbeat hitch. "Come with me," he said suddenly. "Where?" "Dinner. Just us. No business, no interruptions." I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. We made it as far as the front hall before Alessia appeared, silk blouse immaculate, tablet in hand. "Dom, you need to see this," she said, breezing past me as though I didn't exist. "Santoro's shipment got held up in Naples. If we don't-" "It can wait," Dominic cut in, voice cool. "No, it really can't." Alessia held out the tablet, and Dominic hesitated only a fraction of a second before taking it. I watched his attention shift, watched Alessia step closer than necessary, lowering her voice just enough to draw him in. The dinner plan died right there in the hallway. It wasn't the last time. Every attempt I made to find some semblance of closeness-whether it was breakfast on the terrace, a drive out to the vineyards, even a late-night conversation in bed-Alessia always seemed to appear. Sometimes it was a phone call Dominic "had to take." Sometimes it was urgent paperwork she "couldn't wait to deliver." And Dominic never sent her away. My resolve hardened with every intrusion. I threw all my focus into packing quietly, being careful to take just enough to get me by for a few months, but not enough to raise any suspicions. A week later, I sat in the master bedroom of the Russo mansion, contemplating how life was going to be out there in a completely new city. It was going to be hard in the beginning, for sure. Should I stay? Should I give him—give us—another chance? Maybe if I talked to Dominic about Alessia's behaviour making me uncomfortable, he would listen to me? Things would change between us? It was her who was always interrupting us, right? Maybe if he knew how I felt about it, he wouldn't entertain her as much? My thoughts were interrupted by a dull ache low in my stomach. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt off—fatigue, nausea, headaches—but I’d blamed it on stress. Still, the idea nagged at me until I finally drove myself to the pharmacy, bought a test, and locked myself in the bathroom. Five minutes later, I sat on the cool tile floor, staring at the two pink lines as though they’d been written in fire. Pregnant. Pregnant with Dominic Russo’s child. Stupidly enough first reaction wasn’t fear—it was hope. And I hated myself for it. Hated myself for thinking that maybe, finally, this was the bridge that could pull us closer together. Maybe a child would be the spark that softened Dominic’s walls, that made him see me—not just as a convenient wife or physical outlet, but as someone who could be his partner. It had to soften him up to me, hadn't it? A child was a huge deal, after all. He wouldn't be heartless enough to not care about me when I was carrying his child, right? For the first time in months, I felt hopeful. Maybe, I wouldn't have to leave after all. Maybe, we could start anew, like a real family this time. Filled with a renewed hope, I waited for Dominic to come home. I dressed in soft cream silk, my hair loose, my hands trembling slightly as I set two glasses of wine on the table before realizing I couldn’t drink. I poured myself water instead. Dominic came in late, still on the phone, loosening his tie with one hand as he barked orders to someone on the other end. My stomach flipped with nerves. “Dominic,” I said quietly once he hung up. He gave me a quick glance. “Yeah?” “I… I have something to tell you.” His brows lifted, impatient. “What is it?” “I’m pregnant.” The words felt fragile in the air, as though they might shatter if I spoke too loudly. Dominic froze. For a moment, I swore I saw something flash in his eyes—surprise, maybe even wonder—but it was gone in an instant, replaced by guarded calculation. “You’re what?” “Pregnant,” I repeated, my heart pounding. “We’re going to have a baby.” Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Finally, Dominic exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Isabella… you’re on the pill.” “Nothing is one hundred percent effective,” I whispered, my voice cracking under his tone. He paced for a moment, jaw tight. “You planned this?” “What? No!” I burst out, unable to believe what he was saying. No, no, no. This was not how I had imagined this conversation going. Why wasn't he happy? Why wasn't he being kind and supportive? “Because it sure as hell feels like you’re trying to tie me down with a kid I didn’t ask for.” The words slammed into me like a blow, and I staggered back a few steps. “Dominic,” I said softly, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, “it’s our child.” “This isn’t the right time,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket again. "There's a lot going on with Santoro. With the upcoming deal with them. This…” He gestured vaguely towards my stomach, “This just complicates things.” “So what do you want me to do?” I asked, both dreading what he would say next, and willing for him to say it to my face. If he rejected his own child, our child—this little life we had created together, it would be the last straw. I would never in my life hope for anything positive with him. He didn’t answer right away, and that pause told me all I needed to know. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat. “You should think about your options.” The tears didn’t come until long after Dominic left the room, slamming the door behind him. I had never thought that he would push me away like this even after finding out that we were going to have a baby together. Gone were the days when he would kiss me just because, trace his fingers over my spine when I slept, thinking I was asleep. Now, he was nothing but cold, and heartless when it came to me. He treated me like a business deal he couldn't wait to wash his hands off now. I'd always known that that was the kind of man he was deep down, but stupidly enough, I'd hoped that he would change for me. How pathetic. I sat on the edge of the bed, both hands cradling my stomach, and whispered to the tiny life inside me: “Don’t worry, baby. Even if he doesn’t want us, I do. And I promise, I'm going to take you far, far away from this place.” Unspoken Things Dominic's POV I wasn't a man who missed details. I could spot a lie in the flicker of an eye, a betrayal in a half-beat pause over dinner. So how had I missed this? I stood at the doorway of our bedroom, arms folded, watching Isabella silently fold clothes into neat stacks. Not designer dresses she wore for events, not the cocktail gowns that hugged her curves the way I liked. No, these were soft knits, linen shirts—things she used for travel. "Going somewhere?" I asked, keeping my tone carefully neutral. Isabella startled slightly, but she didn't look up. "Just... reorganizing." I frowned. There was something in the way she kept her back half-turned toward me, as though she was shielding something I couldn't see. Over the past two weeks, she had become quieter. Not cold exactly—but withdrawn, guarded. Our conversations stayed polite, even warm at times, but lacked the sharp edge of our earlier fights. I almost preferred the fights. At least then, she met me head-on. Now, it felt like she was retreating behind walls I hadn't even noticed her building. "Isabella," I said, walking closer. "What's going on?" She stilled for a heartbeat, then set down the shirt she was folding and faced me with a smile that was a touch too calm. "Nothing's going on, Dominic. Why do you ask?" I didn't believe her. But I didn't know what I was accusing her of, either. Later that night, I found her in the garden, sitting on the stone bench with her hands absentmindedly resting over her stomach. My gaze drifted there before I could stop it. She was carrying my child. Our child. I'd confirmed with the family gynaecologist she'd met with the day after she'd told me she was pregnant. According to her, Isabella was roughly ten weeks along. Which meant she had concieved the last time we had had sex. I knew she had decided to keep the baby. I, however, was yet to decide how I felt about it. I had too many enemies looking for a weakness to strike on right now. And a child would be the biggest weakness of all. I didn't think it was a good idea to have a child at a time like this. "You should be resting," I said to her instead, leaning against the column. "I am resting," she replied without looking at me. There was no bite in her tone, but there was no softness either. "Isabella..." I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair. "If you're upset about what I said the other night-" She turned sharply, her eyes glinting even in the dim light. "Which part? The one where you accused me of trying to trap you? Or the part where you told me to think about my options?" I clenched my jaw. I'd been stressed because of work. And I'd taken it out on her. "I didn't mean-" "You meant every word, Dominic." She rose from the bench, brushing past me as though she couldn't stand to be there one more second. I stayed in the garden long after she left, my chest tight with something uncomfortably close to guilt. But instead of recognizing the emotion, I shoved it down, like I did with every single thing when it came to her. She was just angry. Hurt, maybe. Acting out for attention. I had bigger things to deal with than a wife trying to manipulate me with silence. Besides, it wasn’t like I was a cruel man. Okay, I was, but not to her. I provided for her—more than most women could dream of. Security, wealth, protection. She never wanted for anything material. I let her work, unlike other made men. I even let her have her own studio to work at however she pleased, both in the city and at home. And Alessia. She had always been a constant. She understood the business, the blood, the sacrifices. She could anticipate my decisions before I made them. She could spar with me in strategy without needing explanation. I often felt that Isabella thought of Alessia as a threat. But Alessia wasn’t a threat to anyone—she was an ally, one I needed in order to keep our empire intact. With a few important deals falling through and feds sniffing around, our family hadn't exactly been in a safe place when Alessia came back from Italy a year back. Everything had seemed good on the surface, but only I knew the struggles behind the scenes. I could've turned to my father for help, sure, but I didn't think it was wise to do so with his failing health, and already fragile heart. It was with the help of Alessia, and her father's business, that I'd been able to pull my shit together enough to keep us afloat. Alessia understood all that and had stayed by me through the thick of it. Best of all, she didn't complain, didn't nag, didn't expect me to do things I didn't have the time to. But Isabella didn't seem to understand any of that. What did she want from me, really? To sit in bed and whisper sweet words when there were wars to be fought? To hold her hand when my enemies were plotting to bury us both? I didn’t have time for that. Not yet. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Isabella. In fact, there were moments I admired her—her quiet resilience, the softness in her voice when she spoke with staff, the warmth in her smile when she thought no one was looking. But admiration was a luxury, and I didn’t live on luxuries. I lived on necessity. And necessity meant prioritizing the business. Prioritizing survival. Isabella would understand, one day, when things were calmer. When the smoke cleared, when Alessia and the others no longer had to sit at my side through every meeting, every negotiation. I would have the time then. For now, she needed to be patient. To trust me. But instead, she was folding travel clothes. Speaking with an edge in her voice. Acting as though I had failed her, when I had given her everything that mattered. I sighed, staring out into the night, the weight of a thousand unspoken things pressing against my chest. I lit a cigarette to calm my nerves. I wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t be wrong. Could I? The Vow Finally, it was time. After Dominic had rejected me, and our child, squashing all my hopes of reconciliation, I had quietly bided my time, waiting for a month to be over. I had rehearsed my departure so many times it felt like muscle memory now. I had moved everything I would need—which wasn't much, really—in small stacks from the Russo Mansion to my studio so no one would be suspicious. I didn't think anyone cared much about what I did or didn't do in this grand palace of a house, but I hadn't taken any risks, especially now that a child was involved as well. All my things would be shipped along with my studio supplies this morning, and the flight to Florence was booked for tonight. My assistant at the studio had arranged it all for me, believing I was simply relocating for work. Only I knew that I wasn't coming back. I'd already informed the HR head at my new job in Florence about my unexpected pregnancy, and they had been more than accommodating about it. Such kindness from strangers I was yet to meet in person when I hadn't recieved even an ounce of it at the place I called home had brought tears to my eyes. Not only had it made me emotional, but it had also cemented my decision to leave even more. I'd rather be somewhere I was valued and cared for than here, where I volleyed between a nobody, or an inconvenience. I double-checked the handbag I had readied to take with me: passport, medical file, appointment slip from my gynaecologist, the sonogram I hadn't shown anyone. I had barely slept. My escape plan was a fragile secret stitched together with trembling hands and whispered prayers. This morning, I was supposed to visit my gynecologist. Afterwards, I’d take a cab straight to the airport. From there, me and my child—our child—would vanish. I had already gotten my copy of the final divorce certificate yesterday, and had arranged for Dominic's copy to be mailed to him with a deliberate delay of three days after my departure. With a quiet sigh, I smoothed down my dress, and picked up my bag. Time to go. I hadn't expected, or wanted to see Dominic before leaving the Russo Mansion for the last time in my life. But when I walked down the stairs, he was sitting in the living room, dark suit immaculate, sipping coffee as though nothing in the world could touch him. His composure always left me breathless, once in awe, now in anguish. Though surprisingly enough, Alessia wasn't clinging to him today. Even though I'd mentally prepared for the possibility of seeing him, my heart still stuttered in my chest as he gave me a slow once over. “You’re dressed early,” Dominic noted, eyes narrowing at my simple dress. “Where are you going?” “The doctor,” I said evenly, with practiced ease, hand brushing over my stomach instinctively. “I have an appointment.” His gaze flicked downward, then back up, unreadable. “You’re still entertaining this idea?” His tone was too casual, too sharp. “Isabella, I told you before… think about what this means. A child, in our world, is leverage. A weakness.” My throat tightened. “A weakness? He’s our child, Dominic.” He set down his cup with deliberate care. “Don’t be naïve. This is not the right time for a baby. I already have a lot of enemies breathing down my neck right now. An heir paints a target on your back, too. On his back. I’ve seen what happens.” I shook my head. What was he talking about? He was an heir to his father's empire, too, wasn't he? He had taken over their business from his father when his health declined, had he not? And he was fine— clearly alive, well protected. So, why couldn't our child be protected the same way? What a pathetic excuse for not wanting a kid. My voice trembled, but I forced it to be steady. “So what? You want me to—” His jaw ticked. “I’m telling you, end it before someone else ends it for you. Because if you don’t, Isabella—” I froze. “If I don’t, what?” I challenged, my heart thundering in my chest. The silence between us stretched, suffocating. His eyes darkened, and the next words slipped out, low, cold, stripped of softness. “Then you’ll force my hand.” Blood rushed to my ears. The room spun. He hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t struck me. But the words sliced deeper than any blow. I heard nothing beyond them. The threat was clear as day. My chest hollowed. The air burned in my lungs. “You’d… kill me?” I whispered. His expression flickered, as though he hadn’t meant it the way I took it. But he didn’t take it back either. And that was worse. Something inside me fractured cleanly. I left without another word, the sound of the door slamming behind me echoing like a final vow. Leaving wasn't just a necessity now, it was a means to survival. The car ride to the hospital was a blur. I pressed trembling hands over my belly the entire way to the hospital, whispering to my unborn child promises I wasn’t sure I could keep. Inside the hospital, I met briefly with Dr. Marinelli, discussing vitamins, flight precautions, and early genetic tests. I left the office feeling much lighter than when I'd entered it. Every step I took out of the hospital felt closer to freedom. I was halfway to the car when the world ripped apart. The engine of my waiting car ignited in a sudden roar of fire, and everything around me turned to smoke and ash. The explosion flung me backward. Screams filled the street. Medics rushed to the scene from behind me. Heat licked my skin as I scrambled to my feet, terror thundering in my veins. I stared at the burning shell of the car, realization dawning with ice-cold clarity as I watched someone pull a charred body out. It was him. Dominic. He had done this. It had to be. Dominic had warned me. Threatened me. If I didn’t obey, he’d force my hand. He hadn't denied when I'd accused him of wanting to kill me. And now this. My heart clenched painfully in my chest. My baby. My sweet, innocent child. Dominic had tried to kill not only me, but our child, too. An innocent life that had done nothing to harm him. There was no going back from this. I staggered to the street corner, flagged down a bus with shaking hands, and boarded without looking back. My things were already shipped, my new life already waiting. Florence. A new name. A new future. And a vow carved into my soul: I would never return. Not to him. Not to this life. Not after this betrayal. His Return 5 years later "Mamma, faster!" Mateo's laughter rang through the sunny apartment as he sprinted across the living room, bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. I pretended to chase him, catching him just before he could duck under the table. I scooped him up, spinning him around until he squealed with delight. His curls bounced into his eyes—Dominic's eyes—and for a moment, I froze, my chest tightening with an ache I thought I'd long buried. I kissed my son's forehead, forcing the memory away. "Alright, alright. Time to calm down, little hurricane. Mamma has work." Work. The word meant something different now than it had five years ago. No longer was I just an employee with something to prove. I was now Signora Bianchi, Director of Curation and Exhibitions—a respected leader in the Florence arts scene, sought after for my innovative ideas. My colleagues had become my friends, my family. They knew me as a single mother who had made her life from scratch, and they admired me for it. None of them knew the truth. That morning, I was halfway through sorting the final list for an upcoming joint exhibition when Chiara knocked on my door, looking pleased but slightly tense. "Isa, do you have a minute?" "Of course." Chiara closed the door and sat across from me. "We've been offered a huge partnership, an international sponsor for the Renaissance Reborn project. It'll open doors for all of us. Funding, recognition, press. But..." My pen stilled mid-note. "But what?" "The sponsor is the Russo Group." The name hit me like a fist to the gut. Chiara continued, oblivious to my rigid posture. "The CEO himself is flying in for the final negotiations from New York. We'll need our head of curation at the table. Which means you." I stared at her blankly, heart pounding so loudly I barely heard anything else. "Isa? You alright?" I forced a smile, thin and shaky. "Yes. Of course. Just... surprised. I didn't know the Russo Group dealt with projects like that." Chiara nodded. "They only started a few years back. But they'll be a good start to take our business international, you know? The kind of connections they have is just what we need." I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around the information I'd just gotten. When Chiara left, I sat frozen, fingers clenched around my pen until it snapped in two. When I'd left New York City behind five years ago, I had never thought that I'd run into Dominic ever again. Let alone think that I'd ever have to work with him closely. However, I couldn't say no to Chiara. Even though she was my senior here at work, she had never let me feel that way. I still remembered the first time I'd stepped foot into Florence. Chiara was the one who had sent her own personal assistant, Luca, to get me from the airport and help me settle into my new apartment which was fully furnished with everything I would need. Not only had Luca helped me settle in, he had also stocked the house with groceries and other essentials so I didn't have to go out right away. He had even come to pick me up for work the next day, introducing me to everyone at the office as if he were my own personal assistant. I had felt more welcomed here on my first day than I'd felt my entire life at the Russo Mansion. And when I'd gotten three dinner invites by the time the first day ended, I knew I'd made the perfect decision to leave a place I was clearly neither welcome nor required at and come here to Florence instead. "Florence takes care of it's people," Chiara had told me while I was having dinner with her and a few other colleagues to celebrate my first day at work. And she'd been right, in a way. It wasn't Florence exactly who had taken care of me, but it's people. When my baby bump had started showing, my neighbour from down the hall, Ms Giardiano, an old Italian lady who lived alone, made sure to come check on me every other day. She would bring me nutritious home cooked meals so I wouldn't have to cook for myself after coming home from work. 📖 The story gets hotter—click "Download" to read the uncensored chapters! 👇
"""I'll never love you. You'll never be my true mate. This arrangement is a joke. An insult."" My husband sneered. ""Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I'm not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I'd have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue."" ""Feisty,"" he said. ""I like that. Quick-tempered too."" ""As long as you don't try to bully me, we won't have a problem. If your father really did buy me, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you'll release me."" I said flatly. He chuckled then—low and bitter. ""You still don't get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I'll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You'll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently."" Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. He told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice." That actually made me smile. It was such a him thing to say. “That’s so cool, Rowan,” I said, wide-eyed. Then, on impulse, the words slipped out before I could second-guess them. “Do you mind if I come?” Rowan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at Darian, almost like he needed permission. And Darian—bless him—gave me that soft smile again. “If you go with him,” he said, “who’s going to be my friend and keep me company here?” I knew the answer. We all did. Tiffany. Tiffany would. But if I said that out loud, it would expose everything—my jealousy, my feelings, my pain. It would ruin whatever fragile friendship we still had. So I said nothing. Just sat there, heart breaking quietly behind steady eyes. Mara “I’m sure you’ve got other friends to keep you company,” I said, keeping my voice calm, eyes steady on Tiffany. “Better—and maybe more interesting—company than I could ever be.” Tiffany caught the meaning instantly and smiled, smug and satisfied. “That’s right, Darian,” she purred, looping her arm through his. “I’m all the company you’ll need.” Then, like it was some kind of private joke, she leaned in and licked his earlobe again. I looked away, jaw tight. She wanted to be Luna so badly it was dripping off her. Most of the girls who threw themselves at Darian did. It wasn’t about him. It was about the title, the power, the image. But not me. Even if Darian wasn’t going to be Alpha, I’d still feel this way about him. That was the difference. “I want to come with you, Rowan,” I said suddenly, turning to him. My voice was clearer than I expected. Firm. I needed distance. Space. A whole dam continent between me and Darian if I was going to get over him. He would never see me. Never choose me. And I had to stop holding out hope like it was some kind of twisted comfort blanket. “This trip... it’ll be good for me,” I added, mostly to myself. Darian smiled, watching me a little too closely. “Maybe I’ll come too.” And just like that, the air left my lungs. No. No, he couldn’t. That would ruin everything. I’d just end up exactly where I was—his loyal shadow, his best buddy, watching Tiffany swallow his attention whole. “You’ll bring me along?” Tiffany asked, all wide eyes and sugar-laced eagerness. I could almost hear the flutter of her lashes. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. If she came too, I’d lose my mind watching her cling to Darian like a barnacle in heat. Her tongue alone would be enough to make me puke somewhere around the border of the first town we hit. “I’ll think about it,” Darian replied, and Tiffany's face fell. She frowned, and then her eyes flicked to me, sharp and accusing, like it was my fault. She wasn’t entirely wrong. But also not right. I didn’t want Darian to come—not because I wanted to hoard him for myself, but because I needed to finally let go of him. We stayed a little longer, had a couple drinks, careful not to go overboard. It was a quiet ending to a loud night. Eventually, we all called it and got ready to leave. “Let’s go hunting tomorrow morning,” Darian said casually as we stepped out into the night. His voice was light, but his eyes were on me. I hesitated. Waiting. Because, of course, I needed to hear what she would say. “I want to come too,” Tiffany piped up, bouncing slightly in her heels like she was volunteering for a game of tag. I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. Darian caught it and laughed. “I guess the three of you will have to go without me,” I said flatly, already turning away. Darian frowned. “Come on, Mara. You and I—we’re a good team.” Oh, how I wished that was true. But in reality? It was just another sweet lie I’d told myself over the years. “You, Rowan, and Tiffany will be a formidable team,” I replied, eyes on the pavement, not bothering to look at her. I could already feel the weight of her glare. I didn’t blame her. If I were her, I wouldn’t like me either. Not when the guy I wanted kept paying attention to someone else. Darian told me to think about it. I wouldn’t. I didn’t need to. I already knew I wasn’t going. When I got home, the house was quiet—everyone asleep. I slipped inside like a ghost and made my way to my room, shutting the door behind me without making a sound. I didn’t want to wake anyone. I didn’t want to talk. All I wanted was to stop loving someone who would never love me back. Morning came too fast. I sat on the edge of my bed, still wrapped in the fog of everything I was trying to forget. The hunt was supposed to be today. Part of me wanted to go—just to breathe outside this house, outside of him. But the thought of Tiffany tagging along made my stomach twist. I already knew she’d spent the night at the Nighthorn mansion. There was no way Darian would leave her behind now. Not after that. I dragged myself downstairs, hungry but not in the mood. I hated shifting when I hadn’t eaten—it made me edgy, short-tempered. I didn’t want to lose it in the woods and end up looking unhinged. What I didn’t expect was to find my parents waiting in the kitchen. They weren’t eating. They weren’t smiling. They were just… there, sitting stiffly at the table with this look in their eyes that made something inside me tighten. My mother, usually bright-eyed and warm, gave me a small, nervous smile. “Morning, Mara. How was your night?” I forced a shrug. “Great,” I lied, trying not to read too much into their mood. She just nodded. My father cleared his throat, and the sound already made my heart beat faster. “Sweetheart, we need to talk to you about something important.” And just like that, my stomach dropped. They didn’t speak in the kitchen. My dad gestured toward the living room, and we all moved, silent as ghosts. I sat on the couch across from them, trying not to let my mind spiral. Then they looked at each other. That kind of look—the silent, mind-link kind of conversation they always had when something was wrong. Something they didn’t want to say out loud. I wasn’t part of it. Not yet. Not until they decided I had to be. “Mara,” my father said slowly, “you know how much we love you, right?” Wrong way to start. My pulse spiked. I swallowed hard. “Yes,” I said, and my voice cracked. He looked down for a moment, then back up at me with tired eyes. “We’ve always wanted the best for you. But… we also have duties to the pack. Responsibilities. And—” “We should’ve told you sooner,” my mother cut in, her voice trembling. “But we wanted you to have your graduation, your moment of celebration, before we… before we said anything.” Her eyes welled up with tears. That’s when I started crying too. Because whatever could make my mother cry like that—whatever they were about to say—it was going to rip something out of me. “Mara,” my father said again, quieter this time, “Alpha Vander Nighthorn has chosen you to be joined with his eldest son, Lucian.” My breath caught. “He’s decided,” he continued, “that since you finished second overall in the academy, top among the female wolves, and since you’re known for your strength, your discipline… that you’re the best choice for Lucian. He believes your character will help shape him into a man fit to stand beside his brother when Darian becomes Alpha. He also believes that your friendship with Darian will help settle the conflict between the brothers and bring unity to the future leadership of this pack.” I was frozen. The words didn’t even register at first. It didn’t feel real. “It’s not a suggestion, Mara,” my father added. “It’s an order. One we had no power to refuse.” That was it. The sound that left my throat wasn’t even human. I screamed. A raw, guttural cry that tore from my chest like something inside me had shattered. Mara “This must be a joke,” I whispered, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. My eyes burned, and the tears wouldn’t stop. My mother shook her head slowly, her face soaked with grief. “It’s not a joke,” she said, broken. I choked on a sob. “Lucian? Lucian?! He’s a monster. A cruel, vicious bаst3rd. He lies, cheats, bullies anyone weaker than him—and he killed someone, an innocent person. And now you want me to what? Play house with the devil?” I knew they didn’t have a choice. I knew it wasn’t really their fault. But I needed someone to blame, and they were standing right in front of me, and I was drowning. “We had no say,” my father said, voice low and defeated. “They said you’re the strongest female of your generation. They believe you’ll match him. Tame him.” “Enough!” I snapped, standing up so fast the room spun. “You can’t tame people, Dad. You don’t ‘fix’ someone like Lucian. He’s not broken. He’s rotten. He was born that way.” My breath came fast, too fast. My chest felt tight like I was suffocating. “I’m supposed to be Darian’s Gamma! That job—our futures—they’re built on trust, on teamwork. How am I supposed to do that while being shackled to a psychopath?” They had no answers. Just silence. My mother’s silent weeping. My father’s helpless stare. “I’m done. I’m leaving. I don’t want the Gamma position. They can keep it—and let them gift someone else to that monster.” I turned, storming toward the stairs. I didn’t know where I’d go, but anywhere was better than here. Anywhere but thislife. “You can’t leave, Mara,” my father called after me, voice desperate. “If you refuse the bond, Alpha Nighthorn will cast us out. We’ll become rogues. Once the mark of Mooncrest fades, we’ll lose everything—our protection, our humanity. You know what happens to rogues. You’ll turn feral. We all will. They rule this entire country, Mara. There’s no where for you to go,” I stopped in my tracks. Feral. Cast out. Doomed. I turned slowly and looked at my mother. Her shoulders were trembling. She couldn’t even look me in the eyes. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?” I said, my voice shaking with fury and despair. “You’re asking me to throw my life away. You’re asking me to bind myself to someone who might kill me in my sleep.” She nodded through her tears. “I’m sorry.” Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. Even Alpha Vander didn’t trust him to lead, which was why Darian had been groomed from day one to take over. Darian, with his calm and strength and sense of duty. Meanwhile, his older brother was out there, spiraling, and now they wanted me to steady him. They wouldn’t have picked me if I wasn’t so perfect—so well-behaved, so disciplined, so obsessed with Darian that I molded myself into the model warrior. Maybe if I’d been reckless, mean, or a bitter b1tch, they wouldn’t have even considered me. But no. I had played the part. And now, this was my reward: unrequited love, a forced marriage, a future I couldn’t escape. I hated my life in that moment. I was about to turn away again when the doorbell rang. We all froze. My mother rose to answer it, and the scent hit me before she opened the door—him. Darian. He stepped inside, and I almost didn’t recognize him. His eyes were red, brimming with tears. His hands trembled. He looked like someone had carved a hole into his chest and left it gaping. “Mara,” he said softly, his voice cracked and hoarse. He opened his arms. He didn’t need to say anything else. I walked into him, into the arms I had longed for more than I ever admitted, and he held me—tight, like he was the one about to fall apart. My parents quietly stepped away, leaving us in the silence of shared pain. And I broke. I cried, and this time, it wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t polite. It was everything I had been holding in—fear, betrayal, grief, hopelessness—all pouring out while he held me. And still, I knew… even this wouldn’t change anything. “I’m sorry, Mara,” Darian whispered against my hair, his voice thick with something heavier than guilt. “I didn’t know they would do this. I didn’t know he would do this.” And I broke again. “I don’t want to be with Lucian,” I cried, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring me. “I hate him, Darian. I can’t do this. Please… help me.” His arms tightened around me like he wanted to, like he wished he could fix it all with the way he held me—but he didn’t answer right away. When he did, it was barely above a whisper. “I’m not Alpha yet, Mara. My key mark isn’t active yet. I don’t have the power to stop this.” And that—that—hurt more than I expected. Not because he admitted he was powerless but because of the way his voice cracked. There was grief in it. Regret. Something deeper than duty. “I thought…” he started, then paused. “I thought we had time. I thought there’d be more time.” I pulled back just enough to look at him. “Time for what?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mara. I didn’t know.” I stared at him, trying to piece together what he meant. Time for what? Was he finally saying what I’d always hoped he felt? But now wasn’t the time. Not with everything crashing around us. The hug faded. Slowly. Reluctantly. We stood there, inches apart, staring into each other’s tear-streaked faces, both too full of words we couldn’t say. “Listen to me,” Darian said, his voice low but firm. “I will always be there for you. I won’t let him hurt you, Mara. I swear it. If you ever feel unsafe, if he crosses a line—call me. I don’t care what I’m doing. I’ll come. I will come. You are not alone in this.” I blinked back another wave of tears. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to thank someone for a promise that shouldn’t have to exist. “I wish I’d never trained to be your Beta,” I muttered, my voice barely a breath. “If I’d just taken medical classes instead… Alpha Vander wouldn’t have noticed me. He wouldn’t have picked me for his deranged son.” I looked at Darian again. My heart swelled painfully, and I opened my mouth. “Darian…” He met my eyes, hope flickering there. “What is it, Mara?” I hesitated. I wanted to say it. Gods, I wanted to scream it—I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I didn’t. Because now he wasn’t just the boy I trained beside. He was about to become my brother-in-law. And whatever chance there might have been, it had died the moment his father bound my future to Lucian’s. “Nothing,” I said instead. “Nothing but fear.” He pulled me back into his arms without hesitation. I buried my face in his chest and breathed in his scent one last time like it might be enough to last me forever. I didn’t dare ask for more. I didn’t dare reach for what I truly wanted. Not now. Not when I was about to be forced into the hands of someone I despised. Not when Darian had no power to save me. He held me tight, as if letting go would break him, too. Then he kissed the top of my head—soft, lingering—and pulled away. “We’ll still be best friends,” he said gently. “I don’t care what the pack says. You’re still my best friend, Mara. No one’s replacing you.” And there it was. The final nail. Best friend. The words were supposed to be comforting, but they landed like a blade in my chest. His father thought that same friendship was the key to taming Lucian—like I was a tool, a bridge, a sacrificial peace offering. I didn’t want to be Darian’s best friend. I wanted to be his everything. His Luna. His love. His home. But instead, I got Lucian. Unwanted. Unchosen. Trapped. Maybe being feral wouldn’t be so bad. At least then I’d be free. I could run, disappear, let the wilderness swallow me whole. Anything would be better than this slow suffocation. I wanted to leave. I needed to leave. Mara Darian followed me upstairs to my room. For the first time, it felt… wrong. Foreign. Like something had cracked in the familiar walls we’d built around each other. It had always been a little awkward since I started falling for him, but now—now it felt unbearable. I didn’t know what it would be like living in their house. The Nighthorn mansion. Sharing space with Lucian. Walking the same halls as Darian, seeing him every day while wearing the title of someone else’s mate. His brother’s mate. The thought made me feel sick. I didn’t trust my heart not to betray me in some devastating way. “I’ll wait here,” Darian said softly, settling into the chair by my desk while I headed into the bathroom. As soon as the water hit me, the tears came. I sank to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, sobbing so hard my ribs ached. I cried for the life I almost had. For the love I could never confess. For I was being handed like some twisted reward for being too good. And in that cracked, broken place, I thought about running. Disappearing. Going rogue. Letting the world forget I ever existed. But then I remembered what that meant. What it would do to my family. What it would do to me. I dressed in the bathroom, even though modesty had long since evaporated between Darian and me during years of shifting and training together. But things were different now. Everything was different. Even standing in front of him felt like holding a glass that could shatter if either of us moved too fast. “How are you feeling?” he asked when I stepped back into the room. I just nodded, unable to trust my voice. His eyes were still tinged with crimson, like he’d been holding back more tears of his own. “Lucian doesn’t want the union either,” he said suddenly. I looked up, startled. “What?” “That’s how I found out,” he continued. “I overheard him yelling at our father. He was furious. Said he didn’t want you. Didn’t want any of it. And honestly… that’s what scares me the most.” I understood what he meant before he said it. Lucian didn’t want me. Which meant he’d resent me. And with the kind of man he was—violent, spiteful—that resentment wouldn’t just sit quietly in the corner. He’d find a way to punish me for it. “Then why won’t he reject it?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. Darian exhaled slowly, like the weight of it all was dragging him under too. “Because ever since Father chose me as Alpha instead of him, Lucian hasn’t dared to oppose him. I think the shame crushed something inside him. He’s quiet now, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. And…” He hesitated. “Lucian’s in love—with someone else. Has been for a while.” I swallowed hard. That somehow made it worse. I wasn’t just being forced into a bond with a monster—I was a wedge, a weapon used to separate him from someone he actually cared about. A curse he’d wear every day. “This isn’t fair,” I said bitterly. “Not to me. Not to her. Not to anyone.” Darian didn’t argue. “Will I still be your Gamma?” I asked, knowing it was selfish but needing to ask anyway. Because even if I couldn’t be his mate, I still wanted to stand by his side in some way. Any way. “Yes,” he said softly. “Unless you choose to step down, you’ll remain my Gamma.” I shook my head. I couldn’t make that decision yet. Not when everything inside me felt broken and scattered. I just needed time. Space to breathe, to mourn, to accept the weight of what had been forced on me. Darian left quietly, carrying his own sadness like a wound. I watched him go and felt another piece of me fall apart. I stayed in bed the rest of the day. Staring at the ceiling. Crying into my pillow until it was soaked. My parents tried to check on me—brought food, soft words, empty comfort—but I ignored them all. I didn’t want kindness from the people who had let this happen. I didn’t want anyone. If the Alpha had chosen to bind me to Darian, I would have said yes without hesitation. I would have given him everything. But instead, I was being handed over to his brother. Why Lucian? Of all the wolves in this pack, why did fate—or power, or cruelty—choose him? And what the hll was I supposed to do now? Two weeks. Two long, miserable weeks of crying, sulking, and avoiding the world like it had personally betrayed me—because in a way, it had. I refused to go to any gatherings, skipped every function, and barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t Darian. Not that I saw him much. He’d gotten himself into trouble more than once that week, and Alpha Vander had taken it as an excuse to load him up with responsibilities. I missed him. But missing him was a dangerous thing now. Luna Martha Nighthorn came by twice to speak with my parents about the “arrangements.” She was Darian’s mother—not Lucian’s. Lucian’s biological mother had died when he was young. Alpha Vander had bonded with Martha later, and ever since, everyone just assumed she was the mother of both boys. Everyone except Lucian, who never missed a chance to correct them. I didn’t care for the politics of it. I didn’t care about her visit, her soft reassurances, or the way she avoided looking me in the eye. I didn’t care about any of it. I just wanted to disappear. Burn the whole d'amn future and vanish into ash. But I couldn’t. I was sitting on the patio, trying to catch my breath from another heavy day of doing absolutely nothing, when a sleek black car pulled into our driveway. I squinted at the figure stepping out. A young woman—tall, porcelain-skinned, striking brunette. And angry. I stood slowly, assuming she was lost and needed directions. She didn’t waste time. “Are you Mara Thornridge?” she asked, sharp and cold. I nodded, guarded. “You gold-digging b1tch,” she snapped. “What do your parents have on Alpha Vander? Huh?” I blinked, stunned. What? “Do you know how long Lucian and I have been together?” she choked out, her eyes welling up with tears. “We were sweethearts for years. And now I find out you—you’ve been chosen for him? You?” I stood there, frozen, every cell in my body screaming for a break. I had no words. I was still trying to process this marriage from hll myself, and now this? She stepped closer, her voice low and trembling with rage. “How dare you, Mara? I swear, we will make your life a living hll.” And that was it. I snapped. “Watch it,” I growled, the shift stirring beneath my skin. “I don’t give two fks about Lucian. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want this. So maybe aim that rage where it belongs—at him, or at his father, or at the Moon Goddess herself. Not me.” She blinked, caught off guard. “If you’re so mad, tell your beloved boyfriend to grow a spine and say something to his father. Trust me, you’d be doing me a huge favor. Because let’s be honest—Lucian isn’t exactly a prize. He’s an entitled, violent аs hole, and I wouldn’t want to be bound to him if he was the last breathing wolf in existence.” She stepped toward me like she was about to swing. I didn’t even flinch—I welcomed it. Hll, I needed it. I let out a low, warning growl, eyes locked on hers. “You need to f'k- off, now. While I’m still being nice. Because if you don’t, I swear on every ancestor in my bloodline, I will tear you apart. And right now? I wouldn’t even regret it.” Something in my voice must’ve landed. She backed away slowly, fury still burning in her eyes, but something else too—fear. She slid into her car and slammed the door, then peeled out of the driveway without another word. I stood there breathing hard, body trembling with all the rage and frustration I’d buried these past two weeks. Now I had to deal with Lucian’s girlfriend too? I wasn’t even officially mated to him yet, and already the drama was spilling into my yard like blood on the snow. And Lucian—he hadn’t shown up. Hadn’t spoken to me. Hadn’t so much as sent a message. I guessed the feeling was mutual. This was going to be hll. And it hadn’t even started yet. Mara “Mara!” my mother called from downstairs. Since the day they dropped the bomb about the arrangement, I’d barely left my room. What was the point? Everyone probably knew by now. The whole pack, maybe even the entire dam country. Mara Thornridge, gifted to Lucian Nighthorn like a prized lamb to the family wolf. And just like that, the threats had started rolling in—anonymous messages from a number I didn’t need to trace. I knew exactly who it was. Lucian’s little banshee. The same girl who’d parked in my driveway and tried to claw my face off with words she probably rehearsed in front of a mirror. None of her threats got to me. Not one. If she ever followed through on a single one of them, I might actually respect her. But I knew the truth—lashing out at me was easier than facing Lucian or confronting Alpha Vander. I was the easier target. The quiet one. The one who hadn’t asked for any of this. I got out of bed wearing the same old pajamas I’d worn for two days. It was already afternoon. I didn’t care. My hair was a mess, my eyes were swollen from days of crying, but the tears had stopped. I wasn’t sad anymore. Just empty. Numb. And numbness? It was better. Numbness didn’t ask questions or demand hope. Darian and I still talked every night. His voice was soft, his words kind, and I hated every second of it. He meant well. He was trying. But I didn’t want kindness from him. Not anymore. I wanted what I could never have. Every call was another reminder that I'd never be more than his best friend. So no, the support wasn’t helping. Not even a little. I shuffled downstairs, preparing to grab something quick and head back to my quiet cave of self-pity. But I froze at the bottom step. Alpha Vander Nighthorn and Lucian were in my living room. Just sitting there. Like this was normal. Like they belonged. I felt my parents' disappointment immediately. The way they looked at my unwashed hair and oversized sleep shirt said it all. But maybe, just maybe, the Alpha would take one look at me and change his mind. Maybe I looked pathetic enough to kill this deal. I stepped into the room, lifting my chin, even though my body screamed to turn and run. “Good afternoon, Alpha. Mr. Nighthorn,” I said evenly, voice dry but polite. Alpha Vander sat upright on the couch, perfectly composed. For a man in his early fifties, he looked ten years younger. Thick dark hair, sharp brown eyes, a well-groomed beard. He radiated power and vanity, and somehow it worked. No wonder women in the pack still swooned over him. He had that whole silver fox, age-like-wine aesthetic locked down. And Lucian? He looked like sin incarnate. Dark hair, frost-blue eyes that could pierce through bone, and a jawline that might have been carved from stone. His shirt clung to his body like it didn’t want to let go—tattoos peeked from under his sleeves, tracing the edges of muscle sculpted to perfection. He wasn’t bulky, not like some of the other warriors. He was lean, cut, deadly. His skin was sun-kissed and flawless, his stare unreadable and cold. Everything about him screamed danger, power, trouble. Everything about him made my skin crawl. And yet… he was undeniably beautiful. If I hadn’t known what was behind that face, I might have stared. Might have been flattered. But now? All I saw was the cage I was about to be locked inside. And he hadn’t even bothered to look at me yet. I swallowed hard when I saw him. It had been a while since I last saw Lucian Nighthorn in person, and I hated myself for even noticing how he looked. His presence was magnetic—he didn’t just walk into a room, he took it. He looked like something out of legend: all dark edges, piercing frost-blue eyes, and sculpted features that belonged on a statue. But no matter how stunning the exterior, it couldn’t mask the ugliness I knew sat underneath. Looks didn’t make a man worth loving. And I didn’t want this union. But what I wanted didn’t matter. “Mara,” Alpha Vander said, dragging my attention away from his son. I stood upright and gave him the proper Gamma salute. My posture stiff, my insides screaming. “Congratulations on your future position as Gamma. Mooncrest and Darian are blessed to have you in the ranks.” “Thank you, Alpha,” I replied, my voice steady. “Lucian,” he said, turning to his son, “get to know your mate. Take a walk while I speak with the Thornridges about the event.” Lucian didn’t respond. He just stood and walked outside, offering no glance, no gesture, no courtesy. The kind of silence that dared you to follow—and warned you not to speak. I didn’t want to go with him. He hadn’t asked. But I wasn’t foolish enough to disobey an Alpha’s command. I followed him out. He was sitting on the patio, staring down the street like the world bored him. I didn’t sit. “Don’t get any ideas, little girl,” he said finally, his voice deep, sharp, arrogant. “This arrangement is a joke. An insult. I’ll never love you. You’ll never be my true mate. Let’s get that straight before the wedding so you don’t embarrass yourself hoping for more.” I cleared my throat, keeping my voice even. “Understood, Mr. Nighthorn. I’m not looking forward to the wedding either. If I had a choice, I’d have turned it down, but your father left me and my family with two options—accept or go rogue. I expect nothing from you. And I will give you nothing in return.” He finally turned to look at me, eyebrows raised. “You really have no pride, do you?” he said. “You think this is some noble sacrifice? My father’s paying your family a fortune for this. You and your parents—just more middle-class shovel-holders, ready to dig for gold.” I inhaled sharply. My hand twitched. Don’t hit him, I told myself. Not yet. His smirk widened. “Feisty,” he said. “I like that. Quick-tempered too. I’m honestly surprised you made it as Gamma. What did you do? Sleep your way there? Must’ve been quite the climb—though Darian doesn’t fancy you, so maybe you figured you’d settle for the older brother. At least then you get the name, the money, the power. That’s what this is about, right? Being a Nighthorn?” He waited for me to crumble. I didn’t. Instead, I leaned in, voice low and laced with venom. “At least I earned my place in this pack. I’m Gamma because I bled for it, not because I was born into a name. You? You’ll always be the brother of the Alpha. Nothing more.” That hit him. His jaw tightened. His hand lifted halfway, shaking—just a breath away from slapping me. His eyes burned, not with fury alone, but with something deeper. Shame. Insecurity. I flinched, but only slightly. Mara Lucian was stronger than Darian. That much was clear. Where Darian led with loyalty, Lucian ruled with intimidation. His presence filled the air like a storm. And for a moment, just a moment, I felt what it would be like to be tied to this man. Not protected. Not cherished. Owned. Lucian dropped his hand, clenched it into a fist instead. Good. I’d struck the nerve I wanted. And I wouldn’t stop there. “We are not equals,” Lucian said coldly, his voice like ice cracking beneath pressure. “You better watch your mouth, Thornridge, or this arrangement will turn ugly real fast.” He dropped back onto the bench like he owned the space, like even sitting was a statement of dominance. I stayed standing, watching him from above, refusing to shrink. “I came here only to lay down a few ground rules,” he continued. “First, you will never be my mate. So don’t expect affection, don’t ask for loyalty, and don’t even think about what mates are ‘entitled’ to. I already have someone. Someone I actually care about.” I laughed—just once, dry and sharp. “You mean the one who threatened me in my own driveway?” I said. “Tell your little girlfriend that as long as she keeps her claws to herself and stays out of my way, we’ll have no problems. I don’t care what you two do behind closed doors.” He went quiet. I could tell he didn’t like my answer. It wasn’t what he expected. But it was the truth, and I wasn’t here to coddle his ego. “In public, we’ll play the part for my father,” he said, voice dropping lower. “Behind closed doors, we’re strangers. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.” “Fine by me,” I said flatly. “As long as you don’t try to bully me, we won’t have a problem. If your father really did buyme, then this is a contract. And once Darian becomes Alpha, you’ll release me.” He chuckled then—low and bitter. “You still don’t get it, do you? That will never happen, Mara. I’ll have to claim you eventually. A full binding. For show. For politics. For my father. You’ll be mine—publicly, legally, permanently.” Something twisted in my chest at those words. A phantom ache. I flinched without meaning to, but I didn’t let him see more than that. “What about your girlfriend?” I asked quietly. “She understands,” he replied, surprisingly calm. “I’ll never be Alpha, and I don’t want the job. We’ll find our way around this. She’ll still have my heart. She’ll have my children.” I stared at him, trying to understand how a person could speak of love and cruelty in the same breath. “I guess you’ve got your future mapped out,” I said. “Good for you. But what about me?” He blinked, caught off guard. His tone lost its bite. “What do you mean?” “I mean, you’ve got the girl. The family plan. The political cover. What about my life? My future?” I asked, voice low but unshaking. He looked at me for a long second. Then gave a dismissive shrug. “You’ll figure it out. If you meet someone, fine. Scr'w whoever you want. Just don’t get pregnant and embarrass me. Keep your mess private.” I stared at him, stunned. He wasn’t done. “I’m sure you already have a few boyfriends on the side. Maybe some officials from the academy you spread your legs for—because no woman’s ever made it as Gamma before. So whatever you did to get there, just keep doing it. That’s the only way you’ll hold onto that title. If someone stronger comes along, you’re out.” I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t need to. Let him think what he wanted. Let him imagine a version of me that matched his twisted assumptions. I wasn’t going to defend my body, my choices, or my worth to him. But inside, something cracked. I’d waited. Saved myself. Dreamed of Darian—not for lvst, but for love. And now I was bound to a man who assumed the worst of me. Who would use me as a shield, a pawn, and nothing more. And yet I didn’t cry. Not anymore. The tears were done. Now, there was only fire. “Well,” Lucian said, brushing imaginary dust from his pants like the conversation was just business. “Since everything’s ironed out, I guess we won’t have issues living as husband and wife.” I gave him a nod. Flat. Numb. Resigned. “Do we sleep in the same room?” I asked, not because I wanted to—but because I needed to know what kind of Hll I’d be walking into. He shook his head. “Not exactly. My room has a conjoined space. You’ll sleep in the one I’m not using.” A connected room. No door. No barrier. Just a wall, maybe some air, and all the silence in the world between us. “I’ve fixed it up for you,” he added. “Just don’t expect luxury. It’s the poorer wing of the mansion. My father doesn’t dote on me the way he does on Darian.” I almost laughed. The poorer wing? I would’ve gladly slept in a shed if it meant not sharing space with the man who thought I’d slept my way into the Gamma rank. “I don’t care about the room,” I said simply. And I didn’t. What I cared about was distance. Physical, emotional, spiritual. As much as I could carve out for myself in a life I never asked for. We headed back into the house. Alpha Vander stood, looking pleased with himself—like a man who had just orchestrated a perfect deal, unaware—or perhaps entirely aware—of the people he was crushing in the process. “Ah, I see the lovebirds have come to an understanding,” he said with a smug grin. “I suppose I’ll see you both at the wedding.” My father stepped forward to shake his hand. “Thank you, Alpha. We are honoured.” Alpha Vander turned to him with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Aiden, Arya—you’ve raised a strong, beautiful daughter. I originally wanted her for Darian, you know. She’s Luna material, no doubt about it. But in the end, I knew she’d have more impact on Lucian’s life.” Every word scraped against me like sandpaper. “Darian is already gentle,” he went on. “Lucian needs someone like Mara. Someone sweet, with a steady hand. She’ll soften him. She’s perfect.” And that was the moment I felt it—self-loathing. Deep, hot, gnawing. I should’ve seen it sooner. This wasn’t about love or bonds or the Universe’s will. I’d been chosen because I was safe. A tool. A soothing balm they could apply to their most volatile son. I should’ve been reckless. Cold. Difficult. A bad girl. Maybe then I would’ve been considered for Darian. Maybe then, I would’ve stood a chance. But Lucian—he didn’t let his father get away with it. “It’s not about what you want, Father,” he said suddenly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clean through the room. Alpha Vander turned to him slowly, like a man used to obedience. “Don’t lie to them,” Lucian continued. “This wasn’t your idea. This was Martha’s doing. Luna Martha didn’t want Darian choosing Mara. She didn’t want him with a Thornridge—didn’t want him marrying middle-class. She wants a girl with money. Status. This whole thing? It’s her fix. Her solution.” The air in the room turned sharp. Lucian kept going. “You’re not doing this to help me,” he said. “You’re doing it to ruin me—and Mara. All to clear the path for Darian to marry someone Martha approves of. You paid them off. That’s not honor. That’s manipulation.” Then he turned and walked out without another word. And I stood there—stunned. Not because I was angry at what he said. But because it was true. So painfully, clearly true. Luna Martha didn’t want me in her family. I wasn’t polished enough. Rich enough. Enough of anything, really. And Darian… he never even had a chance to fight it. I never had a chance at him. No matter how hard I trained, no matter how loyal I was, no matter how much I loved him quietly from a distance—I never stood a chance. Lucian was many things—cold, cruel, arrogant—but in that moment, I saw something else too: honesty. Brutal, unfiltered honesty. And it told me exactly where I stood in this twisted legacy of power, names, and politics. I was never meant to have a voice. Mara Four days had passed since Lucian and his father came to the house, and I still hadn’t found my way out of the haze. I sat in the garden behind our home, staring at nothing. Not the flowers. Not the trees. Just the empty space ahead of me, like it might hold some kind of answer if I looked long enough. Lucian’s words still echoed in my mind—cold, cruel, and then, strangely, honest. The truth was a blade that hadn’t stopped cutting. It wasn’t about me being Luna material or helping Lucian. It was about Darian. About removing me from the equation so his mother could shape his future without interference. I didn’t even hear him approach. “You’ve lost weight,” Darian said softly, sitting beside me. I didn’t reply. What was there to say? He sighed and stood again, pacing. Frustrated. Restless. I knew he wanted to talk. He always did. But I couldn’t give him what he was looking for—not when I felt like my whole life had been bargained away by people who never even asked me what I wanted. “Why didn’t you tell me Lucian came to see you?” he finally asked. I looked up at him, calm on the surface, hollow underneath. “I didn’t think it was necessary.” He stopped pacing. “We’re friends, Mara. Everything is necessary. Everything matters.” He looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders were tense. I could see the guilt in the way he carried himself, but he didn’t understand. Not yet. “Help me, Darian,” I said, my voice cracking. “Please.” He came to a stop in front of me, eyes full of sorrow. “If I were Alpha, I’d cancel this madness. I swear I would.” “But you’re not,” I whispered. Then I looked him in the eyes, and I said the one thing that had been building in my chest like pressure before a storm. “Your mother set this up.” He frowned, his expression hardening. “Lucian said it in front of your father. And your father didn’t deny it. She was afraid that you and I… that we might end up together. She didn’t want her son marrying someone from a middle-class family. So she pushed this union, forced it, to get me out of your orbit.” Darian’s jaw clenched. “That’s not true. She knows we’re just friends. That there’s nothing between us.” His words landed like stones in my chest. “If I wanted to date you, Mara, I would’ve.” That hurt. I expected it, but it still hurt. “She doesn’t see it that way,” I replied. “To her, I’m a threat to your future. So she ruined mine.” I paused, voice low and shaking. “Please talk to her, Darian. She’s destroying two lives out of fear. Lucian has someone he loves. And me?” My voice broke. “She’s condemning me to a loveless, miserable life. All because I was your friend.” I looked down at my hands, trembling now. “I’ll give up the Gamma position. I’ll leave. Just… help me get out of this.” Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and helpless. “I don’t want to marry your brother. Please.” He sat down beside me again, silent for a long moment. His hand found mine, hesitated, then held it gently. “I’ll talk to her,” he said at last, voice low. “I can’t promise anything, Mara. But I’ll try. I’ll beg her if I have to.” I nodded, even though I wasn’t hopeful. At this point, I just needed to know someone tried. That not everyone stood by and watched my future burn. If Darian hadn’t offered, I might’ve buried myself in silent acceptance. Might’ve forced myself to walk into that cold, loveless match. But Lucian wasn’t just cruel—he was dangerous. He was a murderer. An irresponsible drunk. A walking storm I’d be expected to share a life with. The thought of binding myself to him permanently… it made my skin crawl. We sat in silence for a while after that. Just breathing the same air. Just existing in the same space. Eventually, Darian left. And I was alone again. Sitting in a garden, surrounded by life, while mine slowly withered away. Two days passed. Nothing from Darian. No call. No visit. Not even a message. Just silence. I lay on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling like it might offer some kind of escape. It didn’t. All I saw was the countdown—days slipping away until the wedding. Until my funeral. Because that’s what it felt like. The day I married Lucian would be the day I buried the last of myself. I didn’t know if I’d take the Gamma position when the time came. I doubted it. The fire in me—the one that once pushed me to be the best—was nothing but ash now. Resignation tasted bitter, but it was starting to feel like the only thing I had left. There was a knock at my door. I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. I could already smell her—my mother. And the food tray she was balancing in her hands. I didn’t move, didn’t speak, and just like I knew she would, she let herself in. “Mara,” she said gently, placing the tray on the table. “You need to eat something.” I didn’t even look at the food. I looked at her. Cold. Angry. Broken. “How can you and Dad live with yourselves after selling your daughter?” I asked, my voice flat, my expression disgusted. She froze by the table, her eyes lowering, as if even she couldn’t bear to meet mine. “He gave us no choice, Mara,” she whispered. “The money was to ease his conscience.” “And you took it.” My words were a blade. “Spent it, I’m sure. Did it ever occur to you that Lucian might call it off? That Alpha Vander might want his money back?” She turned to face me slowly, her expression tired and tight. “We had no choice,” she repeated. “It was take it… or be cast out. ‘Take it or get out,’ that’s what he said. We were drowning, Mara. The house, the loans—we were about to lose everything.” I blinked, stunned. “So you sold me to pay off your debts? The loans you took for my education?” “No,” she said quickly. “We were ready to let the house go. We planned to move in with my sister. We didn’t expect Alpha Nighthorn to show up. But when he forced the union, when he said it was happening whether we liked it or not... we took the money. We used it to survive.” “And you used me to survive,” I said bitterly. She flinched. I sat up, my eyes sharp now. “What happens if the deal falls apart? If Lucian calls it off and his father wants the money back?” “Why would he?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Because I told Darian,” I said. “I told him what Lucian said. About the truth—how this wasn’t about Lucian needing a wife but about his mother wanting me out of Darian’s life. He promised he’d talk to her. Try to get her to stop this madness.” My mother’s eyes widened, shocked. She hadn’t expected me to do anything. Maybe she thought I’d just quietly crumble. She slowly sat beside me, her body folding like something had broken inside her. Tears slid down her face. “Mara, my darling…” my mother’s voice cracked as she sat beside me. “I didn’t know you would take it this hard.” I didn’t answer. She reached for my hand, but I didn’t move. My eyes stayed locked on the ceiling, dry now, but only because I had nothing left in me. “I’m hurting too,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I need you to be strong. You’re tougher than this.” I didn’t look at her. “Darian and Rowan left yesterday,” she added carefully. “They won’t be back until it’s time for him to take over the pack.” The words sank in slowly, like poison soaking through my veins. They went on the trip. Without me. Without a word. Darian—the one person I still believed would try to help me—was gone. He didn’t even call. Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t tell me that he had failed or that he’d tried at all. The silence in my chest cracked. My heart broke without sound. “I know what you’re thinking,” my mother said, almost defensively. “It was Luna Martha. She forced the trip.” I turned to her now, eyes stinging again. “She forced him?” I asked, though I already believed it. “Yes,” she nodded. “Jason—Darian’s butler—he came by for a check-up. He told me Darian had a terrible argument with Martha. About Lucian. About you. About how unfair this is. And when she couldn’t control the conversation, she controlled him. She made him leave. Told him it was to ‘gain experience.’ Said he’d return a better Alpha.” My lip trembled, but I didn’t speak. It was my fault. I asked him to intervene. I pulled him into this. And now he was gone. Banished under the guise of training. And nothing had changed. Lucian was still my future. And Darian… Darian had become part of the past. I sat in silence as the tears returned—slow, steady, quiet. “I’m sorry, baby,” my mother whispered. “But please… eat something. Don’t let this kill you. You’re one of the strongest wolves this pack has ever seen. A woman winning Gamma? That’s not luck. That’s grit. That’s fire. You will find a way to cope.” I didn’t believe her. Not even a little. She pulled me close, kissed my forehead, then left the room without waiting for a response. I stared at the food. The smell turned my stomach. Fear had coiled itself so tightly around my gut I could barely breathe, let alone eat. I picked at the plate. Flushed it all down the toilet. Washed the dishes in silence. I wanted to fade out of existence. But I couldn’t. I was still here. Trapped in a body with no escape, in a life that no longer felt like mine. They hadn’t even set a date yet. That should’ve been a good thing—more time, more room to plan, to hope—but instead, it made it worse. The anticipation, the waiting. The illusion of freedom. Alpha Vander was “putting things in order,” whatever that meant. Maybe planning some extravagant public affair to mask the fact that the union was a sentence, not a celebration. Forced marriages weren’t supposed to be grand. But this one was. Because it wasn’t about love—it was about control. I climbed back into bed, curled beneath the blanket, and tried to breathe past the panic rising in my throat. Please, I thought. Let time fly. Let it fly fast. Lucian My father was a weak man. Spineless, really. Letting his Luna orchestrate the ruin of two lives just to soothe her own insecurities? That wasn’t leadership—that was cowardice dressed in politics. Where does Martha’s manipulation stop? It was bad enough she turned my father against me—made sure I was never considered fit to be Alpha. But now? She’s bound me to a girl I barely know, all because she couldn't stomach the idea of Darian marrying someone who wasn’t bred from power or money. Mara Thornridge and I? We were just casualties of her fear. Collateral damage in her obsession with keeping Darian’s path clean and elite. When my father dragged me to the Thornridge house, I said what I needed to say. Cold, cruel, calculated—because I needed to understand. Martha told me the Thornridges requested the union, claimed they believed their daughter was too strong not to be Luna. Claimed they wanted her to take her “rightful place.” Said they had agreed to settle for me instead of Darian. All of it? Complete bullsh1t. Everyone knew Mara had a crush on Darian. It wasn’t some secret scandal. Even Darian knew—he just ignored it. Let it stew. Let her orbit him for years. A harmless crush, people said. But what that girl gave up for him wasn’t harmless. She left her original path. Signed up at the academy. Trained harder than anyone expected. Finished second. All for a boy who didn’t have the guts to be honest with her. At first, even I assumed her ambition was calculated—that finishing second was her power play to get chosen as Luna. But after speaking with her, however awkwardly… I realized how wrong I was. She didn’t chase power. She chased purpose. And maybe, quietly, she chased hope. The way she looked at me—guarded, hurt, angry. That wasn’t the gaze of someone who’d schemed her way up. That was someone trying not to drown in something too big for her. And I hated it. I hated how Martha had spun this lie and dragged me into it. I hated how my father let her do it. I hated that Mara—this tough, stubborn, determined girl—was being broken apart by people who claimed to protect the pack. So when we went back inside, I told the truth. I was done playing along. Let the Thornridges hear it all—how this wasn’t about what was best for me or Mara or even Darian. It was about Martha’s ego. About keeping “middle-class blood” away from her precious son. I almost told Mara that Darian had known. That he could’ve stopped this earlier. But I didn’t. Because she already looked like she was barely holding it together. That truth would’ve shattered her. But I blame him too. He knew how she felt. He saw it in her eyes every Dam time she looked at him. And instead of setting her free, he kept her close. He strung her along, let her believe maybe… maybe one day. I heard him brag once—to his friends—that she’d made passes at him. After meeting her, I knew that was a lie. Mara Thornridge doesn’t beg. She’d rather die than admit she’s vulnerable. She would’ve made a great Luna. Not just to Darian—but to the pack. She’s sharp, strong, and smarter than half the men who outranked her. And instead of letting her shine, Martha decided to bury her. Tie her to me. Punish her for something that never even happened. And now they expect her to stand at Darian’s side as Gamma? To give her best while living half-alive? Unbelievable. No one’s asking what this will do to her. No one’s thinking about what she’s being forced to give up just to survive. I didn’t know what to do with Mara. I didn’t want to touch her. I didn’t want to claim her—not because I hated her, but because I respected her. She didn’t ask for this, and I’m not the kind of man who takes what isn’t given freely. I wouldn’t mate with her against her will. I wasn’t like Darian. He wore his charm like armor and left a trail of wreckage behind him—wolves he used, hearts he broke, girls who wound up pregnant and scared. And every time, Father and Martha cleaned it up quietly, buried the mess, and painted him as the perfect heir. Looking back now, I saw it all more clearly than I ever had. Darian—the golden boy, the spoiled prince. Martha’s precious son, her ticket to power, the puppet she dressed up as a leader. And then there was me. An accident at the wrong time, the wrong place, gave her everything she needed to destroy me. The biker didn’t die because of me—not really. My brakes failed. There was silver in the wreckage, and to this day, I still don’t know how it got there. The biker would’ve survived without it. But no one listened. No one cared. My father didn’t even pretend to investigate. He just... wrote me off. They said I was drunk, been partying all. Night but that was a lie, yet no one cared. Martha escalated the fallout like she’d been waiting for it. And Darian? He got a free pass. Over and over. “They wanted him,” my father would say. “He didn’t stand a chance. Every girl wants the Luna title. It’s not the same.” It wasn’t the same because Darian was untouchable. I’d only ever loved one girl. Tina Livingston. I’d been loyal, careful, focused. But now, thanks to Martha, I had to break her heart. Just another name sacrificed on the altar of Darian’s future. Martha had destroyed three lives. Maybe four, if Mara had someone before all of this—someone she never got to choose. And yet, I couldn’t even bring myself to hate her. Not fully. She was protecting her son. Ruthless, yes—but my real anger was reserved for the man who allowed her to do it all. My father. The Alpha. The coward. If my mother had lived… maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe she would’ve fought for me. For balance. For justice. But she was gone. And in her absence, Martha filled the void with poison and control. Now here we were. A forced union. A fake marriage. A girl who didn’t want me, and a pack that would celebrate it anyway like it was some kind of alliance—when in truth, it was just another silent war. I moved my things into the smaller of the conjoined rooms and fixed up the larger one for Mara. I wanted her to be comfortable. Or at the very least, able to cope. She wasn’t what I’d accused her of—she wasn’t a gold digger or a social climber. I said those things to provoke, to test, to understand. But now I knew better. She was nineteen. A kid, really. Brave as hll, smart, and stubborn. And stuck. Her parents weren’t to blame either. They had no power, no rank, no options. The offer from my father wasn’t an opportunity—it was a threat in disguise. Because being cast out wasn’t just exile. It was death by slow erasure. When a wolf is stripped of their pack mark, it fades over time. And once it’s gone, they lose their human form. They go feral. Wild. Forgotten. That’s what happens to rogues. There’s no mercy in that system, no redemption. A wolf only belongs to one pack in their lifetime. One. And if that bond is broken, there’s no going back. It was a cruel mechanism, a brutal leash disguised as tradition. One the Alpha family had full control over. And my father wielded it without hesitation. Mara was a victim. Just like I was. But unlike me, she didn’t even have the illusion of choice. Lucian I was just adjusting my cufflinks, getting ready for my date with Tina, when Austin, my butler, stepped into the room with his usual composed tone. “Master Lucian, the boutique is here to deliver your bride’s clothes.” My bride. The words felt like gravel in my mouth every time I heard them. I stood and walked into the master bedroom I’d had prepped for Mara. I’d never used it. It was larger, more extravagant, more central—but I’d always preferred the smaller room. Quieter. Less suffocating. But now, someone would finally be living here. Sleeping in a bed under this roof because she had no other choice. “Have them arrange her things in the walk-in closet,” I said. “Move my things to the wardrobe, and put the rest of my stuff in storage. I don’t use most of it anyway.” Austin nodded, ever the quiet professional. “Your father has invited you to a late lunch in the breakfast room,” he added. “It starts in fifteen minutes.” I checked the time, irritated. Great. I had plans with Tina—plans that actually mattered to me—but as usual, Father’s whims trumped everything. If he wanted something, it was dropped on my lap like gospel. No warning, no regard. I left without responding, heading toward the right wing of the mansion—the golden, polished side of the estate where Martha, Darian, and Father lived. Everything there was curated, flashy, fake. Just like them. Martha loved the money. Loved the title. The image. She wore luxury like armor. And yet she had the nerve to call otherwomen gold diggers, while she pretended to play noble Luna. The real digger in this house wore silk and control like a second skin. And Darian? He was a walking performance. The dutiful heir, the golden child. The pack believed in him like he was some messiah. But only those of us who’d seen behind the curtain knew the truth. The girls. The lies. The messes swept under thick rugs of privilege. He got away with everything. And me? I was the one they all whispered about. The drunk. The murderer. The irresponsible son. I stepped into the breakfast room and found them both—Father and her—eating like nothing was wrong in the world. “Have a seat, Lucian,” my father said with a manufactured smile. There was a thick folder on the table. Blank on the outside. I eyed it but said nothing. This was a game, and I already knew I was a piece. “Have you finally accepted the union?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. It was a test. And I already knew what the right answer was. “Yes,” I said smoothly, swallowing down my resentment like it was ash. Martha didn't miss a beat. “Make sure you keep her out of Darian’s hair.” I wanted to speak. Gods, I wanted to snap. But I bit down on the urge. “She’s already out of Darian’s hair,” my father said before I could respond. “She has been, ever since her parents told her about the arrangement.” Martha rolled her eyes, dismissive as always. “So she sent my son to fight me?” she asked, mouth tight. “That was Darian’s choice,” Father said. “Stop trying to pin this on Mara. Did it ever occur to you that maybe—just maybe—Darian genuinely liked the girl and only stayed away because of you?” I nearly laughed. Darian like someone? Please. The only person Darian had ever truly loved was himself. He kept Mara close because she worshipped him. He fed on that loyalty, that quiet hope in her eyes. And when she finally became inconvenient, he let Martha clean it up. But I stayed silent. “Anyway,” my father said, suddenly annoyed, “I didn’t call Lucian here to discuss Darian. You somehow always find a way to bring it back to him.” Martha turned her head away, eyes cold and narrowed. I stared at the file again. And for the first time, I truly realized how deeply buried we all were in this family's lies. We were weapons. Symbols. Bargaining chips. Everything but people. “Take this,” my father said, sliding the thick folder across the table toward me. I didn’t move immediately. “Sign them and keep a copy,” he added. “My signature is already there.” I stared at the folder. “What is it, Father?” He sighed like he was finally ready to put something to rest. “Since you won’t be succeeding me as Alpha,” he said, “it’s only fair I hand the company over to you.” Martha slammed her hand down on the table. “Impossible!” she snapped, venom lacing her voice. My father didn’t flinch. “The deed is done, Martha. I can’t undo it.”
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The Divorce The small law office smelled faintly of dust and old paper. A flickering lamp in the corner gave off a weak, tired glow, casting shadows across the stacks of files lining the shelves. I sat across from Mr. Ricci, an older man with sharp glasses and sharper instincts. “You’re sure about this, Mrs. Russo?” he asked quietly, hands folded over the folder in front of him. The name sounded strange, like it belonged to someone else. “Yes,” I said, my voice steady even though my pulse wasn’t. “I want the divorce filed quietly. I don’t want my husband or his people knowing until everything’s finalized.” Ricci gave me a long, measuring look, but he didn’t question me further. Instead, he slid the paperwork towards me. “You’ll need his signature on these.” I nodded, slipping the papers into my leather folder. When I came back to the Russo mansion, it felt too quiet. The guards at the gate didn't even spare me a second glance as I walked in. No one here paid me any attention now that I was reduced to the side piece in my own marriage. And the worst part? The worst part was my husband didn't even care. Knowing he would be in the study, I moved towards it and was proven right when Alessia's laughter tinkled out through the half open door. These days, where Alessia was, my husband wasn't too far away. "—so funny," Alessia, my husband's childhood best friend, who was back in the city after her divorce was saying. "I know, I'm the best," came Dominic's reply, his tone the most casual and relaxed I'd ever heard it be. On instinct, I opened the study door all the way through and stepped inside. Dominic Russo froze with his whisky glass halfway to his mouth as he looked at me standing in the doorway, his smile dropping at once. "Oh, hey, Isabella! You're back from your studio already?" Alessia said, her perfectly painted lips pulling into a broad smile as she looked at me. I simply nodded in reply, but Alessia carried on the conversation before I could so much as open my mouth to speak. "That's great. I was just telling Dominic how he hasn't lost his sense of humour. It's the same as when we were kids," she said, chuckling and oh so casually running her hand along his arm as she did so. Dominic didn't say anything, didn't push her away like I so desparately wanted him to. He just quietly sipped on his whiskey, like there was nothing wrong with a woman who wasn't his wife to be practically sitting on his lap and touching him almost intimately like they were lovers. I looked away, unable to see the two of them so close. And sense of humour, huh? He hadn't ever so much as cracked a joke with me in all our three years of marriage. Yet here he was, making another woman laugh with his words. "Right. I just needed you to sign a few documents for me," I said, swallowing past the lump in my throat and pulling out the divorce papers from my bag. I quickly flipped to the page I wanted him to sign before placing it on the table in front of him. "What's this?" Dominic asked, frowning at the papers. "It's just a safety liability form for a new project I'm going to be starting soon for a company," I said, sliding the papers across the polished wooden desk towards him. "I need you to sign it, since you're my only family now," I explained. The truth sat heavy between us. My parents had died when I was seventeen in a freak car accident. Dominic's father, the Don of the Russo family at the time, had taken me under his wing because my father had worked for him for years. "Let me just have a look," Dominic muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pulled the papers towards him. My heart dropped to my stomach. Normally, he didn't read anything. Every paper related to my work I'd ever given to him, he had signed without a second glance. Why today? Why now? If he read what was written on those papers— "Oh, Dom," Alessia chuckled. "You're being too serious. It's just a formality. You know how many of those we have to fulfill on a daily basis. Just get it done and over with." As heiress to the Moretti enterprises, close business partners of the Russo family, Alessia had moved effortlessly in Dominic's world since her return almost a year back. They were always together now—at galas, public events, casino backrooms where deals got made. Everywhere Dominic went, Alessia was by his side, complimenting his tailor made tuxedos with her designer dresses. Dominic hesitated for a moment before picking up a pen and signing with a flourish, the same way he signed deals and death warrants. I quickly grabbed the papers from the desk before he could turn to the front page and read 'DIVORCE PETITION', written in bold across the front. I turned and walked out before either of them could see my hands shake. I was free. I clutched the divorce papers in my hand tightly as I walked upstairs to our room. The ink on the paper was barely dry, but our marriage had been over long before now. Though, it hadn't always been like this between us. There was a time when Dominic could barely keep his hands off of me. A time when he would pull me into dark hallways to steal passionate kisses in the middle of a family gathering. Now, he barely acknowledged my existence. Dominic was everything a woman shouldn't want—cold, ruthless, and dangerous. At only twenty six, he had taken over nearly half his father's business with his sharp wit, ruthless decisions and iron clad control. The media called him a young entrepreneur, but the streets knew better. I'd always kept my distance from him, never crossing paths unless it was absolutely necessary. Until that night three years ago that changed everything between us. He came home late at night, covered in someone else's blood, while I was at the kitchen counter patching up my own knife wound—courtesy of one of his father's men who thought the boss' charity case was easy prey. Dominic helped patch me up, offering me more than just some first aid in return. He offered to marry me that night. A marriage of convenience, a business arrangement so to speak. Protection for me, and legitimacy for him. I agreed on a whim, and we got married a week later. He wasn't particularly romantic, but the physical attraction between us burned brighter than anything I'd felt before. He fell in love with my body, while I ended up falling in love with all of him. I had almost convinced myself that I could, some day, make him love me back, too. But all my illusions shattered like broken glass when Alessia Moretti came back into our lives, and his late night meetings doubled. Suddenly, she was everywhere. In his meetings. In his car. In his study. Last month at Luigi's proved it. Luigi's is an Italian restaurant owned by Dominic where we were supposed to have a romantic dinner for our three year marriage anniversary. I waited five hours for Dominic to show up, until his right hand man Eduardo came with pity in his eyes and a diamond necklace in his hands— an apology from Dominic for not being able to make it because of some 'urgent business matter'. The 'urgent business matter' ended up being a gala he had attended with Alessia by his side—something I'd seen in the gossip column of the tabloids next morning. That was when I'd started planning my exit. I couldn't stay here all my life, waiting for scraps of affection from a man who clearly didn't give a damn about me. I quietly placed the divorce papers in the deepest corner of my closet where no one but me could reach them. This was going to be my ticket to freedom in a month. No more cages. No more pretending. Dominic could keep his business. His life. His Alessia. I refused to be the half forgotten side piece in my own marriage. Hope I had finalized the divorce already, now it was time for the next step. Two days later, I met with the HR director of a luxury design firm based in Florence. They had been following my work for months, impressed by my portfolio and my knack for creating bespoke interiors that balanced elegance with practicality. “We’d be lucky to have you,” the director had said with a warm smile. “The position is yours if you want it. Start date is flexible, but we’d like you in Florence within the next two months.” I accepted without hesitation. Finally, I was going to live a life that belonged to me. Later that day, I sat in the room I'd converted to my home studio of sorts, a quiet place to work at on days I didn't feel like going to my studio in the city, or for when inspiration struck late at night. The first box I packed was hidden beneath layers of fabric swatches and old sketchbooks in there. It wasn't much-just framed photographs, my mother's necklace, and a single pair of well-worn ballet shoes I hadn't danced in for years-but even touching those things felt dangerous, like I was smuggling contraband out of enemy territory. Every day, I packed a little more. Quietly. Slowly. Because no one could know I was leaving. Not until I was gone. Three days later, Dominic came into the home studio unannounced. "Didn't know you still hid out here," came his voice from behind me, startling me. I turned around to see him leaning against the doorframe, his lips turned into a rare half smile. "It's the only place where no one bothers me," I replied, half teasing. "Even me?" I arched an eyebrow. "Especially you." It was light banter, almost flirtatious, and for a moment I caught a flicker of something in his eyes-something that made my heartbeat hitch. "Come with me," he said suddenly. "Where?" "Dinner. Just us. No business, no interruptions." I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. We made it as far as the front hall before Alessia appeared, silk blouse immaculate, tablet in hand. "Dom, you need to see this," she said, breezing past me as though I didn't exist. "Santoro's shipment got held up in Naples. If we don't-" "It can wait," Dominic cut in, voice cool. "No, it really can't." Alessia held out the tablet, and Dominic hesitated only a fraction of a second before taking it. I watched his attention shift, watched Alessia step closer than necessary, lowering her voice just enough to draw him in. The dinner plan died right there in the hallway. It wasn't the last time. Every attempt I made to find some semblance of closeness-whether it was breakfast on the terrace, a drive out to the vineyards, even a late-night conversation in bed-Alessia always seemed to appear. Sometimes it was a phone call Dominic "had to take." Sometimes it was urgent paperwork she "couldn't wait to deliver." And Dominic never sent her away. My resolve hardened with every intrusion. I threw all my focus into packing quietly, being careful to take just enough to get me by for a few months, but not enough to raise any suspicions. A week later, I sat in the master bedroom of the Russo mansion, contemplating how life was going to be out there in a completely new city. It was going to be hard in the beginning, for sure. Should I stay? Should I give him—give us—another chance? Maybe if I talked to Dominic about Alessia's behaviour making me uncomfortable, he would listen to me? Things would change between us? It was her who was always interrupting us, right? Maybe if he knew how I felt about it, he wouldn't entertain her as much? My thoughts were interrupted by a dull ache low in my stomach. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt off—fatigue, nausea, headaches—but I’d blamed it on stress. Still, the idea nagged at me until I finally drove myself to the pharmacy, bought a test, and locked myself in the bathroom. Five minutes later, I sat on the cool tile floor, staring at the two pink lines as though they’d been written in fire. Pregnant. Pregnant with Dominic Russo’s child. Stupidly enough first reaction wasn’t fear—it was hope. And I hated myself for it. Hated myself for thinking that maybe, finally, this was the bridge that could pull us closer together. Maybe a child would be the spark that softened Dominic’s walls, that made him see me—not just as a convenient wife or physical outlet, but as someone who could be his partner. It had to soften him up to me, hadn't it? A child was a huge deal, after all. He wouldn't be heartless enough to not care about me when I was carrying his child, right? For the first time in months, I felt hopeful. Maybe, I wouldn't have to leave after all. Maybe, we could start anew, like a real family this time. Filled with a renewed hope, I waited for Dominic to come home. I dressed in soft cream silk, my hair loose, my hands trembling slightly as I set two glasses of wine on the table before realizing I couldn’t drink. I poured myself water instead. Dominic came in late, still on the phone, loosening his tie with one hand as he barked orders to someone on the other end. My stomach flipped with nerves. “Dominic,” I said quietly once he hung up. He gave me a quick glance. “Yeah?” “I… I have something to tell you.” His brows lifted, impatient. “What is it?” “I’m pregnant.” The words felt fragile in the air, as though they might shatter if I spoke too loudly. Dominic froze. For a moment, I swore I saw something flash in his eyes—surprise, maybe even wonder—but it was gone in an instant, replaced by guarded calculation. “You’re what?” “Pregnant,” I repeated, my heart pounding. “We’re going to have a baby.” Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Finally, Dominic exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Isabella… you’re on the pill.” “Nothing is one hundred percent effective,” I whispered, my voice cracking under his tone. He paced for a moment, jaw tight. “You planned this?” “What? No!” I burst out, unable to believe what he was saying. No, no, no. This was not how I had imagined this conversation going. Why wasn't he happy? Why wasn't he being kind and supportive? “Because it sure as hell feels like you’re trying to tie me down with a kid I didn’t ask for.” The words slammed into me like a blow, and I staggered back a few steps. “Dominic,” I said softly, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, “it’s our child.” “This isn’t the right time,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket again. "There's a lot going on with Santoro. With the upcoming deal with them. This…” He gestured vaguely towards my stomach, “This just complicates things.” “So what do you want me to do?” I asked, both dreading what he would say next, and willing for him to say it to my face. If he rejected his own child, our child—this little life we had created together, it would be the last straw. I would never in my life hope for anything positive with him. He didn’t answer right away, and that pause told me all I needed to know. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat. “You should think about your options.” The tears didn’t come until long after Dominic left the room, slamming the door behind him. I had never thought that he would push me away like this even after finding out that we were going to have a baby together. Gone were the days when he would kiss me just because, trace his fingers over my spine when I slept, thinking I was asleep. Now, he was nothing but cold, and heartless when it came to me. He treated me like a business deal he couldn't wait to wash his hands off now. I'd always known that that was the kind of man he was deep down, but stupidly enough, I'd hoped that he would change for me. How pathetic. I sat on the edge of the bed, both hands cradling my stomach, and whispered to the tiny life inside me: “Don’t worry, baby. Even if he doesn’t want us, I do. And I promise, I'm going to take you far, far away from this place.” Unspoken Things Dominic's POV I wasn't a man who missed details. I could spot a lie in the flicker of an eye, a betrayal in a half-beat pause over dinner. So how had I missed this? I stood at the doorway of our bedroom, arms folded, watching Isabella silently fold clothes into neat stacks. Not designer dresses she wore for events, not the cocktail gowns that hugged her curves the way I liked. No, these were soft knits, linen shirts—things she used for travel. "Going somewhere?" I asked, keeping my tone carefully neutral. Isabella startled slightly, but she didn't look up. "Just... reorganizing." I frowned. There was something in the way she kept her back half-turned toward me, as though she was shielding something I couldn't see. Over the past two weeks, she had become quieter. Not cold exactly—but withdrawn, guarded. Our conversations stayed polite, even warm at times, but lacked the sharp edge of our earlier fights. I almost preferred the fights. At least then, she met me head-on. Now, it felt like she was retreating behind walls I hadn't even noticed her building. "Isabella," I said, walking closer. "What's going on?" She stilled for a heartbeat, then set down the shirt she was folding and faced me with a smile that was a touch too calm. "Nothing's going on, Dominic. Why do you ask?" I didn't believe her. But I didn't know what I was accusing her of, either. Later that night, I found her in the garden, sitting on the stone bench with her hands absentmindedly resting over her stomach. My gaze drifted there before I could stop it. She was carrying my child. Our child. I'd confirmed with the family gynaecologist she'd met with the day after she'd told me she was pregnant. According to her, Isabella was roughly ten weeks along. Which meant she had concieved the last time we had had sex. I knew she had decided to keep the baby. I, however, was yet to decide how I felt about it. I had too many enemies looking for a weakness to strike on right now. And a child would be the biggest weakness of all. I didn't think it was a good idea to have a child at a time like this. "You should be resting," I said to her instead, leaning against the column. "I am resting," she replied without looking at me. There was no bite in her tone, but there was no softness either. "Isabella..." I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair. "If you're upset about what I said the other night-" She turned sharply, her eyes glinting even in the dim light. "Which part? The one where you accused me of trying to trap you? Or the part where you told me to think about my options?" I clenched my jaw. I'd been stressed because of work. And I'd taken it out on her. "I didn't mean-" "You meant every word, Dominic." She rose from the bench, brushing past me as though she couldn't stand to be there one more second. I stayed in the garden long after she left, my chest tight with something uncomfortably close to guilt. But instead of recognizing the emotion, I shoved it down, like I did with every single thing when it came to her. She was just angry. Hurt, maybe. Acting out for attention. I had bigger things to deal with than a wife trying to manipulate me with silence. Besides, it wasn’t like I was a cruel man. Okay, I was, but not to her. I provided for her—more than most women could dream of. Security, wealth, protection. She never wanted for anything material. I let her work, unlike other made men. I even let her have her own studio to work at however she pleased, both in the city and at home. And Alessia. She had always been a constant. She understood the business, the blood, the sacrifices. She could anticipate my decisions before I made them. She could spar with me in strategy without needing explanation. I often felt that Isabella thought of Alessia as a threat. But Alessia wasn’t a threat to anyone—she was an ally, one I needed in order to keep our empire intact. With a few important deals falling through and feds sniffing around, our family hadn't exactly been in a safe place when Alessia came back from Italy a year back. Everything had seemed good on the surface, but only I knew the struggles behind the scenes. I could've turned to my father for help, sure, but I didn't think it was wise to do so with his failing health, and already fragile heart. It was with the help of Alessia, and her father's business, that I'd been able to pull my shit together enough to keep us afloat. Alessia understood all that and had stayed by me through the thick of it. Best of all, she didn't complain, didn't nag, didn't expect me to do things I didn't have the time to. But Isabella didn't seem to understand any of that. What did she want from me, really? To sit in bed and whisper sweet words when there were wars to be fought? To hold her hand when my enemies were plotting to bury us both? I didn’t have time for that. Not yet. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Isabella. In fact, there were moments I admired her—her quiet resilience, the softness in her voice when she spoke with staff, the warmth in her smile when she thought no one was looking. But admiration was a luxury, and I didn’t live on luxuries. I lived on necessity. And necessity meant prioritizing the business. Prioritizing survival. Isabella would understand, one day, when things were calmer. When the smoke cleared, when Alessia and the others no longer had to sit at my side through every meeting, every negotiation. I would have the time then. For now, she needed to be patient. To trust me. But instead, she was folding travel clothes. Speaking with an edge in her voice. Acting as though I had failed her, when I had given her everything that mattered. I sighed, staring out into the night, the weight of a thousand unspoken things pressing against my chest. I lit a cigarette to calm my nerves. I wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t be wrong. Could I? The Vow Finally, it was time. After Dominic had rejected me, and our child, squashing all my hopes of reconciliation, I had quietly bided my time, waiting for a month to be over. I had rehearsed my departure so many times it felt like muscle memory now. I had moved everything I would need—which wasn't much, really—in small stacks from the Russo Mansion to my studio so no one would be suspicious. I didn't think anyone cared much about what I did or didn't do in this grand palace of a house, but I hadn't taken any risks, especially now that a child was involved as well. All my things would be shipped along with my studio supplies this morning, and the flight to Florence was booked for tonight. My assistant at the studio had arranged it all for me, believing I was simply relocating for work. Only I knew that I wasn't coming back. I'd already informed the HR head at my new job in Florence about my unexpected pregnancy, and they had been more than accommodating about it. Such kindness from strangers I was yet to meet in person when I hadn't recieved even an ounce of it at the place I called home had brought tears to my eyes. Not only had it made me emotional, but it had also cemented my decision to leave even more. I'd rather be somewhere I was valued and cared for than here, where I volleyed between a nobody, or an inconvenience. I double-checked the handbag I had readied to take with me: passport, medical file, appointment slip from my gynaecologist, the sonogram I hadn't shown anyone. I had barely slept. My escape plan was a fragile secret stitched together with trembling hands and whispered prayers. This morning, I was supposed to visit my gynecologist. Afterwards, I’d take a cab straight to the airport. From there, me and my child—our child—would vanish. I had already gotten my copy of the final divorce certificate yesterday, and had arranged for Dominic's copy to be mailed to him with a deliberate delay of three days after my departure. With a quiet sigh, I smoothed down my dress, and picked up my bag. Time to go. I hadn't expected, or wanted to see Dominic before leaving the Russo Mansion for the last time in my life. But when I walked down the stairs, he was sitting in the living room, dark suit immaculate, sipping coffee as though nothing in the world could touch him. His composure always left me breathless, once in awe, now in anguish. Though surprisingly enough, Alessia wasn't clinging to him today. Even though I'd mentally prepared for the possibility of seeing him, my heart still stuttered in my chest as he gave me a slow once over. “You’re dressed early,” Dominic noted, eyes narrowing at my simple dress. “Where are you going?” “The doctor,” I said evenly, with practiced ease, hand brushing over my stomach instinctively. “I have an appointment.” His gaze flicked downward, then back up, unreadable. “You’re still entertaining this idea?” His tone was too casual, too sharp. “Isabella, I told you before… think about what this means. A child, in our world, is leverage. A weakness.” My throat tightened. “A weakness? He’s our child, Dominic.” He set down his cup with deliberate care. “Don’t be naïve. This is not the right time for a baby. I already have a lot of enemies breathing down my neck right now. An heir paints a target on your back, too. On his back. I’ve seen what happens.” I shook my head. What was he talking about? He was an heir to his father's empire, too, wasn't he? He had taken over their business from his father when his health declined, had he not? And he was fine— clearly alive, well protected. So, why couldn't our child be protected the same way? What a pathetic excuse for not wanting a kid. My voice trembled, but I forced it to be steady. “So what? You want me to—” His jaw ticked. “I’m telling you, end it before someone else ends it for you. Because if you don’t, Isabella—” I froze. “If I don’t, what?” I challenged, my heart thundering in my chest. The silence between us stretched, suffocating. His eyes darkened, and the next words slipped out, low, cold, stripped of softness. “Then you’ll force my hand.” Blood rushed to my ears. The room spun. He hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t struck me. But the words sliced deeper than any blow. I heard nothing beyond them. The threat was clear as day. My chest hollowed. The air burned in my lungs. “You’d… kill me?” I whispered. His expression flickered, as though he hadn’t meant it the way I took it. But he didn’t take it back either. And that was worse. Something inside me fractured cleanly. I left without another word, the sound of the door slamming behind me echoing like a final vow. Leaving wasn't just a necessity now, it was a means to survival. The car ride to the hospital was a blur. I pressed trembling hands over my belly the entire way to the hospital, whispering to my unborn child promises I wasn’t sure I could keep. Inside the hospital, I met briefly with Dr. Marinelli, discussing vitamins, flight precautions, and early genetic tests. I left the office feeling much lighter than when I'd entered it. Every step I took out of the hospital felt closer to freedom. I was halfway to the car when the world ripped apart. The engine of my waiting car ignited in a sudden roar of fire, and everything around me turned to smoke and ash. The explosion flung me backward. Screams filled the street. Medics rushed to the scene from behind me. Heat licked my skin as I scrambled to my feet, terror thundering in my veins. I stared at the burning shell of the car, realization dawning with ice-cold clarity as I watched someone pull a charred body out. It was him. Dominic. He had done this. It had to be. Dominic had warned me. Threatened me. If I didn’t obey, he’d force my hand. He hadn't denied when I'd accused him of wanting to kill me. And now this. My heart clenched painfully in my chest. My baby. My sweet, innocent child. Dominic had tried to kill not only me, but our child, too. An innocent life that had done nothing to harm him. There was no going back from this. I staggered to the street corner, flagged down a bus with shaking hands, and boarded without looking back. My things were already shipped, my new life already waiting. Florence. A new name. A new future. And a vow carved into my soul: I would never return. Not to him. Not to this life. Not after this betrayal. His Return 5 years later "Mamma, faster!" Mateo's laughter rang through the sunny apartment as he sprinted across the living room, bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. I pretended to chase him, catching him just before he could duck under the table. I scooped him up, spinning him around until he squealed with delight. His curls bounced into his eyes—Dominic's eyes—and for a moment, I froze, my chest tightening with an ache I thought I'd long buried. I kissed my son's forehead, forcing the memory away. "Alright, alright. Time to calm down, little hurricane. Mamma has work." Work. The word meant something different now than it had five years ago. No longer was I just an employee with something to prove. I was now Signora Bianchi, Director of Curation and Exhibitions—a respected leader in the Florence arts scene, sought after for my innovative ideas. My colleagues had become my friends, my family. They knew me as a single mother who had made her life from scratch, and they admired me for it. None of them knew the truth. That morning, I was halfway through sorting the final list for an upcoming joint exhibition when Chiara knocked on my door, looking pleased but slightly tense. "Isa, do you have a minute?" "Of course." Chiara closed the door and sat across from me. "We've been offered a huge partnership, an international sponsor for the Renaissance Reborn project. It'll open doors for all of us. Funding, recognition, press. But..." My pen stilled mid-note. "But what?" "The sponsor is the Russo Group." The name hit me like a fist to the gut. Chiara continued, oblivious to my rigid posture. "The CEO himself is flying in for the final negotiations from New York. We'll need our head of curation at the table. Which means you." I stared at her blankly, heart pounding so loudly I barely heard anything else. "Isa? You alright?" I forced a smile, thin and shaky. "Yes. Of course. Just... surprised. I didn't know the Russo Group dealt with projects like that." Chiara nodded. "They only started a few years back. But they'll be a good start to take our business international, you know? The kind of connections they have is just what we need." I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around the information I'd just gotten. When Chiara left, I sat frozen, fingers clenched around my pen until it snapped in two. When I'd left New York City behind five years ago, I had never thought that I'd run into Dominic ever again. Let alone think that I'd ever have to work with him closely. However, I couldn't say no to Chiara. Even though she was my senior here at work, she had never let me feel that way. I still remembered the first time I'd stepped foot into Florence. Chiara was the one who had sent her own personal assistant, Luca, to get me from the airport and help me settle into my new apartment which was fully furnished with everything I would need. Not only had Luca helped me settle in, he had also stocked the house with groceries and other essentials so I didn't have to go out right away. He had even come to pick me up for work the next day, introducing me to everyone at the office as if he were my own personal assistant. I had felt more welcomed here on my first day than I'd felt my entire life at the Russo Mansion. And when I'd gotten three dinner invites by the time the first day ended, I knew I'd made the perfect decision to leave a place I was clearly neither welcome nor required at and come here to Florence instead. "Florence takes care of it's people," Chiara had told me while I was having dinner with her and a few other colleagues to celebrate my first day at work. And she'd been right, in a way. It wasn't Florence exactly who had taken care of me, but it's people. When my baby bump had started showing, my neighbour from down the hall, Ms Giardiano, an old Italian lady who lived alone, made sure to come check on me every other day. She would bring me nutritious home cooked meals so I wouldn't have to cook for myself after coming home from work. 📖 The story gets hotter—click "Download" to read the uncensored chapters! 👇
The Divorce The small law office smelled faintly of dust and old paper. A flickering lamp in the corner gave off a weak, tired glow, casting shadows across the stacks of files lining the shelves. I sat across from Mr. Ricci, an older man with sharp glasses and sharper instincts. “You’re sure about this, Mrs. Russo?” he asked quietly, hands folded over the folder in front of him. The name sounded strange, like it belonged to someone else. “Yes,” I said, my voice steady even though my pulse wasn’t. “I want the divorce filed quietly. I don’t want my husband or his people knowing until everything’s finalized.” Ricci gave me a long, measuring look, but he didn’t question me further. Instead, he slid the paperwork towards me. “You’ll need his signature on these.” I nodded, slipping the papers into my leather folder. When I came back to the Russo mansion, it felt too quiet. The guards at the gate didn't even spare me a second glance as I walked in. No one here paid me any attention now that I was reduced to the side piece in my own marriage. And the worst part? The worst part was my husband didn't even care. Knowing he would be in the study, I moved towards it and was proven right when Alessia's laughter tinkled out through the half open door. These days, where Alessia was, my husband wasn't too far away. "—so funny," Alessia, my husband's childhood best friend, who was back in the city after her divorce was saying. "I know, I'm the best," came Dominic's reply, his tone the most casual and relaxed I'd ever heard it be. On instinct, I opened the study door all the way through and stepped inside. Dominic Russo froze with his whisky glass halfway to his mouth as he looked at me standing in the doorway, his smile dropping at once. "Oh, hey, Isabella! You're back from your studio already?" Alessia said, her perfectly painted lips pulling into a broad smile as she looked at me. I simply nodded in reply, but Alessia carried on the conversation before I could so much as open my mouth to speak. "That's great. I was just telling Dominic how he hasn't lost his sense of humour. It's the same as when we were kids," she said, chuckling and oh so casually running her hand along his arm as she did so. Dominic didn't say anything, didn't push her away like I so desparately wanted him to. He just quietly sipped on his whiskey, like there was nothing wrong with a woman who wasn't his wife to be practically sitting on his lap and touching him almost intimately like they were lovers. I looked away, unable to see the two of them so close. And sense of humour, huh? He hadn't ever so much as cracked a joke with me in all our three years of marriage. Yet here he was, making another woman laugh with his words. "Right. I just needed you to sign a few documents for me," I said, swallowing past the lump in my throat and pulling out the divorce papers from my bag. I quickly flipped to the page I wanted him to sign before placing it on the table in front of him. "What's this?" Dominic asked, frowning at the papers. "It's just a safety liability form for a new project I'm going to be starting soon for a company," I said, sliding the papers across the polished wooden desk towards him. "I need you to sign it, since you're my only family now," I explained. The truth sat heavy between us. My parents had died when I was seventeen in a freak car accident. Dominic's father, the Don of the Russo family at the time, had taken me under his wing because my father had worked for him for years. "Let me just have a look," Dominic muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pulled the papers towards him. My heart dropped to my stomach. Normally, he didn't read anything. Every paper related to my work I'd ever given to him, he had signed without a second glance. Why today? Why now? If he read what was written on those papers— "Oh, Dom," Alessia chuckled. "You're being too serious. It's just a formality. You know how many of those we have to fulfill on a daily basis. Just get it done and over with." As heiress to the Moretti enterprises, close business partners of the Russo family, Alessia had moved effortlessly in Dominic's world since her return almost a year back. They were always together now—at galas, public events, casino backrooms where deals got made. Everywhere Dominic went, Alessia was by his side, complimenting his tailor made tuxedos with her designer dresses. Dominic hesitated for a moment before picking up a pen and signing with a flourish, the same way he signed deals and death warrants. I quickly grabbed the papers from the desk before he could turn to the front page and read 'DIVORCE PETITION', written in bold across the front. I turned and walked out before either of them could see my hands shake. I was free. I clutched the divorce papers in my hand tightly as I walked upstairs to our room. The ink on the paper was barely dry, but our marriage had been over long before now. Though, it hadn't always been like this between us. There was a time when Dominic could barely keep his hands off of me. A time when he would pull me into dark hallways to steal passionate kisses in the middle of a family gathering. Now, he barely acknowledged my existence. Dominic was everything a woman shouldn't want—cold, ruthless, and dangerous. At only twenty six, he had taken over nearly half his father's business with his sharp wit, ruthless decisions and iron clad control. The media called him a young entrepreneur, but the streets knew better. I'd always kept my distance from him, never crossing paths unless it was absolutely necessary. Until that night three years ago that changed everything between us. He came home late at night, covered in someone else's blood, while I was at the kitchen counter patching up my own knife wound—courtesy of one of his father's men who thought the boss' charity case was easy prey. Dominic helped patch me up, offering me more than just some first aid in return. He offered to marry me that night. A marriage of convenience, a business arrangement so to speak. Protection for me, and legitimacy for him. I agreed on a whim, and we got married a week later. He wasn't particularly romantic, but the physical attraction between us burned brighter than anything I'd felt before. He fell in love with my body, while I ended up falling in love with all of him. I had almost convinced myself that I could, some day, make him love me back, too. But all my illusions shattered like broken glass when Alessia Moretti came back into our lives, and his late night meetings doubled. Suddenly, she was everywhere. In his meetings. In his car. In his study. Last month at Luigi's proved it. Luigi's is an Italian restaurant owned by Dominic where we were supposed to have a romantic dinner for our three year marriage anniversary. I waited five hours for Dominic to show up, until his right hand man Eduardo came with pity in his eyes and a diamond necklace in his hands— an apology from Dominic for not being able to make it because of some 'urgent business matter'. The 'urgent business matter' ended up being a gala he had attended with Alessia by his side—something I'd seen in the gossip column of the tabloids next morning. That was when I'd started planning my exit. I couldn't stay here all my life, waiting for scraps of affection from a man who clearly didn't give a damn about me. I quietly placed the divorce papers in the deepest corner of my closet where no one but me could reach them. This was going to be my ticket to freedom in a month. No more cages. No more pretending. Dominic could keep his business. His life. His Alessia. I refused to be the half forgotten side piece in my own marriage. Hope I had finalized the divorce already, now it was time for the next step. Two days later, I met with the HR director of a luxury design firm based in Florence. They had been following my work for months, impressed by my portfolio and my knack for creating bespoke interiors that balanced elegance with practicality. “We’d be lucky to have you,” the director had said with a warm smile. “The position is yours if you want it. Start date is flexible, but we’d like you in Florence within the next two months.” I accepted without hesitation. Finally, I was going to live a life that belonged to me. Later that day, I sat in the room I'd converted to my home studio of sorts, a quiet place to work at on days I didn't feel like going to my studio in the city, or for when inspiration struck late at night. The first box I packed was hidden beneath layers of fabric swatches and old sketchbooks in there. It wasn't much-just framed photographs, my mother's necklace, and a single pair of well-worn ballet shoes I hadn't danced in for years-but even touching those things felt dangerous, like I was smuggling contraband out of enemy territory. Every day, I packed a little more. Quietly. Slowly. Because no one could know I was leaving. Not until I was gone. Three days later, Dominic came into the home studio unannounced. "Didn't know you still hid out here," came his voice from behind me, startling me. I turned around to see him leaning against the doorframe, his lips turned into a rare half smile. "It's the only place where no one bothers me," I replied, half teasing. "Even me?" I arched an eyebrow. "Especially you." It was light banter, almost flirtatious, and for a moment I caught a flicker of something in his eyes-something that made my heartbeat hitch. "Come with me," he said suddenly. "Where?" "Dinner. Just us. No business, no interruptions." I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. We made it as far as the front hall before Alessia appeared, silk blouse immaculate, tablet in hand. "Dom, you need to see this," she said, breezing past me as though I didn't exist. "Santoro's shipment got held up in Naples. If we don't-" "It can wait," Dominic cut in, voice cool. "No, it really can't." Alessia held out the tablet, and Dominic hesitated only a fraction of a second before taking it. I watched his attention shift, watched Alessia step closer than necessary, lowering her voice just enough to draw him in. The dinner plan died right there in the hallway. It wasn't the last time. Every attempt I made to find some semblance of closeness-whether it was breakfast on the terrace, a drive out to the vineyards, even a late-night conversation in bed-Alessia always seemed to appear. Sometimes it was a phone call Dominic "had to take." Sometimes it was urgent paperwork she "couldn't wait to deliver." And Dominic never sent her away. My resolve hardened with every intrusion. I threw all my focus into packing quietly, being careful to take just enough to get me by for a few months, but not enough to raise any suspicions. A week later, I sat in the master bedroom of the Russo mansion, contemplating how life was going to be out there in a completely new city. It was going to be hard in the beginning, for sure. Should I stay? Should I give him—give us—another chance? Maybe if I talked to Dominic about Alessia's behaviour making me uncomfortable, he would listen to me? Things would change between us? It was her who was always interrupting us, right? Maybe if he knew how I felt about it, he wouldn't entertain her as much? My thoughts were interrupted by a dull ache low in my stomach. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt off—fatigue, nausea, headaches—but I’d blamed it on stress. Still, the idea nagged at me until I finally drove myself to the pharmacy, bought a test, and locked myself in the bathroom. Five minutes later, I sat on the cool tile floor, staring at the two pink lines as though they’d been written in fire. Pregnant. Pregnant with Dominic Russo’s child. Stupidly enough first reaction wasn’t fear—it was hope. And I hated myself for it. Hated myself for thinking that maybe, finally, this was the bridge that could pull us closer together. Maybe a child would be the spark that softened Dominic’s walls, that made him see me—not just as a convenient wife or physical outlet, but as someone who could be his partner. It had to soften him up to me, hadn't it? A child was a huge deal, after all. He wouldn't be heartless enough to not care about me when I was carrying his child, right? For the first time in months, I felt hopeful. Maybe, I wouldn't have to leave after all. Maybe, we could start anew, like a real family this time. Filled with a renewed hope, I waited for Dominic to come home. I dressed in soft cream silk, my hair loose, my hands trembling slightly as I set two glasses of wine on the table before realizing I couldn’t drink. I poured myself water instead. Dominic came in late, still on the phone, loosening his tie with one hand as he barked orders to someone on the other end. My stomach flipped with nerves. “Dominic,” I said quietly once he hung up. He gave me a quick glance. “Yeah?” “I… I have something to tell you.” His brows lifted, impatient. “What is it?” “I’m pregnant.” The words felt fragile in the air, as though they might shatter if I spoke too loudly. Dominic froze. For a moment, I swore I saw something flash in his eyes—surprise, maybe even wonder—but it was gone in an instant, replaced by guarded calculation. “You’re what?” “Pregnant,” I repeated, my heart pounding. “We’re going to have a baby.” Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Finally, Dominic exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Isabella… you’re on the pill.” “Nothing is one hundred percent effective,” I whispered, my voice cracking under his tone. He paced for a moment, jaw tight. “You planned this?” “What? No!” I burst out, unable to believe what he was saying. No, no, no. This was not how I had imagined this conversation going. Why wasn't he happy? Why wasn't he being kind and supportive? “Because it sure as hell feels like you’re trying to tie me down with a kid I didn’t ask for.” The words slammed into me like a blow, and I staggered back a few steps. “Dominic,” I said softly, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, “it’s our child.” “This isn’t the right time,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket again. "There's a lot going on with Santoro. With the upcoming deal with them. This…” He gestured vaguely towards my stomach, “This just complicates things.” “So what do you want me to do?” I asked, both dreading what he would say next, and willing for him to say it to my face. If he rejected his own child, our child—this little life we had created together, it would be the last straw. I would never in my life hope for anything positive with him. He didn’t answer right away, and that pause told me all I needed to know. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat. “You should think about your options.” The tears didn’t come until long after Dominic left the room, slamming the door behind him. I had never thought that he would push me away like this even after finding out that we were going to have a baby together. Gone were the days when he would kiss me just because, trace his fingers over my spine when I slept, thinking I was asleep. Now, he was nothing but cold, and heartless when it came to me. He treated me like a business deal he couldn't wait to wash his hands off now. I'd always known that that was the kind of man he was deep down, but stupidly enough, I'd hoped that he would change for me. How pathetic. I sat on the edge of the bed, both hands cradling my stomach, and whispered to the tiny life inside me: “Don’t worry, baby. Even if he doesn’t want us, I do. And I promise, I'm going to take you far, far away from this place.” Unspoken Things Dominic's POV I wasn't a man who missed details. I could spot a lie in the flicker of an eye, a betrayal in a half-beat pause over dinner. So how had I missed this? I stood at the doorway of our bedroom, arms folded, watching Isabella silently fold clothes into neat stacks. Not designer dresses she wore for events, not the cocktail gowns that hugged her curves the way I liked. No, these were soft knits, linen shirts—things she used for travel. "Going somewhere?" I asked, keeping my tone carefully neutral. Isabella startled slightly, but she didn't look up. "Just... reorganizing." I frowned. There was something in the way she kept her back half-turned toward me, as though she was shielding something I couldn't see. Over the past two weeks, she had become quieter. Not cold exactly—but withdrawn, guarded. Our conversations stayed polite, even warm at times, but lacked the sharp edge of our earlier fights. I almost preferred the fights. At least then, she met me head-on. Now, it felt like she was retreating behind walls I hadn't even noticed her building. "Isabella," I said, walking closer. "What's going on?" She stilled for a heartbeat, then set down the shirt she was folding and faced me with a smile that was a touch too calm. "Nothing's going on, Dominic. Why do you ask?" I didn't believe her. But I didn't know what I was accusing her of, either. Later that night, I found her in the garden, sitting on the stone bench with her hands absentmindedly resting over her stomach. My gaze drifted there before I could stop it. She was carrying my child. Our child. I'd confirmed with the family gynaecologist she'd met with the day after she'd told me she was pregnant. According to her, Isabella was roughly ten weeks along. Which meant she had concieved the last time we had had sex. I knew she had decided to keep the baby. I, however, was yet to decide how I felt about it. I had too many enemies looking for a weakness to strike on right now. And a child would be the biggest weakness of all. I didn't think it was a good idea to have a child at a time like this. "You should be resting," I said to her instead, leaning against the column. "I am resting," she replied without looking at me. There was no bite in her tone, but there was no softness either. "Isabella..." I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair. "If you're upset about what I said the other night-" She turned sharply, her eyes glinting even in the dim light. "Which part? The one where you accused me of trying to trap you? Or the part where you told me to think about my options?" I clenched my jaw. I'd been stressed because of work. And I'd taken it out on her. "I didn't mean-" "You meant every word, Dominic." She rose from the bench, brushing past me as though she couldn't stand to be there one more second. I stayed in the garden long after she left, my chest tight with something uncomfortably close to guilt. But instead of recognizing the emotion, I shoved it down, like I did with every single thing when it came to her. She was just angry. Hurt, maybe. Acting out for attention. I had bigger things to deal with than a wife trying to manipulate me with silence. Besides, it wasn’t like I was a cruel man. Okay, I was, but not to her. I provided for her—more than most women could dream of. Security, wealth, protection. She never wanted for anything material. I let her work, unlike other made men. I even let her have her own studio to work at however she pleased, both in the city and at home. And Alessia. She had always been a constant. She understood the business, the blood, the sacrifices. She could anticipate my decisions before I made them. She could spar with me in strategy without needing explanation. I often felt that Isabella thought of Alessia as a threat. But Alessia wasn’t a threat to anyone—she was an ally, one I needed in order to keep our empire intact. With a few important deals falling through and feds sniffing around, our family hadn't exactly been in a safe place when Alessia came back from Italy a year back. Everything had seemed good on the surface, but only I knew the struggles behind the scenes. I could've turned to my father for help, sure, but I didn't think it was wise to do so with his failing health, and already fragile heart. It was with the help of Alessia, and her father's business, that I'd been able to pull my shit together enough to keep us afloat. Alessia understood all that and had stayed by me through the thick of it. Best of all, she didn't complain, didn't nag, didn't expect me to do things I didn't have the time to. But Isabella didn't seem to understand any of that. What did she want from me, really? To sit in bed and whisper sweet words when there were wars to be fought? To hold her hand when my enemies were plotting to bury us both? I didn’t have time for that. Not yet. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Isabella. In fact, there were moments I admired her—her quiet resilience, the softness in her voice when she spoke with staff, the warmth in her smile when she thought no one was looking. But admiration was a luxury, and I didn’t live on luxuries. I lived on necessity. And necessity meant prioritizing the business. Prioritizing survival. Isabella would understand, one day, when things were calmer. When the smoke cleared, when Alessia and the others no longer had to sit at my side through every meeting, every negotiation. I would have the time then. For now, she needed to be patient. To trust me. But instead, she was folding travel clothes. Speaking with an edge in her voice. Acting as though I had failed her, when I had given her everything that mattered. I sighed, staring out into the night, the weight of a thousand unspoken things pressing against my chest. I lit a cigarette to calm my nerves. I wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t be wrong. Could I? The Vow Finally, it was time. After Dominic had rejected me, and our child, squashing all my hopes of reconciliation, I had quietly bided my time, waiting for a month to be over. I had rehearsed my departure so many times it felt like muscle memory now. I had moved everything I would need—which wasn't much, really—in small stacks from the Russo Mansion to my studio so no one would be suspicious. I didn't think anyone cared much about what I did or didn't do in this grand palace of a house, but I hadn't taken any risks, especially now that a child was involved as well. All my things would be shipped along with my studio supplies this morning, and the flight to Florence was booked for tonight. My assistant at the studio had arranged it all for me, believing I was simply relocating for work. Only I knew that I wasn't coming back. I'd already informed the HR head at my new job in Florence about my unexpected pregnancy, and they had been more than accommodating about it. Such kindness from strangers I was yet to meet in person when I hadn't recieved even an ounce of it at the place I called home had brought tears to my eyes. Not only had it made me emotional, but it had also cemented my decision to leave even more. I'd rather be somewhere I was valued and cared for than here, where I volleyed between a nobody, or an inconvenience. I double-checked the handbag I had readied to take with me: passport, medical file, appointment slip from my gynaecologist, the sonogram I hadn't shown anyone. I had barely slept. My escape plan was a fragile secret stitched together with trembling hands and whispered prayers. This morning, I was supposed to visit my gynecologist. Afterwards, I’d take a cab straight to the airport. From there, me and my child—our child—would vanish. I had already gotten my copy of the final divorce certificate yesterday, and had arranged for Dominic's copy to be mailed to him with a deliberate delay of three days after my departure. With a quiet sigh, I smoothed down my dress, and picked up my bag. Time to go. I hadn't expected, or wanted to see Dominic before leaving the Russo Mansion for the last time in my life. But when I walked down the stairs, he was sitting in the living room, dark suit immaculate, sipping coffee as though nothing in the world could touch him. His composure always left me breathless, once in awe, now in anguish. Though surprisingly enough, Alessia wasn't clinging to him today. Even though I'd mentally prepared for the possibility of seeing him, my heart still stuttered in my chest as he gave me a slow once over. “You’re dressed early,” Dominic noted, eyes narrowing at my simple dress. “Where are you going?” “The doctor,” I said evenly, with practiced ease, hand brushing over my stomach instinctively. “I have an appointment.” His gaze flicked downward, then back up, unreadable. “You’re still entertaining this idea?” His tone was too casual, too sharp. “Isabella, I told you before… think about what this means. A child, in our world, is leverage. A weakness.” My throat tightened. “A weakness? He’s our child, Dominic.” He set down his cup with deliberate care. “Don’t be naïve. This is not the right time for a baby. I already have a lot of enemies breathing down my neck right now. An heir paints a target on your back, too. On his back. I’ve seen what happens.” I shook my head. What was he talking about? He was an heir to his father's empire, too, wasn't he? He had taken over their business from his father when his health declined, had he not? And he was fine— clearly alive, well protected. So, why couldn't our child be protected the same way? What a pathetic excuse for not wanting a kid. My voice trembled, but I forced it to be steady. “So what? You want me to—” His jaw ticked. “I’m telling you, end it before someone else ends it for you. Because if you don’t, Isabella—” I froze. “If I don’t, what?” I challenged, my heart thundering in my chest. The silence between us stretched, suffocating. His eyes darkened, and the next words slipped out, low, cold, stripped of softness. “Then you’ll force my hand.” Blood rushed to my ears. The room spun. He hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t struck me. But the words sliced deeper than any blow. I heard nothing beyond them. The threat was clear as day. My chest hollowed. The air burned in my lungs. “You’d… kill me?” I whispered. His expression flickered, as though he hadn’t meant it the way I took it. But he didn’t take it back either. And that was worse. Something inside me fractured cleanly. I left without another word, the sound of the door slamming behind me echoing like a final vow. Leaving wasn't just a necessity now, it was a means to survival. The car ride to the hospital was a blur. I pressed trembling hands over my belly the entire way to the hospital, whispering to my unborn child promises I wasn’t sure I could keep. Inside the hospital, I met briefly with Dr. Marinelli, discussing vitamins, flight precautions, and early genetic tests. I left the office feeling much lighter than when I'd entered it. Every step I took out of the hospital felt closer to freedom. I was halfway to the car when the world ripped apart. The engine of my waiting car ignited in a sudden roar of fire, and everything around me turned to smoke and ash. The explosion flung me backward. Screams filled the street. Medics rushed to the scene from behind me. Heat licked my skin as I scrambled to my feet, terror thundering in my veins. I stared at the burning shell of the car, realization dawning with ice-cold clarity as I watched someone pull a charred body out. It was him. Dominic. He had done this. It had to be. Dominic had warned me. Threatened me. If I didn’t obey, he’d force my hand. He hadn't denied when I'd accused him of wanting to kill me. And now this. My heart clenched painfully in my chest. My baby. My sweet, innocent child. Dominic had tried to kill not only me, but our child, too. An innocent life that had done nothing to harm him. There was no going back from this. I staggered to the street corner, flagged down a bus with shaking hands, and boarded without looking back. My things were already shipped, my new life already waiting. Florence. A new name. A new future. And a vow carved into my soul: I would never return. Not to him. Not to this life. Not after this betrayal. His Return 5 years later "Mamma, faster!" Mateo's laughter rang through the sunny apartment as he sprinted across the living room, bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. I pretended to chase him, catching him just before he could duck under the table. I scooped him up, spinning him around until he squealed with delight. His curls bounced into his eyes—Dominic's eyes—and for a moment, I froze, my chest tightening with an ache I thought I'd long buried. I kissed my son's forehead, forcing the memory away. "Alright, alright. Time to calm down, little hurricane. Mamma has work." Work. The word meant something different now than it had five years ago. No longer was I just an employee with something to prove. I was now Signora Bianchi, Director of Curation and Exhibitions—a respected leader in the Florence arts scene, sought after for my innovative ideas. My colleagues had become my friends, my family. They knew me as a single mother who had made her life from scratch, and they admired me for it. None of them knew the truth. That morning, I was halfway through sorting the final list for an upcoming joint exhibition when Chiara knocked on my door, looking pleased but slightly tense. "Isa, do you have a minute?" "Of course." Chiara closed the door and sat across from me. "We've been offered a huge partnership, an international sponsor for the Renaissance Reborn project. It'll open doors for all of us. Funding, recognition, press. But..." My pen stilled mid-note. "But what?" "The sponsor is the Russo Group." The name hit me like a fist to the gut. Chiara continued, oblivious to my rigid posture. "The CEO himself is flying in for the final negotiations from New York. We'll need our head of curation at the table. Which means you." I stared at her blankly, heart pounding so loudly I barely heard anything else. "Isa? You alright?" I forced a smile, thin and shaky. "Yes. Of course. Just... surprised. I didn't know the Russo Group dealt with projects like that." Chiara nodded. "They only started a few years back. But they'll be a good start to take our business international, you know? The kind of connections they have is just what we need." I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around the information I'd just gotten. When Chiara left, I sat frozen, fingers clenched around my pen until it snapped in two. When I'd left New York City behind five years ago, I had never thought that I'd run into Dominic ever again. Let alone think that I'd ever have to work with him closely. However, I couldn't say no to Chiara. Even though she was my senior here at work, she had never let me feel that way. I still remembered the first time I'd stepped foot into Florence. Chiara was the one who had sent her own personal assistant, Luca, to get me from the airport and help me settle into my new apartment which was fully furnished with everything I would need. Not only had Luca helped me settle in, he had also stocked the house with groceries and other essentials so I didn't have to go out right away. He had even come to pick me up for work the next day, introducing me to everyone at the office as if he were my own personal assistant. I had felt more welcomed here on my first day than I'd felt my entire life at the Russo Mansion. And when I'd gotten three dinner invites by the time the first day ended, I knew I'd made the perfect decision to leave a place I was clearly neither welcome nor required at and come here to Florence instead. "Florence takes care of it's people," Chiara had told me while I was having dinner with her and a few other colleagues to celebrate my first day at work. And she'd been right, in a way. It wasn't Florence exactly who had taken care of me, but it's people. When my baby bump had started showing, my neighbour from down the hall, Ms Giardiano, an old Italian lady who lived alone, made sure to come check on me every other day. She would bring me nutritious home cooked meals so I wouldn't have to cook for myself after coming home from work. 📖 The story gets hotter—click "Download" to read the uncensored chapters! 👇
The Divorce The small law office smelled faintly of dust and old paper. A flickering lamp in the corner gave off a weak, tired glow, casting shadows across the stacks of files lining the shelves. I sat across from Mr. Ricci, an older man with sharp glasses and sharper instincts. “You’re sure about this, Mrs. Russo?” he asked quietly, hands folded over the folder in front of him. The name sounded strange, like it belonged to someone else. “Yes,” I said, my voice steady even though my pulse wasn’t. “I want the divorce filed quietly. I don’t want my husband or his people knowing until everything’s finalized.” Ricci gave me a long, measuring look, but he didn’t question me further. Instead, he slid the paperwork towards me. “You’ll need his signature on these.” I nodded, slipping the papers into my leather folder. When I came back to the Russo mansion, it felt too quiet. The guards at the gate didn't even spare me a second glance as I walked in. No one here paid me any attention now that I was reduced to the side piece in my own marriage. And the worst part? The worst part was my husband didn't even care. Knowing he would be in the study, I moved towards it and was proven right when Alessia's laughter tinkled out through the half open door. These days, where Alessia was, my husband wasn't too far away. "—so funny," Alessia, my husband's childhood best friend, who was back in the city after her divorce was saying. "I know, I'm the best," came Dominic's reply, his tone the most casual and relaxed I'd ever heard it be. On instinct, I opened the study door all the way through and stepped inside. Dominic Russo froze with his whisky glass halfway to his mouth as he looked at me standing in the doorway, his smile dropping at once. "Oh, hey, Isabella! You're back from your studio already?" Alessia said, her perfectly painted lips pulling into a broad smile as she looked at me. I simply nodded in reply, but Alessia carried on the conversation before I could so much as open my mouth to speak. "That's great. I was just telling Dominic how he hasn't lost his sense of humour. It's the same as when we were kids," she said, chuckling and oh so casually running her hand along his arm as she did so. Dominic didn't say anything, didn't push her away like I so desparately wanted him to. He just quietly sipped on his whiskey, like there was nothing wrong with a woman who wasn't his wife to be practically sitting on his lap and touching him almost intimately like they were lovers. I looked away, unable to see the two of them so close. And sense of humour, huh? He hadn't ever so much as cracked a joke with me in all our three years of marriage. Yet here he was, making another woman laugh with his words. "Right. I just needed you to sign a few documents for me," I said, swallowing past the lump in my throat and pulling out the divorce papers from my bag. I quickly flipped to the page I wanted him to sign before placing it on the table in front of him. "What's this?" Dominic asked, frowning at the papers. "It's just a safety liability form for a new project I'm going to be starting soon for a company," I said, sliding the papers across the polished wooden desk towards him. "I need you to sign it, since you're my only family now," I explained. The truth sat heavy between us. My parents had died when I was seventeen in a freak car accident. Dominic's father, the Don of the Russo family at the time, had taken me under his wing because my father had worked for him for years. "Let me just have a look," Dominic muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pulled the papers towards him. My heart dropped to my stomach. Normally, he didn't read anything. Every paper related to my work I'd ever given to him, he had signed without a second glance. Why today? Why now? If he read what was written on those papers— "Oh, Dom," Alessia chuckled. "You're being too serious. It's just a formality. You know how many of those we have to fulfill on a daily basis. Just get it done and over with." As heiress to the Moretti enterprises, close business partners of the Russo family, Alessia had moved effortlessly in Dominic's world since her return almost a year back. They were always together now—at galas, public events, casino backrooms where deals got made. Everywhere Dominic went, Alessia was by his side, complimenting his tailor made tuxedos with her designer dresses. Dominic hesitated for a moment before picking up a pen and signing with a flourish, the same way he signed deals and death warrants. I quickly grabbed the papers from the desk before he could turn to the front page and read 'DIVORCE PETITION', written in bold across the front. I turned and walked out before either of them could see my hands shake. I was free. I clutched the divorce papers in my hand tightly as I walked upstairs to our room. The ink on the paper was barely dry, but our marriage had been over long before now. Though, it hadn't always been like this between us. There was a time when Dominic could barely keep his hands off of me. A time when he would pull me into dark hallways to steal passionate kisses in the middle of a family gathering. Now, he barely acknowledged my existence. Dominic was everything a woman shouldn't want—cold, ruthless, and dangerous. At only twenty six, he had taken over nearly half his father's business with his sharp wit, ruthless decisions and iron clad control. The media called him a young entrepreneur, but the streets knew better. I'd always kept my distance from him, never crossing paths unless it was absolutely necessary. Until that night three years ago that changed everything between us. He came home late at night, covered in someone else's blood, while I was at the kitchen counter patching up my own knife wound—courtesy of one of his father's men who thought the boss' charity case was easy prey. Dominic helped patch me up, offering me more than just some first aid in return. He offered to marry me that night. A marriage of convenience, a business arrangement so to speak. Protection for me, and legitimacy for him. I agreed on a whim, and we got married a week later. He wasn't particularly romantic, but the physical attraction between us burned brighter than anything I'd felt before. He fell in love with my body, while I ended up falling in love with all of him. I had almost convinced myself that I could, some day, make him love me back, too. But all my illusions shattered like broken glass when Alessia Moretti came back into our lives, and his late night meetings doubled. Suddenly, she was everywhere. In his meetings. In his car. In his study. Last month at Luigi's proved it. Luigi's is an Italian restaurant owned by Dominic where we were supposed to have a romantic dinner for our three year marriage anniversary. I waited five hours for Dominic to show up, until his right hand man Eduardo came with pity in his eyes and a diamond necklace in his hands— an apology from Dominic for not being able to make it because of some 'urgent business matter'. The 'urgent business matter' ended up being a gala he had attended with Alessia by his side—something I'd seen in the gossip column of the tabloids next morning. That was when I'd started planning my exit. I couldn't stay here all my life, waiting for scraps of affection from a man who clearly didn't give a damn about me. I quietly placed the divorce papers in the deepest corner of my closet where no one but me could reach them. This was going to be my ticket to freedom in a month. No more cages. No more pretending. Dominic could keep his business. His life. His Alessia. I refused to be the half forgotten side piece in my own marriage. Hope I had finalized the divorce already, now it was time for the next step. Two days later, I met with the HR director of a luxury design firm based in Florence. They had been following my work for months, impressed by my portfolio and my knack for creating bespoke interiors that balanced elegance with practicality. “We’d be lucky to have you,” the director had said with a warm smile. “The position is yours if you want it. Start date is flexible, but we’d like you in Florence within the next two months.” I accepted without hesitation. Finally, I was going to live a life that belonged to me. Later that day, I sat in the room I'd converted to my home studio of sorts, a quiet place to work at on days I didn't feel like going to my studio in the city, or for when inspiration struck late at night. The first box I packed was hidden beneath layers of fabric swatches and old sketchbooks in there. It wasn't much-just framed photographs, my mother's necklace, and a single pair of well-worn ballet shoes I hadn't danced in for years-but even touching those things felt dangerous, like I was smuggling contraband out of enemy territory. Every day, I packed a little more. Quietly. Slowly. Because no one could know I was leaving. Not until I was gone. Three days later, Dominic came into the home studio unannounced. "Didn't know you still hid out here," came his voice from behind me, startling me. I turned around to see him leaning against the doorframe, his lips turned into a rare half smile. "It's the only place where no one bothers me," I replied, half teasing. "Even me?" I arched an eyebrow. "Especially you." It was light banter, almost flirtatious, and for a moment I caught a flicker of something in his eyes-something that made my heartbeat hitch. "Come with me," he said suddenly. "Where?" "Dinner. Just us. No business, no interruptions." I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. We made it as far as the front hall before Alessia appeared, silk blouse immaculate, tablet in hand. "Dom, you need to see this," she said, breezing past me as though I didn't exist. "Santoro's shipment got held up in Naples. If we don't-" "It can wait," Dominic cut in, voice cool. "No, it really can't." Alessia held out the tablet, and Dominic hesitated only a fraction of a second before taking it. I watched his attention shift, watched Alessia step closer than necessary, lowering her voice just enough to draw him in. The dinner plan died right there in the hallway. It wasn't the last time. Every attempt I made to find some semblance of closeness-whether it was breakfast on the terrace, a drive out to the vineyards, even a late-night conversation in bed-Alessia always seemed to appear. Sometimes it was a phone call Dominic "had to take." Sometimes it was urgent paperwork she "couldn't wait to deliver." And Dominic never sent her away. My resolve hardened with every intrusion. I threw all my focus into packing quietly, being careful to take just enough to get me by for a few months, but not enough to raise any suspicions. A week later, I sat in the master bedroom of the Russo mansion, contemplating how life was going to be out there in a completely new city. It was going to be hard in the beginning, for sure. Should I stay? Should I give him—give us—another chance? Maybe if I talked to Dominic about Alessia's behaviour making me uncomfortable, he would listen to me? Things would change between us? It was her who was always interrupting us, right? Maybe if he knew how I felt about it, he wouldn't entertain her as much? My thoughts were interrupted by a dull ache low in my stomach. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt off—fatigue, nausea, headaches—but I’d blamed it on stress. Still, the idea nagged at me until I finally drove myself to the pharmacy, bought a test, and locked myself in the bathroom. Five minutes later, I sat on the cool tile floor, staring at the two pink lines as though they’d been written in fire. Pregnant. Pregnant with Dominic Russo’s child. Stupidly enough first reaction wasn’t fear—it was hope. And I hated myself for it. Hated myself for thinking that maybe, finally, this was the bridge that could pull us closer together. Maybe a child would be the spark that softened Dominic’s walls, that made him see me—not just as a convenient wife or physical outlet, but as someone who could be his partner. It had to soften him up to me, hadn't it? A child was a huge deal, after all. He wouldn't be heartless enough to not care about me when I was carrying his child, right? For the first time in months, I felt hopeful. Maybe, I wouldn't have to leave after all. Maybe, we could start anew, like a real family this time. Filled with a renewed hope, I waited for Dominic to come home. I dressed in soft cream silk, my hair loose, my hands trembling slightly as I set two glasses of wine on the table before realizing I couldn’t drink. I poured myself water instead. Dominic came in late, still on the phone, loosening his tie with one hand as he barked orders to someone on the other end. My stomach flipped with nerves. “Dominic,” I said quietly once he hung up. He gave me a quick glance. “Yeah?” “I… I have something to tell you.” His brows lifted, impatient. “What is it?” “I’m pregnant.” The words felt fragile in the air, as though they might shatter if I spoke too loudly. Dominic froze. For a moment, I swore I saw something flash in his eyes—surprise, maybe even wonder—but it was gone in an instant, replaced by guarded calculation. “You’re what?” “Pregnant,” I repeated, my heart pounding. “We’re going to have a baby.” Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Finally, Dominic exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Isabella… you’re on the pill.” “Nothing is one hundred percent effective,” I whispered, my voice cracking under his tone. He paced for a moment, jaw tight. “You planned this?” “What? No!” I burst out, unable to believe what he was saying. No, no, no. This was not how I had imagined this conversation going. Why wasn't he happy? Why wasn't he being kind and supportive? “Because it sure as hell feels like you’re trying to tie me down with a kid I didn’t ask for.” The words slammed into me like a blow, and I staggered back a few steps. “Dominic,” I said softly, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, “it’s our child.” “This isn’t the right time,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket again. "There's a lot going on with Santoro. With the upcoming deal with them. This…” He gestured vaguely towards my stomach, “This just complicates things.” “So what do you want me to do?” I asked, both dreading what he would say next, and willing for him to say it to my face. If he rejected his own child, our child—this little life we had created together, it would be the last straw. I would never in my life hope for anything positive with him. He didn’t answer right away, and that pause told me all I needed to know. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat. “You should think about your options.” The tears didn’t come until long after Dominic left the room, slamming the door behind him. I had never thought that he would push me away like this even after finding out that we were going to have a baby together. Gone were the days when he would kiss me just because, trace his fingers over my spine when I slept, thinking I was asleep. Now, he was nothing but cold, and heartless when it came to me. He treated me like a business deal he couldn't wait to wash his hands off now. I'd always known that that was the kind of man he was deep down, but stupidly enough, I'd hoped that he would change for me. How pathetic. I sat on the edge of the bed, both hands cradling my stomach, and whispered to the tiny life inside me: “Don’t worry, baby. Even if he doesn’t want us, I do. And I promise, I'm going to take you far, far away from this place.” Unspoken Things Dominic's POV I wasn't a man who missed details. I could spot a lie in the flicker of an eye, a betrayal in a half-beat pause over dinner. So how had I missed this? I stood at the doorway of our bedroom, arms folded, watching Isabella silently fold clothes into neat stacks. Not designer dresses she wore for events, not the cocktail gowns that hugged her curves the way I liked. No, these were soft knits, linen shirts—things she used for travel. "Going somewhere?" I asked, keeping my tone carefully neutral. Isabella startled slightly, but she didn't look up. "Just... reorganizing." I frowned. There was something in the way she kept her back half-turned toward me, as though she was shielding something I couldn't see. Over the past two weeks, she had become quieter. Not cold exactly—but withdrawn, guarded. Our conversations stayed polite, even warm at times, but lacked the sharp edge of our earlier fights. I almost preferred the fights. At least then, she met me head-on. Now, it felt like she was retreating behind walls I hadn't even noticed her building. "Isabella," I said, walking closer. "What's going on?" She stilled for a heartbeat, then set down the shirt she was folding and faced me with a smile that was a touch too calm. "Nothing's going on, Dominic. Why do you ask?" I didn't believe her. But I didn't know what I was accusing her of, either. Later that night, I found her in the garden, sitting on the stone bench with her hands absentmindedly resting over her stomach. My gaze drifted there before I could stop it. She was carrying my child. Our child. I'd confirmed with the family gynaecologist she'd met with the day after she'd told me she was pregnant. According to her, Isabella was roughly ten weeks along. Which meant she had concieved the last time we had had sex. I knew she had decided to keep the baby. I, however, was yet to decide how I felt about it. I had too many enemies looking for a weakness to strike on right now. And a child would be the biggest weakness of all. I didn't think it was a good idea to have a child at a time like this. "You should be resting," I said to her instead, leaning against the column. "I am resting," she replied without looking at me. There was no bite in her tone, but there was no softness either. "Isabella..." I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair. "If you're upset about what I said the other night-" She turned sharply, her eyes glinting even in the dim light. "Which part? The one where you accused me of trying to trap you? Or the part where you told me to think about my options?" I clenched my jaw. I'd been stressed because of work. And I'd taken it out on her. "I didn't mean-" "You meant every word, Dominic." She rose from the bench, brushing past me as though she couldn't stand to be there one more second. I stayed in the garden long after she left, my chest tight with something uncomfortably close to guilt. But instead of recognizing the emotion, I shoved it down, like I did with every single thing when it came to her. She was just angry. Hurt, maybe. Acting out for attention. I had bigger things to deal with than a wife trying to manipulate me with silence. Besides, it wasn’t like I was a cruel man. Okay, I was, but not to her. I provided for her—more than most women could dream of. Security, wealth, protection. She never wanted for anything material. I let her work, unlike other made men. I even let her have her own studio to work at however she pleased, both in the city and at home. And Alessia. She had always been a constant. She understood the business, the blood, the sacrifices. She could anticipate my decisions before I made them. She could spar with me in strategy without needing explanation. I often felt that Isabella thought of Alessia as a threat. But Alessia wasn’t a threat to anyone—she was an ally, one I needed in order to keep our empire intact. With a few important deals falling through and feds sniffing around, our family hadn't exactly been in a safe place when Alessia came back from Italy a year back. Everything had seemed good on the surface, but only I knew the struggles behind the scenes. I could've turned to my father for help, sure, but I didn't think it was wise to do so with his failing health, and already fragile heart. It was with the help of Alessia, and her father's business, that I'd been able to pull my shit together enough to keep us afloat. Alessia understood all that and had stayed by me through the thick of it. Best of all, she didn't complain, didn't nag, didn't expect me to do things I didn't have the time to. But Isabella didn't seem to understand any of that. What did she want from me, really? To sit in bed and whisper sweet words when there were wars to be fought? To hold her hand when my enemies were plotting to bury us both? I didn’t have time for that. Not yet. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Isabella. In fact, there were moments I admired her—her quiet resilience, the softness in her voice when she spoke with staff, the warmth in her smile when she thought no one was looking. But admiration was a luxury, and I didn’t live on luxuries. I lived on necessity. And necessity meant prioritizing the business. Prioritizing survival. Isabella would understand, one day, when things were calmer. When the smoke cleared, when Alessia and the others no longer had to sit at my side through every meeting, every negotiation. I would have the time then. For now, she needed to be patient. To trust me. But instead, she was folding travel clothes. Speaking with an edge in her voice. Acting as though I had failed her, when I had given her everything that mattered. I sighed, staring out into the night, the weight of a thousand unspoken things pressing against my chest. I lit a cigarette to calm my nerves. I wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t be wrong. Could I? The Vow Finally, it was time. After Dominic had rejected me, and our child, squashing all my hopes of reconciliation, I had quietly bided my time, waiting for a month to be over. I had rehearsed my departure so many times it felt like muscle memory now. I had moved everything I would need—which wasn't much, really—in small stacks from the Russo Mansion to my studio so no one would be suspicious. I didn't think anyone cared much about what I did or didn't do in this grand palace of a house, but I hadn't taken any risks, especially now that a child was involved as well. All my things would be shipped along with my studio supplies this morning, and the flight to Florence was booked for tonight. My assistant at the studio had arranged it all for me, believing I was simply relocating for work. Only I knew that I wasn't coming back. I'd already informed the HR head at my new job in Florence about my unexpected pregnancy, and they had been more than accommodating about it. Such kindness from strangers I was yet to meet in person when I hadn't recieved even an ounce of it at the place I called home had brought tears to my eyes. Not only had it made me emotional, but it had also cemented my decision to leave even more. I'd rather be somewhere I was valued and cared for than here, where I volleyed between a nobody, or an inconvenience. I double-checked the handbag I had readied to take with me: passport, medical file, appointment slip from my gynaecologist, the sonogram I hadn't shown anyone. I had barely slept. My escape plan was a fragile secret stitched together with trembling hands and whispered prayers. This morning, I was supposed to visit my gynecologist. Afterwards, I’d take a cab straight to the airport. From there, me and my child—our child—would vanish. I had already gotten my copy of the final divorce certificate yesterday, and had arranged for Dominic's copy to be mailed to him with a deliberate delay of three days after my departure. With a quiet sigh, I smoothed down my dress, and picked up my bag. Time to go. I hadn't expected, or wanted to see Dominic before leaving the Russo Mansion for the last time in my life. But when I walked down the stairs, he was sitting in the living room, dark suit immaculate, sipping coffee as though nothing in the world could touch him. His composure always left me breathless, once in awe, now in anguish. Though surprisingly enough, Alessia wasn't clinging to him today. Even though I'd mentally prepared for the possibility of seeing him, my heart still stuttered in my chest as he gave me a slow once over. “You’re dressed early,” Dominic noted, eyes narrowing at my simple dress. “Where are you going?” “The doctor,” I said evenly, with practiced ease, hand brushing over my stomach instinctively. “I have an appointment.” His gaze flicked downward, then back up, unreadable. “You’re still entertaining this idea?” His tone was too casual, too sharp. “Isabella, I told you before… think about what this means. A child, in our world, is leverage. A weakness.” My throat tightened. “A weakness? He’s our child, Dominic.” He set down his cup with deliberate care. “Don’t be naïve. This is not the right time for a baby. I already have a lot of enemies breathing down my neck right now. An heir paints a target on your back, too. On his back. I’ve seen what happens.” I shook my head. What was he talking about? He was an heir to his father's empire, too, wasn't he? He had taken over their business from his father when his health declined, had he not? And he was fine— clearly alive, well protected. So, why couldn't our child be protected the same way? What a pathetic excuse for not wanting a kid. My voice trembled, but I forced it to be steady. “So what? You want me to—” His jaw ticked. “I’m telling you, end it before someone else ends it for you. Because if you don’t, Isabella—” I froze. “If I don’t, what?” I challenged, my heart thundering in my chest. The silence between us stretched, suffocating. His eyes darkened, and the next words slipped out, low, cold, stripped of softness. “Then you’ll force my hand.” Blood rushed to my ears. The room spun. He hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t struck me. But the words sliced deeper than any blow. I heard nothing beyond them. The threat was clear as day. My chest hollowed. The air burned in my lungs. “You’d… kill me?” I whispered. His expression flickered, as though he hadn’t meant it the way I took it. But he didn’t take it back either. And that was worse. Something inside me fractured cleanly. I left without another word, the sound of the door slamming behind me echoing like a final vow. Leaving wasn't just a necessity now, it was a means to survival. The car ride to the hospital was a blur. I pressed trembling hands over my belly the entire way to the hospital, whispering to my unborn child promises I wasn’t sure I could keep. Inside the hospital, I met briefly with Dr. Marinelli, discussing vitamins, flight precautions, and early genetic tests. I left the office feeling much lighter than when I'd entered it. Every step I took out of the hospital felt closer to freedom. I was halfway to the car when the world ripped apart. The engine of my waiting car ignited in a sudden roar of fire, and everything around me turned to smoke and ash. The explosion flung me backward. Screams filled the street. Medics rushed to the scene from behind me. Heat licked my skin as I scrambled to my feet, terror thundering in my veins. I stared at the burning shell of the car, realization dawning with ice-cold clarity as I watched someone pull a charred body out. It was him. Dominic. He had done this. It had to be. Dominic had warned me. Threatened me. If I didn’t obey, he’d force my hand. He hadn't denied when I'd accused him of wanting to kill me. And now this. My heart clenched painfully in my chest. My baby. My sweet, innocent child. Dominic had tried to kill not only me, but our child, too. An innocent life that had done nothing to harm him. There was no going back from this. I staggered to the street corner, flagged down a bus with shaking hands, and boarded without looking back. My things were already shipped, my new life already waiting. Florence. A new name. A new future. And a vow carved into my soul: I would never return. Not to him. Not to this life. Not after this betrayal. His Return 5 years later "Mamma, faster!" Mateo's laughter rang through the sunny apartment as he sprinted across the living room, bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. I pretended to chase him, catching him just before he could duck under the table. I scooped him up, spinning him around until he squealed with delight. His curls bounced into his eyes—Dominic's eyes—and for a moment, I froze, my chest tightening with an ache I thought I'd long buried. I kissed my son's forehead, forcing the memory away. "Alright, alright. Time to calm down, little hurricane. Mamma has work." Work. The word meant something different now than it had five years ago. No longer was I just an employee with something to prove. I was now Signora Bianchi, Director of Curation and Exhibitions—a respected leader in the Florence arts scene, sought after for my innovative ideas. My colleagues had become my friends, my family. They knew me as a single mother who had made her life from scratch, and they admired me for it. None of them knew the truth. That morning, I was halfway through sorting the final list for an upcoming joint exhibition when Chiara knocked on my door, looking pleased but slightly tense. "Isa, do you have a minute?" "Of course." Chiara closed the door and sat across from me. "We've been offered a huge partnership, an international sponsor for the Renaissance Reborn project. It'll open doors for all of us. Funding, recognition, press. But..." My pen stilled mid-note. "But what?" "The sponsor is the Russo Group." The name hit me like a fist to the gut. Chiara continued, oblivious to my rigid posture. "The CEO himself is flying in for the final negotiations from New York. We'll need our head of curation at the table. Which means you." I stared at her blankly, heart pounding so loudly I barely heard anything else. "Isa? You alright?" I forced a smile, thin and shaky. "Yes. Of course. Just... surprised. I didn't know the Russo Group dealt with projects like that." Chiara nodded. "They only started a few years back. But they'll be a good start to take our business international, you know? The kind of connections they have is just what we need." I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around the information I'd just gotten. When Chiara left, I sat frozen, fingers clenched around my pen until it snapped in two. When I'd left New York City behind five years ago, I had never thought that I'd run into Dominic ever again. Let alone think that I'd ever have to work with him closely. However, I couldn't say no to Chiara. Even though she was my senior here at work, she had never let me feel that way. I still remembered the first time I'd stepped foot into Florence. Chiara was the one who had sent her own personal assistant, Luca, to get me from the airport and help me settle into my new apartment which was fully furnished with everything I would need. Not only had Luca helped me settle in, he had also stocked the house with groceries and other essentials so I didn't have to go out right away. He had even come to pick me up for work the next day, introducing me to everyone at the office as if he were my own personal assistant. I had felt more welcomed here on my first day than I'd felt my entire life at the Russo Mansion. And when I'd gotten three dinner invites by the time the first day ended, I knew I'd made the perfect decision to leave a place I was clearly neither welcome nor required at and come here to Florence instead. "Florence takes care of it's people," Chiara had told me while I was having dinner with her and a few other colleagues to celebrate my first day at work. And she'd been right, in a way. It wasn't Florence exactly who had taken care of me, but it's people. When my baby bump had started showing, my neighbour from down the hall, Ms Giardiano, an old Italian lady who lived alone, made sure to come check on me every other day. She would bring me nutritious home cooked meals so I wouldn't have to cook for myself after coming home from work. 📖 The story gets hotter—click "Download" to read the uncensored chapters! 👇
The Divorce The small law office smelled faintly of dust and old paper. A flickering lamp in the corner gave off a weak, tired glow, casting shadows across the stacks of files lining the shelves. I sat across from Mr. Ricci, an older man with sharp glasses and sharper instincts. “You’re sure about this, Mrs. Russo?” he asked quietly, hands folded over the folder in front of him. The name sounded strange, like it belonged to someone else. “Yes,” I said, my voice steady even though my pulse wasn’t. “I want the divorce filed quietly. I don’t want my husband or his people knowing until everything’s finalized.” Ricci gave me a long, measuring look, but he didn’t question me further. Instead, he slid the paperwork towards me. “You’ll need his signature on these.” I nodded, slipping the papers into my leather folder. When I came back to the Russo mansion, it felt too quiet. The guards at the gate didn't even spare me a second glance as I walked in. No one here paid me any attention now that I was reduced to the side piece in my own marriage. And the worst part? The worst part was my husband didn't even care. Knowing he would be in the study, I moved towards it and was proven right when Alessia's laughter tinkled out through the half open door. These days, where Alessia was, my husband wasn't too far away. "—so funny," Alessia, my husband's childhood best friend, who was back in the city after her divorce was saying. "I know, I'm the best," came Dominic's reply, his tone the most casual and relaxed I'd ever heard it be. On instinct, I opened the study door all the way through and stepped inside. Dominic Russo froze with his whisky glass halfway to his mouth as he looked at me standing in the doorway, his smile dropping at once. "Oh, hey, Isabella! You're back from your studio already?" Alessia said, her perfectly painted lips pulling into a broad smile as she looked at me. I simply nodded in reply, but Alessia carried on the conversation before I could so much as open my mouth to speak. "That's great. I was just telling Dominic how he hasn't lost his sense of humour. It's the same as when we were kids," she said, chuckling and oh so casually running her hand along his arm as she did so. Dominic didn't say anything, didn't push her away like I so desparately wanted him to. He just quietly sipped on his whiskey, like there was nothing wrong with a woman who wasn't his wife to be practically sitting on his lap and touching him almost intimately like they were lovers. I looked away, unable to see the two of them so close. And sense of humour, huh? He hadn't ever so much as cracked a joke with me in all our three years of marriage. Yet here he was, making another woman laugh with his words. "Right. I just needed you to sign a few documents for me," I said, swallowing past the lump in my throat and pulling out the divorce papers from my bag. I quickly flipped to the page I wanted him to sign before placing it on the table in front of him. "What's this?" Dominic asked, frowning at the papers. "It's just a safety liability form for a new project I'm going to be starting soon for a company," I said, sliding the papers across the polished wooden desk towards him. "I need you to sign it, since you're my only family now," I explained. The truth sat heavy between us. My parents had died when I was seventeen in a freak car accident. Dominic's father, the Don of the Russo family at the time, had taken me under his wing because my father had worked for him for years. "Let me just have a look," Dominic muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pulled the papers towards him. My heart dropped to my stomach. Normally, he didn't read anything. Every paper related to my work I'd ever given to him, he had signed without a second glance. Why today? Why now? If he read what was written on those papers— "Oh, Dom," Alessia chuckled. "You're being too serious. It's just a formality. You know how many of those we have to fulfill on a daily basis. Just get it done and over with." As heiress to the Moretti enterprises, close business partners of the Russo family, Alessia had moved effortlessly in Dominic's world since her return almost a year back. They were always together now—at galas, public events, casino backrooms where deals got made. Everywhere Dominic went, Alessia was by his side, complimenting his tailor made tuxedos with her designer dresses. Dominic hesitated for a moment before picking up a pen and signing with a flourish, the same way he signed deals and death warrants. I quickly grabbed the papers from the desk before he could turn to the front page and read 'DIVORCE PETITION', written in bold across the front. I turned and walked out before either of them could see my hands shake. I was free. I clutched the divorce papers in my hand tightly as I walked upstairs to our room. The ink on the paper was barely dry, but our marriage had been over long before now. Though, it hadn't always been like this between us. There was a time when Dominic could barely keep his hands off of me. A time when he would pull me into dark hallways to steal passionate kisses in the middle of a family gathering. Now, he barely acknowledged my existence. Dominic was everything a woman shouldn't want—cold, ruthless, and dangerous. At only twenty six, he had taken over nearly half his father's business with his sharp wit, ruthless decisions and iron clad control. The media called him a young entrepreneur, but the streets knew better. I'd always kept my distance from him, never crossing paths unless it was absolutely necessary. Until that night three years ago that changed everything between us. He came home late at night, covered in someone else's blood, while I was at the kitchen counter patching up my own knife wound—courtesy of one of his father's men who thought the boss' charity case was easy prey. Dominic helped patch me up, offering me more than just some first aid in return. He offered to marry me that night. A marriage of convenience, a business arrangement so to speak. Protection for me, and legitimacy for him. I agreed on a whim, and we got married a week later. He wasn't particularly romantic, but the physical attraction between us burned brighter than anything I'd felt before. He fell in love with my body, while I ended up falling in love with all of him. I had almost convinced myself that I could, some day, make him love me back, too. But all my illusions shattered like broken glass when Alessia Moretti came back into our lives, and his late night meetings doubled. Suddenly, she was everywhere. In his meetings. In his car. In his study. Last month at Luigi's proved it. Luigi's is an Italian restaurant owned by Dominic where we were supposed to have a romantic dinner for our three year marriage anniversary. I waited five hours for Dominic to show up, until his right hand man Eduardo came with pity in his eyes and a diamond necklace in his hands— an apology from Dominic for not being able to make it because of some 'urgent business matter'. The 'urgent business matter' ended up being a gala he had attended with Alessia by his side—something I'd seen in the gossip column of the tabloids next morning. That was when I'd started planning my exit. I couldn't stay here all my life, waiting for scraps of affection from a man who clearly didn't give a damn about me. I quietly placed the divorce papers in the deepest corner of my closet where no one but me could reach them. This was going to be my ticket to freedom in a month. No more cages. No more pretending. Dominic could keep his business. His life. His Alessia. I refused to be the half forgotten side piece in my own marriage. Hope I had finalized the divorce already, now it was time for the next step. Two days later, I met with the HR director of a luxury design firm based in Florence. They had been following my work for months, impressed by my portfolio and my knack for creating bespoke interiors that balanced elegance with practicality. “We’d be lucky to have you,” the director had said with a warm smile. “The position is yours if you want it. Start date is flexible, but we’d like you in Florence within the next two months.” I accepted without hesitation. Finally, I was going to live a life that belonged to me. Later that day, I sat in the room I'd converted to my home studio of sorts, a quiet place to work at on days I didn't feel like going to my studio in the city, or for when inspiration struck late at night. The first box I packed was hidden beneath layers of fabric swatches and old sketchbooks in there. It wasn't much-just framed photographs, my mother's necklace, and a single pair of well-worn ballet shoes I hadn't danced in for years-but even touching those things felt dangerous, like I was smuggling contraband out of enemy territory. Every day, I packed a little more. Quietly. Slowly. Because no one could know I was leaving. Not until I was gone. Three days later, Dominic came into the home studio unannounced. "Didn't know you still hid out here," came his voice from behind me, startling me. I turned around to see him leaning against the doorframe, his lips turned into a rare half smile. "It's the only place where no one bothers me," I replied, half teasing. "Even me?" I arched an eyebrow. "Especially you." It was light banter, almost flirtatious, and for a moment I caught a flicker of something in his eyes-something that made my heartbeat hitch. "Come with me," he said suddenly. "Where?" "Dinner. Just us. No business, no interruptions." I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. We made it as far as the front hall before Alessia appeared, silk blouse immaculate, tablet in hand. "Dom, you need to see this," she said, breezing past me as though I didn't exist. "Santoro's shipment got held up in Naples. If we don't-" "It can wait," Dominic cut in, voice cool. "No, it really can't." Alessia held out the tablet, and Dominic hesitated only a fraction of a second before taking it. I watched his attention shift, watched Alessia step closer than necessary, lowering her voice just enough to draw him in. The dinner plan died right there in the hallway. It wasn't the last time. Every attempt I made to find some semblance of closeness-whether it was breakfast on the terrace, a drive out to the vineyards, even a late-night conversation in bed-Alessia always seemed to appear. Sometimes it was a phone call Dominic "had to take." Sometimes it was urgent paperwork she "couldn't wait to deliver." And Dominic never sent her away. My resolve hardened with every intrusion. I threw all my focus into packing quietly, being careful to take just enough to get me by for a few months, but not enough to raise any suspicions. A week later, I sat in the master bedroom of the Russo mansion, contemplating how life was going to be out there in a completely new city. It was going to be hard in the beginning, for sure. Should I stay? Should I give him—give us—another chance? Maybe if I talked to Dominic about Alessia's behaviour making me uncomfortable, he would listen to me? Things would change between us? It was her who was always interrupting us, right? Maybe if he knew how I felt about it, he wouldn't entertain her as much? My thoughts were interrupted by a dull ache low in my stomach. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt off—fatigue, nausea, headaches—but I’d blamed it on stress. Still, the idea nagged at me until I finally drove myself to the pharmacy, bought a test, and locked myself in the bathroom. Five minutes later, I sat on the cool tile floor, staring at the two pink lines as though they’d been written in fire. Pregnant. Pregnant with Dominic Russo’s child. Stupidly enough first reaction wasn’t fear—it was hope. And I hated myself for it. Hated myself for thinking that maybe, finally, this was the bridge that could pull us closer together. Maybe a child would be the spark that softened Dominic’s walls, that made him see me—not just as a convenient wife or physical outlet, but as someone who could be his partner. It had to soften him up to me, hadn't it? A child was a huge deal, after all. He wouldn't be heartless enough to not care about me when I was carrying his child, right? For the first time in months, I felt hopeful. Maybe, I wouldn't have to leave after all. Maybe, we could start anew, like a real family this time. Filled with a renewed hope, I waited for Dominic to come home. I dressed in soft cream silk, my hair loose, my hands trembling slightly as I set two glasses of wine on the table before realizing I couldn’t drink. I poured myself water instead. Dominic came in late, still on the phone, loosening his tie with one hand as he barked orders to someone on the other end. My stomach flipped with nerves. “Dominic,” I said quietly once he hung up. He gave me a quick glance. “Yeah?” “I… I have something to tell you.” His brows lifted, impatient. “What is it?” “I’m pregnant.” The words felt fragile in the air, as though they might shatter if I spoke too loudly. Dominic froze. For a moment, I swore I saw something flash in his eyes—surprise, maybe even wonder—but it was gone in an instant, replaced by guarded calculation. “You’re what?” “Pregnant,” I repeated, my heart pounding. “We’re going to have a baby.” Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Finally, Dominic exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Isabella… you’re on the pill.” “Nothing is one hundred percent effective,” I whispered, my voice cracking under his tone. He paced for a moment, jaw tight. “You planned this?” “What? No!” I burst out, unable to believe what he was saying. No, no, no. This was not how I had imagined this conversation going. Why wasn't he happy? Why wasn't he being kind and supportive? “Because it sure as hell feels like you’re trying to tie me down with a kid I didn’t ask for.” The words slammed into me like a blow, and I staggered back a few steps. “Dominic,” I said softly, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, “it’s our child.” “This isn’t the right time,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket again. "There's a lot going on with Santoro. With the upcoming deal with them. This…” He gestured vaguely towards my stomach, “This just complicates things.” “So what do you want me to do?” I asked, both dreading what he would say next, and willing for him to say it to my face. If he rejected his own child, our child—this little life we had created together, it would be the last straw. I would never in my life hope for anything positive with him. He didn’t answer right away, and that pause told me all I needed to know. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat. “You should think about your options.” The tears didn’t come until long after Dominic left the room, slamming the door behind him. I had never thought that he would push me away like this even after finding out that we were going to have a baby together. Gone were the days when he would kiss me just because, trace his fingers over my spine when I slept, thinking I was asleep. Now, he was nothing but cold, and heartless when it came to me. He treated me like a business deal he couldn't wait to wash his hands off now. I'd always known that that was the kind of man he was deep down, but stupidly enough, I'd hoped that he would change for me. How pathetic. I sat on the edge of the bed, both hands cradling my stomach, and whispered to the tiny life inside me: “Don’t worry, baby. Even if he doesn’t want us, I do. And I promise, I'm going to take you far, far away from this place.” Unspoken Things Dominic's POV I wasn't a man who missed details. I could spot a lie in the flicker of an eye, a betrayal in a half-beat pause over dinner. So how had I missed this? I stood at the doorway of our bedroom, arms folded, watching Isabella silently fold clothes into neat stacks. Not designer dresses she wore for events, not the cocktail gowns that hugged her curves the way I liked. No, these were soft knits, linen shirts—things she used for travel. "Going somewhere?" I asked, keeping my tone carefully neutral. Isabella startled slightly, but she didn't look up. "Just... reorganizing." I frowned. There was something in the way she kept her back half-turned toward me, as though she was shielding something I couldn't see. Over the past two weeks, she had become quieter. Not cold exactly—but withdrawn, guarded. Our conversations stayed polite, even warm at times, but lacked the sharp edge of our earlier fights. I almost preferred the fights. At least then, she met me head-on. Now, it felt like she was retreating behind walls I hadn't even noticed her building. "Isabella," I said, walking closer. "What's going on?" She stilled for a heartbeat, then set down the shirt she was folding and faced me with a smile that was a touch too calm. "Nothing's going on, Dominic. Why do you ask?" I didn't believe her. But I didn't know what I was accusing her of, either. Later that night, I found her in the garden, sitting on the stone bench with her hands absentmindedly resting over her stomach. My gaze drifted there before I could stop it. She was carrying my child. Our child. I'd confirmed with the family gynaecologist she'd met with the day after she'd told me she was pregnant. According to her, Isabella was roughly ten weeks along. Which meant she had concieved the last time we had had sex. I knew she had decided to keep the baby. I, however, was yet to decide how I felt about it. I had too many enemies looking for a weakness to strike on right now. And a child would be the biggest weakness of all. I didn't think it was a good idea to have a child at a time like this. "You should be resting," I said to her instead, leaning against the column. "I am resting," she replied without looking at me. There was no bite in her tone, but there was no softness either. "Isabella..." I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair. "If you're upset about what I said the other night-" She turned sharply, her eyes glinting even in the dim light. "Which part? The one where you accused me of trying to trap you? Or the part where you told me to think about my options?" I clenched my jaw. I'd been stressed because of work. And I'd taken it out on her. "I didn't mean-" "You meant every word, Dominic." She rose from the bench, brushing past me as though she couldn't stand to be there one more second. I stayed in the garden long after she left, my chest tight with something uncomfortably close to guilt. But instead of recognizing the emotion, I shoved it down, like I did with every single thing when it came to her. She was just angry. Hurt, maybe. Acting out for attention. I had bigger things to deal with than a wife trying to manipulate me with silence. Besides, it wasn’t like I was a cruel man. Okay, I was, but not to her. I provided for her—more than most women could dream of. Security, wealth, protection. She never wanted for anything material. I let her work, unlike other made men. I even let her have her own studio to work at however she pleased, both in the city and at home. And Alessia. She had always been a constant. She understood the business, the blood, the sacrifices. She could anticipate my decisions before I made them. She could spar with me in strategy without needing explanation. I often felt that Isabella thought of Alessia as a threat. But Alessia wasn’t a threat to anyone—she was an ally, one I needed in order to keep our empire intact. With a few important deals falling through and feds sniffing around, our family hadn't exactly been in a safe place when Alessia came back from Italy a year back. Everything had seemed good on the surface, but only I knew the struggles behind the scenes. I could've turned to my father for help, sure, but I didn't think it was wise to do so with his failing health, and already fragile heart. It was with the help of Alessia, and her father's business, that I'd been able to pull my shit together enough to keep us afloat. Alessia understood all that and had stayed by me through the thick of it. Best of all, she didn't complain, didn't nag, didn't expect me to do things I didn't have the time to. But Isabella didn't seem to understand any of that. What did she want from me, really? To sit in bed and whisper sweet words when there were wars to be fought? To hold her hand when my enemies were plotting to bury us both? I didn’t have time for that. Not yet. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Isabella. In fact, there were moments I admired her—her quiet resilience, the softness in her voice when she spoke with staff, the warmth in her smile when she thought no one was looking. But admiration was a luxury, and I didn’t live on luxuries. I lived on necessity. And necessity meant prioritizing the business. Prioritizing survival. Isabella would understand, one day, when things were calmer. When the smoke cleared, when Alessia and the others no longer had to sit at my side through every meeting, every negotiation. I would have the time then. For now, she needed to be patient. To trust me. But instead, she was folding travel clothes. Speaking with an edge in her voice. Acting as though I had failed her, when I had given her everything that mattered. I sighed, staring out into the night, the weight of a thousand unspoken things pressing against my chest. I lit a cigarette to calm my nerves. I wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t be wrong. Could I? The Vow Finally, it was time. After Dominic had rejected me, and our child, squashing all my hopes of reconciliation, I had quietly bided my time, waiting for a month to be over. I had rehearsed my departure so many times it felt like muscle memory now. I had moved everything I would need—which wasn't much, really—in small stacks from the Russo Mansion to my studio so no one would be suspicious. I didn't think anyone cared much about what I did or didn't do in this grand palace of a house, but I hadn't taken any risks, especially now that a child was involved as well. All my things would be shipped along with my studio supplies this morning, and the flight to Florence was booked for tonight. My assistant at the studio had arranged it all for me, believing I was simply relocating for work. Only I knew that I wasn't coming back. I'd already informed the HR head at my new job in Florence about my unexpected pregnancy, and they had been more than accommodating about it. Such kindness from strangers I was yet to meet in person when I hadn't recieved even an ounce of it at the place I called home had brought tears to my eyes. Not only had it made me emotional, but it had also cemented my decision to leave even more. I'd rather be somewhere I was valued and cared for than here, where I volleyed between a nobody, or an inconvenience. I double-checked the handbag I had readied to take with me: passport, medical file, appointment slip from my gynaecologist, the sonogram I hadn't shown anyone. I had barely slept. My escape plan was a fragile secret stitched together with trembling hands and whispered prayers. This morning, I was supposed to visit my gynecologist. Afterwards, I’d take a cab straight to the airport. From there, me and my child—our child—would vanish. I had already gotten my copy of the final divorce certificate yesterday, and had arranged for Dominic's copy to be mailed to him with a deliberate delay of three days after my departure. With a quiet sigh, I smoothed down my dress, and picked up my bag. Time to go. I hadn't expected, or wanted to see Dominic before leaving the Russo Mansion for the last time in my life. But when I walked down the stairs, he was sitting in the living room, dark suit immaculate, sipping coffee as though nothing in the world could touch him. His composure always left me breathless, once in awe, now in anguish. Though surprisingly enough, Alessia wasn't clinging to him today. Even though I'd mentally prepared for the possibility of seeing him, my heart still stuttered in my chest as he gave me a slow once over. “You’re dressed early,” Dominic noted, eyes narrowing at my simple dress. “Where are you going?” “The doctor,” I said evenly, with practiced ease, hand brushing over my stomach instinctively. “I have an appointment.” His gaze flicked downward, then back up, unreadable. “You’re still entertaining this idea?” His tone was too casual, too sharp. “Isabella, I told you before… think about what this means. A child, in our world, is leverage. A weakness.” My throat tightened. “A weakness? He’s our child, Dominic.” He set down his cup with deliberate care. “Don’t be naïve. This is not the right time for a baby. I already have a lot of enemies breathing down my neck right now. An heir paints a target on your back, too. On his back. I’ve seen what happens.” I shook my head. What was he talking about? He was an heir to his father's empire, too, wasn't he? He had taken over their business from his father when his health declined, had he not? And he was fine— clearly alive, well protected. So, why couldn't our child be protected the same way? What a pathetic excuse for not wanting a kid. My voice trembled, but I forced it to be steady. “So what? You want me to—” His jaw ticked. “I’m telling you, end it before someone else ends it for you. Because if you don’t, Isabella—” I froze. “If I don’t, what?” I challenged, my heart thundering in my chest. The silence between us stretched, suffocating. His eyes darkened, and the next words slipped out, low, cold, stripped of softness. “Then you’ll force my hand.” Blood rushed to my ears. The room spun. He hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t struck me. But the words sliced deeper than any blow. I heard nothing beyond them. The threat was clear as day. My chest hollowed. The air burned in my lungs. “You’d… kill me?” I whispered. His expression flickered, as though he hadn’t meant it the way I took it. But he didn’t take it back either. And that was worse. Something inside me fractured cleanly. I left without another word, the sound of the door slamming behind me echoing like a final vow. Leaving wasn't just a necessity now, it was a means to survival. The car ride to the hospital was a blur. I pressed trembling hands over my belly the entire way to the hospital, whispering to my unborn child promises I wasn’t sure I could keep. Inside the hospital, I met briefly with Dr. Marinelli, discussing vitamins, flight precautions, and early genetic tests. I left the office feeling much lighter than when I'd entered it. Every step I took out of the hospital felt closer to freedom. I was halfway to the car when the world ripped apart. The engine of my waiting car ignited in a sudden roar of fire, and everything around me turned to smoke and ash. The explosion flung me backward. Screams filled the street. Medics rushed to the scene from behind me. Heat licked my skin as I scrambled to my feet, terror thundering in my veins. I stared at the burning shell of the car, realization dawning with ice-cold clarity as I watched someone pull a charred body out. It was him. Dominic. He had done this. It had to be. Dominic had warned me. Threatened me. If I didn’t obey, he’d force my hand. He hadn't denied when I'd accused him of wanting to kill me. And now this. My heart clenched painfully in my chest. My baby. My sweet, innocent child. Dominic had tried to kill not only me, but our child, too. An innocent life that had done nothing to harm him. There was no going back from this. I staggered to the street corner, flagged down a bus with shaking hands, and boarded without looking back. My things were already shipped, my new life already waiting. Florence. A new name. A new future. And a vow carved into my soul: I would never return. Not to him. Not to this life. Not after this betrayal. His Return 5 years later "Mamma, faster!" Mateo's laughter rang through the sunny apartment as he sprinted across the living room, bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. I pretended to chase him, catching him just before he could duck under the table. I scooped him up, spinning him around until he squealed with delight. His curls bounced into his eyes—Dominic's eyes—and for a moment, I froze, my chest tightening with an ache I thought I'd long buried. I kissed my son's forehead, forcing the memory away. "Alright, alright. Time to calm down, little hurricane. Mamma has work." Work. The word meant something different now than it had five years ago. No longer was I just an employee with something to prove. I was now Signora Bianchi, Director of Curation and Exhibitions—a respected leader in the Florence arts scene, sought after for my innovative ideas. My colleagues had become my friends, my family. They knew me as a single mother who had made her life from scratch, and they admired me for it. None of them knew the truth. That morning, I was halfway through sorting the final list for an upcoming joint exhibition when Chiara knocked on my door, looking pleased but slightly tense. "Isa, do you have a minute?" "Of course." Chiara closed the door and sat across from me. "We've been offered a huge partnership, an international sponsor for the Renaissance Reborn project. It'll open doors for all of us. Funding, recognition, press. But..." My pen stilled mid-note. "But what?" "The sponsor is the Russo Group." The name hit me like a fist to the gut. Chiara continued, oblivious to my rigid posture. "The CEO himself is flying in for the final negotiations from New York. We'll need our head of curation at the table. Which means you." I stared at her blankly, heart pounding so loudly I barely heard anything else. "Isa? You alright?" I forced a smile, thin and shaky. "Yes. Of course. Just... surprised. I didn't know the Russo Group dealt with projects like that." Chiara nodded. "They only started a few years back. But they'll be a good start to take our business international, you know? The kind of connections they have is just what we need." I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around the information I'd just gotten. When Chiara left, I sat frozen, fingers clenched around my pen until it snapped in two. When I'd left New York City behind five years ago, I had never thought that I'd run into Dominic ever again. Let alone think that I'd ever have to work with him closely. However, I couldn't say no to Chiara. Even though she was my senior here at work, she had never let me feel that way. I still remembered the first time I'd stepped foot into Florence. Chiara was the one who had sent her own personal assistant, Luca, to get me from the airport and help me settle into my new apartment which was fully furnished with everything I would need. Not only had Luca helped me settle in, he had also stocked the house with groceries and other essentials so I didn't have to go out right away. He had even come to pick me up for work the next day, introducing me to everyone at the office as if he were my own personal assistant. I had felt more welcomed here on my first day than I'd felt my entire life at the Russo Mansion. And when I'd gotten three dinner invites by the time the first day ended, I knew I'd made the perfect decision to leave a place I was clearly neither welcome nor required at and come here to Florence instead. "Florence takes care of it's people," Chiara had told me while I was having dinner with her and a few other colleagues to celebrate my first day at work. And she'd been right, in a way. It wasn't Florence exactly who had taken care of me, but it's people. When my baby bump had started showing, my neighbour from down the hall, Ms Giardiano, an old Italian lady who lived alone, made sure to come check on me every other day. She would bring me nutritious home cooked meals so I wouldn't have to cook for myself after coming home from work. 📖 The story gets hotter—click "Download" to read the uncensored chapters! 👇
The Divorce The small law office smelled faintly of dust and old paper. A flickering lamp in the corner gave off a weak, tired glow, casting shadows across the stacks of files lining the shelves. I sat across from Mr. Ricci, an older man with sharp glasses and sharper instincts. “You’re sure about this, Mrs. Russo?” he asked quietly, hands folded over the folder in front of him. The name sounded strange, like it belonged to someone else. “Yes,” I said, my voice steady even though my pulse wasn’t. “I want the divorce filed quietly. I don’t want my husband or his people knowing until everything’s finalized.” Ricci gave me a long, measuring look, but he didn’t question me further. Instead, he slid the paperwork towards me. “You’ll need his signature on these.” I nodded, slipping the papers into my leather folder. When I came back to the Russo mansion, it felt too quiet. The guards at the gate didn't even spare me a second glance as I walked in. No one here paid me any attention now that I was reduced to the side piece in my own marriage. And the worst part? The worst part was my husband didn't even care. Knowing he would be in the study, I moved towards it and was proven right when Alessia's laughter tinkled out through the half open door. These days, where Alessia was, my husband wasn't too far away. "—so funny," Alessia, my husband's childhood best friend, who was back in the city after her divorce was saying. "I know, I'm the best," came Dominic's reply, his tone the most casual and relaxed I'd ever heard it be. On instinct, I opened the study door all the way through and stepped inside. Dominic Russo froze with his whisky glass halfway to his mouth as he looked at me standing in the doorway, his smile dropping at once. "Oh, hey, Isabella! You're back from your studio already?" Alessia said, her perfectly painted lips pulling into a broad smile as she looked at me. I simply nodded in reply, but Alessia carried on the conversation before I could so much as open my mouth to speak. "That's great. I was just telling Dominic how he hasn't lost his sense of humour. It's the same as when we were kids," she said, chuckling and oh so casually running her hand along his arm as she did so. Dominic didn't say anything, didn't push her away like I so desparately wanted him to. He just quietly sipped on his whiskey, like there was nothing wrong with a woman who wasn't his wife to be practically sitting on his lap and touching him almost intimately like they were lovers. I looked away, unable to see the two of them so close. And sense of humour, huh? He hadn't ever so much as cracked a joke with me in all our three years of marriage. Yet here he was, making another woman laugh with his words. "Right. I just needed you to sign a few documents for me," I said, swallowing past the lump in my throat and pulling out the divorce papers from my bag. I quickly flipped to the page I wanted him to sign before placing it on the table in front of him. "What's this?" Dominic asked, frowning at the papers. "It's just a safety liability form for a new project I'm going to be starting soon for a company," I said, sliding the papers across the polished wooden desk towards him. "I need you to sign it, since you're my only family now," I explained. The truth sat heavy between us. My parents had died when I was seventeen in a freak car accident. Dominic's father, the Don of the Russo family at the time, had taken me under his wing because my father had worked for him for years. "Let me just have a look," Dominic muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pulled the papers towards him. My heart dropped to my stomach. Normally, he didn't read anything. Every paper related to my work I'd ever given to him, he had signed without a second glance. Why today? Why now? If he read what was written on those papers— "Oh, Dom," Alessia chuckled. "You're being too serious. It's just a formality. You know how many of those we have to fulfill on a daily basis. Just get it done and over with." As heiress to the Moretti enterprises, close business partners of the Russo family, Alessia had moved effortlessly in Dominic's world since her return almost a year back. They were always together now—at galas, public events, casino backrooms where deals got made. Everywhere Dominic went, Alessia was by his side, complimenting his tailor made tuxedos with her designer dresses. Dominic hesitated for a moment before picking up a pen and signing with a flourish, the same way he signed deals and death warrants. I quickly grabbed the papers from the desk before he could turn to the front page and read 'DIVORCE PETITION', written in bold across the front. I turned and walked out before either of them could see my hands shake. I was free. I clutched the divorce papers in my hand tightly as I walked upstairs to our room. The ink on the paper was barely dry, but our marriage had been over long before now. Though, it hadn't always been like this between us. There was a time when Dominic could barely keep his hands off of me. A time when he would pull me into dark hallways to steal passionate kisses in the middle of a family gathering. Now, he barely acknowledged my existence. Dominic was everything a woman shouldn't want—cold, ruthless, and dangerous. At only twenty six, he had taken over nearly half his father's business with his sharp wit, ruthless decisions and iron clad control. The media called him a young entrepreneur, but the streets knew better. I'd always kept my distance from him, never crossing paths unless it was absolutely necessary. Until that night three years ago that changed everything between us. He came home late at night, covered in someone else's blood, while I was at the kitchen counter patching up my own knife wound—courtesy of one of his father's men who thought the boss' charity case was easy prey. Dominic helped patch me up, offering me more than just some first aid in return. He offered to marry me that night. A marriage of convenience, a business arrangement so to speak. Protection for me, and legitimacy for him. I agreed on a whim, and we got married a week later. He wasn't particularly romantic, but the physical attraction between us burned brighter than anything I'd felt before. He fell in love with my body, while I ended up falling in love with all of him. I had almost convinced myself that I could, some day, make him love me back, too. But all my illusions shattered like broken glass when Alessia Moretti came back into our lives, and his late night meetings doubled. Suddenly, she was everywhere. In his meetings. In his car. In his study. Last month at Luigi's proved it. Luigi's is an Italian restaurant owned by Dominic where we were supposed to have a romantic dinner for our three year marriage anniversary. I waited five hours for Dominic to show up, until his right hand man Eduardo came with pity in his eyes and a diamond necklace in his hands— an apology from Dominic for not being able to make it because of some 'urgent business matter'. The 'urgent business matter' ended up being a gala he had attended with Alessia by his side—something I'd seen in the gossip column of the tabloids next morning. That was when I'd started planning my exit. I couldn't stay here all my life, waiting for scraps of affection from a man who clearly didn't give a damn about me. I quietly placed the divorce papers in the deepest corner of my closet where no one but me could reach them. This was going to be my ticket to freedom in a month. No more cages. No more pretending. Dominic could keep his business. His life. His Alessia. I refused to be the half forgotten side piece in my own marriage. Hope I had finalized the divorce already, now it was time for the next step. Two days later, I met with the HR director of a luxury design firm based in Florence. They had been following my work for months, impressed by my portfolio and my knack for creating bespoke interiors that balanced elegance with practicality. “We’d be lucky to have you,” the director had said with a warm smile. “The position is yours if you want it. Start date is flexible, but we’d like you in Florence within the next two months.” I accepted without hesitation. Finally, I was going to live a life that belonged to me. Later that day, I sat in the room I'd converted to my home studio of sorts, a quiet place to work at on days I didn't feel like going to my studio in the city, or for when inspiration struck late at night. The first box I packed was hidden beneath layers of fabric swatches and old sketchbooks in there. It wasn't much-just framed photographs, my mother's necklace, and a single pair of well-worn ballet shoes I hadn't danced in for years-but even touching those things felt dangerous, like I was smuggling contraband out of enemy territory. Every day, I packed a little more. Quietly. Slowly. Because no one could know I was leaving. Not until I was gone. Three days later, Dominic came into the home studio unannounced. "Didn't know you still hid out here," came his voice from behind me, startling me. I turned around to see him leaning against the doorframe, his lips turned into a rare half smile. "It's the only place where no one bothers me," I replied, half teasing. "Even me?" I arched an eyebrow. "Especially you." It was light banter, almost flirtatious, and for a moment I caught a flicker of something in his eyes-something that made my heartbeat hitch. "Come with me," he said suddenly. "Where?" "Dinner. Just us. No business, no interruptions." I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. We made it as far as the front hall before Alessia appeared, silk blouse immaculate, tablet in hand. "Dom, you need to see this," she said, breezing past me as though I didn't exist. "Santoro's shipment got held up in Naples. If we don't-" "It can wait," Dominic cut in, voice cool. "No, it really can't." Alessia held out the tablet, and Dominic hesitated only a fraction of a second before taking it. I watched his attention shift, watched Alessia step closer than necessary, lowering her voice just enough to draw him in. The dinner plan died right there in the hallway. It wasn't the last time. Every attempt I made to find some semblance of closeness-whether it was breakfast on the terrace, a drive out to the vineyards, even a late-night conversation in bed-Alessia always seemed to appear. Sometimes it was a phone call Dominic "had to take." Sometimes it was urgent paperwork she "couldn't wait to deliver." And Dominic never sent her away. My resolve hardened with every intrusion. I threw all my focus into packing quietly, being careful to take just enough to get me by for a few months, but not enough to raise any suspicions. A week later, I sat in the master bedroom of the Russo mansion, contemplating how life was going to be out there in a completely new city. It was going to be hard in the beginning, for sure. Should I stay? Should I give him—give us—another chance? Maybe if I talked to Dominic about Alessia's behaviour making me uncomfortable, he would listen to me? Things would change between us? It was her who was always interrupting us, right? Maybe if he knew how I felt about it, he wouldn't entertain her as much? My thoughts were interrupted by a dull ache low in my stomach. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt off—fatigue, nausea, headaches—but I’d blamed it on stress. Still, the idea nagged at me until I finally drove myself to the pharmacy, bought a test, and locked myself in the bathroom. Five minutes later, I sat on the cool tile floor, staring at the two pink lines as though they’d been written in fire. Pregnant. Pregnant with Dominic Russo’s child. Stupidly enough first reaction wasn’t fear—it was hope. And I hated myself for it. Hated myself for thinking that maybe, finally, this was the bridge that could pull us closer together. Maybe a child would be the spark that softened Dominic’s walls, that made him see me—not just as a convenient wife or physical outlet, but as someone who could be his partner. It had to soften him up to me, hadn't it? A child was a huge deal, after all. He wouldn't be heartless enough to not care about me when I was carrying his child, right? For the first time in months, I felt hopeful. Maybe, I wouldn't have to leave after all. Maybe, we could start anew, like a real family this time. Filled with a renewed hope, I waited for Dominic to come home. I dressed in soft cream silk, my hair loose, my hands trembling slightly as I set two glasses of wine on the table before realizing I couldn’t drink. I poured myself water instead. Dominic came in late, still on the phone, loosening his tie with one hand as he barked orders to someone on the other end. My stomach flipped with nerves. “Dominic,” I said quietly once he hung up. He gave me a quick glance. “Yeah?” “I… I have something to tell you.” His brows lifted, impatient. “What is it?” “I’m pregnant.” The words felt fragile in the air, as though they might shatter if I spoke too loudly. Dominic froze. For a moment, I swore I saw something flash in his eyes—surprise, maybe even wonder—but it was gone in an instant, replaced by guarded calculation. “You’re what?” “Pregnant,” I repeated, my heart pounding. “We’re going to have a baby.” Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Finally, Dominic exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Isabella… you’re on the pill.” “Nothing is one hundred percent effective,” I whispered, my voice cracking under his tone. He paced for a moment, jaw tight. “You planned this?” “What? No!” I burst out, unable to believe what he was saying. No, no, no. This was not how I had imagined this conversation going. Why wasn't he happy? Why wasn't he being kind and supportive? “Because it sure as hell feels like you’re trying to tie me down with a kid I didn’t ask for.” The words slammed into me like a blow, and I staggered back a few steps. “Dominic,” I said softly, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, “it’s our child.” “This isn’t the right time,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket again. "There's a lot going on with Santoro. With the upcoming deal with them. This…” He gestured vaguely towards my stomach, “This just complicates things.” “So what do you want me to do?” I asked, both dreading what he would say next, and willing for him to say it to my face. If he rejected his own child, our child—this little life we had created together, it would be the last straw. I would never in my life hope for anything positive with him. He didn’t answer right away, and that pause told me all I needed to know. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat. “You should think about your options.” The tears didn’t come until long after Dominic left the room, slamming the door behind him. I had never thought that he would push me away like this even after finding out that we were going to have a baby together. Gone were the days when he would kiss me just because, trace his fingers over my spine when I slept, thinking I was asleep. Now, he was nothing but cold, and heartless when it came to me. He treated me like a business deal he couldn't wait to wash his hands off now. I'd always known that that was the kind of man he was deep down, but stupidly enough, I'd hoped that he would change for me. How pathetic. I sat on the edge of the bed, both hands cradling my stomach, and whispered to the tiny life inside me: “Don’t worry, baby. Even if he doesn’t want us, I do. And I promise, I'm going to take you far, far away from this place.” Unspoken Things Dominic's POV I wasn't a man who missed details. I could spot a lie in the flicker of an eye, a betrayal in a half-beat pause over dinner. So how had I missed this? I stood at the doorway of our bedroom, arms folded, watching Isabella silently fold clothes into neat stacks. Not designer dresses she wore for events, not the cocktail gowns that hugged her curves the way I liked. No, these were soft knits, linen shirts—things she used for travel. "Going somewhere?" I asked, keeping my tone carefully neutral. Isabella startled slightly, but she didn't look up. "Just... reorganizing." I frowned. There was something in the way she kept her back half-turned toward me, as though she was shielding something I couldn't see. Over the past two weeks, she had become quieter. Not cold exactly—but withdrawn, guarded. Our conversations stayed polite, even warm at times, but lacked the sharp edge of our earlier fights. I almost preferred the fights. At least then, she met me head-on. Now, it felt like she was retreating behind walls I hadn't even noticed her building. "Isabella," I said, walking closer. "What's going on?" She stilled for a heartbeat, then set down the shirt she was folding and faced me with a smile that was a touch too calm. "Nothing's going on, Dominic. Why do you ask?" I didn't believe her. But I didn't know what I was accusing her of, either. Later that night, I found her in the garden, sitting on the stone bench with her hands absentmindedly resting over her stomach. My gaze drifted there before I could stop it. She was carrying my child. Our child. I'd confirmed with the family gynaecologist she'd met with the day after she'd told me she was pregnant. According to her, Isabella was roughly ten weeks along. Which meant she had concieved the last time we had had sex. I knew she had decided to keep the baby. I, however, was yet to decide how I felt about it. I had too many enemies looking for a weakness to strike on right now. And a child would be the biggest weakness of all. I didn't think it was a good idea to have a child at a time like this. "You should be resting," I said to her instead, leaning against the column. "I am resting," she replied without looking at me. There was no bite in her tone, but there was no softness either. "Isabella..." I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair. "If you're upset about what I said the other night-" She turned sharply, her eyes glinting even in the dim light. "Which part? The one where you accused me of trying to trap you? Or the part where you told me to think about my options?" I clenched my jaw. I'd been stressed because of work. And I'd taken it out on her. "I didn't mean-" "You meant every word, Dominic." She rose from the bench, brushing past me as though she couldn't stand to be there one more second. I stayed in the garden long after she left, my chest tight with something uncomfortably close to guilt. But instead of recognizing the emotion, I shoved it down, like I did with every single thing when it came to her. She was just angry. Hurt, maybe. Acting out for attention. I had bigger things to deal with than a wife trying to manipulate me with silence. Besides, it wasn’t like I was a cruel man. Okay, I was, but not to her. I provided for her—more than most women could dream of. Security, wealth, protection. She never wanted for anything material. I let her work, unlike other made men. I even let her have her own studio to work at however she pleased, both in the city and at home. And Alessia. She had always been a constant. She understood the business, the blood, the sacrifices. She could anticipate my decisions before I made them. She could spar with me in strategy without needing explanation. I often felt that Isabella thought of Alessia as a threat. But Alessia wasn’t a threat to anyone—she was an ally, one I needed in order to keep our empire intact. With a few important deals falling through and feds sniffing around, our family hadn't exactly been in a safe place when Alessia came back from Italy a year back. Everything had seemed good on the surface, but only I knew the struggles behind the scenes. I could've turned to my father for help, sure, but I didn't think it was wise to do so with his failing health, and already fragile heart. It was with the help of Alessia, and her father's business, that I'd been able to pull my shit together enough to keep us afloat. Alessia understood all that and had stayed by me through the thick of it. Best of all, she didn't complain, didn't nag, didn't expect me to do things I didn't have the time to. But Isabella didn't seem to understand any of that. What did she want from me, really? To sit in bed and whisper sweet words when there were wars to be fought? To hold her hand when my enemies were plotting to bury us both? I didn’t have time for that. Not yet. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Isabella. In fact, there were moments I admired her—her quiet resilience, the softness in her voice when she spoke with staff, the warmth in her smile when she thought no one was looking. But admiration was a luxury, and I didn’t live on luxuries. I lived on necessity. And necessity meant prioritizing the business. Prioritizing survival. Isabella would understand, one day, when things were calmer. When the smoke cleared, when Alessia and the others no longer had to sit at my side through every meeting, every negotiation. I would have the time then. For now, she needed to be patient. To trust me. But instead, she was folding travel clothes. Speaking with an edge in her voice. Acting as though I had failed her, when I had given her everything that mattered. I sighed, staring out into the night, the weight of a thousand unspoken things pressing against my chest. I lit a cigarette to calm my nerves. I wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t be wrong. Could I? The Vow Finally, it was time. After Dominic had rejected me, and our child, squashing all my hopes of reconciliation, I had quietly bided my time, waiting for a month to be over. I had rehearsed my departure so many times it felt like muscle memory now. I had moved everything I would need—which wasn't much, really—in small stacks from the Russo Mansion to my studio so no one would be suspicious. I didn't think anyone cared much about what I did or didn't do in this grand palace of a house, but I hadn't taken any risks, especially now that a child was involved as well. All my things would be shipped along with my studio supplies this morning, and the flight to Florence was booked for tonight. My assistant at the studio had arranged it all for me, believing I was simply relocating for work. Only I knew that I wasn't coming back. I'd already informed the HR head at my new job in Florence about my unexpected pregnancy, and they had been more than accommodating about it. Such kindness from strangers I was yet to meet in person when I hadn't recieved even an ounce of it at the place I called home had brought tears to my eyes. Not only had it made me emotional, but it had also cemented my decision to leave even more. I'd rather be somewhere I was valued and cared for than here, where I volleyed between a nobody, or an inconvenience. I double-checked the handbag I had readied to take with me: passport, medical file, appointment slip from my gynaecologist, the sonogram I hadn't shown anyone. I had barely slept. My escape plan was a fragile secret stitched together with trembling hands and whispered prayers. This morning, I was supposed to visit my gynecologist. Afterwards, I’d take a cab straight to the airport. From there, me and my child—our child—would vanish. I had already gotten my copy of the final divorce certificate yesterday, and had arranged for Dominic's copy to be mailed to him with a deliberate delay of three days after my departure. With a quiet sigh, I smoothed down my dress, and picked up my bag. Time to go. I hadn't expected, or wanted to see Dominic before leaving the Russo Mansion for the last time in my life. But when I walked down the stairs, he was sitting in the living room, dark suit immaculate, sipping coffee as though nothing in the world could touch him. His composure always left me breathless, once in awe, now in anguish. Though surprisingly enough, Alessia wasn't clinging to him today. Even though I'd mentally prepared for the possibility of seeing him, my heart still stuttered in my chest as he gave me a slow once over. “You’re dressed early,” Dominic noted, eyes narrowing at my simple dress. “Where are you going?” “The doctor,” I said evenly, with practiced ease, hand brushing over my stomach instinctively. “I have an appointment.” His gaze flicked downward, then back up, unreadable. “You’re still entertaining this idea?” His tone was too casual, too sharp. “Isabella, I told you before… think about what this means. A child, in our world, is leverage. A weakness.” My throat tightened. “A weakness? He’s our child, Dominic.” He set down his cup with deliberate care. “Don’t be naïve. This is not the right time for a baby. I already have a lot of enemies breathing down my neck right now. An heir paints a target on your back, too. On his back. I’ve seen what happens.” I shook my head. What was he talking about? He was an heir to his father's empire, too, wasn't he? He had taken over their business from his father when his health declined, had he not? And he was fine— clearly alive, well protected. So, why couldn't our child be protected the same way? What a pathetic excuse for not wanting a kid. My voice trembled, but I forced it to be steady. “So what? You want me to—” His jaw ticked. “I’m telling you, end it before someone else ends it for you. Because if you don’t, Isabella—” I froze. “If I don’t, what?” I challenged, my heart thundering in my chest. The silence between us stretched, suffocating. His eyes darkened, and the next words slipped out, low, cold, stripped of softness. “Then you’ll force my hand.” Blood rushed to my ears. The room spun. He hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t struck me. But the words sliced deeper than any blow. I heard nothing beyond them. The threat was clear as day. My chest hollowed. The air burned in my lungs. “You’d… kill me?” I whispered. His expression flickered, as though he hadn’t meant it the way I took it. But he didn’t take it back either. And that was worse. Something inside me fractured cleanly. I left without another word, the sound of the door slamming behind me echoing like a final vow. Leaving wasn't just a necessity now, it was a means to survival. The car ride to the hospital was a blur. I pressed trembling hands over my belly the entire way to the hospital, whispering to my unborn child promises I wasn’t sure I could keep. Inside the hospital, I met briefly with Dr. Marinelli, discussing vitamins, flight precautions, and early genetic tests. I left the office feeling much lighter than when I'd entered it. Every step I took out of the hospital felt closer to freedom. I was halfway to the car when the world ripped apart. The engine of my waiting car ignited in a sudden roar of fire, and everything around me turned to smoke and ash. The explosion flung me backward. Screams filled the street. Medics rushed to the scene from behind me. Heat licked my skin as I scrambled to my feet, terror thundering in my veins. I stared at the burning shell of the car, realization dawning with ice-cold clarity as I watched someone pull a charred body out. It was him. Dominic. He had done this. It had to be. Dominic had warned me. Threatened me. If I didn’t obey, he’d force my hand. He hadn't denied when I'd accused him of wanting to kill me. And now this. My heart clenched painfully in my chest. My baby. My sweet, innocent child. Dominic had tried to kill not only me, but our child, too. An innocent life that had done nothing to harm him. There was no going back from this. I staggered to the street corner, flagged down a bus with shaking hands, and boarded without looking back. My things were already shipped, my new life already waiting. Florence. A new name. A new future. And a vow carved into my soul: I would never return. Not to him. Not to this life. Not after this betrayal. His Return 5 years later "Mamma, faster!" Mateo's laughter rang through the sunny apartment as he sprinted across the living room, bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. I pretended to chase him, catching him just before he could duck under the table. I scooped him up, spinning him around until he squealed with delight. His curls bounced into his eyes—Dominic's eyes—and for a moment, I froze, my chest tightening with an ache I thought I'd long buried. I kissed my son's forehead, forcing the memory away. "Alright, alright. Time to calm down, little hurricane. Mamma has work." Work. The word meant something different now than it had five years ago. No longer was I just an employee with something to prove. I was now Signora Bianchi, Director of Curation and Exhibitions—a respected leader in the Florence arts scene, sought after for my innovative ideas. My colleagues had become my friends, my family. They knew me as a single mother who had made her life from scratch, and they admired me for it. None of them knew the truth. That morning, I was halfway through sorting the final list for an upcoming joint exhibition when Chiara knocked on my door, looking pleased but slightly tense. "Isa, do you have a minute?" "Of course." Chiara closed the door and sat across from me. "We've been offered a huge partnership, an international sponsor for the Renaissance Reborn project. It'll open doors for all of us. Funding, recognition, press. But..." My pen stilled mid-note. "But what?" "The sponsor is the Russo Group." The name hit me like a fist to the gut. Chiara continued, oblivious to my rigid posture. "The CEO himself is flying in for the final negotiations from New York. We'll need our head of curation at the table. Which means you." I stared at her blankly, heart pounding so loudly I barely heard anything else. "Isa? You alright?" I forced a smile, thin and shaky. "Yes. Of course. Just... surprised. I didn't know the Russo Group dealt with projects like that." Chiara nodded. "They only started a few years back. But they'll be a good start to take our business international, you know? The kind of connections they have is just what we need." I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around the information I'd just gotten. When Chiara left, I sat frozen, fingers clenched around my pen until it snapped in two. When I'd left New York City behind five years ago, I had never thought that I'd run into Dominic ever again. Let alone think that I'd ever have to work with him closely. However, I couldn't say no to Chiara. Even though she was my senior here at work, she had never let me feel that way. I still remembered the first time I'd stepped foot into Florence. Chiara was the one who had sent her own personal assistant, Luca, to get me from the airport and help me settle into my new apartment which was fully furnished with everything I would need. Not only had Luca helped me settle in, he had also stocked the house with groceries and other essentials so I didn't have to go out right away. He had even come to pick me up for work the next day, introducing me to everyone at the office as if he were my own personal assistant. I had felt more welcomed here on my first day than I'd felt my entire life at the Russo Mansion. And when I'd gotten three dinner invites by the time the first day ended, I knew I'd made the perfect decision to leave a place I was clearly neither welcome nor required at and come here to Florence instead. "Florence takes care of it's people," Chiara had told me while I was having dinner with her and a few other colleagues to celebrate my first day at work. And she'd been right, in a way. It wasn't Florence exactly who had taken care of me, but it's people. When my baby bump had started showing, my neighbour from down the hall, Ms Giardiano, an old Italian lady who lived alone, made sure to come check on me every other day. She would bring me nutritious home cooked meals so I wouldn't have to cook for myself after coming home from work. Everyone at work had been super helpful, too. They had gotten me the comfiest chair so my back wouldn't hurt while I sat and worked all day. They had hired an office masseuse on the pretext that everyone needed some relaxation while they worked, but I was the only one who got regular foot massages from her to help with my swollen feet. Hell, Chiara, Luca and Lizzy, another of my colleagues, had helped me buy and put my baby's crib together when the delivery date was nearing. On the day of the delivery, Chiara, Luca, Lizzy and Mrs Giardiano had been right outside the delivery room, waiting to hear the good news. Afterwards, they'd all taken turns staying at my place to take care of the two of us as if they were family. They'd done all this and so much more, making me feel more cared for than I'd ever felt in my entire marriage. I knew without a doubt that Dominic would never have done even half of what these practical strangers had done for me throughout my pregnancy and every day since. Leaving Dominic had been the best decision of my life and over the years, I'd built something beautiful from the ashes of the betrayal and pain he had left behind. But now, Dominic was coming here. And I wasn't sure I was ready to face him yet, or if I'd ever be. That evening, Mateo climbed onto my lap with his favorite book, demanding a story. I read, smiling when he giggled at his favorite part, but inside my thoughts churned. I hadn't told anyone about Dominic. Not my friends. Not my son. And now I was going to have to walk into a room and face the man who thought I was dead—who had, in a way, helped kill the woman I used to be. I hugged Mateo closer, inhaling the scent of his shampoo. Whatever Dominic Russo thought he could do to me now, he'd learn soon enough that I wasn't the same woman who used to wait for scraps of affection. I was stronger. Bolder. And most importantly, I wasn't alone. I had my friends with me. They'd shown me what it felt like to be truly loved and cared for. And my son had grown surrounded by the same love, care and affection from everyone around him. I'd be damned if I let anyone, let alone Dominic Russo take that away from us. This time, I wasn't running. I would show Dominic I wasn't the same pathetic woman he had once tried to kill.
The Divorce The small law office smelled faintly of dust and old paper. A flickering lamp in the corner gave off a weak, tired glow, casting shadows across the stacks of files lining the shelves. I sat across from Mr. Ricci, an older man with sharp glasses and sharper instincts. “You’re sure about this, Mrs. Russo?” he asked quietly, hands folded over the folder in front of him. The name sounded strange, like it belonged to someone else. “Yes,” I said, my voice steady even though my pulse wasn’t. “I want the divorce filed quietly. I don’t want my husband or his people knowing until everything’s finalized.” Ricci gave me a long, measuring look, but he didn’t question me further. Instead, he slid the paperwork towards me. “You’ll need his signature on these.” I nodded, slipping the papers into my leather folder. When I came back to the Russo mansion, it felt too quiet. The guards at the gate didn't even spare me a second glance as I walked in. No one here paid me any attention now that I was reduced to the side piece in my own marriage. And the worst part? The worst part was my husband didn't even care. Knowing he would be in the study, I moved towards it and was proven right when Alessia's laughter tinkled out through the half open door. These days, where Alessia was, my husband wasn't too far away. "—so funny," Alessia, my husband's childhood best friend, who was back in the city after her divorce was saying. "I know, I'm the best," came Dominic's reply, his tone the most casual and relaxed I'd ever heard it be. On instinct, I opened the study door all the way through and stepped inside. Dominic Russo froze with his whisky glass halfway to his mouth as he looked at me standing in the doorway, his smile dropping at once. "Oh, hey, Isabella! You're back from your studio already?" Alessia said, her perfectly painted lips pulling into a broad smile as she looked at me. I simply nodded in reply, but Alessia carried on the conversation before I could so much as open my mouth to speak. "That's great. I was just telling Dominic how he hasn't lost his sense of humour. It's the same as when we were kids," she said, chuckling and oh so casually running her hand along his arm as she did so. Dominic didn't say anything, didn't push her away like I so desparately wanted him to. He just quietly sipped on his whiskey, like there was nothing wrong with a woman who wasn't his wife to be practically sitting on his lap and touching him almost intimately like they were lovers. I looked away, unable to see the two of them so close. And sense of humour, huh? He hadn't ever so much as cracked a joke with me in all our three years of marriage. Yet here he was, making another woman laugh with his words. "Right. I just needed you to sign a few documents for me," I said, swallowing past the lump in my throat and pulling out the divorce papers from my bag. I quickly flipped to the page I wanted him to sign before placing it on the table in front of him. "What's this?" Dominic asked, frowning at the papers. "It's just a safety liability form for a new project I'm going to be starting soon for a company," I said, sliding the papers across the polished wooden desk towards him. "I need you to sign it, since you're my only family now," I explained. The truth sat heavy between us. My parents had died when I was seventeen in a freak car accident. Dominic's father, the Don of the Russo family at the time, had taken me under his wing because my father had worked for him for years. "Let me just have a look," Dominic muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pulled the papers towards him. My heart dropped to my stomach. Normally, he didn't read anything. Every paper related to my work I'd ever given to him, he had signed without a second glance. Why today? Why now? If he read what was written on those papers— "Oh, Dom," Alessia chuckled. "You're being too serious. It's just a formality. You know how many of those we have to fulfill on a daily basis. Just get it done and over with." As heiress to the Moretti enterprises, close business partners of the Russo family, Alessia had moved effortlessly in Dominic's world since her return almost a year back. They were always together now—at galas, public events, casino backrooms where deals got made. Everywhere Dominic went, Alessia was by his side, complimenting his tailor made tuxedos with her designer dresses. Dominic hesitated for a moment before picking up a pen and signing with a flourish, the same way he signed deals and death warrants. I quickly grabbed the papers from the desk before he could turn to the front page and read 'DIVORCE PETITION', written in bold across the front. I turned and walked out before either of them could see my hands shake. I was free. I clutched the divorce papers in my hand tightly as I walked upstairs to our room. The ink on the paper was barely dry, but our marriage had been over long before now. Though, it hadn't always been like this between us. There was a time when Dominic could barely keep his hands off of me. A time when he would pull me into dark hallways to steal passionate kisses in the middle of a family gathering. Now, he barely acknowledged my existence. Dominic was everything a woman shouldn't want—cold, ruthless, and dangerous. At only twenty six, he had taken over nearly half his father's business with his sharp wit, ruthless decisions and iron clad control. The media called him a young entrepreneur, but the streets knew better. I'd always kept my distance from him, never crossing paths unless it was absolutely necessary. Until that night three years ago that changed everything between us. He came home late at night, covered in someone else's blood, while I was at the kitchen counter patching up my own knife wound—courtesy of one of his father's men who thought the boss' charity case was easy prey. Dominic helped patch me up, offering me more than just some first aid in return. He offered to marry me that night. A marriage of convenience, a business arrangement so to speak. Protection for me, and legitimacy for him. I agreed on a whim, and we got married a week later. He wasn't particularly romantic, but the physical attraction between us burned brighter than anything I'd felt before. He fell in love with my body, while I ended up falling in love with all of him. I had almost convinced myself that I could, some day, make him love me back, too. But all my illusions shattered like broken glass when Alessia Moretti came back into our lives, and his late night meetings doubled. Suddenly, she was everywhere. In his meetings. In his car. In his study. Last month at Luigi's proved it. Luigi's is an Italian restaurant owned by Dominic where we were supposed to have a romantic dinner for our three year marriage anniversary. I waited five hours for Dominic to show up, until his right hand man Eduardo came with pity in his eyes and a diamond necklace in his hands— an apology from Dominic for not being able to make it because of some 'urgent business matter'. The 'urgent business matter' ended up being a gala he had attended with Alessia by his side—something I'd seen in the gossip column of the tabloids next morning. That was when I'd started planning my exit. I couldn't stay here all my life, waiting for scraps of affection from a man who clearly didn't give a damn about me. I quietly placed the divorce papers in the deepest corner of my closet where no one but me could reach them. This was going to be my ticket to freedom in a month. No more cages. No more pretending. Dominic could keep his business. His life. His Alessia. I refused to be the half forgotten side piece in my own marriage. Hope I had finalized the divorce already, now it was time for the next step. Two days later, I met with the HR director of a luxury design firm based in Florence. They had been following my work for months, impressed by my portfolio and my knack for creating bespoke interiors that balanced elegance with practicality. “We’d be lucky to have you,” the director had said with a warm smile. “The position is yours if you want it. Start date is flexible, but we’d like you in Florence within the next two months.” I accepted without hesitation. Finally, I was going to live a life that belonged to me. Later that day, I sat in the room I'd converted to my home studio of sorts, a quiet place to work at on days I didn't feel like going to my studio in the city, or for when inspiration struck late at night. The first box I packed was hidden beneath layers of fabric swatches and old sketchbooks in there. It wasn't much-just framed photographs, my mother's necklace, and a single pair of well-worn ballet shoes I hadn't danced in for years-but even touching those things felt dangerous, like I was smuggling contraband out of enemy territory. Every day, I packed a little more. Quietly. Slowly. Because no one could know I was leaving. Not until I was gone. Three days later, Dominic came into the home studio unannounced. "Didn't know you still hid out here," came his voice from behind me, startling me. I turned around to see him leaning against the doorframe, his lips turned into a rare half smile. "It's the only place where no one bothers me," I replied, half teasing. "Even me?" I arched an eyebrow. "Especially you." It was light banter, almost flirtatious, and for a moment I caught a flicker of something in his eyes-something that made my heartbeat hitch. "Come with me," he said suddenly. "Where?" "Dinner. Just us. No business, no interruptions." I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. We made it as far as the front hall before Alessia appeared, silk blouse immaculate, tablet in hand. "Dom, you need to see this," she said, breezing past me as though I didn't exist. "Santoro's shipment got held up in Naples. If we don't-" "It can wait," Dominic cut in, voice cool. "No, it really can't." Alessia held out the tablet, and Dominic hesitated only a fraction of a second before taking it. I watched his attention shift, watched Alessia step closer than necessary, lowering her voice just enough to draw him in. The dinner plan died right there in the hallway. It wasn't the last time. Every attempt I made to find some semblance of closeness-whether it was breakfast on the terrace, a drive out to the vineyards, even a late-night conversation in bed-Alessia always seemed to appear. Sometimes it was a phone call Dominic "had to take." Sometimes it was urgent paperwork she "couldn't wait to deliver." And Dominic never sent her away. My resolve hardened with every intrusion. I threw all my focus into packing quietly, being careful to take just enough to get me by for a few months, but not enough to raise any suspicions. A week later, I sat in the master bedroom of the Russo mansion, contemplating how life was going to be out there in a completely new city. It was going to be hard in the beginning, for sure. Should I stay? Should I give him—give us—another chance? Maybe if I talked to Dominic about Alessia's behaviour making me uncomfortable, he would listen to me? Things would change between us? It was her who was always interrupting us, right? Maybe if he knew how I felt about it, he wouldn't entertain her as much? My thoughts were interrupted by a dull ache low in my stomach. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt off—fatigue, nausea, headaches—but I’d blamed it on stress. Still, the idea nagged at me until I finally drove myself to the pharmacy, bought a test, and locked myself in the bathroom. Five minutes later, I sat on the cool tile floor, staring at the two pink lines as though they’d been written in fire. Pregnant. Pregnant with Dominic Russo’s child. Stupidly enough first reaction wasn’t fear—it was hope. And I hated myself for it. Hated myself for thinking that maybe, finally, this was the bridge that could pull us closer together. Maybe a child would be the spark that softened Dominic’s walls, that made him see me—not just as a convenient wife or physical outlet, but as someone who could be his partner. It had to soften him up to me, hadn't it? A child was a huge deal, after all. He wouldn't be heartless enough to not care about me when I was carrying his child, right? For the first time in months, I felt hopeful. Maybe, I wouldn't have to leave after all. Maybe, we could start anew, like a real family this time. Filled with a renewed hope, I waited for Dominic to come home. I dressed in soft cream silk, my hair loose, my hands trembling slightly as I set two glasses of wine on the table before realizing I couldn’t drink. I poured myself water instead. Dominic came in late, still on the phone, loosening his tie with one hand as he barked orders to someone on the other end. My stomach flipped with nerves. “Dominic,” I said quietly once he hung up. He gave me a quick glance. “Yeah?” “I… I have something to tell you.” His brows lifted, impatient. “What is it?” “I’m pregnant.” The words felt fragile in the air, as though they might shatter if I spoke too loudly. Dominic froze. For a moment, I swore I saw something flash in his eyes—surprise, maybe even wonder—but it was gone in an instant, replaced by guarded calculation. “You’re what?” “Pregnant,” I repeated, my heart pounding. “We’re going to have a baby.” Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Finally, Dominic exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Isabella… you’re on the pill.” “Nothing is one hundred percent effective,” I whispered, my voice cracking under his tone. He paced for a moment, jaw tight. “You planned this?” “What? No!” I burst out, unable to believe what he was saying. No, no, no. This was not how I had imagined this conversation going. Why wasn't he happy? Why wasn't he being kind and supportive? “Because it sure as hell feels like you’re trying to tie me down with a kid I didn’t ask for.” The words slammed into me like a blow, and I staggered back a few steps. “Dominic,” I said softly, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, “it’s our child.” “This isn’t the right time,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket again. "There's a lot going on with Santoro. With the upcoming deal with them. This…” He gestured vaguely towards my stomach, “This just complicates things.” “So what do you want me to do?” I asked, both dreading what he would say next, and willing for him to say it to my face. If he rejected his own child, our child—this little life we had created together, it would be the last straw. I would never in my life hope for anything positive with him. He didn’t answer right away, and that pause told me all I needed to know. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat. “You should think about your options.” The tears didn’t come until long after Dominic left the room, slamming the door behind him. I had never thought that he would push me away like this even after finding out that we were going to have a baby together. Gone were the days when he would kiss me just because, trace his fingers over my spine when I slept, thinking I was asleep. Now, he was nothing but cold, and heartless when it came to me. He treated me like a business deal he couldn't wait to wash his hands off now. I'd always known that that was the kind of man he was deep down, but stupidly enough, I'd hoped that he would change for me. How pathetic. I sat on the edge of the bed, both hands cradling my stomach, and whispered to the tiny life inside me: “Don’t worry, baby. Even if he doesn’t want us, I do. And I promise, I'm going to take you far, far away from this place.” Unspoken Things Dominic's POV I wasn't a man who missed details. I could spot a lie in the flicker of an eye, a betrayal in a half-beat pause over dinner. So how had I missed this? I stood at the doorway of our bedroom, arms folded, watching Isabella silently fold clothes into neat stacks. Not designer dresses she wore for events, not the cocktail gowns that hugged her curves the way I liked. No, these were soft knits, linen shirts—things she used for travel. "Going somewhere?" I asked, keeping my tone carefully neutral. Isabella startled slightly, but she didn't look up. "Just... reorganizing." I frowned. There was something in the way she kept her back half-turned toward me, as though she was shielding something I couldn't see. Over the past two weeks, she had become quieter. Not cold exactly—but withdrawn, guarded. Our conversations stayed polite, even warm at times, but lacked the sharp edge of our earlier fights. I almost preferred the fights. At least then, she met me head-on. Now, it felt like she was retreating behind walls I hadn't even noticed her building. "Isabella," I said, walking closer. "What's going on?" She stilled for a heartbeat, then set down the shirt she was folding and faced me with a smile that was a touch too calm. "Nothing's going on, Dominic. Why do you ask?" I didn't believe her. But I didn't know what I was accusing her of, either. Later that night, I found her in the garden, sitting on the stone bench with her hands absentmindedly resting over her stomach. My gaze drifted there before I could stop it. She was carrying my child. Our child. I'd confirmed with the family gynaecologist she'd met with the day after she'd told me she was pregnant. According to her, Isabella was roughly ten weeks along. Which meant she had concieved the last time we had had sex. I knew she had decided to keep the baby. I, however, was yet to decide how I felt about it. I had too many enemies looking for a weakness to strike on right now. And a child would be the biggest weakness of all. I didn't think it was a good idea to have a child at a time like this. "You should be resting," I said to her instead, leaning against the column. "I am resting," she replied without looking at me. There was no bite in her tone, but there was no softness either. "Isabella..." I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair. "If you're upset about what I said the other night-" She turned sharply, her eyes glinting even in the dim light. "Which part? The one where you accused me of trying to trap you? Or the part where you told me to think about my options?" I clenched my jaw. I'd been stressed because of work. And I'd taken it out on her. "I didn't mean-" "You meant every word, Dominic." She rose from the bench, brushing past me as though she couldn't stand to be there one more second. I stayed in the garden long after she left, my chest tight with something uncomfortably close to guilt. But instead of recognizing the emotion, I shoved it down, like I did with every single thing when it came to her. She was just angry. Hurt, maybe. Acting out for attention. I had bigger things to deal with than a wife trying to manipulate me with silence. Besides, it wasn’t like I was a cruel man. Okay, I was, but not to her. I provided for her—more than most women could dream of. Security, wealth, protection. She never wanted for anything material. I let her work, unlike other made men. I even let her have her own studio to work at however she pleased, both in the city and at home. And Alessia. She had always been a constant. She understood the business, the blood, the sacrifices. She could anticipate my decisions before I made them. She could spar with me in strategy without needing explanation. I often felt that Isabella thought of Alessia as a threat. But Alessia wasn’t a threat to anyone—she was an ally, one I needed in order to keep our empire intact. With a few important deals falling through and feds sniffing around, our family hadn't exactly been in a safe place when Alessia came back from Italy a year back. Everything had seemed good on the surface, but only I knew the struggles behind the scenes. I could've turned to my father for help, sure, but I didn't think it was wise to do so with his failing health, and already fragile heart. It was with the help of Alessia, and her father's business, that I'd been able to pull my shit together enough to keep us afloat. Alessia understood all that and had stayed by me through the thick of it. Best of all, she didn't complain, didn't nag, didn't expect me to do things I didn't have the time to. But Isabella didn't seem to understand any of that. What did she want from me, really? To sit in bed and whisper sweet words when there were wars to be fought? To hold her hand when my enemies were plotting to bury us both? I didn’t have time for that. Not yet. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Isabella. In fact, there were moments I admired her—her quiet resilience, the softness in her voice when she spoke with staff, the warmth in her smile when she thought no one was looking. But admiration was a luxury, and I didn’t live on luxuries. I lived on necessity. And necessity meant prioritizing the business. Prioritizing survival. Isabella would understand, one day, when things were calmer. When the smoke cleared, when Alessia and the others no longer had to sit at my side through every meeting, every negotiation. I would have the time then. For now, she needed to be patient. To trust me. But instead, she was folding travel clothes. Speaking with an edge in her voice. Acting as though I had failed her, when I had given her everything that mattered. I sighed, staring out into the night, the weight of a thousand unspoken things pressing against my chest. I lit a cigarette to calm my nerves. I wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t be wrong. Could I? The Vow Finally, it was time. After Dominic had rejected me, and our child, squashing all my hopes of reconciliation, I had quietly bided my time, waiting for a month to be over. I had rehearsed my departure so many times it felt like muscle memory now. I had moved everything I would need—which wasn't much, really—in small stacks from the Russo Mansion to my studio so no one would be suspicious. I didn't think anyone cared much about what I did or didn't do in this grand palace of a house, but I hadn't taken any risks, especially now that a child was involved as well. All my things would be shipped along with my studio supplies this morning, and the flight to Florence was booked for tonight. My assistant at the studio had arranged it all for me, believing I was simply relocating for work. Only I knew that I wasn't coming back. I'd already informed the HR head at my new job in Florence about my unexpected pregnancy, and they had been more than accommodating about it. Such kindness from strangers I was yet to meet in person when I hadn't recieved even an ounce of it at the place I called home had brought tears to my eyes. Not only had it made me emotional, but it had also cemented my decision to leave even more. I'd rather be somewhere I was valued and cared for than here, where I volleyed between a nobody, or an inconvenience. I double-checked the handbag I had readied to take with me: passport, medical file, appointment slip from my gynaecologist, the sonogram I hadn't shown anyone. I had barely slept. My escape plan was a fragile secret stitched together with trembling hands and whispered prayers. This morning, I was supposed to visit my gynecologist. Afterwards, I’d take a cab straight to the airport. From there, me and my child—our child—would vanish. I had already gotten my copy of the final divorce certificate yesterday, and had arranged for Dominic's copy to be mailed to him with a deliberate delay of three days after my departure. With a quiet sigh, I smoothed down my dress, and picked up my bag. Time to go. I hadn't expected, or wanted to see Dominic before leaving the Russo Mansion for the last time in my life. But when I walked down the stairs, he was sitting in the living room, dark suit immaculate, sipping coffee as though nothing in the world could touch him. His composure always left me breathless, once in awe, now in anguish. Though surprisingly enough, Alessia wasn't clinging to him today. Even though I'd mentally prepared for the possibility of seeing him, my heart still stuttered in my chest as he gave me a slow once over. “You’re dressed early,” Dominic noted, eyes narrowing at my simple dress. “Where are you going?” “The doctor,” I said evenly, with practiced ease, hand brushing over my stomach instinctively. “I have an appointment.” His gaze flicked downward, then back up, unreadable. “You’re still entertaining this idea?” His tone was too casual, too sharp. “Isabella, I told you before… think about what this means. A child, in our world, is leverage. A weakness.” My throat tightened. “A weakness? He’s our child, Dominic.” He set down his cup with deliberate care. “Don’t be naïve. This is not the right time for a baby. I already have a lot of enemies breathing down my neck right now. An heir paints a target on your back, too. On his back. I’ve seen what happens.” I shook my head. What was he talking about? He was an heir to his father's empire, too, wasn't he? He had taken over their business from his father when his health declined, had he not? And he was fine— clearly alive, well protected. So, why couldn't our child be protected the same way? What a pathetic excuse for not wanting a kid. My voice trembled, but I forced it to be steady. “So what? You want me to—” His jaw ticked. “I’m telling you, end it before someone else ends it for you. Because if you don’t, Isabella—” I froze. “If I don’t, what?” I challenged, my heart thundering in my chest. The silence between us stretched, suffocating. His eyes darkened, and the next words slipped out, low, cold, stripped of softness. “Then you’ll force my hand.” Blood rushed to my ears. The room spun. He hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t struck me. But the words sliced deeper than any blow. I heard nothing beyond them. The threat was clear as day. My chest hollowed. The air burned in my lungs. “You’d… kill me?” I whispered. His expression flickered, as though he hadn’t meant it the way I took it. But he didn’t take it back either. And that was worse. Something inside me fractured cleanly. I left without another word, the sound of the door slamming behind me echoing like a final vow. Leaving wasn't just a necessity now, it was a means to survival. The car ride to the hospital was a blur. I pressed trembling hands over my belly the entire way to the hospital, whispering to my unborn child promises I wasn’t sure I could keep. Inside the hospital, I met briefly with Dr. Marinelli, discussing vitamins, flight precautions, and early genetic tests. I left the office feeling much lighter than when I'd entered it. Every step I took out of the hospital felt closer to freedom. I was halfway to the car when the world ripped apart. The engine of my waiting car ignited in a sudden roar of fire, and everything around me turned to smoke and ash. The explosion flung me backward. Screams filled the street. Medics rushed to the scene from behind me. Heat licked my skin as I scrambled to my feet, terror thundering in my veins. I stared at the burning shell of the car, realization dawning with ice-cold clarity as I watched someone pull a charred body out. It was him. Dominic. He had done this. It had to be. Dominic had warned me. Threatened me. If I didn’t obey, he’d force my hand. He hadn't denied when I'd accused him of wanting to kill me. And now this. My heart clenched painfully in my chest. My baby. My sweet, innocent child. Dominic had tried to kill not only me, but our child, too. An innocent life that had done nothing to harm him. There was no going back from this. I staggered to the street corner, flagged down a bus with shaking hands, and boarded without looking back. My things were already shipped, my new life already waiting. Florence. A new name. A new future. And a vow carved into my soul: I would never return. Not to him. Not to this life. Not after this betrayal. His Return 5 years later "Mamma, faster!" Mateo's laughter rang through the sunny apartment as he sprinted across the living room, bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. I pretended to chase him, catching him just before he could duck under the table. I scooped him up, spinning him around until he squealed with delight. His curls bounced into his eyes—Dominic's eyes—and for a moment, I froze, my chest tightening with an ache I thought I'd long buried. I kissed my son's forehead, forcing the memory away. "Alright, alright. Time to calm down, little hurricane. Mamma has work." Work. The word meant something different now than it had five years ago. No longer was I just an employee with something to prove. I was now Signora Bianchi, Director of Curation and Exhibitions—a respected leader in the Florence arts scene, sought after for my innovative ideas. My colleagues had become my friends, my family. They knew me as a single mother who had made her life from scratch, and they admired me for it. None of them knew the truth. That morning, I was halfway through sorting the final list for an upcoming joint exhibition when Chiara knocked on my door, looking pleased but slightly tense. "Isa, do you have a minute?" "Of course." Chiara closed the door and sat across from me. "We've been offered a huge partnership, an international sponsor for the Renaissance Reborn project. It'll open doors for all of us. Funding, recognition, press. But..." My pen stilled mid-note. "But what?" "The sponsor is the Russo Group." The name hit me like a fist to the gut. Chiara continued, oblivious to my rigid posture. "The CEO himself is flying in for the final negotiations from New York. We'll need our head of curation at the table. Which means you." I stared at her blankly, heart pounding so loudly I barely heard anything else. "Isa? You alright?" I forced a smile, thin and shaky. "Yes. Of course. Just... surprised. I didn't know the Russo Group dealt with projects like that." Chiara nodded. "They only started a few years back. But they'll be a good start to take our business international, you know? The kind of connections they have is just what we need." I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around the information I'd just gotten. When Chiara left, I sat frozen, fingers clenched around my pen until it snapped in two. When I'd left New York City behind five years ago, I had never thought that I'd run into Dominic ever again. Let alone think that I'd ever have to work with him closely. However, I couldn't say no to Chiara. Even though she was my senior here at work, she had never let me feel that way. I still remembered the first time I'd stepped foot into Florence. Chiara was the one who had sent her own personal assistant, Luca, to get me from the airport and help me settle into my new apartment which was fully furnished with everything I would need. Not only had Luca helped me settle in, he had also stocked the house with groceries and other essentials so I didn't have to go out right away. He had even come to pick me up for work the next day, introducing me to everyone at the office as if he were my own personal assistant. I had felt more welcomed here on my first day than I'd felt my entire life at the Russo Mansion. And when I'd gotten three dinner invites by the time the first day ended, I knew I'd made the perfect decision to leave a place I was clearly neither welcome nor required at and come here to Florence instead. "Florence takes care of it's people," Chiara had told me while I was having dinner with her and a few other colleagues to celebrate my first day at work. And she'd been right, in a way. It wasn't Florence exactly who had taken care of me, but it's people. When my baby bump had started showing, my neighbour from down the hall, Ms Giardiano, an old Italian lady who lived alone, made sure to come check on me every other day. She would bring me nutritious home cooked meals so I wouldn't have to cook for myself after coming home from work. Everyone at work had been super helpful, too. They had gotten me the comfiest chair so my back wouldn't hurt while I sat and worked all day. They had hired an office masseuse on the pretext that everyone needed some relaxation while they worked, but I was the only one who got regular foot massages from her to help with my swollen feet. Hell, Chiara, Luca and Lizzy, another of my colleagues, had helped me buy and put my baby's crib together when the delivery date was nearing. On the day of the delivery, Chiara, Luca, Lizzy and Mrs Giardiano had been right outside the delivery room, waiting to hear the good news. Afterwards, they'd all taken turns staying at my place to take care of the two of us as if they were family. They'd done all this and so much more, making me feel more cared for than I'd ever felt in my entire marriage. I knew without a doubt that Dominic would never have done even half of what these practical strangers had done for me throughout my pregnancy and every day since. Leaving Dominic had been the best decision of my life and over the years, I'd built something beautiful from the ashes of the betrayal and pain he had left behind. But now, Dominic was coming here. And I wasn't sure I was ready to face him yet, or if I'd ever be. That evening, Mateo climbed onto my lap with his favorite book, demanding a story. I read, smiling when he giggled at his favorite part, but inside my thoughts churned. I hadn't told anyone about Dominic. Not my friends. Not my son. And now I was going to have to walk into a room and face the man who thought I was dead—who had, in a way, helped kill the woman I used to be. I hugged Mateo closer, inhaling the scent of his shampoo. Whatever Dominic Russo thought he could do to me now, he'd learn soon enough that I wasn't the same woman who used to wait for scraps of affection. I was stronger. Bolder. And most importantly, I wasn't alone. I had my friends with me. They'd shown me what it felt like to be truly loved and cared for. And my son had grown surrounded by the same love, care and affection from everyone around him. I'd be damned if I let anyone, let alone Dominic Russo take that away from us. This time, I wasn't running. I would show Dominic I wasn't the same pathetic woman he had once tried to kill.
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"I woke up with my ex’s brother still buried inside me—and the bast@rd was smiling. “What the hell? Get out of me!” I punched him in the chest, but he just held me tighter against the mattress. “Shh. You’re the one who climbed on top of me last night, begging for it,” his thumb traced my lower lip. “And now you want to play the victim?” Before I could answer, the bedroom door shook with a violent bang. “KATY. OPEN THE FKING DOOR.” My ex’s roar made the walls shake. ""I know you’re in there with him!"" I froze. My heart was pounding against my ribs. Braydon didn’t even flinch. Instead, he grabbed my hips and thrvst into me again—so deep I had to bite my lip until it bled to keep from making a sound. “Let me go!” I hissed, struggling to get him off me. He flipped me over in one fluid motion, trapping me beneath his weight. “Where do you think you’re going, Peach? You wanted revenge, didn’t you? Well, let him hear exactly what you did with his brother.” Another blow. The wood creaked. “I’m going to kill you both!” Braydon let out a dark laugh against my ear. “Well, you’d better hold on tight.” He rammed into me again. Harder this time. On purpose. A moan escaped my throat before I could stop it. I should have been terrified. Humiliated. Instead, my body arched on its own, seeking the next thrust. He tightened his grip on my waist. “That’s good,” he murmured. “Let him hear.”" --- Chapter 001 KATY’S POV “Hey, I’m heading over now. Can you bring out the books I left?” I press send and shove my phone into my jacket pocket as Bryan’s townhouse comes into view, my steps automatically quickening. I have Statistics in thirty minutes, and Mrs. Tompson would rather swallow a jean jacket than let me walk into her class without my textbook, the same textbook I managed to leave lying around in my boyfriend’s room. As I walk faster, I recheck my phone, half expecting a reply, but there’s nothing. Not even a typing bubble. For a moment, I wonder if he has already left, but it‘s unlikely. It’s only 9:30 in the morning, and Bryan never leaves his room early. One of the perks of being a baseball player is that he doesn’t have to treat academics like life or death the way I do. I reach his townhouse and take the stairs two at a time, my purse bouncing against my hip. The higher I climb, the more rushed my breathing feels, though it has less to do with the stairs and more to do with this creeping frustration that he still hasn’t texted back. By the time I get to the third floor, where his room is, I’m already picturing walking in and tossing a sarcastic comment about how hard it is to answer a simple text. My hand reaches for his doorknob when I hear his voice through the door. “Hurry up, my girlfriend will be here soon.” I freeze. “You need to leave.” Who is he talking to? The question barely forms before the door flies open and a girl rushes out, nearly colliding with me. My breath hitches. She gasps, her eyes wide with a mix of panic and shame. In the sliver of a second before she bolts, I take in her messy red hair, wrinkled shirt, and unbuttoned jeans. A sickening masculine scent, one I recognize very well, clings to her. My gaze snaps to Bryan, who is standing in the middle of the room in nothing but his boxers, his own chest bare, and his hair tousled. A cold, sharp shiver runs down my spine, stealing the air from my lungs. My knees go weak, and the knot in my stomach turns to a solid block of ice. Without a word, the girl tears past me, disappearing down the hallway. My fingers begin to tremble, and my heart hammers so hard it feels like it will burst through my ribs. I stumble back, a bitter taste rising in my throat. “Baby, wait.” Bryan’s voice follows me as he steps into the hallway. I spin around and run, determined to put as much distance as I can between us, my chest burning with anger. He catches me, his hands clamping around my wrist before I can escape, spinning me back toward him and blocking my path. "Baby, let's talk.” "Let go of me," I snap, my voice shaking. "Don't touch me!" I shove against his chest, but he doesn't budge. He tugs me toward his room, his grip tight. "It's better if we go inside. Everyone can hear us out here." Inside, I shove him away, my chest rising and falling with quick breaths. I want to demand answers, but I already know the truth. The evidence is everywhere: in the rumpled sheets, the scent of her perfume, and the desperate, guilty look in his eyes. He paces the room, running a hand through his hair before stopping and grabbing my shoulder. "I messed up, okay?" He drags a hand over his face. "It was a mistake.” My eyes twitch. “A mistake?” “Yeah, baby," he says, his eyes skittering away from mine. "Some of the guys came over last night. We drank too much. I got so shit-faced I… I thought she was you. I don't even remember half of it.” I blink, unable to process his words. My mind stumbles over them, each syllable making less sense than the last. Did he really just say that? Does he actually expect me to believe this pathetic lie? I stare at him, my mouth slightly open, waiting for him to take the words back. But he doesn't. He just holds my gaze, searching my face as if he's trying to see if I'm stupid enough to swallow his bucket of lies. “You… you thought she was me?” I choke out in anger. “Are you actually serious right now?” “Yes, baby, I'm serious. I didn't mean it. It was a mistake," he insists. "And honestly, she came on to me first. How was I supposed to resist when I was drunk? Come on, you know I love you.” A bitter laugh escapes my lips. "Cheating is one thing, Bryan," I snap, taking a step toward him, "but thinking I'm stupid enough to believe your lies? That's a whole other level.” “Katy, you’re overreacting,” he states, his voice growing colder. “Jasper and Hannah had the same kind of problems, and they worked it out. Why can’t you be more like her?” I feel heat flare through me. “Overreacting?” I yell. “Fourteen months, Bryan! Fourteen months of promises, and you’ve broken every single one! And you have the nerve to tell me I’m overreacting?!” He scoffs, his mask finally dropping. "Promises? You really want to bring that up?" I recoil. "What do you mean by that?" He crosses his arms and steps toward me. "You want to talk about promises? Fine. Let's talk about it." He jabs a finger in my face, his eyes darkening. "You promised your schedule would never affect us. How's that working out? Every damn day, you're busy. Debate, magazines, some lame club! You put everything else before me.” “That’s not—” I start, but he cuts me off. “I play sports, and I still make time for you!” he yells, and I flinch. “You know what? This is your fault!” He jabs my shoulder again. “This happened because of you, not me. You!” I step back, rage crawling up my spine. Never in a million years did I imagine that the person I had loved and trusted for a whole year could be like this—twisting the truth, blaming me, acting as if I were at fault. “You are a coward, Bryan.” I whisper, lifting my head to meet his eyes. “That’s what you are. Blaming me, twisting everything, and calling it my fault? I’m done.” I dash to his desk, sending papers and books tumbling to the floor as I hunt for my textbook. I need to get out of here before my anger takes over, before I do something I will regret. “You act like there’s someone better out there. There isn’t, and there won’t ever be.” He sneers from behind me. “Nobody else will ever make you feel alive the way I do.” I pause, staring up at him. He steps closer, his voice rising as he repeats his claim. “You were nobody before me, Katy. I made you popular. You walk into a room, and people know your name because of me. Bryan Cooper.” Something inside me snaps. I close the distance between us, breathing against his face. "You will never speak to me again," I hiss. "And mark my words, you will be replaced by someone hotter, smarter, and better than you could ever be. I yank the couple necklace he gave me off my neck and fling it at his feet. Without another word, I storm out with my textbook, tears burning my eyes. I managed not to cry in front of him, but as I run down the stairs, the dam finally burst. I collapse against the side of the building, clutching my chest as sobs tear out of me. It feels like someone has ripped my heart away and shredded it into a million pieces. Our memories and moments fill my mind, stabbing me over and over. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fumble to answer it, my hands shaking. “Katy?”My brother’s voice floats through. “Yeah?” I sniffle, wiping my tears. “Don’t forget you promised to tutor Braydon after class today,” he says, sounding annoyed. “He’s already bugging me.” I bite my lip, wanting to tell him I can’t right now, not in this state, but I had promised to help his friend. I exhale, pushing back the lump in my throat, and slowly rise to my feet. “Okay,” I manage to say. Chapter 002 BRAYDON’S POV “Asshole!” I shout, the words ripping from my throat as some guy cuts me off. I slam my hand against the steering wheel, throwing a glare in the rearview mirror, even though I know he can’t see me. Perfect. Just perfect. I’m particularly in a bad mood today. Hell, I’ve been in a bad mood all week. Nothing seems to go right, and every little thing is just… another straw on the camel’s back. And it’s all because my old man’s ultimatum keeps gnawing at me. “Pass all your courses, or forget about hockey.” His voice drills into my skull. Simple, right? Like I could just flip a switch and make it happen. I can rock Cs in most of my courses, well, except in Marketing Management and Business Ethics. If I fail those, there’s no graduation, no hockey, and worse, Bryan gets his hands on my mom’s company. That’s exactly what he and his mother have been scheming for, and I’ll be damned if I let them take what my mom built with her own sweat and blood. The thought gnaws at me, making me want to punch something, and I can’t hold in the audible groan that escapes my throat. I pull into my apartment lot and kill the engine. For a moment, I sit there, gripping the wheel and staring at myself in the rearview mirror. “You got this,” I tell myself. I can do it. Lucky for me, Justin’s kid sister, Katy, is a genius. All I need is a few sessions with her, I’ll keep my grades, and hockey stays mine. That’s the plan, the smart plan. But right now, I need something to distract me before I lose it. I nod, shove the door open, and head for my building. I slow as I near my door, spotting someone leaning against the frame. Her head lifts, eyes locking with mine, and a smirk curls her lips. Stacy. Exactly the distraction I ordered. I’d shot her a text twenty minutes ago, but didn’t think she’d make it so quickly. Guess not. She’s in nothing but a jacket and lacy tights. And when a girl waits at your door dressed like that, you know damn well there’s nothing underneath. “Took you long enough.” She shoots me a sexy smile that says I’m about to forget all about my bad day. My gaze drags over her as I slip the key into the lock. “Is that all for me?” Her eyes glitter. “Sure, big guy.” I’ve barely stepped inside before her manicured fingers trail across my chest. “How long has it been?” she purrs. “A long time,” I answer. Her smile widens as she shrugs out of her jacket, letting it pool on the floor. She gets on her knees and crooks a finger at me. "Come here.” I waste no time closing the distance between us. The world outside the door, the frustrations of the day, my father's ultimatum, my grades, all fade into a distant hum. She takes the waistband of my jeans, her fingers teasing the button open before tugging at my zipper. A second later, my cock springs free, a release I've been craving all day, and lands in her waiting hand. The feel of her fingers wrapping around me pulls a low groan from my throat. “Go on, suck it,” I rumble. On my command, she opens her mouth and wraps her lips around my length. **************��Two hours later, Stacy is snuggled up beside me, her head resting on my chest. She traces meaningless lines across my skin, a gesture of intimacy, but I don’t like the cuddly stuff. It makes me feel trapped. I slowly shift, dislodging her head, and search for my shorts on the floor. “You..” “I missed you,” she blurts, cutting me off. I spin, caught off guard for half a second before I reel it back in. The first thought that comes to mind is: Did she forget the rules? We first hooked up three months ago, and I was crystal clear about my boundaries.Things were easy because she was fine with a no-strings-attached arrangement. But now, I'm not so sure. It seems she's going to be like all the others, the ones who start wanting more after a few times. “I’ve been busy,” I mutter, dragging on my shorts. I can’t say I missed her, too, because that’ll only mess things up and lead her on. But the truth that she hadn't crossed my mind once since we last hooked up is too cold to say aloud. “I’m exhausted. Got morning practice.” I rub the back of my neck, hoping she takes the hint and leaves. But that’s far from what she has in my mind. “Are you really kicking me out minutes after we just—” her voice sharpens, “after we just had sex?” “Stacy, listen…” “Seriously, is this it? Is this all I am to you? We just hook up and that’s all?” She looks visibly upset now. “I thought we were clear about this," I reply, my voice firm. "From the very beginning, I told you I'm not looking for anything serious. No strings attached, just this.” Her fingers tremble as she snatches her jacket off the floor. "Well, I don't want to be your whenever-you-want girl anymore. I want to be your girlfriend." “You know that’s not happening.” I respond flatly. “But why?” She demands. "I don't have to explain myself and don’t act like I tricked you. You knew the deal from day one,” I tilt my head at the door. “If casual wasn’t your thing, you shouldn’t have agreed. Now do us both a favor and leave.” Her expression immediately softens, her eyes filling with a plea as she realizes I'm serious. "Big guy..." she croaks, her voice breaking. "I just… I just really like you. Can't you—" She lifts a hand to touch me, and I take a sharp step back. Her hand is left hanging in the air, and her eyes turn cold instantly again. The vulnerability is gone, replaced by a cutting anger. "Why exactly can't I be your girlfriend?" she asks, her voice hard. "What is it? Do you have a checklist I don’t measure up to?” I don't answer. I turn and stride out of the bedroom. She follows, her shoes thudding on the hardwood floor, but I ignore her. I pass the dining table, head straight for the fridge, and crack open a beer. She stops short, the anger in her body suddenly replaced with bewildered hurt. "So that's it? You're just going to grab a beer? You don't even care, do you?" I take a slow sip, not looking at her. "I thought we were clear. I don't." "I can be a good girlfriend!" she pleads, her voice rising. "I'm a great girlfriend. Just give me a chance." I shake my head. "I don't need a girlfriend." The words hang in the air for a moment before something in her breaks. She lets out a frustrated cry and yells, "Screw you!" She lunges for the front door, yanking it open. She dashes out and almost collides with a girl coming down the hall, a stack of books in her arms. The girl sidesteps to avoid being hit. It's Katy. Her tired gaze lands on Stacy, then drifts to me, her expression unreadable. Stacy gives her a slow once-over, then whips back to me with a sneer. “Really? I thought you had standards!” My mouth opens, ready to shut her down, but Katy beats me to it. “Relax. I’m not here to hook up with him. Unlike you, I actually have a purpose.” Both of us freeze. My brows lift, caught off guard. Stacy’s smirk falters, and for a split second, she looks like she’s been slapped. Chapter 003 KATY’S POV The redhead glares at me, her chest rising and falling like she’s trying to push the anger out in measured breaths. I wait for a retort, but she spares me only a cutting look, huffs at Braydon in dismissal, and storms off, muttering cusses to herself. I stare after her, gritting my teeth as irritation prickles my skin. What’s it with me and redheads today? First, with Bryan in the morning, and now, his brother. It seems they both have a type. A low chuckle from the doorway yanks my attention back. Braydon leans casually against the frame, an infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. His abs are on full display, golden against the light, every line impossible to ignore. “Didn’t think you had that in you, Peach.” I lift an eyebrow, a mix of annoyance and curiosity bubbling up inside me. "Peach?" He pushes off the door and takes a step closer, his hand reaching toward me. I recoil slightly, a shiver running down my spine despite myself, and his grin only widens. “Relax,” he says, tilting his head toward my chest. I glance down and there it is: a peach, drawn smack in the center of my shirt. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I can’t help but roll my eyes, letting out an amused scoff. I bulldoze past him into his living area. “Put on a shirt.” “Why?” His voice hums with amusement, even though I refuse to look at him. “Getting a little distracted by the view?” I spin around. “Ever heard of the word decency?” I snap. “It’s spelled—” “Hey, I can spell that. What do you take me for?” he cuts in, feigning annoyance, which somehow makes it even more irritating. He shuts the door and strolls over to the eat-in counter. A can of beer sits there, and before my eyes, he tilts it back and gulps down the entire thing in one smooth motion. “Is that alcohol?” I ask, fists clenching at my sides. He shoots me a strange look, eyes flicking to the now-squashed can in his hand. “It’s beer… so yes, I’m pretty sure it’s alcohol.” He tilts his head, his smirk creeping back. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smarter one?” Anger bubbles inside me. Did Justin not tell him I’m coming over? But no, Justin called me this morning to remind me. So, Braydon knows I’m here to tutor, not watch him get drunk. “You’re drinking on a night I’m supposed to tutor you?” I demand, my voice tight. He sighs dramatically and tosses the can in the trash. “Don’t be so peachy, Peach,” he says, his voice teasing. “It’s just one can and it’s not enough to knock me out. Besides… we can just get to know each other today. Justin definitely didn’t mention you’ve grown into a pretty woman.” I feel irritation crawl up my spine, and my lips twitch. My eyes dart to the door, tempted to leave, but then I remember Justin’s pleading and the one thousand dollars he promised for my new MacBook. I fix him with a death glare. “First of all, don’t call me Peach again. Second, have you considered that the reason you’re flunking your courses is that you flirt too much, and let’s not forget your unhealthy obsession with hockey? If you actually stop thinking about ways to flirt with me, maybe we can get something done tonight. But if you don’t, I’ll be more than happy to waste your time and watch you fail.” “Do you have friends?” he throws at me casually, catching me off guard. “Or have they all ghosted you because all you do is read and forget to socialize?” His words sting, bringing back the memory of what Bryan said to me this morning, but I swallow the hurt. “You must be so good at socializing that you forget other things matter.” I lift my book. “Oh, things like graduating from college.” His smirk widens, and I can see he’s taking this as a challenge. Is my insistence… kind of a kink for him? “Now, where’s your room? Let’s get started,” I add, keeping my voice calm. He leads the way to his room, and I follow, my eyes scanning the space as I enter. Posters of the Chicago Blackhawks cover the walls, along with a few other players I recognize from Justin’s room. Surprisingly, it’s cleaner than I expected, until my gaze lands on his bed. Bile rises in my throat. The sheets are scattered, and two empty condom wrappers lie on the floor. I bolt out, clutching my books, heat flooding my face. He follows, a look of amused surprise on his face, but I don’t slow down. “We’ll just read here,” I say, refusing to meet his eyes. I drop my books on the table, my hand aching from carrying them too long. Braydon prowls closer, shrinking the air between us “Why’d you run like that?” He asks. “Can’t handle being in the same room with me, Peach?” That damn nickname again. My patience frays. “You should clean up your room after sex, especially if you’ve got company. It’s called decency. Maybe you’ve heard of it, though clearly, you haven’t.” His fingers suddenly tilt my jaw, forcing my eyes to his. “Are you sure that’s the only reason? You know, I can make time for you.” That’s it. I’ve had enough. Heat floods my chest as I snatch my books off the table and storm toward the door. “Find someone else!” I yell. He catches my arm, trying to stop me, but I yank hard against his grip. I will not sit through two hours of his shameless flirting, not today. Not after the day I’ve had. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay?” Braydon’s voice softens as he pleads. “Get your hands off me.” I twist, trying to shake him loose. “I’ll behave, alright?” he rushes out. “I’ll put on a shirt, stop calling you Peach, never say another word you don’t like. Just, please, tutor me. I’m desperate.” I whirl around, ready to snap that he doesn’t act desperate enough, when my pocket starts buzzing nonstop. With a huff, I yank my phone out, half-expecting one of my study group members. But no, it’s Bryan. My stomach knots as I click the notification. Instead of apologies like I imagined for a second, my screen is filled with vile messages from him. My throat burns as my eyes lock on one message that makes the rest blur away. ~~BRYAN: Return my baseball jacket. My new girl wants it.~~ Everything else fades as hot anger sears through me. I read the line twice, but the words don’t change. He wants me to return his baseball jacket? And not just that, he already has a new girl, less than twelve hours after we broke up. My jaw clenches so tight it aches. He’s doing this to rile me up, and goddamn, it’s working. If I don’t hit back, he wins. The memory of him sneering that I’d never find someone better than him scorches me deeply. “Hey…” A tap on my shoulder jolts me, and Braydon’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Did you hear a word I said? I said I’ll do anything you want. Anything.” My head jerks toward him, and it takes a moment to recollect myself, his last word lingering in my mind. Anything you want. The words replay like a chant, and suddenly my mind is crawling with ideas that shouldn’t be there. My gaze rakes down his frame and back up, and he catches it, brows pulling together in confusion. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it, but the thought is so damn tempting. Braydon Cooper, the campus golden boy and star forward of the hockey team. He’s the guy girls would do anything to be seen with, and guys hate him because he can take their girlfriends with a smile. He might be a player, but everyone knows he’s picky. Ruthlessly picky. So much so that girls brag if they even make it into his bed. Just being seen with him is enough to boost your social status overnight. You get invitations to events just because you’ve caught the eye of Braydon Cooper. And right now, he’s standing in front of me, saying anything I want. He’s perfect for my revenge plan. Not just because of who he is, but because he’s Bryan’s brother. What better way to grind Bryan’s inflated ego to dust than to show him his so-called replaceable ex is on the arm of his hotter and better brother? I turn to face Braydon fully, heat prickling under my skin. “You’ll do anything?” I ask, watching him closely. He studies me, uncertainty flickering in his eyes for the first time since I walked in. Still, he nods. “Yeah.” I take a slow breath, steadying the heat in my voice. “Then here’s the deal. I’ll tutor you, and not just enough for you to pass. You’ll ace your classes, every single one of them, with at least a B. That’s my part.” He narrows his eyes, waiting. “And yours?” “In return,” I say, “you’ll use your charm, your connections, your golden-boy reputation to pursue me publicly. We’ll build a high-profile relationship and everyone will see us.” Chapter 004 KATY’S POV “What?” Braydon stares at me like I’ve just sprouted two heads. “I said that—” “Yeah, I got you.” He cuts in, stepping closer as if to read my face better. “You’re asking me to play boyfriend?” I lick my lips before answering, my pulse hammering. “Yes.” He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sorry to disappoint you, Peach, but dating isn’t my thing. Anything but that.” The sting hurts more than I expected, disappointment slicing through me. I exhale slowly, biting my lip. I’ve heard his no-dating rule before, but dismissed it as just another line to make himself more desirable. But now… the way he shuts me down makes me wonder if he’s actually serious enough to walk away from an offer like this. I clear my throat, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Think about it. Midterms are in four weeks, and it’s a major part of our final grade. If you want to pass, you need time with me, and that’s a month to prepare. This is a win-win deal.” “Uh-uh.” He flicks his hand. “I’ll pass. There has to be something else you want. I mean…” His smirk resurfaces. “I didn’t take you for one of my fangirls.” I roll my eyes, glaring at him. “I’m not interested in you. And I’ve never harbored some secret crush on you.” “Really?” He cuts in, his tone edged with disbelief. “So why? I mean… aren’t you still with Bryan or something?” “You should’ve remembered that before flirting with me,” I snap back. My chest heaves once, and I force myself to calm. It takes everything in me to push out the words. “Bryan and I broke up.” His face doesn’t change, not even a hint of sympathy. He also doesn’t look like he’s about to say an empty sorry to hear that. Instead, he cocks an eyebrow. “So what? Trying to use me as your rebound?” The urge to scream at him burns in my throat, but I bite it back. I’m negotiating, and I need this deal. Swallowing hard feels like impaling myself as I admit the truth. “He cheated on me.” That gets him. His expression shifts, the teasing dropping from his face. His eyes darken, a flash of anger sparking there. “That son of a bitch.” “It’s fine,” I choke out, though it’s not. “I just… I want to prove him wrong. He said I can’t find someone better than him. But—” I shrug, forcing the resignation into my voice. “I guess your rule is your rule.” I turn, feigning surrender, pretending to walk away even though part of me is begging for him to stop me. “Wait!” His voice rings out just as my hand grazes the door. My lips twitch into a smile, but I force it down, schooling my face into something neutral as I turn back to him. Braydon drags a hand through his hair, and I know he’s thinking. And honestly, I don’t blame him. I already know how explosive it’ll be once the news spreads. Justin will definitely flip out, and everyone will have their eyes glued to my life like it’s their favorite show. Frankly, the only good thing to come out of this is that Bryan will absolutely lose his shit. “You’ll really help me ace my courses?” he finally asks, his gaze locking with mine. I nod. “Yeah. But that depends on how convincing you are as my boyfriend.” His brow furrows. “What does that even mean?” “It means people have to believe we’re dating,” I say evenly. A smirk tugs at his lips. “That’s gonna be a hard sell, considering my track record.” I suck in a breath, my patience thinning. “Do you really want to graduate, or not?” He nods his head, shooting me a mock glare. “You’re so annoying.” “Then do we have a deal?” I press, refusing to back down. He stays quiet, the silence stretching long enough for me to second-guess everything. Then he sighs. “We’ve got a deal.” I almost squeal, but I bite it back hard. He actually agreed. I can’t believe I pulled this off. And suddenly, the weight of it sinks in…this is huge. In the history of Cadston College, I’m his first girlfriend. First. Which makes it not just a win, but a direct slap in Bryan’s face. Another point on the scoreboard for me. “Thank you,” I say, setting my books down before my hands can shake. “I hope you’ll be a great girlfriend,” he replies smoothly, that tone of mischief back in his voice. “Because I’ll give this my all. Quick notice though, I’m a handsy guy.” His teasing is back, but this time, when our eyes lock, I can’t fire back like I usually do. The air shifts between us, heavy and charged. My throat tightens, and I look away, scratching at my arm like that can distract me. It doesn’t. If anything, it only makes me more aware of how close he is. “Ummm…let’s talk about the rules.” I manage to say. “What rules?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer as his hand lands on my shoulder, tugging me a little closer. I go stiff instantly, every nerve locking up. His frown deepens. “You can’t freeze up when I touch you if we’re going to sell this dating thing.” A spark of alarm shoots through me. “And why would you even touch me?” He tilts his head, one brow arching. “Because, Peach, I’m supposed to be your boyfriend.” My throat tightens. “Can’t you convince people without touching me?” I counter, heat crawling up my neck. “We can…hold hands sometimes.” “Are you really that shy?” His lips twitch. “What, was your relationship with Bryan PG-12 or something?” “No,” I snap before I can stop myself. My voice falters, then steadies again as I lift my chin. “We had sex plenty of times. And yeah, there was PDA. Difference is, he was actually my boyfriend.” He steps closer, and with a maddening slowness, pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. My skin burns at the contact. “We just made a deal, Peach,” he says softly. “And the way I see it, that makes you my girlfriend now. If we’re gonna convince Bryan, we don’t get to half-ass it. He can smell bullshit a mile away so we do what real couples do.” The room feels like it’s closing in, the air too thick, my heartbeat too loud. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. If I want Bryan to choke on this, I have to play the part. I nod, forcing the words out. “Maybe…we should practice holding hands and some physical stuff. Just to make it natural.” He almost laughs but reins it in, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Practice, huh? Okay, Peach. Let’s practice.” He guides me stiffly to the couch and sits beside me. Then he extends his hand, and my throat dries. Slowly, I reach out and take it. The moment our skin touches, a zap of electricity shoots through me, and I yank my hand back. He feels it too, and I can tell because he doesn’t tease me. Instead, he licks his lips. “Let’s try again. Extend your hand.” I swallow, shove my hand forward, and he takes it. His fingers weave through mine, and my heart slams against my ribs, so loud it feels impossible he can’t hear it. His gaze lingers on me as he strokes the back of my hand with his thumb, and shivers ripple down my spine. Why does something as simple as holding his hand make me feel this way? “See?” he murmurs. “It’s not that hard.” I nod quickly, pretending the heat in my belly isn’t getting worse with every second. He shifts closer, his shoulder brushing mine, and his scent floods my senses. “Now,” he says, his voice dropping, “next on the list of physical contact is kissing.” Chapter 005 KATY’S POV I rip my hand away, glaring at him, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Are you out of your mind?” He snorts. “Do you, or do you not, want Bryan to believe we’re dating?” My jaw drops in outrage. “What does that have to do with my lips?” He shakes his head like I’m hopeless. “What do you think relationships are? Study groups? Business meetings?” He leans closer, and I instinctively lean back, my heart racing. “Men are physical beings and I’m the most physical of all. Bryan knows that. If he notices I’m not all over you, we’ve got a problem. And we don’t want problems, do we?” I bite my lip and look away, my brain spiraling. Maybe I should find someone else for this fake-dating nonsense, because his suggestions are ridiculous. He makes me react in ways I don’t understand, and now I’m actually considering kissing him. Him, of all people. No. I cross my arms and face him. “This isn’t a game. It’s fake dating, and I am not kissing you.” He leans back, unfazed. “Okay, then what do you suggest we do when we’re out? Bars, my hockey games…” I blink. “Wait, bars? I have to go with you to bars? Why?” He lifts a brow like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because that’s what girlfriends do.” Oh, this is already too much. The thought of hanging out with his friends, who I’m sure are just as loud and cocky as he is, makes my stomach turn. “Trust me, Peach,” he says with that maddening grin, “if you show up on my arm at a bar, Bryan will lose his mind. You’ve got to do things with me you’d never do with him, or he’ll never buy it.” I narrow my eyes. “And what exactly happens at this bar?” “We have fun, grab a couple drinks, and I introduce you as my girlfriend…” His grin widens. “Oh, and heads up? Half the girls there will probably want to kill you.” I roll my eyes, though I can’t deny it makes sense. Going out with him and stepping into his world will convince anyone we’re together. Bryan especially. He knows I hate loud places, so if he hears I went to a bar with Braydon, he’ll lose it. “Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll go.” “And at least one home game,” he adds quickly. I sigh. “That too.” “And you’ll wear my jacket around campus.” I give him a tight nod. “But no kissing. If you want that, call the redhead.” His lips curve. “Why don’t you want to kiss me? Scared you’re bad at it?” I scowl. “I’m a great kisser!” “Yeah?” He leans in, close enough for my breath to catch. My heart skips, heat curling low in my stomach. “Then prove it.” “Why do I have to prove anything to you?” I snap, though my palms are slick with sweat. “I know I’m a good kisser. End of story.” His tilts his head. “I see fear in your eyes. Don’t worry, I get it.” “Wh—” The sound sputters out of me. He’s unbelievable. “Why would I be scared to kiss you?” He shakes his head slowly, like he’s humoring me. “A lot of people freeze up when—” “Fine!” The word rips out of me before I can stop it. “Let’s do it.” For a second, his eyes widen, shock flickering there before it melts into a smile. His green eyes darken, heat sparking in them or maybe it’s just me burning up. My hands tremble against my thighs, and my whole body feels like it’s caught fire. This cannot be happening. Except it is, because he leans in and closes the gap between us. Our knees brush, and it feels like sparks shooting through me. My hand lifts almost on its own, my fingers brushing his cheek and my thumb traces along his jawline. His eyes catch the light, and I swear I can see the rapid flutter of his pulse in his throat. Slowly, I tilt forward until my lips press against his. The instant they touch, heat floods through me, racing from my mouth down the length of my body. My skin prickles, every nerve coming alive with a low pull in my stomach that I can’t control. He tastes faintly of beer as his tongue slides in my mouth, but somehow it’s addictive, like I’ve never tasted it before. For a moment, I forget everything: where we are, why we’re doing this, and even who I’m with. All I feel is heat rolling through me. And then reality slams back. I’m kissing Braydon. The last person I should ever be kissing. Panic claws at my chest, and I rip myself away, breathless. My face burns hot, my chest rising and falling too fast. From the corner of my eye, I catch him licking his lips, and I tighten my thighs. I should say something smart, but my throat is dry, and I don’t trust my voice not to give me away. My palms are damp, so I rub them against my jeans, praying he won’t point out how rattled I am. “Well,” he drawls at last, his eyes locked on me, “I guess we have chemistry. We’ve got nothing to worry about.” I force myself to look at him, but the heat in his gaze is too much, and I turn away almost instantly. “Is that so?” I laugh nervously, rubbing my arms. “Then I guess we’re done here.” I spring to my feet, gathering my things, but before I can escape, his hand closes around my wrist. My breath catches as I glance down at him. “There’s one more thing,” he says. “Wh…what?” My voice trips over itself. “The way you look at me.” I’m sure my chin is red now because I feel all the blood in my body rush to my face. How do I look at him? How? “What do you mean?” I manage to ask, barely above a whisper. “You need to look at me like you’re in love,” he says. Relief flickers through me when I realize he’s still talking about our act, not me. But then his fingers lift, tilting my chin toward him, and my throat goes dry. My gaze drops to his lips, and panic surges. “I think I’m good,” I blurt, stumbling back. Clutching my books to my chest, I make for the door before I can completely fall apart. Chapter 006 KATY’S POV I slip into the lecture hall and sink into my usual seat, letting my bag drop beside me. My gaze flicks around the room before I can stop myself, and I scan the faces of everyone present. Of course, I already know Braydon’s schedule, so I know he shouldn’t be here. Still, I only exhale once I’m certain. It’s ironic, really. He’s supposed to be my fake boyfriend, and yet here I am, relieved he isn’t anywhere near me. And today is supposed to be our first day for everything we planned but my stomach is fluttering with nerves. The truth is that after last night, I need space, breathing room, and time to convince myself I’m not making a mistake by trusting him. I usually pride myself on making good choices. Safe ones. But with him, all my carefully built walls crumble, and wisdom evaporates. That’s how I end up doing things like kissing him like I want it and like I’m not supposed to remember it’s fake. Worse, I didn’t just kiss him, I melted and moaned into his mouth as if I couldn’t help myself. The memory sends a shiver racing down my spine, and I shift in my seat, wishing I could shake the feeling away. “Miss me?” a familiar voice teases in my ear. I jump, startled, before turning. Allie slides into the chair beside me, her smile bright and easy. Right on cue, our professor walks to the podium, but I barely notice him because I’m too busy staring at my best friend. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow,” I whisper, grinning as relief warms my chest. God, it feels good to see her. Allie isn’t just my roommate, she’s my anchor, and my sister in every way that matters. She’s been gone for days, celebrating her anniversary with her boyfriend, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed her until now. “So basically, you didn’t miss me,” she says, pulling out her notebook, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I missed you so much my entire life collapsed without you,” I whisper dramatically. She smothers a laugh. “Or maybe you were just having too much fun without me.” If only she knew. Fun is the last word I’d use for all the mess that happened. And I know she’s going to freak out when I tell her because I have to tell her. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it while she was away because I didn’t want to ruin her week. But now that she’s back? There’s no hiding and there’s too much to unpack. “I’ll tell you everything after class,” I whisper, flipping open my notebook. Her pen pauses midair, and she leans closer, her brows raised. “Now I’m anxious.” “After class,” I whisper back, forcing my attention to the podium. The professor’s voice drones on, but the words might as well be static. My heart is already racing, my palms damp against the notebook. Just the thought of telling Allie what happened makes me feel nauseous. She has the kind of relationship people dream about with a steady, loving boyfriend. Meanwhile, mine crashed and burned in the ugliest way possible. The contrast feels like holding up my mess beside her perfection, and part of me wants to swallow it down and never say a word. But I know I can’t. She’s my best friend. And if there’s anyone I can break in front of, it’s her. When the lecture finally ends, Allie wastes no time. She grabs my wrist and practically drags me outside, weaving through the crowd until we find a quiet corner. Her eyes are already wide, her whole body buzzing like she might explode if I make her wait a second longer. “Okay,” she says, hands on her hips. “Tell. Me. Everything.” I let out a shaky laugh, but it dies in my throat. “You think it’s some funny, messy story,” I murmur, staring down at my shoes. “But it’s not.” Her teasing smile slips slightly. “Then start wherever you can.” So I do. I tell Allie everything, starting with catching Bryan cheating and his mockery afterward, which pushed me into a fake relationship with Braydon. The words come out shakier than I expect, and by the time I finish, I feel wrung out. Allie just stares at me, her eyes so wide it almost makes me laugh if it didn’t hurt so much. For a long moment, she doesn’t say a word. Then she exhales slowly and pulls me straight into her arms. I sink into her hug, holding on tightly because God, I needed this. I haven’t even told Justin yet, so she’s only the second person to know, and somehow that makes me feel relieved. When she finally pulls back, her hands stay firm on my arms as she searches my face. “Are you okay?” she asks quietly. I nod, a small, self-conscious laugh escaping. “Yeah. I mean, I cried last night… and then cringed myself into secondhand embarrassment over my own actions with Braydon.” “I’m going to kill Bryan when I see him,” she grinds out. “How could he do that, and who does he even think he is?” I give a small shrug. “Guess you never really know someone, do you?” For a moment, the noise of the hallway swallows us before Allie leans closer until her shoulder brushes mine. “Okay, but…” she lowers her voice, her eyes practically gleaming, “are you one hundred percent serious about Braydon? Because if you are…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but her grin is trying to break through. I narrow my eyes at her. “Don’t you dare get excited.” But it’s too late because the sparkle in her gaze gives her away. She’s always been obsessed with Braydon and thinks he’s hotter than every lead in her comic books combined. Back in freshman year, she even ran his fan page before she started dating and reluctantly passed it on like she was handing over a crown. The way her eyes shine now, I can tell she’s trying to hide how thrilled she is at the drama. With a sigh, I dig out my phone and thrust it into her hands. “Here. Proof.” Her jaw drops the second she sees his name light up my screen. I watch her scan the texts he sent me last night while I was curled up on my bed, crying over everything, and also trying to convince myself our fake relationship wasn’t a bad idea because of the kiss. BRAYDON: Send me your schedule, Peach. ME: Don’t call me Peach. BRAYDON: Okay, send me your schedule, Princess. Allie slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes bouncing between my screen and my face. “Oh my God. You’re not joking.” “Why would I joke about that?” I mutter, trying not to laugh. “Does Justin know about this?” she presses. I shake my head, sighing. “No. And I don’t even know how to tell him.” She grins wickedly. “Girl, you are treading dangerous waters… but I fully support this.” I open my mouth to respond when a new notification flashes across my screen. “It’s Braydon,” Allie squeaks, clutching my arm. “Shhh,” I hiss, leaning down to read it. BRAYDON: Your schedule says library time at 12 p.m. Still on, Princess? I roll my eyes at his text. First it was Peach, now it’s Princess. What’s next, Queen of the Universe? I turn to complain, but Allie is practically glowing, her face lit up like Christmas as she stares at my phone. “Really?” I scoff. “You have a boyfriend and you’re drooling over another guy.” She shakes her head. “I hate to be this kind of best friend, but you’re literally texting Braydon. Braydon!” She repeats it like she wants it to get inside my head. “Do you know what that is?” I stare down at my phone. It’s not like he’s Justin Bieber or something. “He’s a normal guy and my brother’s friend,” I say. She slaps her forehead. “Do you realize you’re his first girlfriend ever, and he doesn’t do relationships?” I’m about to laugh her off when a sight snatches the sound out of my mouth. My chest tightens as my gaze snags on a figure across the quad, and my body feels like it’s being pricked with thorns as I stare. Allie follows my gaze to Bryan, who’s walking slowly a few meters away with his arm wrapped around a girl’s shoulder. A girl, different from the redhead he was with yesterday. I force my gaze away and swallow, hoping it soothes the heat rising inside me, but it doesn’t. It hurts, and I’m scared to admit how much it does. Chapter 007 KATY’S POV The library is unusually packed today as if people know what’s coming. Every table is filled with groups cramming for midterms, laptops glowing, and coffee cups balanced on notebooks. I try to keep my eyes on the book in front of me, but the words blur together as I read the same line three times. My body also feels restless because any moment now, Braydon will walk in, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for the attention that will follow. After seeing Bryan with that girl, though, every hesitation I had about this arrangement with Braydon vanished. He didn’t just cheat, but also made a spectacle out of it. And as if doing that wasn’t enough, he had to parade someone else around campus like a trophy. But if he wants to go low, then fine. I’ll go lower. All the way down. I glance down at my wristwatch, trying to calm the pounding in my chest. “Where is—” “It’s Braydon Cooper.” Someone at the next table half-whispers, and squeals at the same time. My head lifts on instinct, and there he is, walking down the row of tables like he owns the place. Even in a library full of stressed-out students, he’s impossible to miss. Conversations dip, pages stop turning, and a few phones tilt in his direction as he heads straight for my table. He stops in front of me, his green eyes locking on mine. “Hey, Peach.” “You’re here,” I whisper, tearing my gaze away before anyone can see the heat creeping into my cheeks. He pulls out a chair and drops into the seat beside me, earning a chorus of gasps from nearby tables. I can’t tell if people are shocked to see him in the library because let’s be real, this is probably his first time here, or if it’s because he chose to sit with me. Either way, the attention is loud, and it’s exactly what we planned. “Reading without me?” he teases, leaning closer and his fingers brush a strand of hair behind my ear like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I feel so hurt.” I lick my lips, trying to keep my cool. He told me from the start he’s a handsy guy, and I agreed I’d play along. So yeah, I’ll be the girl who acts unbothered by the campus heartthrob touching her in the middle of the library, even if my pulse clearly didn’t get the memo. “We both know you hate reading,” I tell him, forcing a smile that feels way too charming. “And please don’t touch me out of nowhere. Give me a heads-up.” He leans in closer, and I almost jerk back but catch myself just in time. “I thought we went through this.” He whispers, then pulls out a can of Coke from his pocket, setting it in front of me. “I didn’t know if you preferred coffee or soda.” The gesture is simple, but it sends the room into overdrive. Whispers ripple from the aisles, and I catch people peeking from behind the shelves, pretending to browse while very obviously staring. Seriously? What’s their deal? Yeah, Braydon’s a star on the hockey team and will probably go pro after college, but they’re acting like he’s already a celebrity or in the NHL. Well… I shouldn’t complain. The faster the news reaches Bryan, the better. “Thanks, Bray,” I manage, the word strangling me on its way out. He cringes. “Bray? That’s the best you’ve got?” I bite my lip, mortified. What am I even supposed to call him? Bryan and I never did nicknames, and we were on a first-name or baby basis. And there is no universe where I’m calling Braydon baby. He sighs, clearly over my struggle, then grabs my wrist and tugs me to my feet. Before I can react, he’s pulling me between two shelves into a quiet corner, away from all the eyes burning holes into us. “Are you really this stiff?” he asks, caging me in against the wall. “Bray? Really?” I glance around, making sure no one’s watching, before muttering, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to call you. Bray’s not that bad.” He scoffs. “Out of thousands of options, you go with Bray? Try something better. Maybe… Big guy.” “Big guy?” I arch a brow. He nods smugly, gesturing to himself like the answer is obvious. My eyes betray me, running over him before I can stop. And fine, he’s not wrong. He’s all man, from the broad chest stretching his shirt to the long legs and fingers that make him seem even bigger in the cramped space. I snap myself out of it before my gaze drifts lower, folding my arms across my chest to put some distance between us. Not that it helps because he’s close enough that one wrong move and we’ll be pressed together. “I’m not calling you Big Guy,” I tell him flatly. “But I’ll come up with something… nicer.” “And it has to be before Zach’s party,” he shoots back. “Zach’s party?” I narrow my eyes. “Who the hell is Zach, and why are you suddenly bringing him into this?” I can tell where this is heading, and yeah, I hate it already. “Because we’re going to that party,” he says. I shake my head. “Nope, that’s not happening. We agreed on bars and one home game. That’s it. Nothing about frat houses, or parties.” “Zach’s our goalie,” he says, like that alone should settle the argument. “And there’s no way I’m missing his birthday bash.” “Then go alone.” He smirks, leaning closer. “That’d be weird… when I’ve got a hot girlfriend I’m supposed to show off.” My heart does that annoying thump-thump thing, but it’s not nearly enough to change my mind. Loud parties are the last place I want to be. They drag up memories I’ve spent years trying to bury, and a part of me I don’t let anyone near. Agreeing to bars was already pushing it, but this? This is a hard no. “I’m not going,” I say again, firmer this time. “Bryan isn’t going to figure it out just because I’m not glued to your side twenty-four-seven.” “Peach, it’s just—” “No.” The word scrapes out harsher than I intend, but I don’t care. His persistence grates on me, mostly because I can see where this is going. He’ll keep pressing, trying to dig into the reason I avoid places like that, but I don’t talk about it. Not now. Not ever. “I don’t know why—” he starts, only to stop when a girl sidles up to the shelf beside us. She isn’t fooling anyone by pretending to look at books, because her ears are all wide. I paste on a sweet smile and reach up, pretending to adjust Braydon’s collar. “Hold still,” I murmur. He raises a brow but quickly plays along, sliding his hand around my waist and tugging me against him. Now we’re chest-to-chest, close enough that my pulse skips in protest. The girl lingers a second too long before finally moving on. “Why can’t people just mind their business?” I mutter, tugging at his collar one last time before dropping my hand. He stays rooted to the spot, staring at me like he’s trying to figure me out. The silence stretches long enough to make me shift on my feet. “People are going to start talking about us,” he finally says, shrugging out of his jacket. “I know you hate loud places for some reason you won’t tell me, but everyone’s gonna be at that party. If you really want to prove him wrong, that’s the best night.” I open my mouth, ready to argue, but before I can get a word out, he presses his hockey jacket into my hands. Then, with a quick, almost disarming softness, he taps my chin with his knuckles. “I’ll see you tonight.” And just like that, he strides out, leaving me staring down at the jacket clutched in my grip.
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Design skills make everything better — your slides, your ideas, your work.
Design skills make everything better — your slides, your ideas, your work.
Design skills make everything better — your slides, your ideas, your work.
The Divorce The small law office smelled faintly of dust and old paper. A flickering lamp in the corner gave off a weak, tired glow, casting shadows across the stacks of files lining the shelves. I sat across from Mr. Ricci, an older man with sharp glasses and sharper instincts. “You’re sure about this, Mrs. Russo?” he asked quietly, hands folded over the folder in front of him. The name sounded strange, like it belonged to someone else. “Yes,” I said, my voice steady even though my pulse wasn’t. “I want the divorce filed quietly. I don’t want my husband or his people knowing until everything’s finalized.” Ricci gave me a long, measuring look, but he didn’t question me further. Instead, he slid the paperwork towards me. “You’ll need his signature on these.” I nodded, slipping the papers into my leather folder. When I came back to the Russo mansion, it felt too quiet. The guards at the gate didn't even spare me a second glance as I walked in. No one here paid me any attention now that I was reduced to the side piece in my own marriage. And the worst part? The worst part was my husband didn't even care. Knowing he would be in the study, I moved towards it and was proven right when Alessia's laughter tinkled out through the half open door. These days, where Alessia was, my husband wasn't too far away. "—so funny," Alessia, my husband's childhood best friend, who was back in the city after her divorce was saying. "I know, I'm the best," came Dominic's reply, his tone the most casual and relaxed I'd ever heard it be. On instinct, I opened the study door all the way through and stepped inside. Dominic Russo froze with his whisky glass halfway to his mouth as he looked at me standing in the doorway, his smile dropping at once. "Oh, hey, Isabella! You're back from your studio already?" Alessia said, her perfectly painted lips pulling into a broad smile as she looked at me. I simply nodded in reply, but Alessia carried on the conversation before I could so much as open my mouth to speak. "That's great. I was just telling Dominic how he hasn't lost his sense of humour. It's the same as when we were kids," she said, chuckling and oh so casually running her hand along his arm as she did so. Dominic didn't say anything, didn't push her away like I so desparately wanted him to. He just quietly sipped on his whiskey, like there was nothing wrong with a woman who wasn't his wife to be practically sitting on his lap and touching him almost intimately like they were lovers. I looked away, unable to see the two of them so close. And sense of humour, huh? He hadn't ever so much as cracked a joke with me in all our three years of marriage. Yet here he was, making another woman laugh with his words. "Right. I just needed you to sign a few documents for me," I said, swallowing past the lump in my throat and pulling out the divorce papers from my bag. I quickly flipped to the page I wanted him to sign before placing it on the table in front of him. "What's this?" Dominic asked, frowning at the papers. "It's just a safety liability form for a new project I'm going to be starting soon for a company," I said, sliding the papers across the polished wooden desk towards him. "I need you to sign it, since you're my only family now," I explained. The truth sat heavy between us. My parents had died when I was seventeen in a freak car accident. Dominic's father, the Don of the Russo family at the time, had taken me under his wing because my father had worked for him for years. "Let me just have a look," Dominic muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pulled the papers towards him. My heart dropped to my stomach. Normally, he didn't read anything. Every paper related to my work I'd ever given to him, he had signed without a second glance. Why today? Why now? If he read what was written on those papers— "Oh, Dom," Alessia chuckled. "You're being too serious. It's just a formality. You know how many of those we have to fulfill on a daily basis. Just get it done and over with." As heiress to the Moretti enterprises, close business partners of the Russo family, Alessia had moved effortlessly in Dominic's world since her return almost a year back. They were always together now—at galas, public events, casino backrooms where deals got made. Everywhere Dominic went, Alessia was by his side, complimenting his tailor made tuxedos with her designer dresses. Dominic hesitated for a moment before picking up a pen and signing with a flourish, the same way he signed deals and death warrants. I quickly grabbed the papers from the desk before he could turn to the front page and read 'DIVORCE PETITION', written in bold across the front. I turned and walked out before either of them could see my hands shake. I was free. I clutched the divorce papers in my hand tightly as I walked upstairs to our room. The ink on the paper was barely dry, but our marriage had been over long before now. Though, it hadn't always been like this between us. There was a time when Dominic could barely keep his hands off of me. A time when he would pull me into dark hallways to steal passionate kisses in the middle of a family gathering. Now, he barely acknowledged my existence. Dominic was everything a woman shouldn't want—cold, ruthless, and dangerous. At only twenty six, he had taken over nearly half his father's business with his sharp wit, ruthless decisions and iron clad control. The media called him a young entrepreneur, but the streets knew better. I'd always kept my distance from him, never crossing paths unless it was absolutely necessary. Until that night three years ago that changed everything between us. He came home late at night, covered in someone else's blood, while I was at the kitchen counter patching up my own knife wound—courtesy of one of his father's men who thought the boss' charity case was easy prey. Dominic helped patch me up, offering me more than just some first aid in return. He offered to marry me that night. A marriage of convenience, a business arrangement so to speak. Protection for me, and legitimacy for him. I agreed on a whim, and we got married a week later. He wasn't particularly romantic, but the physical attraction between us burned brighter than anything I'd felt before. He fell in love with my body, while I ended up falling in love with all of him. I had almost convinced myself that I could, some day, make him love me back, too. But all my illusions shattered like broken glass when Alessia Moretti came back into our lives, and his late night meetings doubled. Suddenly, she was everywhere. In his meetings. In his car. In his study. Last month at Luigi's proved it. Luigi's is an Italian restaurant owned by Dominic where we were supposed to have a romantic dinner for our three year marriage anniversary. I waited five hours for Dominic to show up, until his right hand man Eduardo came with pity in his eyes and a diamond necklace in his hands— an apology from Dominic for not being able to make it because of some 'urgent business matter'. The 'urgent business matter' ended up being a gala he had attended with Alessia by his side—something I'd seen in the gossip column of the tabloids next morning. That was when I'd started planning my exit. I couldn't stay here all my life, waiting for scraps of affection from a man who clearly didn't give a damn about me. I quietly placed the divorce papers in the deepest corner of my closet where no one but me could reach them. This was going to be my ticket to freedom in a month. No more cages. No more pretending. Dominic could keep his business. His life. His Alessia. I refused to be the half forgotten side piece in my own marriage. Hope I had finalized the divorce already, now it was time for the next step. Two days later, I met with the HR director of a luxury design firm based in Florence. They had been following my work for months, impressed by my portfolio and my knack for creating bespoke interiors that balanced elegance with practicality. “We’d be lucky to have you,” the director had said with a warm smile. “The position is yours if you want it. Start date is flexible, but we’d like you in Florence within the next two months.” I accepted without hesitation. Finally, I was going to live a life that belonged to me. Later that day, I sat in the room I'd converted to my home studio of sorts, a quiet place to work at on days I didn't feel like going to my studio in the city, or for when inspiration struck late at night. The first box I packed was hidden beneath layers of fabric swatches and old sketchbooks in there. It wasn't much-just framed photographs, my mother's necklace, and a single pair of well-worn ballet shoes I hadn't danced in for years-but even touching those things felt dangerous, like I was smuggling contraband out of enemy territory. Every day, I packed a little more. Quietly. Slowly. Because no one could know I was leaving. Not until I was gone. Three days later, Dominic came into the home studio unannounced. "Didn't know you still hid out here," came his voice from behind me, startling me. I turned around to see him leaning against the doorframe, his lips turned into a rare half smile. "It's the only place where no one bothers me," I replied, half teasing. "Even me?" I arched an eyebrow. "Especially you." It was light banter, almost flirtatious, and for a moment I caught a flicker of something in his eyes-something that made my heartbeat hitch. "Come with me," he said suddenly. "Where?" "Dinner. Just us. No business, no interruptions." I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. We made it as far as the front hall before Alessia appeared, silk blouse immaculate, tablet in hand. "Dom, you need to see this," she said, breezing past me as though I didn't exist. "Santoro's shipment got held up in Naples. If we don't-" "It can wait," Dominic cut in, voice cool. "No, it really can't." Alessia held out the tablet, and Dominic hesitated only a fraction of a second before taking it. I watched his attention shift, watched Alessia step closer than necessary, lowering her voice just enough to draw him in. The dinner plan died right there in the hallway. It wasn't the last time. Every attempt I made to find some semblance of closeness-whether it was breakfast on the terrace, a drive out to the vineyards, even a late-night conversation in bed-Alessia always seemed to appear. Sometimes it was a phone call Dominic "had to take." Sometimes it was urgent paperwork she "couldn't wait to deliver." And Dominic never sent her away. My resolve hardened with every intrusion. I threw all my focus into packing quietly, being careful to take just enough to get me by for a few months, but not enough to raise any suspicions. A week later, I sat in the master bedroom of the Russo mansion, contemplating how life was going to be out there in a completely new city. It was going to be hard in the beginning, for sure. Should I stay? Should I give him—give us—another chance? Maybe if I talked to Dominic about Alessia's behaviour making me uncomfortable, he would listen to me? Things would change between us? It was her who was always interrupting us, right? Maybe if he knew how I felt about it, he wouldn't entertain her as much? My thoughts were interrupted by a dull ache low in my stomach. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt off—fatigue, nausea, headaches—but I’d blamed it on stress. Still, the idea nagged at me until I finally drove myself to the pharmacy, bought a test, and locked myself in the bathroom. Five minutes later, I sat on the cool tile floor, staring at the two pink lines as though they’d been written in fire. Pregnant. Pregnant with Dominic Russo’s child. Stupidly enough first reaction wasn’t fear—it was hope. And I hated myself for it. Hated myself for thinking that maybe, finally, this was the bridge that could pull us closer together. Maybe a child would be the spark that softened Dominic’s walls, that made him see me—not just as a convenient wife or physical outlet, but as someone who could be his partner. It had to soften him up to me, hadn't it? A child was a huge deal, after all. He wouldn't be heartless enough to not care about me when I was carrying his child, right? For the first time in months, I felt hopeful. Maybe, I wouldn't have to leave after all. Maybe, we could start anew, like a real family this time. Filled with a renewed hope, I waited for Dominic to come home. I dressed in soft cream silk, my hair loose, my hands trembling slightly as I set two glasses of wine on the table before realizing I couldn’t drink. I poured myself water instead. Dominic came in late, still on the phone, loosening his tie with one hand as he barked orders to someone on the other end. My stomach flipped with nerves. “Dominic,” I said quietly once he hung up. He gave me a quick glance. “Yeah?” “I… I have something to tell you.” His brows lifted, impatient. “What is it?” “I’m pregnant.” The words felt fragile in the air, as though they might shatter if I spoke too loudly. Dominic froze. For a moment, I swore I saw something flash in his eyes—surprise, maybe even wonder—but it was gone in an instant, replaced by guarded calculation. “You’re what?” “Pregnant,” I repeated, my heart pounding. “We’re going to have a baby.” Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Finally, Dominic exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Isabella… you’re on the pill.” “Nothing is one hundred percent effective,” I whispered, my voice cracking under his tone. He paced for a moment, jaw tight. “You planned this?” “What? No!” I burst out, unable to believe what he was saying. No, no, no. This was not how I had imagined this conversation going. Why wasn't he happy? Why wasn't he being kind and supportive? “Because it sure as hell feels like you’re trying to tie me down with a kid I didn’t ask for.” The words slammed into me like a blow, and I staggered back a few steps. “Dominic,” I said softly, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, “it’s our child.” “This isn’t the right time,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket again. "There's a lot going on with Santoro. With the upcoming deal with them. This…” He gestured vaguely towards my stomach, “This just complicates things.” “So what do you want me to do?” I asked, both dreading what he would say next, and willing for him to say it to my face. If he rejected his own child, our child—this little life we had created together, it would be the last straw. I would never in my life hope for anything positive with him. He didn’t answer right away, and that pause told me all I needed to know. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat. “You should think about your options.” The tears didn’t come until long after Dominic left the room, slamming the door behind him. I had never thought that he would push me away like this even after finding out that we were going to have a baby together. Gone were the days when he would kiss me just because, trace his fingers over my spine when I slept, thinking I was asleep. Now, he was nothing but cold, and heartless when it came to me. He treated me like a business deal he couldn't wait to wash his hands off now. I'd always known that that was the kind of man he was deep down, but stupidly enough, I'd hoped that he would change for me. How pathetic. I sat on the edge of the bed, both hands cradling my stomach, and whispered to the tiny life inside me: “Don’t worry, baby. Even if he doesn’t want us, I do. And I promise, I'm going to take you far, far away from this place.” Unspoken Things Dominic's POV I wasn't a man who missed details. I could spot a lie in the flicker of an eye, a betrayal in a half-beat pause over dinner. So how had I missed this? I stood at the doorway of our bedroom, arms folded, watching Isabella silently fold clothes into neat stacks. Not designer dresses she wore for events, not the cocktail gowns that hugged her curves the way I liked. No, these were soft knits, linen shirts—things she used for travel. "Going somewhere?" I asked, keeping my tone carefully neutral. Isabella startled slightly, but she didn't look up. "Just... reorganizing." I frowned. There was something in the way she kept her back half-turned toward me, as though she was shielding something I couldn't see. Over the past two weeks, she had become quieter. Not cold exactly—but withdrawn, guarded. Our conversations stayed polite, even warm at times, but lacked the sharp edge of our earlier fights. I almost preferred the fights. At least then, she met me head-on. Now, it felt like she was retreating behind walls I hadn't even noticed her building. "Isabella," I said, walking closer. "What's going on?" She stilled for a heartbeat, then set down the shirt she was folding and faced me with a smile that was a touch too calm. "Nothing's going on, Dominic. Why do you ask?" I didn't believe her. But I didn't know what I was accusing her of, either. Later that night, I found her in the garden, sitting on the stone bench with her hands absentmindedly resting over her stomach. My gaze drifted there before I could stop it. She was carrying my child. Our child. I'd confirmed with the family gynaecologist she'd met with the day after she'd told me she was pregnant. According to her, Isabella was roughly ten weeks along. Which meant she had concieved the last time we had had sex. I knew she had decided to keep the baby. I, however, was yet to decide how I felt about it. I had too many enemies looking for a weakness to strike on right now. And a child would be the biggest weakness of all. I didn't think it was a good idea to have a child at a time like this. "You should be resting," I said to her instead, leaning against the column. "I am resting," she replied without looking at me. There was no bite in her tone, but there was no softness either. "Isabella..." I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair. "If you're upset about what I said the other night-" She turned sharply, her eyes glinting even in the dim light. "Which part? The one where you accused me of trying to trap you? Or the part where you told me to think about my options?" I clenched my jaw. I'd been stressed because of work. And I'd taken it out on her. "I didn't mean-" "You meant every word, Dominic." She rose from the bench, brushing past me as though she couldn't stand to be there one more second. I stayed in the garden long after she left, my chest tight with something uncomfortably close to guilt. But instead of recognizing the emotion, I shoved it down, like I did with every single thing when it came to her. She was just angry. Hurt, maybe. Acting out for attention. I had bigger things to deal with than a wife trying to manipulate me with silence. Besides, it wasn’t like I was a cruel man. Okay, I was, but not to her. I provided for her—more than most women could dream of. Security, wealth, protection. She never wanted for anything material. I let her work, unlike other made men. I even let her have her own studio to work at however she pleased, both in the city and at home. And Alessia. She had always been a constant. She understood the business, the blood, the sacrifices. She could anticipate my decisions before I made them. She could spar with me in strategy without needing explanation. I often felt that Isabella thought of Alessia as a threat. But Alessia wasn’t a threat to anyone—she was an ally, one I needed in order to keep our empire intact. With a few important deals falling through and feds sniffing around, our family hadn't exactly been in a safe place when Alessia came back from Italy a year back. Everything had seemed good on the surface, but only I knew the struggles behind the scenes. I could've turned to my father for help, sure, but I didn't think it was wise to do so with his failing health, and already fragile heart. It was with the help of Alessia, and her father's business, that I'd been able to pull my shit together enough to keep us afloat. Alessia understood all that and had stayed by me through the thick of it. Best of all, she didn't complain, didn't nag, didn't expect me to do things I didn't have the time to. But Isabella didn't seem to understand any of that. What did she want from me, really? To sit in bed and whisper sweet words when there were wars to be fought? To hold her hand when my enemies were plotting to bury us both? I didn’t have time for that. Not yet. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Isabella. In fact, there were moments I admired her—her quiet resilience, the softness in her voice when she spoke with staff, the warmth in her smile when she thought no one was looking. But admiration was a luxury, and I didn’t live on luxuries. I lived on necessity. And necessity meant prioritizing the business. Prioritizing survival. Isabella would understand, one day, when things were calmer. When the smoke cleared, when Alessia and the others no longer had to sit at my side through every meeting, every negotiation. I would have the time then. For now, she needed to be patient. To trust me. But instead, she was folding travel clothes. Speaking with an edge in her voice. Acting as though I had failed her, when I had given her everything that mattered. I sighed, staring out into the night, the weight of a thousand unspoken things pressing against my chest. I lit a cigarette to calm my nerves. I wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t be wrong. Could I? The Vow Finally, it was time. After Dominic had rejected me, and our child, squashing all my hopes of reconciliation, I had quietly bided my time, waiting for a month to be over. I had rehearsed my departure so many times it felt like muscle memory now. I had moved everything I would need—which wasn't much, really—in small stacks from the Russo Mansion to my studio so no one would be suspicious. I didn't think anyone cared much about what I did or didn't do in this grand palace of a house, but I hadn't taken any risks, especially now that a child was involved as well. All my things would be shipped along with my studio supplies this morning, and the flight to Florence was booked for tonight. My assistant at the studio had arranged it all for me, believing I was simply relocating for work. Only I knew that I wasn't coming back. I'd already informed the HR head at my new job in Florence about my unexpected pregnancy, and they had been more than accommodating about it. Such kindness from strangers I was yet to meet in person when I hadn't recieved even an ounce of it at the place I called home had brought tears to my eyes. Not only had it made me emotional, but it had also cemented my decision to leave even more. I'd rather be somewhere I was valued and cared for than here, where I volleyed between a nobody, or an inconvenience. I double-checked the handbag I had readied to take with me: passport, medical file, appointment slip from my gynaecologist, the sonogram I hadn't shown anyone. I had barely slept. My escape plan was a fragile secret stitched together with trembling hands and whispered prayers. This morning, I was supposed to visit my gynecologist. Afterwards, I’d take a cab straight to the airport. From there, me and my child—our child—would vanish. I had already gotten my copy of the final divorce certificate yesterday, and had arranged for Dominic's copy to be mailed to him with a deliberate delay of three days after my departure. With a quiet sigh, I smoothed down my dress, and picked up my bag. Time to go. I hadn't expected, or wanted to see Dominic before leaving the Russo Mansion for the last time in my life. But when I walked down the stairs, he was sitting in the living room, dark suit immaculate, sipping coffee as though nothing in the world could touch him. His composure always left me breathless, once in awe, now in anguish. Though surprisingly enough, Alessia wasn't clinging to him today. Even though I'd mentally prepared for the possibility of seeing him, my heart still stuttered in my chest as he gave me a slow once over. “You’re dressed early,” Dominic noted, eyes narrowing at my simple dress. “Where are you going?” “The doctor,” I said evenly, with practiced ease, hand brushing over my stomach instinctively. “I have an appointment.” His gaze flicked downward, then back up, unreadable. “You’re still entertaining this idea?” His tone was too casual, too sharp. “Isabella, I told you before… think about what this means. A child, in our world, is leverage. A weakness.” My throat tightened. “A weakness? He’s our child, Dominic.” He set down his cup with deliberate care. “Don’t be naïve. This is not the right time for a baby. I already have a lot of enemies breathing down my neck right now. An heir paints a target on your back, too. On his back. I’ve seen what happens.” I shook my head. What was he talking about? He was an heir to his father's empire, too, wasn't he? He had taken over their business from his father when his health declined, had he not? And he was fine— clearly alive, well protected. So, why couldn't our child be protected the same way? What a pathetic excuse for not wanting a kid. My voice trembled, but I forced it to be steady. “So what? You want me to—” His jaw ticked. “I’m telling you, end it before someone else ends it for you. Because if you don’t, Isabella—” I froze. “If I don’t, what?” I challenged, my heart thundering in my chest. The silence between us stretched, suffocating. His eyes darkened, and the next words slipped out, low, cold, stripped of softness. “Then you’ll force my hand.” Blood rushed to my ears. The room spun. He hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t struck me. But the words sliced deeper than any blow. I heard nothing beyond them. The threat was clear as day. My chest hollowed. The air burned in my lungs. “You’d… kill me?” I whispered. His expression flickered, as though he hadn’t meant it the way I took it. But he didn’t take it back either. And that was worse. Something inside me fractured cleanly. I left without another word, the sound of the door slamming behind me echoing like a final vow. Leaving wasn't just a necessity now, it was a means to survival. The car ride to the hospital was a blur. I pressed trembling hands over my belly the entire way to the hospital, whispering to my unborn child promises I wasn’t sure I could keep. Inside the hospital, I met briefly with Dr. Marinelli, discussing vitamins, flight precautions, and early genetic tests. I left the office feeling much lighter than when I'd entered it. Every step I took out of the hospital felt closer to freedom. I was halfway to the car when the world ripped apart. The engine of my waiting car ignited in a sudden roar of fire, and everything around me turned to smoke and ash. The explosion flung me backward. Screams filled the street. Medics rushed to the scene from behind me. Heat licked my skin as I scrambled to my feet, terror thundering in my veins. I stared at the burning shell of the car, realization dawning with ice-cold clarity as I watched someone pull a charred body out. It was him. Dominic. He had done this. It had to be. Dominic had warned me. Threatened me. If I didn’t obey, he’d force my hand. He hadn't denied when I'd accused him of wanting to kill me. And now this. My heart clenched painfully in my chest. My baby. My sweet, innocent child. Dominic had tried to kill not only me, but our child, too. An innocent life that had done nothing to harm him. There was no going back from this. I staggered to the street corner, flagged down a bus with shaking hands, and boarded without looking back. My things were already shipped, my new life already waiting. Florence. A new name. A new future. And a vow carved into my soul: I would never return. Not to him. Not to this life. Not after this betrayal. His Return 5 years later "Mamma, faster!" Mateo's laughter rang through the sunny apartment as he sprinted across the living room, bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. I pretended to chase him, catching him just before he could duck under the table. I scooped him up, spinning him around until he squealed with delight. His curls bounced into his eyes—Dominic's eyes—and for a moment, I froze, my chest tightening with an ache I thought I'd long buried. I kissed my son's forehead, forcing the memory away. "Alright, alright. Time to calm down, little hurricane. Mamma has work." Work. The word meant something different now than it had five years ago. No longer was I just an employee with something to prove. I was now Signora Bianchi, Director of Curation and Exhibitions—a respected leader in the Florence arts scene, sought after for my innovative ideas. My colleagues had become my friends, my family. They knew me as a single mother who had made her life from scratch, and they admired me for it. None of them knew the truth. That morning, I was halfway through sorting the final list for an upcoming joint exhibition when Chiara knocked on my door, looking pleased but slightly tense. "Isa, do you have a minute?" "Of course." Chiara closed the door and sat across from me. "We've been offered a huge partnership, an international sponsor for the Renaissance Reborn project. It'll open doors for all of us. Funding, recognition, press. But..." My pen stilled mid-note. "But what?" "The sponsor is the Russo Group." The name hit me like a fist to the gut. Chiara continued, oblivious to my rigid posture. "The CEO himself is flying in for the final negotiations from New York. We'll need our head of curation at the table. Which means you." I stared at her blankly, heart pounding so loudly I barely heard anything else. "Isa? You alright?" I forced a smile, thin and shaky. "Yes. Of course. Just... surprised. I didn't know the Russo Group dealt with projects like that." Chiara nodded. "They only started a few years back. But they'll be a good start to take our business international, you know? The kind of connections they have is just what we need." I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around the information I'd just gotten. When Chiara left, I sat frozen, fingers clenched around my pen until it snapped in two. When I'd left New York City behind five years ago, I had never thought that I'd run into Dominic ever again. Let alone think that I'd ever have to work with him closely. However, I couldn't say no to Chiara. Even though she was my senior here at work, she had never let me feel that way. I still remembered the first time I'd stepped foot into Florence. Chiara was the one who had sent her own personal assistant, Luca, to get me from the airport and help me settle into my new apartment which was fully furnished with everything I would need. Not only had Luca helped me settle in, he had also stocked the house with groceries and other essentials so I didn't have to go out right away. He had even come to pick me up for work the next day, introducing me to everyone at the office as if he were my own personal assistant. I had felt more welcomed here on my first day than I'd felt my entire life at the Russo Mansion. And when I'd gotten three dinner invites by the time the first day ended, I knew I'd made the perfect decision to leave a place I was clearly neither welcome nor required at and come here to Florence instead. "Florence takes care of it's people," Chiara had told me while I was having dinner with her and a few other colleagues to celebrate my first day at work. And she'd been right, in a way. It wasn't Florence exactly who had taken care of me, but it's people. When my baby bump had started showing, my neighbour from down the hall, Ms Giardiano, an old Italian lady who lived alone, made sure to come check on me every other day. She would bring me nutritious home cooked meals so I wouldn't have to cook for myself after coming home from work. 📖 The story gets hotter—click "Download" to read the uncensored chapters! 👇
The difference between using AI and mastering it? About 12,000 projects. Superside's world-class talent and AI-first systems give you a shortcut to add creative, video, landing pages, and the strategic direction that ties it all together. | The difference between using AI and mastering it? About 12,000 projects. Superside's world-class talent and AI-first systems give you a shortcut to add creative, video, landing pages, and the strategic direction that ties it all together.
Design skills make everything better — your slides, your ideas, your work.
The difference between using AI and mastering it? About 12,000 projects. Superside's world-class talent and AI-first systems give you a shortcut to add creative, video, landing pages, and the strategic direction that ties it all together. | The difference between using AI and mastering it? About 12,000 projects. Superside's world-class talent and AI-first systems give you a shortcut to add creative, video, landing pages, and the strategic direction that ties it all together.
The difference between using AI and mastering it? About 12,000 projects. Superside's world-class talent and AI-first systems give you a shortcut to add creative, video, landing pages, and the strategic direction that ties it all together. | The difference between using AI and mastering it? About 12,000 projects. Superside's world-class talent and AI-first systems give you a shortcut to add creative, video, landing pages, and the strategic direction that ties it all together.
The difference between using AI and mastering it? About 12,000 projects. Superside's world-class talent and AI-first systems give you a shortcut to add creative, video, landing pages, and the strategic direction that ties it all together. | The difference between using AI and mastering it? About 12,000 projects. Superside's world-class talent and AI-first systems give you a shortcut to add creative, video, landing pages, and the strategic direction that ties it all together.
The difference between using AI and mastering it? About 12,000 projects. Superside's world-class talent and AI-first systems give you a shortcut to add creative, video, landing pages, and the strategic direction that ties it all together. | The difference between using AI and mastering it? About 12,000 projects. Superside's world-class talent and AI-first systems give you a shortcut to add creative, video, landing pages, and the strategic direction that ties it all together.
Learn to start any conversation, sound confident, and connect with anyone – in just 10 minutes a day ✨
Learn to start any conversation, sound confident, and connect with anyone – in just 10 minutes a day ✨
"I woke up with my ex’s brother still buried inside me—and the bast@rd was smiling. “What the hell? Get out of me!” I punched him in the chest, but he just held me tighter against the mattress. “Shh. You’re the one who climbed on top of me last night, begging for it,” his thumb traced my lower lip. “And now you want to play the victim?” Before I could answer, the bedroom door shook with a violent bang. “KATY. OPEN THE FKING DOOR.” My ex’s roar made the walls shake. ""I know you’re in there with him!"" I froze. My heart was pounding against my ribs. Braydon didn’t even flinch. Instead, he grabbed my hips and thrvst into me again—so deep I had to bite my lip until it bled to keep from making a sound. “Let me go!” I hissed, struggling to get him off me. He flipped me over in one fluid motion, trapping me beneath his weight. “Where do you think you’re going, Peach? You wanted revenge, didn’t you? Well, let him hear exactly what you did with his brother.” Another blow. The wood creaked. “I’m going to kill you both!” Braydon let out a dark laugh against my ear. “Well, you’d better hold on tight.” He rammed into me again. Harder this time. On purpose. A moan escaped my throat before I could stop it. I should have been terrified. Humiliated. Instead, my body arched on its own, seeking the next thrust. He tightened his grip on my waist. “That’s good,” he murmured. “Let him hear.”" --- Chapter 001 KATY’S POV “Hey, I’m heading over now. Can you bring out the books I left?” I press send and shove my phone into my jacket pocket as Bryan’s townhouse comes into view, my steps automatically quickening. I have Statistics in thirty minutes, and Mrs. Tompson would rather swallow a jean jacket than let me walk into her class without my textbook, the same textbook I managed to leave lying around in my boyfriend’s room. As I walk faster, I recheck my phone, half expecting a reply, but there’s nothing. Not even a typing bubble. For a moment, I wonder if he has already left, but it‘s unlikely. It’s only 9:30 in the morning, and Bryan never leaves his room early. One of the perks of being a baseball player is that he doesn’t have to treat academics like life or death the way I do. I reach his townhouse and take the stairs two at a time, my purse bouncing against my hip. The higher I climb, the more rushed my breathing feels, though it has less to do with the stairs and more to do with this creeping frustration that he still hasn’t texted back. By the time I get to the third floor, where his room is, I’m already picturing walking in and tossing a sarcastic comment about how hard it is to answer a simple text. My hand reaches for his doorknob when I hear his voice through the door. “Hurry up, my girlfriend will be here soon.” I freeze. “You need to leave.” Who is he talking to? The question barely forms before the door flies open and a girl rushes out, nearly colliding with me. My breath hitches. She gasps, her eyes wide with a mix of panic and shame. In the sliver of a second before she bolts, I take in her messy red hair, wrinkled shirt, and unbuttoned jeans. A sickening masculine scent, one I recognize very well, clings to her. My gaze snaps to Bryan, who is standing in the middle of the room in nothing but his boxers, his own chest bare, and his hair tousled. A cold, sharp shiver runs down my spine, stealing the air from my lungs. My knees go weak, and the knot in my stomach turns to a solid block of ice. Without a word, the girl tears past me, disappearing down the hallway. My fingers begin to tremble, and my heart hammers so hard it feels like it will burst through my ribs. I stumble back, a bitter taste rising in my throat. “Baby, wait.” Bryan’s voice follows me as he steps into the hallway. I spin around and run, determined to put as much distance as I can between us, my chest burning with anger. He catches me, his hands clamping around my wrist before I can escape, spinning me back toward him and blocking my path. "Baby, let's talk.” "Let go of me," I snap, my voice shaking. "Don't touch me!" I shove against his chest, but he doesn't budge. He tugs me toward his room, his grip tight. "It's better if we go inside. Everyone can hear us out here." Inside, I shove him away, my chest rising and falling with quick breaths. I want to demand answers, but I already know the truth. The evidence is everywhere: in the rumpled sheets, the scent of her perfume, and the desperate, guilty look in his eyes. He paces the room, running a hand through his hair before stopping and grabbing my shoulder. "I messed up, okay?" He drags a hand over his face. "It was a mistake.” My eyes twitch. “A mistake?” “Yeah, baby," he says, his eyes skittering away from mine. "Some of the guys came over last night. We drank too much. I got so shit-faced I… I thought she was you. I don't even remember half of it.” I blink, unable to process his words. My mind stumbles over them, each syllable making less sense than the last. Did he really just say that? Does he actually expect me to believe this pathetic lie? I stare at him, my mouth slightly open, waiting for him to take the words back. But he doesn't. He just holds my gaze, searching my face as if he's trying to see if I'm stupid enough to swallow his bucket of lies. “You… you thought she was me?” I choke out in anger. “Are you actually serious right now?” “Yes, baby, I'm serious. I didn't mean it. It was a mistake," he insists. "And honestly, she came on to me first. How was I supposed to resist when I was drunk? Come on, you know I love you.” A bitter laugh escapes my lips. "Cheating is one thing, Bryan," I snap, taking a step toward him, "but thinking I'm stupid enough to believe your lies? That's a whole other level.” “Katy, you’re overreacting,” he states, his voice growing colder. “Jasper and Hannah had the same kind of problems, and they worked it out. Why can’t you be more like her?” I feel heat flare through me. “Overreacting?” I yell. “Fourteen months, Bryan! Fourteen months of promises, and you’ve broken every single one! And you have the nerve to tell me I’m overreacting?!” He scoffs, his mask finally dropping. "Promises? You really want to bring that up?" I recoil. "What do you mean by that?" He crosses his arms and steps toward me. "You want to talk about promises? Fine. Let's talk about it." He jabs a finger in my face, his eyes darkening. "You promised your schedule would never affect us. How's that working out? Every damn day, you're busy. Debate, magazines, some lame club! You put everything else before me.” “That’s not—” I start, but he cuts me off. “I play sports, and I still make time for you!” he yells, and I flinch. “You know what? This is your fault!” He jabs my shoulder again. “This happened because of you, not me. You!” I step back, rage crawling up my spine. Never in a million years did I imagine that the person I had loved and trusted for a whole year could be like this—twisting the truth, blaming me, acting as if I were at fault. “You are a coward, Bryan.” I whisper, lifting my head to meet his eyes. “That’s what you are. Blaming me, twisting everything, and calling it my fault? I’m done.” I dash to his desk, sending papers and books tumbling to the floor as I hunt for my textbook. I need to get out of here before my anger takes over, before I do something I will regret. “You act like there’s someone better out there. There isn’t, and there won’t ever be.” He sneers from behind me. “Nobody else will ever make you feel alive the way I do.” I pause, staring up at him. He steps closer, his voice rising as he repeats his claim. “You were nobody before me, Katy. I made you popular. You walk into a room, and people know your name because of me. Bryan Cooper.” Something inside me snaps. I close the distance between us, breathing against his face. "You will never speak to me again," I hiss. "And mark my words, you will be replaced by someone hotter, smarter, and better than you could ever be. I yank the couple necklace he gave me off my neck and fling it at his feet. Without another word, I storm out with my textbook, tears burning my eyes. I managed not to cry in front of him, but as I run down the stairs, the dam finally burst. I collapse against the side of the building, clutching my chest as sobs tear out of me. It feels like someone has ripped my heart away and shredded it into a million pieces. Our memories and moments fill my mind, stabbing me over and over. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fumble to answer it, my hands shaking. “Katy?”My brother’s voice floats through. “Yeah?” I sniffle, wiping my tears. “Don’t forget you promised to tutor Braydon after class today,” he says, sounding annoyed. “He’s already bugging me.” I bite my lip, wanting to tell him I can’t right now, not in this state, but I had promised to help his friend. I exhale, pushing back the lump in my throat, and slowly rise to my feet. “Okay,” I manage to say. Chapter 002 BRAYDON’S POV “Asshole!” I shout, the words ripping from my throat as some guy cuts me off. I slam my hand against the steering wheel, throwing a glare in the rearview mirror, even though I know he can’t see me. Perfect. Just perfect. I’m particularly in a bad mood today. Hell, I’ve been in a bad mood all week. Nothing seems to go right, and every little thing is just… another straw on the camel’s back. And it’s all because my old man’s ultimatum keeps gnawing at me. “Pass all your courses, or forget about hockey.” His voice drills into my skull. Simple, right? Like I could just flip a switch and make it happen. I can rock Cs in most of my courses, well, except in Marketing Management and Business Ethics. If I fail those, there’s no graduation, no hockey, and worse, Bryan gets his hands on my mom’s company. That’s exactly what he and his mother have been scheming for, and I’ll be damned if I let them take what my mom built with her own sweat and blood. The thought gnaws at me, making me want to punch something, and I can’t hold in the audible groan that escapes my throat. I pull into my apartment lot and kill the engine. For a moment, I sit there, gripping the wheel and staring at myself in the rearview mirror. “You got this,” I tell myself. I can do it. Lucky for me, Justin’s kid sister, Katy, is a genius. All I need is a few sessions with her, I’ll keep my grades, and hockey stays mine. That’s the plan, the smart plan. But right now, I need something to distract me before I lose it. I nod, shove the door open, and head for my building. I slow as I near my door, spotting someone leaning against the frame. Her head lifts, eyes locking with mine, and a smirk curls her lips. Stacy. Exactly the distraction I ordered. I’d shot her a text twenty minutes ago, but didn’t think she’d make it so quickly. Guess not. She’s in nothing but a jacket and lacy tights. And when a girl waits at your door dressed like that, you know damn well there’s nothing underneath. “Took you long enough.” She shoots me a sexy smile that says I’m about to forget all about my bad day. My gaze drags over her as I slip the key into the lock. “Is that all for me?” Her eyes glitter. “Sure, big guy.” I’ve barely stepped inside before her manicured fingers trail across my chest. “How long has it been?” she purrs. “A long time,” I answer. Her smile widens as she shrugs out of her jacket, letting it pool on the floor. She gets on her knees and crooks a finger at me. "Come here.” I waste no time closing the distance between us. The world outside the door, the frustrations of the day, my father's ultimatum, my grades, all fade into a distant hum. She takes the waistband of my jeans, her fingers teasing the button open before tugging at my zipper. A second later, my cock springs free, a release I've been craving all day, and lands in her waiting hand. The feel of her fingers wrapping around me pulls a low groan from my throat. “Go on, suck it,” I rumble. On my command, she opens her mouth and wraps her lips around my length. **************��Two hours later, Stacy is snuggled up beside me, her head resting on my chest. She traces meaningless lines across my skin, a gesture of intimacy, but I don’t like the cuddly stuff. It makes me feel trapped. I slowly shift, dislodging her head, and search for my shorts on the floor. “You..” “I missed you,” she blurts, cutting me off. I spin, caught off guard for half a second before I reel it back in. The first thought that comes to mind is: Did she forget the rules? We first hooked up three months ago, and I was crystal clear about my boundaries.Things were easy because she was fine with a no-strings-attached arrangement. But now, I'm not so sure. It seems she's going to be like all the others, the ones who start wanting more after a few times. “I’ve been busy,” I mutter, dragging on my shorts. I can’t say I missed her, too, because that’ll only mess things up and lead her on. But the truth that she hadn't crossed my mind once since we last hooked up is too cold to say aloud. “I’m exhausted. Got morning practice.” I rub the back of my neck, hoping she takes the hint and leaves. But that’s far from what she has in my mind. “Are you really kicking me out minutes after we just—” her voice sharpens, “after we just had sex?” “Stacy, listen…” “Seriously, is this it? Is this all I am to you? We just hook up and that’s all?” She looks visibly upset now. “I thought we were clear about this," I reply, my voice firm. "From the very beginning, I told you I'm not looking for anything serious. No strings attached, just this.” Her fingers tremble as she snatches her jacket off the floor. "Well, I don't want to be your whenever-you-want girl anymore. I want to be your girlfriend." “You know that’s not happening.” I respond flatly. “But why?” She demands. "I don't have to explain myself and don’t act like I tricked you. You knew the deal from day one,” I tilt my head at the door. “If casual wasn’t your thing, you shouldn’t have agreed. Now do us both a favor and leave.” Her expression immediately softens, her eyes filling with a plea as she realizes I'm serious. "Big guy..." she croaks, her voice breaking. "I just… I just really like you. Can't you—" She lifts a hand to touch me, and I take a sharp step back. Her hand is left hanging in the air, and her eyes turn cold instantly again. The vulnerability is gone, replaced by a cutting anger. "Why exactly can't I be your girlfriend?" she asks, her voice hard. "What is it? Do you have a checklist I don’t measure up to?” I don't answer. I turn and stride out of the bedroom. She follows, her shoes thudding on the hardwood floor, but I ignore her. I pass the dining table, head straight for the fridge, and crack open a beer. She stops short, the anger in her body suddenly replaced with bewildered hurt. "So that's it? You're just going to grab a beer? You don't even care, do you?" I take a slow sip, not looking at her. "I thought we were clear. I don't." "I can be a good girlfriend!" she pleads, her voice rising. "I'm a great girlfriend. Just give me a chance." I shake my head. "I don't need a girlfriend." The words hang in the air for a moment before something in her breaks. She lets out a frustrated cry and yells, "Screw you!" She lunges for the front door, yanking it open. She dashes out and almost collides with a girl coming down the hall, a stack of books in her arms. The girl sidesteps to avoid being hit. It's Katy. Her tired gaze lands on Stacy, then drifts to me, her expression unreadable. Stacy gives her a slow once-over, then whips back to me with a sneer. “Really? I thought you had standards!” My mouth opens, ready to shut her down, but Katy beats me to it. “Relax. I’m not here to hook up with him. Unlike you, I actually have a purpose.” Both of us freeze. My brows lift, caught off guard. Stacy’s smirk falters, and for a split second, she looks like she’s been slapped. Chapter 003 KATY’S POV The redhead glares at me, her chest rising and falling like she’s trying to push the anger out in measured breaths. I wait for a retort, but she spares me only a cutting look, huffs at Braydon in dismissal, and storms off, muttering cusses to herself. I stare after her, gritting my teeth as irritation prickles my skin. What’s it with me and redheads today? First, with Bryan in the morning, and now, his brother. It seems they both have a type. A low chuckle from the doorway yanks my attention back. Braydon leans casually against the frame, an infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. His abs are on full display, golden against the light, every line impossible to ignore. “Didn’t think you had that in you, Peach.” I lift an eyebrow, a mix of annoyance and curiosity bubbling up inside me. "Peach?" He pushes off the door and takes a step closer, his hand reaching toward me. I recoil slightly, a shiver running down my spine despite myself, and his grin only widens. “Relax,” he says, tilting his head toward my chest. I glance down and there it is: a peach, drawn smack in the center of my shirt. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I can’t help but roll my eyes, letting out an amused scoff. I bulldoze past him into his living area. “Put on a shirt.” “Why?” His voice hums with amusement, even though I refuse to look at him. “Getting a little distracted by the view?” I spin around. “Ever heard of the word decency?” I snap. “It’s spelled—” “Hey, I can spell that. What do you take me for?” he cuts in, feigning annoyance, which somehow makes it even more irritating. He shuts the door and strolls over to the eat-in counter. A can of beer sits there, and before my eyes, he tilts it back and gulps down the entire thing in one smooth motion. “Is that alcohol?” I ask, fists clenching at my sides. He shoots me a strange look, eyes flicking to the now-squashed can in his hand. “It’s beer… so yes, I’m pretty sure it’s alcohol.” He tilts his head, his smirk creeping back. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smarter one?” Anger bubbles inside me. Did Justin not tell him I’m coming over? But no, Justin called me this morning to remind me. So, Braydon knows I’m here to tutor, not watch him get drunk. “You’re drinking on a night I’m supposed to tutor you?” I demand, my voice tight. He sighs dramatically and tosses the can in the trash. “Don’t be so peachy, Peach,” he says, his voice teasing. “It’s just one can and it’s not enough to knock me out. Besides… we can just get to know each other today. Justin definitely didn’t mention you’ve grown into a pretty woman.” I feel irritation crawl up my spine, and my lips twitch. My eyes dart to the door, tempted to leave, but then I remember Justin’s pleading and the one thousand dollars he promised for my new MacBook. I fix him with a death glare. “First of all, don’t call me Peach again. Second, have you considered that the reason you’re flunking your courses is that you flirt too much, and let’s not forget your unhealthy obsession with hockey? If you actually stop thinking about ways to flirt with me, maybe we can get something done tonight. But if you don’t, I’ll be more than happy to waste your time and watch you fail.” “Do you have friends?” he throws at me casually, catching me off guard. “Or have they all ghosted you because all you do is read and forget to socialize?” His words sting, bringing back the memory of what Bryan said to me this morning, but I swallow the hurt. “You must be so good at socializing that you forget other things matter.” I lift my book. “Oh, things like graduating from college.” His smirk widens, and I can see he’s taking this as a challenge. Is my insistence… kind of a kink for him? “Now, where’s your room? Let’s get started,” I add, keeping my voice calm. He leads the way to his room, and I follow, my eyes scanning the space as I enter. Posters of the Chicago Blackhawks cover the walls, along with a few other players I recognize from Justin’s room. Surprisingly, it’s cleaner than I expected, until my gaze lands on his bed. Bile rises in my throat. The sheets are scattered, and two empty condom wrappers lie on the floor. I bolt out, clutching my books, heat flooding my face. He follows, a look of amused surprise on his face, but I don’t slow down. “We’ll just read here,” I say, refusing to meet his eyes. I drop my books on the table, my hand aching from carrying them too long. Braydon prowls closer, shrinking the air between us “Why’d you run like that?” He asks. “Can’t handle being in the same room with me, Peach?” That damn nickname again. My patience frays. “You should clean up your room after sex, especially if you’ve got company. It’s called decency. Maybe you’ve heard of it, though clearly, you haven’t.” His fingers suddenly tilt my jaw, forcing my eyes to his. “Are you sure that’s the only reason? You know, I can make time for you.” That’s it. I’ve had enough. Heat floods my chest as I snatch my books off the table and storm toward the door. “Find someone else!” I yell. He catches my arm, trying to stop me, but I yank hard against his grip. I will not sit through two hours of his shameless flirting, not today. Not after the day I’ve had. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay?” Braydon’s voice softens as he pleads. “Get your hands off me.” I twist, trying to shake him loose. “I’ll behave, alright?” he rushes out. “I’ll put on a shirt, stop calling you Peach, never say another word you don’t like. Just, please, tutor me. I’m desperate.” I whirl around, ready to snap that he doesn’t act desperate enough, when my pocket starts buzzing nonstop. With a huff, I yank my phone out, half-expecting one of my study group members. But no, it’s Bryan. My stomach knots as I click the notification. Instead of apologies like I imagined for a second, my screen is filled with vile messages from him. My throat burns as my eyes lock on one message that makes the rest blur away. ~~BRYAN: Return my baseball jacket. My new girl wants it.~~ Everything else fades as hot anger sears through me. I read the line twice, but the words don’t change. He wants me to return his baseball jacket? And not just that, he already has a new girl, less than twelve hours after we broke up. My jaw clenches so tight it aches. He’s doing this to rile me up, and goddamn, it’s working. If I don’t hit back, he wins. The memory of him sneering that I’d never find someone better than him scorches me deeply. “Hey…” A tap on my shoulder jolts me, and Braydon’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Did you hear a word I said? I said I’ll do anything you want. Anything.” My head jerks toward him, and it takes a moment to recollect myself, his last word lingering in my mind. Anything you want. The words replay like a chant, and suddenly my mind is crawling with ideas that shouldn’t be there. My gaze rakes down his frame and back up, and he catches it, brows pulling together in confusion. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it, but the thought is so damn tempting. Braydon Cooper, the campus golden boy and star forward of the hockey team. He’s the guy girls would do anything to be seen with, and guys hate him because he can take their girlfriends with a smile. He might be a player, but everyone knows he’s picky. Ruthlessly picky. So much so that girls brag if they even make it into his bed. Just being seen with him is enough to boost your social status overnight. You get invitations to events just because you’ve caught the eye of Braydon Cooper. And right now, he’s standing in front of me, saying anything I want. He’s perfect for my revenge plan. Not just because of who he is, but because he’s Bryan’s brother. What better way to grind Bryan’s inflated ego to dust than to show him his so-called replaceable ex is on the arm of his hotter and better brother? I turn to face Braydon fully, heat prickling under my skin. “You’ll do anything?” I ask, watching him closely. He studies me, uncertainty flickering in his eyes for the first time since I walked in. Still, he nods. “Yeah.” I take a slow breath, steadying the heat in my voice. “Then here’s the deal. I’ll tutor you, and not just enough for you to pass. You’ll ace your classes, every single one of them, with at least a B. That’s my part.” He narrows his eyes, waiting. “And yours?” “In return,” I say, “you’ll use your charm, your connections, your golden-boy reputation to pursue me publicly. We’ll build a high-profile relationship and everyone will see us.” Chapter 004 KATY’S POV “What?” Braydon stares at me like I’ve just sprouted two heads. “I said that—” “Yeah, I got you.” He cuts in, stepping closer as if to read my face better. “You’re asking me to play boyfriend?” I lick my lips before answering, my pulse hammering. “Yes.” He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sorry to disappoint you, Peach, but dating isn’t my thing. Anything but that.” The sting hurts more than I expected, disappointment slicing through me. I exhale slowly, biting my lip. I’ve heard his no-dating rule before, but dismissed it as just another line to make himself more desirable. But now… the way he shuts me down makes me wonder if he’s actually serious enough to walk away from an offer like this. I clear my throat, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Think about it. Midterms are in four weeks, and it’s a major part of our final grade. If you want to pass, you need time with me, and that’s a month to prepare. This is a win-win deal.” “Uh-uh.” He flicks his hand. “I’ll pass. There has to be something else you want. I mean…” His smirk resurfaces. “I didn’t take you for one of my fangirls.” I roll my eyes, glaring at him. “I’m not interested in you. And I’ve never harbored some secret crush on you.” “Really?” He cuts in, his tone edged with disbelief. “So why? I mean… aren’t you still with Bryan or something?” “You should’ve remembered that before flirting with me,” I snap back. My chest heaves once, and I force myself to calm. It takes everything in me to push out the words. “Bryan and I broke up.” His face doesn’t change, not even a hint of sympathy. He also doesn’t look like he’s about to say an empty sorry to hear that. Instead, he cocks an eyebrow. “So what? Trying to use me as your rebound?” The urge to scream at him burns in my throat, but I bite it back. I’m negotiating, and I need this deal. Swallowing hard feels like impaling myself as I admit the truth. “He cheated on me.” That gets him. His expression shifts, the teasing dropping from his face. His eyes darken, a flash of anger sparking there. “That son of a bitch.” “It’s fine,” I choke out, though it’s not. “I just… I want to prove him wrong. He said I can’t find someone better than him. But—” I shrug, forcing the resignation into my voice. “I guess your rule is your rule.” I turn, feigning surrender, pretending to walk away even though part of me is begging for him to stop me. “Wait!” His voice rings out just as my hand grazes the door. My lips twitch into a smile, but I force it down, schooling my face into something neutral as I turn back to him. Braydon drags a hand through his hair, and I know he’s thinking. And honestly, I don’t blame him. I already know how explosive it’ll be once the news spreads. Justin will definitely flip out, and everyone will have their eyes glued to my life like it’s their favorite show. Frankly, the only good thing to come out of this is that Bryan will absolutely lose his shit. “You’ll really help me ace my courses?” he finally asks, his gaze locking with mine. I nod. “Yeah. But that depends on how convincing you are as my boyfriend.” His brow furrows. “What does that even mean?” “It means people have to believe we’re dating,” I say evenly. A smirk tugs at his lips. “That’s gonna be a hard sell, considering my track record.” I suck in a breath, my patience thinning. “Do you really want to graduate, or not?” He nods his head, shooting me a mock glare. “You’re so annoying.” “Then do we have a deal?” I press, refusing to back down. He stays quiet, the silence stretching long enough for me to second-guess everything. Then he sighs. “We’ve got a deal.” I almost squeal, but I bite it back hard. He actually agreed. I can’t believe I pulled this off. And suddenly, the weight of it sinks in…this is huge. In the history of Cadston College, I’m his first girlfriend. First. Which makes it not just a win, but a direct slap in Bryan’s face. Another point on the scoreboard for me. “Thank you,” I say, setting my books down before my hands can shake. “I hope you’ll be a great girlfriend,” he replies smoothly, that tone of mischief back in his voice. “Because I’ll give this my all. Quick notice though, I’m a handsy guy.” His teasing is back, but this time, when our eyes lock, I can’t fire back like I usually do. The air shifts between us, heavy and charged. My throat tightens, and I look away, scratching at my arm like that can distract me. It doesn’t. If anything, it only makes me more aware of how close he is. “Ummm…let’s talk about the rules.” I manage to say. “What rules?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer as his hand lands on my shoulder, tugging me a little closer. I go stiff instantly, every nerve locking up. His frown deepens. “You can’t freeze up when I touch you if we’re going to sell this dating thing.” A spark of alarm shoots through me. “And why would you even touch me?” He tilts his head, one brow arching. “Because, Peach, I’m supposed to be your boyfriend.” My throat tightens. “Can’t you convince people without touching me?” I counter, heat crawling up my neck. “We can…hold hands sometimes.” “Are you really that shy?” His lips twitch. “What, was your relationship with Bryan PG-12 or something?” “No,” I snap before I can stop myself. My voice falters, then steadies again as I lift my chin. “We had sex plenty of times. And yeah, there was PDA. Difference is, he was actually my boyfriend.” He steps closer, and with a maddening slowness, pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. My skin burns at the contact. “We just made a deal, Peach,” he says softly. “And the way I see it, that makes you my girlfriend now. If we’re gonna convince Bryan, we don’t get to half-ass it. He can smell bullshit a mile away so we do what real couples do.” The room feels like it’s closing in, the air too thick, my heartbeat too loud. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. If I want Bryan to choke on this, I have to play the part. I nod, forcing the words out. “Maybe…we should practice holding hands and some physical stuff. Just to make it natural.” He almost laughs but reins it in, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Practice, huh? Okay, Peach. Let’s practice.” He guides me stiffly to the couch and sits beside me. Then he extends his hand, and my throat dries. Slowly, I reach out and take it. The moment our skin touches, a zap of electricity shoots through me, and I yank my hand back. He feels it too, and I can tell because he doesn’t tease me. Instead, he licks his lips. “Let’s try again. Extend your hand.” I swallow, shove my hand forward, and he takes it. His fingers weave through mine, and my heart slams against my ribs, so loud it feels impossible he can’t hear it. His gaze lingers on me as he strokes the back of my hand with his thumb, and shivers ripple down my spine. Why does something as simple as holding his hand make me feel this way? “See?” he murmurs. “It’s not that hard.” I nod quickly, pretending the heat in my belly isn’t getting worse with every second. He shifts closer, his shoulder brushing mine, and his scent floods my senses. “Now,” he says, his voice dropping, “next on the list of physical contact is kissing.” Chapter 005 KATY’S POV I rip my hand away, glaring at him, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Are you out of your mind?” He snorts. “Do you, or do you not, want Bryan to believe we’re dating?” My jaw drops in outrage. “What does that have to do with my lips?” He shakes his head like I’m hopeless. “What do you think relationships are? Study groups? Business meetings?” He leans closer, and I instinctively lean back, my heart racing. “Men are physical beings and I’m the most physical of all. Bryan knows that. If he notices I’m not all over you, we’ve got a problem. And we don’t want problems, do we?” I bite my lip and look away, my brain spiraling. Maybe I should find someone else for this fake-dating nonsense, because his suggestions are ridiculous. He makes me react in ways I don’t understand, and now I’m actually considering kissing him. Him, of all people. No. I cross my arms and face him. “This isn’t a game. It’s fake dating, and I am not kissing you.” He leans back, unfazed. “Okay, then what do you suggest we do when we’re out? Bars, my hockey games…” I blink. “Wait, bars? I have to go with you to bars? Why?” He lifts a brow like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because that’s what girlfriends do.” Oh, this is already too much. The thought of hanging out with his friends, who I’m sure are just as loud and cocky as he is, makes my stomach turn. “Trust me, Peach,” he says with that maddening grin, “if you show up on my arm at a bar, Bryan will lose his mind. You’ve got to do things with me you’d never do with him, or he’ll never buy it.” I narrow my eyes. “And what exactly happens at this bar?” “We have fun, grab a couple drinks, and I introduce you as my girlfriend…” His grin widens. “Oh, and heads up? Half the girls there will probably want to kill you.” I roll my eyes, though I can’t deny it makes sense. Going out with him and stepping into his world will convince anyone we’re together. Bryan especially. He knows I hate loud places, so if he hears I went to a bar with Braydon, he’ll lose it. “Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll go.” “And at least one home game,” he adds quickly. I sigh. “That too.” “And you’ll wear my jacket around campus.” I give him a tight nod. “But no kissing. If you want that, call the redhead.” His lips curve. “Why don’t you want to kiss me? Scared you’re bad at it?” I scowl. “I’m a great kisser!” “Yeah?” He leans in, close enough for my breath to catch. My heart skips, heat curling low in my stomach. “Then prove it.” “Why do I have to prove anything to you?” I snap, though my palms are slick with sweat. “I know I’m a good kisser. End of story.” His tilts his head. “I see fear in your eyes. Don’t worry, I get it.” “Wh—” The sound sputters out of me. He’s unbelievable. “Why would I be scared to kiss you?” He shakes his head slowly, like he’s humoring me. “A lot of people freeze up when—” “Fine!” The word rips out of me before I can stop it. “Let’s do it.” For a second, his eyes widen, shock flickering there before it melts into a smile. His green eyes darken, heat sparking in them or maybe it’s just me burning up. My hands tremble against my thighs, and my whole body feels like it’s caught fire. This cannot be happening. Except it is, because he leans in and closes the gap between us. Our knees brush, and it feels like sparks shooting through me. My hand lifts almost on its own, my fingers brushing his cheek and my thumb traces along his jawline. His eyes catch the light, and I swear I can see the rapid flutter of his pulse in his throat. Slowly, I tilt forward until my lips press against his. The instant they touch, heat floods through me, racing from my mouth down the length of my body. My skin prickles, every nerve coming alive with a low pull in my stomach that I can’t control. He tastes faintly of beer as his tongue slides in my mouth, but somehow it’s addictive, like I’ve never tasted it before. For a moment, I forget everything: where we are, why we’re doing this, and even who I’m with. All I feel is heat rolling through me. And then reality slams back. I’m kissing Braydon. The last person I should ever be kissing. Panic claws at my chest, and I rip myself away, breathless. My face burns hot, my chest rising and falling too fast. From the corner of my eye, I catch him licking his lips, and I tighten my thighs. I should say something smart, but my throat is dry, and I don’t trust my voice not to give me away. My palms are damp, so I rub them against my jeans, praying he won’t point out how rattled I am. “Well,” he drawls at last, his eyes locked on me, “I guess we have chemistry. We’ve got nothing to worry about.” I force myself to look at him, but the heat in his gaze is too much, and I turn away almost instantly. “Is that so?” I laugh nervously, rubbing my arms. “Then I guess we’re done here.” I spring to my feet, gathering my things, but before I can escape, his hand closes around my wrist. My breath catches as I glance down at him. “There’s one more thing,” he says. “Wh…what?” My voice trips over itself. “The way you look at me.” I’m sure my chin is red now because I feel all the blood in my body rush to my face. How do I look at him? How? “What do you mean?” I manage to ask, barely above a whisper. “You need to look at me like you’re in love,” he says. Relief flickers through me when I realize he’s still talking about our act, not me. But then his fingers lift, tilting my chin toward him, and my throat goes dry. My gaze drops to his lips, and panic surges. “I think I’m good,” I blurt, stumbling back. Clutching my books to my chest, I make for the door before I can completely fall apart. Chapter 006 KATY’S POV I slip into the lecture hall and sink into my usual seat, letting my bag drop beside me. My gaze flicks around the room before I can stop myself, and I scan the faces of everyone present. Of course, I already know Braydon’s schedule, so I know he shouldn’t be here. Still, I only exhale once I’m certain. It’s ironic, really. He’s supposed to be my fake boyfriend, and yet here I am, relieved he isn’t anywhere near me. And today is supposed to be our first day for everything we planned but my stomach is fluttering with nerves. The truth is that after last night, I need space, breathing room, and time to convince myself I’m not making a mistake by trusting him. I usually pride myself on making good choices. Safe ones. But with him, all my carefully built walls crumble, and wisdom evaporates. That’s how I end up doing things like kissing him like I want it and like I’m not supposed to remember it’s fake. Worse, I didn’t just kiss him, I melted and moaned into his mouth as if I couldn’t help myself. The memory sends a shiver racing down my spine, and I shift in my seat, wishing I could shake the feeling away. “Miss me?” a familiar voice teases in my ear. I jump, startled, before turning. Allie slides into the chair beside me, her smile bright and easy. Right on cue, our professor walks to the podium, but I barely notice him because I’m too busy staring at my best friend. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow,” I whisper, grinning as relief warms my chest. God, it feels good to see her. Allie isn’t just my roommate, she’s my anchor, and my sister in every way that matters. She’s been gone for days, celebrating her anniversary with her boyfriend, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed her until now. “So basically, you didn’t miss me,” she says, pulling out her notebook, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I missed you so much my entire life collapsed without you,” I whisper dramatically. She smothers a laugh. “Or maybe you were just having too much fun without me.” If only she knew. Fun is the last word I’d use for all the mess that happened. And I know she’s going to freak out when I tell her because I have to tell her. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it while she was away because I didn’t want to ruin her week. But now that she’s back? There’s no hiding and there’s too much to unpack. “I’ll tell you everything after class,” I whisper, flipping open my notebook. Her pen pauses midair, and she leans closer, her brows raised. “Now I’m anxious.” “After class,” I whisper back, forcing my attention to the podium. The professor’s voice drones on, but the words might as well be static. My heart is already racing, my palms damp against the notebook. Just the thought of telling Allie what happened makes me feel nauseous. She has the kind of relationship people dream about with a steady, loving boyfriend. Meanwhile, mine crashed and burned in the ugliest way possible. The contrast feels like holding up my mess beside her perfection, and part of me wants to swallow it down and never say a word. But I know I can’t. She’s my best friend. And if there’s anyone I can break in front of, it’s her. When the lecture finally ends, Allie wastes no time. She grabs my wrist and practically drags me outside, weaving through the crowd until we find a quiet corner. Her eyes are already wide, her whole body buzzing like she might explode if I make her wait a second longer. “Okay,” she says, hands on her hips. “Tell. Me. Everything.” I let out a shaky laugh, but it dies in my throat. “You think it’s some funny, messy story,” I murmur, staring down at my shoes. “But it’s not.” Her teasing smile slips slightly. “Then start wherever you can.” So I do. I tell Allie everything, starting with catching Bryan cheating and his mockery afterward, which pushed me into a fake relationship with Braydon. The words come out shakier than I expect, and by the time I finish, I feel wrung out. Allie just stares at me, her eyes so wide it almost makes me laugh if it didn’t hurt so much. For a long moment, she doesn’t say a word. Then she exhales slowly and pulls me straight into her arms. I sink into her hug, holding on tightly because God, I needed this. I haven’t even told Justin yet, so she’s only the second person to know, and somehow that makes me feel relieved. When she finally pulls back, her hands stay firm on my arms as she searches my face. “Are you okay?” she asks quietly. I nod, a small, self-conscious laugh escaping. “Yeah. I mean, I cried last night… and then cringed myself into secondhand embarrassment over my own actions with Braydon.” “I’m going to kill Bryan when I see him,” she grinds out. “How could he do that, and who does he even think he is?” I give a small shrug. “Guess you never really know someone, do you?” For a moment, the noise of the hallway swallows us before Allie leans closer until her shoulder brushes mine. “Okay, but…” she lowers her voice, her eyes practically gleaming, “are you one hundred percent serious about Braydon? Because if you are…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but her grin is trying to break through. I narrow my eyes at her. “Don’t you dare get excited.” But it’s too late because the sparkle in her gaze gives her away. She’s always been obsessed with Braydon and thinks he’s hotter than every lead in her comic books combined. Back in freshman year, she even ran his fan page before she started dating and reluctantly passed it on like she was handing over a crown. The way her eyes shine now, I can tell she’s trying to hide how thrilled she is at the drama. With a sigh, I dig out my phone and thrust it into her hands. “Here. Proof.” Her jaw drops the second she sees his name light up my screen. I watch her scan the texts he sent me last night while I was curled up on my bed, crying over everything, and also trying to convince myself our fake relationship wasn’t a bad idea because of the kiss. BRAYDON: Send me your schedule, Peach. ME: Don’t call me Peach. BRAYDON: Okay, send me your schedule, Princess. Allie slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes bouncing between my screen and my face. “Oh my God. You’re not joking.” “Why would I joke about that?” I mutter, trying not to laugh. “Does Justin know about this?” she presses. I shake my head, sighing. “No. And I don’t even know how to tell him.” She grins wickedly. “Girl, you are treading dangerous waters… but I fully support this.” I open my mouth to respond when a new notification flashes across my screen. “It’s Braydon,” Allie squeaks, clutching my arm. “Shhh,” I hiss, leaning down to read it. BRAYDON: Your schedule says library time at 12 p.m. Still on, Princess? I roll my eyes at his text. First it was Peach, now it’s Princess. What’s next, Queen of the Universe? I turn to complain, but Allie is practically glowing, her face lit up like Christmas as she stares at my phone. “Really?” I scoff. “You have a boyfriend and you’re drooling over another guy.” She shakes her head. “I hate to be this kind of best friend, but you’re literally texting Braydon. Braydon!” She repeats it like she wants it to get inside my head. “Do you know what that is?” I stare down at my phone. It’s not like he’s Justin Bieber or something. “He’s a normal guy and my brother’s friend,” I say. She slaps her forehead. “Do you realize you’re his first girlfriend ever, and he doesn’t do relationships?” I’m about to laugh her off when a sight snatches the sound out of my mouth. My chest tightens as my gaze snags on a figure across the quad, and my body feels like it’s being pricked with thorns as I stare. Allie follows my gaze to Bryan, who’s walking slowly a few meters away with his arm wrapped around a girl’s shoulder. A girl, different from the redhead he was with yesterday. I force my gaze away and swallow, hoping it soothes the heat rising inside me, but it doesn’t. It hurts, and I’m scared to admit how much it does. Chapter 007 KATY’S POV The library is unusually packed today as if people know what’s coming. Every table is filled with groups cramming for midterms, laptops glowing, and coffee cups balanced on notebooks. I try to keep my eyes on the book in front of me, but the words blur together as I read the same line three times. My body also feels restless because any moment now, Braydon will walk in, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for the attention that will follow. After seeing Bryan with that girl, though, every hesitation I had about this arrangement with Braydon vanished. He didn’t just cheat, but also made a spectacle out of it. And as if doing that wasn’t enough, he had to parade someone else around campus like a trophy. But if he wants to go low, then fine. I’ll go lower. All the way down. I glance down at my wristwatch, trying to calm the pounding in my chest. “Where is—” “It’s Braydon Cooper.” Someone at the next table half-whispers, and squeals at the same time. My head lifts on instinct, and there he is, walking down the row of tables like he owns the place. Even in a library full of stressed-out students, he’s impossible to miss. Conversations dip, pages stop turning, and a few phones tilt in his direction as he heads straight for my table. He stops in front of me, his green eyes locking on mine. “Hey, Peach.” “You’re here,” I whisper, tearing my gaze away before anyone can see the heat creeping into my cheeks. He pulls out a chair and drops into the seat beside me, earning a chorus of gasps from nearby tables. I can’t tell if people are shocked to see him in the library because let’s be real, this is probably his first time here, or if it’s because he chose to sit with me. Either way, the attention is loud, and it’s exactly what we planned. “Reading without me?” he teases, leaning closer and his fingers brush a strand of hair behind my ear like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I feel so hurt.” I lick my lips, trying to keep my cool. He told me from the start he’s a handsy guy, and I agreed I’d play along. So yeah, I’ll be the girl who acts unbothered by the campus heartthrob touching her in the middle of the library, even if my pulse clearly didn’t get the memo. “We both know you hate reading,” I tell him, forcing a smile that feels way too charming. “And please don’t touch me out of nowhere. Give me a heads-up.” He leans in closer, and I almost jerk back but catch myself just in time. “I thought we went through this.” He whispers, then pulls out a can of Coke from his pocket, setting it in front of me. “I didn’t know if you preferred coffee or soda.” The gesture is simple, but it sends the room into overdrive. Whispers ripple from the aisles, and I catch people peeking from behind the shelves, pretending to browse while very obviously staring. Seriously? What’s their deal? Yeah, Braydon’s a star on the hockey team and will probably go pro after college, but they’re acting like he’s already a celebrity or in the NHL. Well… I shouldn’t complain. The faster the news reaches Bryan, the better. “Thanks, Bray,” I manage, the word strangling me on its way out. He cringes. “Bray? That’s the best you’ve got?” I bite my lip, mortified. What am I even supposed to call him? Bryan and I never did nicknames, and we were on a first-name or baby basis. And there is no universe where I’m calling Braydon baby. He sighs, clearly over my struggle, then grabs my wrist and tugs me to my feet. Before I can react, he’s pulling me between two shelves into a quiet corner, away from all the eyes burning holes into us. “Are you really this stiff?” he asks, caging me in against the wall. “Bray? Really?” I glance around, making sure no one’s watching, before muttering, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to call you. Bray’s not that bad.” He scoffs. “Out of thousands of options, you go with Bray? Try something better. Maybe… Big guy.” “Big guy?” I arch a brow. He nods smugly, gesturing to himself like the answer is obvious. My eyes betray me, running over him before I can stop. And fine, he’s not wrong. He’s all man, from the broad chest stretching his shirt to the long legs and fingers that make him seem even bigger in the cramped space. I snap myself out of it before my gaze drifts lower, folding my arms across my chest to put some distance between us. Not that it helps because he’s close enough that one wrong move and we’ll be pressed together. “I’m not calling you Big Guy,” I tell him flatly. “But I’ll come up with something… nicer.” “And it has to be before Zach’s party,” he shoots back. “Zach’s party?” I narrow my eyes. “Who the hell is Zach, and why are you suddenly bringing him into this?” I can tell where this is heading, and yeah, I hate it already. “Because we’re going to that party,” he says. I shake my head. “Nope, that’s not happening. We agreed on bars and one home game. That’s it. Nothing about frat houses, or parties.” “Zach’s our goalie,” he says, like that alone should settle the argument. “And there’s no way I’m missing his birthday bash.” “Then go alone.” He smirks, leaning closer. “That’d be weird… when I’ve got a hot girlfriend I’m supposed to show off.” My heart does that annoying thump-thump thing, but it’s not nearly enough to change my mind. Loud parties are the last place I want to be. They drag up memories I’ve spent years trying to bury, and a part of me I don’t let anyone near. Agreeing to bars was already pushing it, but this? This is a hard no. “I’m not going,” I say again, firmer this time. “Bryan isn’t going to figure it out just because I’m not glued to your side twenty-four-seven.” “Peach, it’s just—” “No.” The word scrapes out harsher than I intend, but I don’t care. His persistence grates on me, mostly because I can see where this is going. He’ll keep pressing, trying to dig into the reason I avoid places like that, but I don’t talk about it. Not now. Not ever. “I don’t know why—” he starts, only to stop when a girl sidles up to the shelf beside us. She isn’t fooling anyone by pretending to look at books, because her ears are all wide. I paste on a sweet smile and reach up, pretending to adjust Braydon’s collar. “Hold still,” I murmur. He raises a brow but quickly plays along, sliding his hand around my waist and tugging me against him. Now we’re chest-to-chest, close enough that my pulse skips in protest. The girl lingers a second too long before finally moving on. “Why can’t people just mind their business?” I mutter, tugging at his collar one last time before dropping my hand. He stays rooted to the spot, staring at me like he’s trying to figure me out. The silence stretches long enough to make me shift on my feet. “People are going to start talking about us,” he finally says, shrugging out of his jacket. “I know you hate loud places for some reason you won’t tell me, but everyone’s gonna be at that party. If you really want to prove him wrong, that’s the best night.” I open my mouth, ready to argue, but before I can get a word out, he presses his hockey jacket into my hands. Then, with a quick, almost disarming softness, he taps my chin with his knuckles. “I’ll see you tonight.” And just like that, he strides out, leaving me staring down at the jacket clutched in my grip.
"I woke up with my ex’s brother still buried inside me—and the bast@rd was smiling. “What the hell? Get out of me!” I punched him in the chest, but he just held me tighter against the mattress. “Shh. You’re the one who climbed on top of me last night, begging for it,” his thumb traced my lower lip. “And now you want to play the victim?” Before I could answer, the bedroom door shook with a violent bang. “KATY. OPEN THE FKING DOOR.” My ex’s roar made the walls shake. ""I know you’re in there with him!"" I froze. My heart was pounding against my ribs. Braydon didn’t even flinch. Instead, he grabbed my hips and thrvst into me again—so deep I had to bite my lip until it bled to keep from making a sound. “Let me go!” I hissed, struggling to get him off me. He flipped me over in one fluid motion, trapping me beneath his weight. “Where do you think you’re going, Peach? You wanted revenge, didn’t you? Well, let him hear exactly what you did with his brother.” Another blow. The wood creaked. “I’m going to kill you both!” Braydon let out a dark laugh against my ear. “Well, you’d better hold on tight.” He rammed into me again. Harder this time. On purpose. A moan escaped my throat before I could stop it. I should have been terrified. Humiliated. Instead, my body arched on its own, seeking the next thrust. He tightened his grip on my waist. “That’s good,” he murmured. “Let him hear.”" --- Chapter 001 KATY’S POV “Hey, I’m heading over now. Can you bring out the books I left?” I press send and shove my phone into my jacket pocket as Bryan’s townhouse comes into view, my steps automatically quickening. I have Statistics in thirty minutes, and Mrs. Tompson would rather swallow a jean jacket than let me walk into her class without my textbook, the same textbook I managed to leave lying around in my boyfriend’s room. As I walk faster, I recheck my phone, half expecting a reply, but there’s nothing. Not even a typing bubble. For a moment, I wonder if he has already left, but it‘s unlikely. It’s only 9:30 in the morning, and Bryan never leaves his room early. One of the perks of being a baseball player is that he doesn’t have to treat academics like life or death the way I do. I reach his townhouse and take the stairs two at a time, my purse bouncing against my hip. The higher I climb, the more rushed my breathing feels, though it has less to do with the stairs and more to do with this creeping frustration that he still hasn’t texted back. By the time I get to the third floor, where his room is, I’m already picturing walking in and tossing a sarcastic comment about how hard it is to answer a simple text. My hand reaches for his doorknob when I hear his voice through the door. “Hurry up, my girlfriend will be here soon.” I freeze. “You need to leave.” Who is he talking to? The question barely forms before the door flies open and a girl rushes out, nearly colliding with me. My breath hitches. She gasps, her eyes wide with a mix of panic and shame. In the sliver of a second before she bolts, I take in her messy red hair, wrinkled shirt, and unbuttoned jeans. A sickening masculine scent, one I recognize very well, clings to her. My gaze snaps to Bryan, who is standing in the middle of the room in nothing but his boxers, his own chest bare, and his hair tousled. A cold, sharp shiver runs down my spine, stealing the air from my lungs. My knees go weak, and the knot in my stomach turns to a solid block of ice. Without a word, the girl tears past me, disappearing down the hallway. My fingers begin to tremble, and my heart hammers so hard it feels like it will burst through my ribs. I stumble back, a bitter taste rising in my throat. “Baby, wait.” Bryan’s voice follows me as he steps into the hallway. I spin around and run, determined to put as much distance as I can between us, my chest burning with anger. He catches me, his hands clamping around my wrist before I can escape, spinning me back toward him and blocking my path. "Baby, let's talk.” "Let go of me," I snap, my voice shaking. "Don't touch me!" I shove against his chest, but he doesn't budge. He tugs me toward his room, his grip tight. "It's better if we go inside. Everyone can hear us out here." Inside, I shove him away, my chest rising and falling with quick breaths. I want to demand answers, but I already know the truth. The evidence is everywhere: in the rumpled sheets, the scent of her perfume, and the desperate, guilty look in his eyes. He paces the room, running a hand through his hair before stopping and grabbing my shoulder. "I messed up, okay?" He drags a hand over his face. "It was a mistake.” My eyes twitch. “A mistake?” “Yeah, baby," he says, his eyes skittering away from mine. "Some of the guys came over last night. We drank too much. I got so shit-faced I… I thought she was you. I don't even remember half of it.” I blink, unable to process his words. My mind stumbles over them, each syllable making less sense than the last. Did he really just say that? Does he actually expect me to believe this pathetic lie? I stare at him, my mouth slightly open, waiting for him to take the words back. But he doesn't. He just holds my gaze, searching my face as if he's trying to see if I'm stupid enough to swallow his bucket of lies. “You… you thought she was me?” I choke out in anger. “Are you actually serious right now?” “Yes, baby, I'm serious. I didn't mean it. It was a mistake," he insists. "And honestly, she came on to me first. How was I supposed to resist when I was drunk? Come on, you know I love you.” A bitter laugh escapes my lips. "Cheating is one thing, Bryan," I snap, taking a step toward him, "but thinking I'm stupid enough to believe your lies? That's a whole other level.” “Katy, you’re overreacting,” he states, his voice growing colder. “Jasper and Hannah had the same kind of problems, and they worked it out. Why can’t you be more like her?” I feel heat flare through me. “Overreacting?” I yell. “Fourteen months, Bryan! Fourteen months of promises, and you’ve broken every single one! And you have the nerve to tell me I’m overreacting?!” He scoffs, his mask finally dropping. "Promises? You really want to bring that up?" I recoil. "What do you mean by that?" He crosses his arms and steps toward me. "You want to talk about promises? Fine. Let's talk about it." He jabs a finger in my face, his eyes darkening. "You promised your schedule would never affect us. How's that working out? Every damn day, you're busy. Debate, magazines, some lame club! You put everything else before me.” “That’s not—” I start, but he cuts me off. “I play sports, and I still make time for you!” he yells, and I flinch. “You know what? This is your fault!” He jabs my shoulder again. “This happened because of you, not me. You!” I step back, rage crawling up my spine. Never in a million years did I imagine that the person I had loved and trusted for a whole year could be like this—twisting the truth, blaming me, acting as if I were at fault. “You are a coward, Bryan.” I whisper, lifting my head to meet his eyes. “That’s what you are. Blaming me, twisting everything, and calling it my fault? I’m done.” I dash to his desk, sending papers and books tumbling to the floor as I hunt for my textbook. I need to get out of here before my anger takes over, before I do something I will regret. “You act like there’s someone better out there. There isn’t, and there won’t ever be.” He sneers from behind me. “Nobody else will ever make you feel alive the way I do.” I pause, staring up at him. He steps closer, his voice rising as he repeats his claim. “You were nobody before me, Katy. I made you popular. You walk into a room, and people know your name because of me. Bryan Cooper.” Something inside me snaps. I close the distance between us, breathing against his face. "You will never speak to me again," I hiss. "And mark my words, you will be replaced by someone hotter, smarter, and better than you could ever be. I yank the couple necklace he gave me off my neck and fling it at his feet. Without another word, I storm out with my textbook, tears burning my eyes. I managed not to cry in front of him, but as I run down the stairs, the dam finally burst. I collapse against the side of the building, clutching my chest as sobs tear out of me. It feels like someone has ripped my heart away and shredded it into a million pieces. Our memories and moments fill my mind, stabbing me over and over. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fumble to answer it, my hands shaking. “Katy?”My brother’s voice floats through. “Yeah?” I sniffle, wiping my tears. “Don’t forget you promised to tutor Braydon after class today,” he says, sounding annoyed. “He’s already bugging me.” I bite my lip, wanting to tell him I can’t right now, not in this state, but I had promised to help his friend. I exhale, pushing back the lump in my throat, and slowly rise to my feet. “Okay,” I manage to say. Chapter 002 BRAYDON’S POV “Asshole!” I shout, the words ripping from my throat as some guy cuts me off. I slam my hand against the steering wheel, throwing a glare in the rearview mirror, even though I know he can’t see me. Perfect. Just perfect. I’m particularly in a bad mood today. Hell, I’ve been in a bad mood all week. Nothing seems to go right, and every little thing is just… another straw on the camel’s back. And it’s all because my old man’s ultimatum keeps gnawing at me. “Pass all your courses, or forget about hockey.” His voice drills into my skull. Simple, right? Like I could just flip a switch and make it happen. I can rock Cs in most of my courses, well, except in Marketing Management and Business Ethics. If I fail those, there’s no graduation, no hockey, and worse, Bryan gets his hands on my mom’s company. That’s exactly what he and his mother have been scheming for, and I’ll be damned if I let them take what my mom built with her own sweat and blood. The thought gnaws at me, making me want to punch something, and I can’t hold in the audible groan that escapes my throat. I pull into my apartment lot and kill the engine. For a moment, I sit there, gripping the wheel and staring at myself in the rearview mirror. “You got this,” I tell myself. I can do it. Lucky for me, Justin’s kid sister, Katy, is a genius. All I need is a few sessions with her, I’ll keep my grades, and hockey stays mine. That’s the plan, the smart plan. But right now, I need something to distract me before I lose it. I nod, shove the door open, and head for my building. I slow as I near my door, spotting someone leaning against the frame. Her head lifts, eyes locking with mine, and a smirk curls her lips. Stacy. Exactly the distraction I ordered. I’d shot her a text twenty minutes ago, but didn’t think she’d make it so quickly. Guess not. She’s in nothing but a jacket and lacy tights. And when a girl waits at your door dressed like that, you know damn well there’s nothing underneath. “Took you long enough.” She shoots me a sexy smile that says I’m about to forget all about my bad day. My gaze drags over her as I slip the key into the lock. “Is that all for me?” Her eyes glitter. “Sure, big guy.” I’ve barely stepped inside before her manicured fingers trail across my chest. “How long has it been?” she purrs. “A long time,” I answer. Her smile widens as she shrugs out of her jacket, letting it pool on the floor. She gets on her knees and crooks a finger at me. "Come here.” I waste no time closing the distance between us. The world outside the door, the frustrations of the day, my father's ultimatum, my grades, all fade into a distant hum. She takes the waistband of my jeans, her fingers teasing the button open before tugging at my zipper. A second later, my cock springs free, a release I've been craving all day, and lands in her waiting hand. The feel of her fingers wrapping around me pulls a low groan from my throat. “Go on, suck it,” I rumble. On my command, she opens her mouth and wraps her lips around my length. **************��Two hours later, Stacy is snuggled up beside me, her head resting on my chest. She traces meaningless lines across my skin, a gesture of intimacy, but I don’t like the cuddly stuff. It makes me feel trapped. I slowly shift, dislodging her head, and search for my shorts on the floor. “You..” “I missed you,” she blurts, cutting me off. I spin, caught off guard for half a second before I reel it back in. The first thought that comes to mind is: Did she forget the rules? We first hooked up three months ago, and I was crystal clear about my boundaries.Things were easy because she was fine with a no-strings-attached arrangement. But now, I'm not so sure. It seems she's going to be like all the others, the ones who start wanting more after a few times. “I’ve been busy,” I mutter, dragging on my shorts. I can’t say I missed her, too, because that’ll only mess things up and lead her on. But the truth that she hadn't crossed my mind once since we last hooked up is too cold to say aloud. “I’m exhausted. Got morning practice.” I rub the back of my neck, hoping she takes the hint and leaves. But that’s far from what she has in my mind. “Are you really kicking me out minutes after we just—” her voice sharpens, “after we just had sex?” “Stacy, listen…” “Seriously, is this it? Is this all I am to you? We just hook up and that’s all?” She looks visibly upset now. “I thought we were clear about this," I reply, my voice firm. "From the very beginning, I told you I'm not looking for anything serious. No strings attached, just this.” Her fingers tremble as she snatches her jacket off the floor. "Well, I don't want to be your whenever-you-want girl anymore. I want to be your girlfriend." “You know that’s not happening.” I respond flatly. “But why?” She demands. "I don't have to explain myself and don’t act like I tricked you. You knew the deal from day one,” I tilt my head at the door. “If casual wasn’t your thing, you shouldn’t have agreed. Now do us both a favor and leave.” Her expression immediately softens, her eyes filling with a plea as she realizes I'm serious. "Big guy..." she croaks, her voice breaking. "I just… I just really like you. Can't you—" She lifts a hand to touch me, and I take a sharp step back. Her hand is left hanging in the air, and her eyes turn cold instantly again. The vulnerability is gone, replaced by a cutting anger. "Why exactly can't I be your girlfriend?" she asks, her voice hard. "What is it? Do you have a checklist I don’t measure up to?” I don't answer. I turn and stride out of the bedroom. She follows, her shoes thudding on the hardwood floor, but I ignore her. I pass the dining table, head straight for the fridge, and crack open a beer. She stops short, the anger in her body suddenly replaced with bewildered hurt. "So that's it? You're just going to grab a beer? You don't even care, do you?" I take a slow sip, not looking at her. "I thought we were clear. I don't." "I can be a good girlfriend!" she pleads, her voice rising. "I'm a great girlfriend. Just give me a chance." I shake my head. "I don't need a girlfriend." The words hang in the air for a moment before something in her breaks. She lets out a frustrated cry and yells, "Screw you!" She lunges for the front door, yanking it open. She dashes out and almost collides with a girl coming down the hall, a stack of books in her arms. The girl sidesteps to avoid being hit. It's Katy. Her tired gaze lands on Stacy, then drifts to me, her expression unreadable. Stacy gives her a slow once-over, then whips back to me with a sneer. “Really? I thought you had standards!” My mouth opens, ready to shut her down, but Katy beats me to it. “Relax. I’m not here to hook up with him. Unlike you, I actually have a purpose.” Both of us freeze. My brows lift, caught off guard. Stacy’s smirk falters, and for a split second, she looks like she’s been slapped. Chapter 003 KATY’S POV The redhead glares at me, her chest rising and falling like she’s trying to push the anger out in measured breaths. I wait for a retort, but she spares me only a cutting look, huffs at Braydon in dismissal, and storms off, muttering cusses to herself. I stare after her, gritting my teeth as irritation prickles my skin. What’s it with me and redheads today? First, with Bryan in the morning, and now, his brother. It seems they both have a type. A low chuckle from the doorway yanks my attention back. Braydon leans casually against the frame, an infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. His abs are on full display, golden against the light, every line impossible to ignore. “Didn’t think you had that in you, Peach.” I lift an eyebrow, a mix of annoyance and curiosity bubbling up inside me. "Peach?" He pushes off the door and takes a step closer, his hand reaching toward me. I recoil slightly, a shiver running down my spine despite myself, and his grin only widens. “Relax,” he says, tilting his head toward my chest. I glance down and there it is: a peach, drawn smack in the center of my shirt. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I can’t help but roll my eyes, letting out an amused scoff. I bulldoze past him into his living area. “Put on a shirt.” “Why?” His voice hums with amusement, even though I refuse to look at him. “Getting a little distracted by the view?” I spin around. “Ever heard of the word decency?” I snap. “It’s spelled—” “Hey, I can spell that. What do you take me for?” he cuts in, feigning annoyance, which somehow makes it even more irritating. He shuts the door and strolls over to the eat-in counter. A can of beer sits there, and before my eyes, he tilts it back and gulps down the entire thing in one smooth motion. “Is that alcohol?” I ask, fists clenching at my sides. He shoots me a strange look, eyes flicking to the now-squashed can in his hand. “It’s beer… so yes, I’m pretty sure it’s alcohol.” He tilts his head, his smirk creeping back. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smarter one?” Anger bubbles inside me. Did Justin not tell him I’m coming over? But no, Justin called me this morning to remind me. So, Braydon knows I’m here to tutor, not watch him get drunk. “You’re drinking on a night I’m supposed to tutor you?” I demand, my voice tight. He sighs dramatically and tosses the can in the trash. “Don’t be so peachy, Peach,” he says, his voice teasing. “It’s just one can and it’s not enough to knock me out. Besides… we can just get to know each other today. Justin definitely didn’t mention you’ve grown into a pretty woman.” I feel irritation crawl up my spine, and my lips twitch. My eyes dart to the door, tempted to leave, but then I remember Justin’s pleading and the one thousand dollars he promised for my new MacBook. I fix him with a death glare. “First of all, don’t call me Peach again. Second, have you considered that the reason you’re flunking your courses is that you flirt too much, and let’s not forget your unhealthy obsession with hockey? If you actually stop thinking about ways to flirt with me, maybe we can get something done tonight. But if you don’t, I’ll be more than happy to waste your time and watch you fail.” “Do you have friends?” he throws at me casually, catching me off guard. “Or have they all ghosted you because all you do is read and forget to socialize?” His words sting, bringing back the memory of what Bryan said to me this morning, but I swallow the hurt. “You must be so good at socializing that you forget other things matter.” I lift my book. “Oh, things like graduating from college.” His smirk widens, and I can see he’s taking this as a challenge. Is my insistence… kind of a kink for him? “Now, where’s your room? Let’s get started,” I add, keeping my voice calm. He leads the way to his room, and I follow, my eyes scanning the space as I enter. Posters of the Chicago Blackhawks cover the walls, along with a few other players I recognize from Justin’s room. Surprisingly, it’s cleaner than I expected, until my gaze lands on his bed. Bile rises in my throat. The sheets are scattered, and two empty condom wrappers lie on the floor. I bolt out, clutching my books, heat flooding my face. He follows, a look of amused surprise on his face, but I don’t slow down. “We’ll just read here,” I say, refusing to meet his eyes. I drop my books on the table, my hand aching from carrying them too long. Braydon prowls closer, shrinking the air between us “Why’d you run like that?” He asks. “Can’t handle being in the same room with me, Peach?” That damn nickname again. My patience frays. “You should clean up your room after sex, especially if you’ve got company. It’s called decency. Maybe you’ve heard of it, though clearly, you haven’t.” His fingers suddenly tilt my jaw, forcing my eyes to his. “Are you sure that’s the only reason? You know, I can make time for you.” That’s it. I’ve had enough. Heat floods my chest as I snatch my books off the table and storm toward the door. “Find someone else!” I yell. He catches my arm, trying to stop me, but I yank hard against his grip. I will not sit through two hours of his shameless flirting, not today. Not after the day I’ve had. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay?” Braydon’s voice softens as he pleads. “Get your hands off me.” I twist, trying to shake him loose. “I’ll behave, alright?” he rushes out. “I’ll put on a shirt, stop calling you Peach, never say another word you don’t like. Just, please, tutor me. I’m desperate.” I whirl around, ready to snap that he doesn’t act desperate enough, when my pocket starts buzzing nonstop. With a huff, I yank my phone out, half-expecting one of my study group members. But no, it’s Bryan. My stomach knots as I click the notification. Instead of apologies like I imagined for a second, my screen is filled with vile messages from him. My throat burns as my eyes lock on one message that makes the rest blur away. ~~BRYAN: Return my baseball jacket. My new girl wants it.~~ Everything else fades as hot anger sears through me. I read the line twice, but the words don’t change. He wants me to return his baseball jacket? And not just that, he already has a new girl, less than twelve hours after we broke up. My jaw clenches so tight it aches. He’s doing this to rile me up, and goddamn, it’s working. If I don’t hit back, he wins. The memory of him sneering that I’d never find someone better than him scorches me deeply. “Hey…” A tap on my shoulder jolts me, and Braydon’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Did you hear a word I said? I said I’ll do anything you want. Anything.” My head jerks toward him, and it takes a moment to recollect myself, his last word lingering in my mind. Anything you want. The words replay like a chant, and suddenly my mind is crawling with ideas that shouldn’t be there. My gaze rakes down his frame and back up, and he catches it, brows pulling together in confusion. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it, but the thought is so damn tempting. Braydon Cooper, the campus golden boy and star forward of the hockey team. He’s the guy girls would do anything to be seen with, and guys hate him because he can take their girlfriends with a smile. He might be a player, but everyone knows he’s picky. Ruthlessly picky. So much so that girls brag if they even make it into his bed. Just being seen with him is enough to boost your social status overnight. You get invitations to events just because you’ve caught the eye of Braydon Cooper. And right now, he’s standing in front of me, saying anything I want. He’s perfect for my revenge plan. Not just because of who he is, but because he’s Bryan’s brother. What better way to grind Bryan’s inflated ego to dust than to show him his so-called replaceable ex is on the arm of his hotter and better brother? I turn to face Braydon fully, heat prickling under my skin. “You’ll do anything?” I ask, watching him closely. He studies me, uncertainty flickering in his eyes for the first time since I walked in. Still, he nods. “Yeah.” I take a slow breath, steadying the heat in my voice. “Then here’s the deal. I’ll tutor you, and not just enough for you to pass. You’ll ace your classes, every single one of them, with at least a B. That’s my part.” He narrows his eyes, waiting. “And yours?” “In return,” I say, “you’ll use your charm, your connections, your golden-boy reputation to pursue me publicly. We’ll build a high-profile relationship and everyone will see us.” Chapter 004 KATY’S POV “What?” Braydon stares at me like I’ve just sprouted two heads. “I said that—” “Yeah, I got you.” He cuts in, stepping closer as if to read my face better. “You’re asking me to play boyfriend?” I lick my lips before answering, my pulse hammering. “Yes.” He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sorry to disappoint you, Peach, but dating isn’t my thing. Anything but that.” The sting hurts more than I expected, disappointment slicing through me. I exhale slowly, biting my lip. I’ve heard his no-dating rule before, but dismissed it as just another line to make himself more desirable. But now… the way he shuts me down makes me wonder if he’s actually serious enough to walk away from an offer like this. I clear my throat, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Think about it. Midterms are in four weeks, and it’s a major part of our final grade. If you want to pass, you need time with me, and that’s a month to prepare. This is a win-win deal.” “Uh-uh.” He flicks his hand. “I’ll pass. There has to be something else you want. I mean…” His smirk resurfaces. “I didn’t take you for one of my fangirls.” I roll my eyes, glaring at him. “I’m not interested in you. And I’ve never harbored some secret crush on you.” “Really?” He cuts in, his tone edged with disbelief. “So why? I mean… aren’t you still with Bryan or something?” “You should’ve remembered that before flirting with me,” I snap back. My chest heaves once, and I force myself to calm. It takes everything in me to push out the words. “Bryan and I broke up.” His face doesn’t change, not even a hint of sympathy. He also doesn’t look like he’s about to say an empty sorry to hear that. Instead, he cocks an eyebrow. “So what? Trying to use me as your rebound?” The urge to scream at him burns in my throat, but I bite it back. I’m negotiating, and I need this deal. Swallowing hard feels like impaling myself as I admit the truth. “He cheated on me.” That gets him. His expression shifts, the teasing dropping from his face. His eyes darken, a flash of anger sparking there. “That son of a bitch.” “It’s fine,” I choke out, though it’s not. “I just… I want to prove him wrong. He said I can’t find someone better than him. But—” I shrug, forcing the resignation into my voice. “I guess your rule is your rule.” I turn, feigning surrender, pretending to walk away even though part of me is begging for him to stop me. “Wait!” His voice rings out just as my hand grazes the door. My lips twitch into a smile, but I force it down, schooling my face into something neutral as I turn back to him. Braydon drags a hand through his hair, and I know he’s thinking. And honestly, I don’t blame him. I already know how explosive it’ll be once the news spreads. Justin will definitely flip out, and everyone will have their eyes glued to my life like it’s their favorite show. Frankly, the only good thing to come out of this is that Bryan will absolutely lose his shit. “You’ll really help me ace my courses?” he finally asks, his gaze locking with mine. I nod. “Yeah. But that depends on how convincing you are as my boyfriend.” His brow furrows. “What does that even mean?” “It means people have to believe we’re dating,” I say evenly. A smirk tugs at his lips. “That’s gonna be a hard sell, considering my track record.” I suck in a breath, my patience thinning. “Do you really want to graduate, or not?” He nods his head, shooting me a mock glare. “You’re so annoying.” “Then do we have a deal?” I press, refusing to back down. He stays quiet, the silence stretching long enough for me to second-guess everything. Then he sighs. “We’ve got a deal.” I almost squeal, but I bite it back hard. He actually agreed. I can’t believe I pulled this off. And suddenly, the weight of it sinks in…this is huge. In the history of Cadston College, I’m his first girlfriend. First. Which makes it not just a win, but a direct slap in Bryan’s face. Another point on the scoreboard for me. “Thank you,” I say, setting my books down before my hands can shake. “I hope you’ll be a great girlfriend,” he replies smoothly, that tone of mischief back in his voice. “Because I’ll give this my all. Quick notice though, I’m a handsy guy.” His teasing is back, but this time, when our eyes lock, I can’t fire back like I usually do. The air shifts between us, heavy and charged. My throat tightens, and I look away, scratching at my arm like that can distract me. It doesn’t. If anything, it only makes me more aware of how close he is. “Ummm…let’s talk about the rules.” I manage to say. “What rules?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer as his hand lands on my shoulder, tugging me a little closer. I go stiff instantly, every nerve locking up. His frown deepens. “You can’t freeze up when I touch you if we’re going to sell this dating thing.” A spark of alarm shoots through me. “And why would you even touch me?” He tilts his head, one brow arching. “Because, Peach, I’m supposed to be your boyfriend.” My throat tightens. “Can’t you convince people without touching me?” I counter, heat crawling up my neck. “We can…hold hands sometimes.” “Are you really that shy?” His lips twitch. “What, was your relationship with Bryan PG-12 or something?” “No,” I snap before I can stop myself. My voice falters, then steadies again as I lift my chin. “We had sex plenty of times. And yeah, there was PDA. Difference is, he was actually my boyfriend.” He steps closer, and with a maddening slowness, pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. My skin burns at the contact. “We just made a deal, Peach,” he says softly. “And the way I see it, that makes you my girlfriend now. If we’re gonna convince Bryan, we don’t get to half-ass it. He can smell bullshit a mile away so we do what real couples do.” The room feels like it’s closing in, the air too thick, my heartbeat too loud. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. If I want Bryan to choke on this, I have to play the part. I nod, forcing the words out. “Maybe…we should practice holding hands and some physical stuff. Just to make it natural.” He almost laughs but reins it in, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Practice, huh? Okay, Peach. Let’s practice.” He guides me stiffly to the couch and sits beside me. Then he extends his hand, and my throat dries. Slowly, I reach out and take it. The moment our skin touches, a zap of electricity shoots through me, and I yank my hand back. He feels it too, and I can tell because he doesn’t tease me. Instead, he licks his lips. “Let’s try again. Extend your hand.” I swallow, shove my hand forward, and he takes it. His fingers weave through mine, and my heart slams against my ribs, so loud it feels impossible he can’t hear it. His gaze lingers on me as he strokes the back of my hand with his thumb, and shivers ripple down my spine. Why does something as simple as holding his hand make me feel this way? “See?” he murmurs. “It’s not that hard.” I nod quickly, pretending the heat in my belly isn’t getting worse with every second. He shifts closer, his shoulder brushing mine, and his scent floods my senses. “Now,” he says, his voice dropping, “next on the list of physical contact is kissing.” Chapter 005 KATY’S POV I rip my hand away, glaring at him, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Are you out of your mind?” He snorts. “Do you, or do you not, want Bryan to believe we’re dating?” My jaw drops in outrage. “What does that have to do with my lips?” He shakes his head like I’m hopeless. “What do you think relationships are? Study groups? Business meetings?” He leans closer, and I instinctively lean back, my heart racing. “Men are physical beings and I’m the most physical of all. Bryan knows that. If he notices I’m not all over you, we’ve got a problem. And we don’t want problems, do we?” I bite my lip and look away, my brain spiraling. Maybe I should find someone else for this fake-dating nonsense, because his suggestions are ridiculous. He makes me react in ways I don’t understand, and now I’m actually considering kissing him. Him, of all people. No. I cross my arms and face him. “This isn’t a game. It’s fake dating, and I am not kissing you.” He leans back, unfazed. “Okay, then what do you suggest we do when we’re out? Bars, my hockey games…” I blink. “Wait, bars? I have to go with you to bars? Why?” He lifts a brow like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because that’s what girlfriends do.” Oh, this is already too much. The thought of hanging out with his friends, who I’m sure are just as loud and cocky as he is, makes my stomach turn. “Trust me, Peach,” he says with that maddening grin, “if you show up on my arm at a bar, Bryan will lose his mind. You’ve got to do things with me you’d never do with him, or he’ll never buy it.” I narrow my eyes. “And what exactly happens at this bar?” “We have fun, grab a couple drinks, and I introduce you as my girlfriend…” His grin widens. “Oh, and heads up? Half the girls there will probably want to kill you.” I roll my eyes, though I can’t deny it makes sense. Going out with him and stepping into his world will convince anyone we’re together. Bryan especially. He knows I hate loud places, so if he hears I went to a bar with Braydon, he’ll lose it. “Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll go.” “And at least one home game,” he adds quickly. I sigh. “That too.” “And you’ll wear my jacket around campus.” I give him a tight nod. “But no kissing. If you want that, call the redhead.” His lips curve. “Why don’t you want to kiss me? Scared you’re bad at it?” I scowl. “I’m a great kisser!” “Yeah?” He leans in, close enough for my breath to catch. My heart skips, heat curling low in my stomach. “Then prove it.” “Why do I have to prove anything to you?” I snap, though my palms are slick with sweat. “I know I’m a good kisser. End of story.” His tilts his head. “I see fear in your eyes. Don’t worry, I get it.” “Wh—” The sound sputters out of me. He’s unbelievable. “Why would I be scared to kiss you?” He shakes his head slowly, like he’s humoring me. “A lot of people freeze up when—” “Fine!” The word rips out of me before I can stop it. “Let’s do it.” For a second, his eyes widen, shock flickering there before it melts into a smile. His green eyes darken, heat sparking in them or maybe it’s just me burning up. My hands tremble against my thighs, and my whole body feels like it’s caught fire. This cannot be happening. Except it is, because he leans in and closes the gap between us. Our knees brush, and it feels like sparks shooting through me. My hand lifts almost on its own, my fingers brushing his cheek and my thumb traces along his jawline. His eyes catch the light, and I swear I can see the rapid flutter of his pulse in his throat. Slowly, I tilt forward until my lips press against his. The instant they touch, heat floods through me, racing from my mouth down the length of my body. My skin prickles, every nerve coming alive with a low pull in my stomach that I can’t control. He tastes faintly of beer as his tongue slides in my mouth, but somehow it’s addictive, like I’ve never tasted it before. For a moment, I forget everything: where we are, why we’re doing this, and even who I’m with. All I feel is heat rolling through me. And then reality slams back. I’m kissing Braydon. The last person I should ever be kissing. Panic claws at my chest, and I rip myself away, breathless. My face burns hot, my chest rising and falling too fast. From the corner of my eye, I catch him licking his lips, and I tighten my thighs. I should say something smart, but my throat is dry, and I don’t trust my voice not to give me away. My palms are damp, so I rub them against my jeans, praying he won’t point out how rattled I am. “Well,” he drawls at last, his eyes locked on me, “I guess we have chemistry. We’ve got nothing to worry about.” I force myself to look at him, but the heat in his gaze is too much, and I turn away almost instantly. “Is that so?” I laugh nervously, rubbing my arms. “Then I guess we’re done here.” I spring to my feet, gathering my things, but before I can escape, his hand closes around my wrist. My breath catches as I glance down at him. “There’s one more thing,” he says. “Wh…what?” My voice trips over itself. “The way you look at me.” I’m sure my chin is red now because I feel all the blood in my body rush to my face. How do I look at him? How? “What do you mean?” I manage to ask, barely above a whisper. “You need to look at me like you’re in love,” he says. Relief flickers through me when I realize he’s still talking about our act, not me. But then his fingers lift, tilting my chin toward him, and my throat goes dry. My gaze drops to his lips, and panic surges. “I think I’m good,” I blurt, stumbling back. Clutching my books to my chest, I make for the door before I can completely fall apart. Chapter 006 KATY’S POV I slip into the lecture hall and sink into my usual seat, letting my bag drop beside me. My gaze flicks around the room before I can stop myself, and I scan the faces of everyone present. Of course, I already know Braydon’s schedule, so I know he shouldn’t be here. Still, I only exhale once I’m certain. It’s ironic, really. He’s supposed to be my fake boyfriend, and yet here I am, relieved he isn’t anywhere near me. And today is supposed to be our first day for everything we planned but my stomach is fluttering with nerves. The truth is that after last night, I need space, breathing room, and time to convince myself I’m not making a mistake by trusting him. I usually pride myself on making good choices. Safe ones. But with him, all my carefully built walls crumble, and wisdom evaporates. That’s how I end up doing things like kissing him like I want it and like I’m not supposed to remember it’s fake. Worse, I didn’t just kiss him, I melted and moaned into his mouth as if I couldn’t help myself. The memory sends a shiver racing down my spine, and I shift in my seat, wishing I could shake the feeling away. “Miss me?” a familiar voice teases in my ear. I jump, startled, before turning. Allie slides into the chair beside me, her smile bright and easy. Right on cue, our professor walks to the podium, but I barely notice him because I’m too busy staring at my best friend. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow,” I whisper, grinning as relief warms my chest. God, it feels good to see her. Allie isn’t just my roommate, she’s my anchor, and my sister in every way that matters. She’s been gone for days, celebrating her anniversary with her boyfriend, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed her until now. “So basically, you didn’t miss me,” she says, pulling out her notebook, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I missed you so much my entire life collapsed without you,” I whisper dramatically. She smothers a laugh. “Or maybe you were just having too much fun without me.” If only she knew. Fun is the last word I’d use for all the mess that happened. And I know she’s going to freak out when I tell her because I have to tell her. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it while she was away because I didn’t want to ruin her week. But now that she’s back? There’s no hiding and there’s too much to unpack. “I’ll tell you everything after class,” I whisper, flipping open my notebook. Her pen pauses midair, and she leans closer, her brows raised. “Now I’m anxious.” “After class,” I whisper back, forcing my attention to the podium. The professor’s voice drones on, but the words might as well be static. My heart is already racing, my palms damp against the notebook. Just the thought of telling Allie what happened makes me feel nauseous. She has the kind of relationship people dream about with a steady, loving boyfriend. Meanwhile, mine crashed and burned in the ugliest way possible. The contrast feels like holding up my mess beside her perfection, and part of me wants to swallow it down and never say a word. But I know I can’t. She’s my best friend. And if there’s anyone I can break in front of, it’s her. When the lecture finally ends, Allie wastes no time. She grabs my wrist and practically drags me outside, weaving through the crowd until we find a quiet corner. Her eyes are already wide, her whole body buzzing like she might explode if I make her wait a second longer. “Okay,” she says, hands on her hips. “Tell. Me. Everything.” I let out a shaky laugh, but it dies in my throat. “You think it’s some funny, messy story,” I murmur, staring down at my shoes. “But it’s not.” Her teasing smile slips slightly. “Then start wherever you can.” So I do. I tell Allie everything, starting with catching Bryan cheating and his mockery afterward, which pushed me into a fake relationship with Braydon. The words come out shakier than I expect, and by the time I finish, I feel wrung out. Allie just stares at me, her eyes so wide it almost makes me laugh if it didn’t hurt so much. For a long moment, she doesn’t say a word. Then she exhales slowly and pulls me straight into her arms. I sink into her hug, holding on tightly because God, I needed this. I haven’t even told Justin yet, so she’s only the second person to know, and somehow that makes me feel relieved. When she finally pulls back, her hands stay firm on my arms as she searches my face. “Are you okay?” she asks quietly. I nod, a small, self-conscious laugh escaping. “Yeah. I mean, I cried last night… and then cringed myself into secondhand embarrassment over my own actions with Braydon.” “I’m going to kill Bryan when I see him,” she grinds out. “How could he do that, and who does he even think he is?” I give a small shrug. “Guess you never really know someone, do you?” For a moment, the noise of the hallway swallows us before Allie leans closer until her shoulder brushes mine. “Okay, but…” she lowers her voice, her eyes practically gleaming, “are you one hundred percent serious about Braydon? Because if you are…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but her grin is trying to break through. I narrow my eyes at her. “Don’t you dare get excited.” But it’s too late because the sparkle in her gaze gives her away. She’s always been obsessed with Braydon and thinks he’s hotter than every lead in her comic books combined. Back in freshman year, she even ran his fan page before she started dating and reluctantly passed it on like she was handing over a crown. The way her eyes shine now, I can tell she’s trying to hide how thrilled she is at the drama. With a sigh, I dig out my phone and thrust it into her hands. “Here. Proof.” Her jaw drops the second she sees his name light up my screen. I watch her scan the texts he sent me last night while I was curled up on my bed, crying over everything, and also trying to convince myself our fake relationship wasn’t a bad idea because of the kiss. BRAYDON: Send me your schedule, Peach. ME: Don’t call me Peach. BRAYDON: Okay, send me your schedule, Princess. Allie slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes bouncing between my screen and my face. “Oh my God. You’re not joking.” “Why would I joke about that?” I mutter, trying not to laugh. “Does Justin know about this?” she presses. I shake my head, sighing. “No. And I don’t even know how to tell him.” She grins wickedly. “Girl, you are treading dangerous waters… but I fully support this.” I open my mouth to respond when a new notification flashes across my screen. “It’s Braydon,” Allie squeaks, clutching my arm. “Shhh,” I hiss, leaning down to read it. BRAYDON: Your schedule says library time at 12 p.m. Still on, Princess? I roll my eyes at his text. First it was Peach, now it’s Princess. What’s next, Queen of the Universe? I turn to complain, but Allie is practically glowing, her face lit up like Christmas as she stares at my phone. “Really?” I scoff. “You have a boyfriend and you’re drooling over another guy.” She shakes her head. “I hate to be this kind of best friend, but you’re literally texting Braydon. Braydon!” She repeats it like she wants it to get inside my head. “Do you know what that is?” I stare down at my phone. It’s not like he’s Justin Bieber or something. “He’s a normal guy and my brother’s friend,” I say. She slaps her forehead. “Do you realize you’re his first girlfriend ever, and he doesn’t do relationships?” I’m about to laugh her off when a sight snatches the sound out of my mouth. My chest tightens as my gaze snags on a figure across the quad, and my body feels like it’s being pricked with thorns as I stare. Allie follows my gaze to Bryan, who’s walking slowly a few meters away with his arm wrapped around a girl’s shoulder. A girl, different from the redhead he was with yesterday. I force my gaze away and swallow, hoping it soothes the heat rising inside me, but it doesn’t. It hurts, and I’m scared to admit how much it does. Chapter 007 KATY’S POV The library is unusually packed today as if people know what’s coming. Every table is filled with groups cramming for midterms, laptops glowing, and coffee cups balanced on notebooks. I try to keep my eyes on the book in front of me, but the words blur together as I read the same line three times. My body also feels restless because any moment now, Braydon will walk in, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for the attention that will follow. After seeing Bryan with that girl, though, every hesitation I had about this arrangement with Braydon vanished. He didn’t just cheat, but also made a spectacle out of it. And as if doing that wasn’t enough, he had to parade someone else around campus like a trophy. But if he wants to go low, then fine. I’ll go lower. All the way down. I glance down at my wristwatch, trying to calm the pounding in my chest. “Where is—” “It’s Braydon Cooper.” Someone at the next table half-whispers, and squeals at the same time. My head lifts on instinct, and there he is, walking down the row of tables like he owns the place. Even in a library full of stressed-out students, he’s impossible to miss. Conversations dip, pages stop turning, and a few phones tilt in his direction as he heads straight for my table. He stops in front of me, his green eyes locking on mine. “Hey, Peach.” “You’re here,” I whisper, tearing my gaze away before anyone can see the heat creeping into my cheeks. He pulls out a chair and drops into the seat beside me, earning a chorus of gasps from nearby tables. I can’t tell if people are shocked to see him in the library because let’s be real, this is probably his first time here, or if it’s because he chose to sit with me. Either way, the attention is loud, and it’s exactly what we planned. “Reading without me?” he teases, leaning closer and his fingers brush a strand of hair behind my ear like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I feel so hurt.” I lick my lips, trying to keep my cool. He told me from the start he’s a handsy guy, and I agreed I’d play along. So yeah, I’ll be the girl who acts unbothered by the campus heartthrob touching her in the middle of the library, even if my pulse clearly didn’t get the memo. “We both know you hate reading,” I tell him, forcing a smile that feels way too charming. “And please don’t touch me out of nowhere. Give me a heads-up.” He leans in closer, and I almost jerk back but catch myself just in time. “I thought we went through this.” He whispers, then pulls out a can of Coke from his pocket, setting it in front of me. “I didn’t know if you preferred coffee or soda.” The gesture is simple, but it sends the room into overdrive. Whispers ripple from the aisles, and I catch people peeking from behind the shelves, pretending to browse while very obviously staring. Seriously? What’s their deal? Yeah, Braydon’s a star on the hockey team and will probably go pro after college, but they’re acting like he’s already a celebrity or in the NHL. Well… I shouldn’t complain. The faster the news reaches Bryan, the better. “Thanks, Bray,” I manage, the word strangling me on its way out. He cringes. “Bray? That’s the best you’ve got?” I bite my lip, mortified. What am I even supposed to call him? Bryan and I never did nicknames, and we were on a first-name or baby basis. And there is no universe where I’m calling Braydon baby. He sighs, clearly over my struggle, then grabs my wrist and tugs me to my feet. Before I can react, he’s pulling me between two shelves into a quiet corner, away from all the eyes burning holes into us. “Are you really this stiff?” he asks, caging me in against the wall. “Bray? Really?” I glance around, making sure no one’s watching, before muttering, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to call you. Bray’s not that bad.” He scoffs. “Out of thousands of options, you go with Bray? Try something better. Maybe… Big guy.” “Big guy?” I arch a brow. He nods smugly, gesturing to himself like the answer is obvious. My eyes betray me, running over him before I can stop. And fine, he’s not wrong. He’s all man, from the broad chest stretching his shirt to the long legs and fingers that make him seem even bigger in the cramped space. I snap myself out of it before my gaze drifts lower, folding my arms across my chest to put some distance between us. Not that it helps because he’s close enough that one wrong move and we’ll be pressed together. “I’m not calling you Big Guy,” I tell him flatly. “But I’ll come up with something… nicer.” “And it has to be before Zach’s party,” he shoots back. “Zach’s party?” I narrow my eyes. “Who the hell is Zach, and why are you suddenly bringing him into this?” I can tell where this is heading, and yeah, I hate it already. “Because we’re going to that party,” he says. I shake my head. “Nope, that’s not happening. We agreed on bars and one home game. That’s it. Nothing about frat houses, or parties.” “Zach’s our goalie,” he says, like that alone should settle the argument. “And there’s no way I’m missing his birthday bash.” “Then go alone.” He smirks, leaning closer. “That’d be weird… when I’ve got a hot girlfriend I’m supposed to show off.” My heart does that annoying thump-thump thing, but it’s not nearly enough to change my mind. Loud parties are the last place I want to be. They drag up memories I’ve spent years trying to bury, and a part of me I don’t let anyone near. Agreeing to bars was already pushing it, but this? This is a hard no. “I’m not going,” I say again, firmer this time. “Bryan isn’t going to figure it out just because I’m not glued to your side twenty-four-seven.” “Peach, it’s just—” “No.” The word scrapes out harsher than I intend, but I don’t care. His persistence grates on me, mostly because I can see where this is going. He’ll keep pressing, trying to dig into the reason I avoid places like that, but I don’t talk about it. Not now. Not ever. “I don’t know why—” he starts, only to stop when a girl sidles up to the shelf beside us. She isn’t fooling anyone by pretending to look at books, because her ears are all wide. I paste on a sweet smile and reach up, pretending to adjust Braydon’s collar. “Hold still,” I murmur. He raises a brow but quickly plays along, sliding his hand around my waist and tugging me against him. Now we’re chest-to-chest, close enough that my pulse skips in protest. The girl lingers a second too long before finally moving on. “Why can’t people just mind their business?” I mutter, tugging at his collar one last time before dropping my hand. He stays rooted to the spot, staring at me like he’s trying to figure me out. The silence stretches long enough to make me shift on my feet. “People are going to start talking about us,” he finally says, shrugging out of his jacket. “I know you hate loud places for some reason you won’t tell me, but everyone’s gonna be at that party. If you really want to prove him wrong, that’s the best night.” I open my mouth, ready to argue, but before I can get a word out, he presses his hockey jacket into my hands. Then, with a quick, almost disarming softness, he taps my chin with his knuckles. “I’ll see you tonight.” And just like that, he strides out, leaving me staring down at the jacket clutched in my grip.
"I woke up with my ex’s brother still buried inside me—and the bast@rd was smiling. “What the hell? Get out of me!” I punched him in the chest, but he just held me tighter against the mattress. “Shh. You’re the one who climbed on top of me last night, begging for it,” his thumb traced my lower lip. “And now you want to play the victim?” Before I could answer, the bedroom door shook with a violent bang. “KATY. OPEN THE FKING DOOR.” My ex’s roar made the walls shake. ""I know you’re in there with him!"" I froze. My heart was pounding against my ribs. Braydon didn’t even flinch. Instead, he grabbed my hips and thrvst into me again—so deep I had to bite my lip until it bled to keep from making a sound. “Let me go!” I hissed, struggling to get him off me. He flipped me over in one fluid motion, trapping me beneath his weight. “Where do you think you’re going, Peach? You wanted revenge, didn’t you? Well, let him hear exactly what you did with his brother.” Another blow. The wood creaked. “I’m going to kill you both!” Braydon let out a dark laugh against my ear. “Well, you’d better hold on tight.” He rammed into me again. Harder this time. On purpose. A moan escaped my throat before I could stop it. I should have been terrified. Humiliated. Instead, my body arched on its own, seeking the next thrust. He tightened his grip on my waist. “That’s good,” he murmured. “Let him hear.”" --- Chapter 001 KATY’S POV “Hey, I’m heading over now. Can you bring out the books I left?” I press send and shove my phone into my jacket pocket as Bryan’s townhouse comes into view, my steps automatically quickening. I have Statistics in thirty minutes, and Mrs. Tompson would rather swallow a jean jacket than let me walk into her class without my textbook, the same textbook I managed to leave lying around in my boyfriend’s room. As I walk faster, I recheck my phone, half expecting a reply, but there’s nothing. Not even a typing bubble. For a moment, I wonder if he has already left, but it‘s unlikely. It’s only 9:30 in the morning, and Bryan never leaves his room early. One of the perks of being a baseball player is that he doesn’t have to treat academics like life or death the way I do. I reach his townhouse and take the stairs two at a time, my purse bouncing against my hip. The higher I climb, the more rushed my breathing feels, though it has less to do with the stairs and more to do with this creeping frustration that he still hasn’t texted back. By the time I get to the third floor, where his room is, I’m already picturing walking in and tossing a sarcastic comment about how hard it is to answer a simple text. My hand reaches for his doorknob when I hear his voice through the door. “Hurry up, my girlfriend will be here soon.” I freeze. “You need to leave.” Who is he talking to? The question barely forms before the door flies open and a girl rushes out, nearly colliding with me. My breath hitches. She gasps, her eyes wide with a mix of panic and shame. In the sliver of a second before she bolts, I take in her messy red hair, wrinkled shirt, and unbuttoned jeans. A sickening masculine scent, one I recognize very well, clings to her. My gaze snaps to Bryan, who is standing in the middle of the room in nothing but his boxers, his own chest bare, and his hair tousled. A cold, sharp shiver runs down my spine, stealing the air from my lungs. My knees go weak, and the knot in my stomach turns to a solid block of ice. Without a word, the girl tears past me, disappearing down the hallway. My fingers begin to tremble, and my heart hammers so hard it feels like it will burst through my ribs. I stumble back, a bitter taste rising in my throat. “Baby, wait.” Bryan’s voice follows me as he steps into the hallway. I spin around and run, determined to put as much distance as I can between us, my chest burning with anger. He catches me, his hands clamping around my wrist before I can escape, spinning me back toward him and blocking my path. "Baby, let's talk.” "Let go of me," I snap, my voice shaking. "Don't touch me!" I shove against his chest, but he doesn't budge. He tugs me toward his room, his grip tight. "It's better if we go inside. Everyone can hear us out here." Inside, I shove him away, my chest rising and falling with quick breaths. I want to demand answers, but I already know the truth. The evidence is everywhere: in the rumpled sheets, the scent of her perfume, and the desperate, guilty look in his eyes. He paces the room, running a hand through his hair before stopping and grabbing my shoulder. "I messed up, okay?" He drags a hand over his face. "It was a mistake.” My eyes twitch. “A mistake?” “Yeah, baby," he says, his eyes skittering away from mine. "Some of the guys came over last night. We drank too much. I got so shit-faced I… I thought she was you. I don't even remember half of it.” I blink, unable to process his words. My mind stumbles over them, each syllable making less sense than the last. Did he really just say that? Does he actually expect me to believe this pathetic lie? I stare at him, my mouth slightly open, waiting for him to take the words back. But he doesn't. He just holds my gaze, searching my face as if he's trying to see if I'm stupid enough to swallow his bucket of lies. “You… you thought she was me?” I choke out in anger. “Are you actually serious right now?” “Yes, baby, I'm serious. I didn't mean it. It was a mistake," he insists. "And honestly, she came on to me first. How was I supposed to resist when I was drunk? Come on, you know I love you.” A bitter laugh escapes my lips. "Cheating is one thing, Bryan," I snap, taking a step toward him, "but thinking I'm stupid enough to believe your lies? That's a whole other level.” “Katy, you’re overreacting,” he states, his voice growing colder. “Jasper and Hannah had the same kind of problems, and they worked it out. Why can’t you be more like her?” I feel heat flare through me. “Overreacting?” I yell. “Fourteen months, Bryan! Fourteen months of promises, and you’ve broken every single one! And you have the nerve to tell me I’m overreacting?!” He scoffs, his mask finally dropping. "Promises? You really want to bring that up?" I recoil. "What do you mean by that?" He crosses his arms and steps toward me. "You want to talk about promises? Fine. Let's talk about it." He jabs a finger in my face, his eyes darkening. "You promised your schedule would never affect us. How's that working out? Every damn day, you're busy. Debate, magazines, some lame club! You put everything else before me.” “That’s not—” I start, but he cuts me off. “I play sports, and I still make time for you!” he yells, and I flinch. “You know what? This is your fault!” He jabs my shoulder again. “This happened because of you, not me. You!” I step back, rage crawling up my spine. Never in a million years did I imagine that the person I had loved and trusted for a whole year could be like this—twisting the truth, blaming me, acting as if I were at fault. “You are a coward, Bryan.” I whisper, lifting my head to meet his eyes. “That’s what you are. Blaming me, twisting everything, and calling it my fault? I’m done.” I dash to his desk, sending papers and books tumbling to the floor as I hunt for my textbook. I need to get out of here before my anger takes over, before I do something I will regret. “You act like there’s someone better out there. There isn’t, and there won’t ever be.” He sneers from behind me. “Nobody else will ever make you feel alive the way I do.” I pause, staring up at him. He steps closer, his voice rising as he repeats his claim. “You were nobody before me, Katy. I made you popular. You walk into a room, and people know your name because of me. Bryan Cooper.” Something inside me snaps. I close the distance between us, breathing against his face. "You will never speak to me again," I hiss. "And mark my words, you will be replaced by someone hotter, smarter, and better than you could ever be. I yank the couple necklace he gave me off my neck and fling it at his feet. Without another word, I storm out with my textbook, tears burning my eyes. I managed not to cry in front of him, but as I run down the stairs, the dam finally burst. I collapse against the side of the building, clutching my chest as sobs tear out of me. It feels like someone has ripped my heart away and shredded it into a million pieces. Our memories and moments fill my mind, stabbing me over and over. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fumble to answer it, my hands shaking. “Katy?”My brother’s voice floats through. “Yeah?” I sniffle, wiping my tears. “Don’t forget you promised to tutor Braydon after class today,” he says, sounding annoyed. “He’s already bugging me.” I bite my lip, wanting to tell him I can’t right now, not in this state, but I had promised to help his friend. I exhale, pushing back the lump in my throat, and slowly rise to my feet. “Okay,” I manage to say. Chapter 002 BRAYDON’S POV “Asshole!” I shout, the words ripping from my throat as some guy cuts me off. I slam my hand against the steering wheel, throwing a glare in the rearview mirror, even though I know he can’t see me. Perfect. Just perfect. I’m particularly in a bad mood today. Hell, I’ve been in a bad mood all week. Nothing seems to go right, and every little thing is just… another straw on the camel’s back. And it’s all because my old man’s ultimatum keeps gnawing at me. “Pass all your courses, or forget about hockey.” His voice drills into my skull. Simple, right? Like I could just flip a switch and make it happen. I can rock Cs in most of my courses, well, except in Marketing Management and Business Ethics. If I fail those, there’s no graduation, no hockey, and worse, Bryan gets his hands on my mom’s company. That’s exactly what he and his mother have been scheming for, and I’ll be damned if I let them take what my mom built with her own sweat and blood. The thought gnaws at me, making me want to punch something, and I can’t hold in the audible groan that escapes my throat. I pull into my apartment lot and kill the engine. For a moment, I sit there, gripping the wheel and staring at myself in the rearview mirror. “You got this,” I tell myself. I can do it. Lucky for me, Justin’s kid sister, Katy, is a genius. All I need is a few sessions with her, I’ll keep my grades, and hockey stays mine. That’s the plan, the smart plan. But right now, I need something to distract me before I lose it. I nod, shove the door open, and head for my building. I slow as I near my door, spotting someone leaning against the frame. Her head lifts, eyes locking with mine, and a smirk curls her lips. Stacy. Exactly the distraction I ordered. I’d shot her a text twenty minutes ago, but didn’t think she’d make it so quickly. Guess not. She’s in nothing but a jacket and lacy tights. And when a girl waits at your door dressed like that, you know damn well there’s nothing underneath. “Took you long enough.” She shoots me a sexy smile that says I’m about to forget all about my bad day. My gaze drags over her as I slip the key into the lock. “Is that all for me?” Her eyes glitter. “Sure, big guy.” I’ve barely stepped inside before her manicured fingers trail across my chest. “How long has it been?” she purrs. “A long time,” I answer. Her smile widens as she shrugs out of her jacket, letting it pool on the floor. She gets on her knees and crooks a finger at me. "Come here.” I waste no time closing the distance between us. The world outside the door, the frustrations of the day, my father's ultimatum, my grades, all fade into a distant hum. She takes the waistband of my jeans, her fingers teasing the button open before tugging at my zipper. A second later, my cock springs free, a release I've been craving all day, and lands in her waiting hand. The feel of her fingers wrapping around me pulls a low groan from my throat. “Go on, suck it,” I rumble. On my command, she opens her mouth and wraps her lips around my length. **************��Two hours later, Stacy is snuggled up beside me, her head resting on my chest. She traces meaningless lines across my skin, a gesture of intimacy, but I don’t like the cuddly stuff. It makes me feel trapped. I slowly shift, dislodging her head, and search for my shorts on the floor. “You..” “I missed you,” she blurts, cutting me off. I spin, caught off guard for half a second before I reel it back in. The first thought that comes to mind is: Did she forget the rules? We first hooked up three months ago, and I was crystal clear about my boundaries.Things were easy because she was fine with a no-strings-attached arrangement. But now, I'm not so sure. It seems she's going to be like all the others, the ones who start wanting more after a few times. “I’ve been busy,” I mutter, dragging on my shorts. I can’t say I missed her, too, because that’ll only mess things up and lead her on. But the truth that she hadn't crossed my mind once since we last hooked up is too cold to say aloud. “I’m exhausted. Got morning practice.” I rub the back of my neck, hoping she takes the hint and leaves. But that’s far from what she has in my mind. “Are you really kicking me out minutes after we just—” her voice sharpens, “after we just had sex?” “Stacy, listen…” “Seriously, is this it? Is this all I am to you? We just hook up and that’s all?” She looks visibly upset now. “I thought we were clear about this," I reply, my voice firm. "From the very beginning, I told you I'm not looking for anything serious. No strings attached, just this.” Her fingers tremble as she snatches her jacket off the floor. "Well, I don't want to be your whenever-you-want girl anymore. I want to be your girlfriend." “You know that’s not happening.” I respond flatly. “But why?” She demands. "I don't have to explain myself and don’t act like I tricked you. You knew the deal from day one,” I tilt my head at the door. “If casual wasn’t your thing, you shouldn’t have agreed. Now do us both a favor and leave.” Her expression immediately softens, her eyes filling with a plea as she realizes I'm serious. "Big guy..." she croaks, her voice breaking. "I just… I just really like you. Can't you—" She lifts a hand to touch me, and I take a sharp step back. Her hand is left hanging in the air, and her eyes turn cold instantly again. The vulnerability is gone, replaced by a cutting anger. "Why exactly can't I be your girlfriend?" she asks, her voice hard. "What is it? Do you have a checklist I don’t measure up to?” I don't answer. I turn and stride out of the bedroom. She follows, her shoes thudding on the hardwood floor, but I ignore her. I pass the dining table, head straight for the fridge, and crack open a beer. She stops short, the anger in her body suddenly replaced with bewildered hurt. "So that's it? You're just going to grab a beer? You don't even care, do you?" I take a slow sip, not looking at her. "I thought we were clear. I don't." "I can be a good girlfriend!" she pleads, her voice rising. "I'm a great girlfriend. Just give me a chance." I shake my head. "I don't need a girlfriend." The words hang in the air for a moment before something in her breaks. She lets out a frustrated cry and yells, "Screw you!" She lunges for the front door, yanking it open. She dashes out and almost collides with a girl coming down the hall, a stack of books in her arms. The girl sidesteps to avoid being hit. It's Katy. Her tired gaze lands on Stacy, then drifts to me, her expression unreadable. Stacy gives her a slow once-over, then whips back to me with a sneer. “Really? I thought you had standards!” My mouth opens, ready to shut her down, but Katy beats me to it. “Relax. I’m not here to hook up with him. Unlike you, I actually have a purpose.” Both of us freeze. My brows lift, caught off guard. Stacy’s smirk falters, and for a split second, she looks like she’s been slapped. Chapter 003 KATY’S POV The redhead glares at me, her chest rising and falling like she’s trying to push the anger out in measured breaths. I wait for a retort, but she spares me only a cutting look, huffs at Braydon in dismissal, and storms off, muttering cusses to herself. I stare after her, gritting my teeth as irritation prickles my skin. What’s it with me and redheads today? First, with Bryan in the morning, and now, his brother. It seems they both have a type. A low chuckle from the doorway yanks my attention back. Braydon leans casually against the frame, an infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. His abs are on full display, golden against the light, every line impossible to ignore. “Didn’t think you had that in you, Peach.” I lift an eyebrow, a mix of annoyance and curiosity bubbling up inside me. "Peach?" He pushes off the door and takes a step closer, his hand reaching toward me. I recoil slightly, a shiver running down my spine despite myself, and his grin only widens. “Relax,” he says, tilting his head toward my chest. I glance down and there it is: a peach, drawn smack in the center of my shirt. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I can’t help but roll my eyes, letting out an amused scoff. I bulldoze past him into his living area. “Put on a shirt.” “Why?” His voice hums with amusement, even though I refuse to look at him. “Getting a little distracted by the view?” I spin around. “Ever heard of the word decency?” I snap. “It’s spelled—” “Hey, I can spell that. What do you take me for?” he cuts in, feigning annoyance, which somehow makes it even more irritating. He shuts the door and strolls over to the eat-in counter. A can of beer sits there, and before my eyes, he tilts it back and gulps down the entire thing in one smooth motion. “Is that alcohol?” I ask, fists clenching at my sides. He shoots me a strange look, eyes flicking to the now-squashed can in his hand. “It’s beer… so yes, I’m pretty sure it’s alcohol.” He tilts his head, his smirk creeping back. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smarter one?” Anger bubbles inside me. Did Justin not tell him I’m coming over? But no, Justin called me this morning to remind me. So, Braydon knows I’m here to tutor, not watch him get drunk. “You’re drinking on a night I’m supposed to tutor you?” I demand, my voice tight. He sighs dramatically and tosses the can in the trash. “Don’t be so peachy, Peach,” he says, his voice teasing. “It’s just one can and it’s not enough to knock me out. Besides… we can just get to know each other today. Justin definitely didn’t mention you’ve grown into a pretty woman.” I feel irritation crawl up my spine, and my lips twitch. My eyes dart to the door, tempted to leave, but then I remember Justin’s pleading and the one thousand dollars he promised for my new MacBook. I fix him with a death glare. “First of all, don’t call me Peach again. Second, have you considered that the reason you’re flunking your courses is that you flirt too much, and let’s not forget your unhealthy obsession with hockey? If you actually stop thinking about ways to flirt with me, maybe we can get something done tonight. But if you don’t, I’ll be more than happy to waste your time and watch you fail.” “Do you have friends?” he throws at me casually, catching me off guard. “Or have they all ghosted you because all you do is read and forget to socialize?” His words sting, bringing back the memory of what Bryan said to me this morning, but I swallow the hurt. “You must be so good at socializing that you forget other things matter.” I lift my book. “Oh, things like graduating from college.” His smirk widens, and I can see he’s taking this as a challenge. Is my insistence… kind of a kink for him? “Now, where’s your room? Let’s get started,” I add, keeping my voice calm. He leads the way to his room, and I follow, my eyes scanning the space as I enter. Posters of the Chicago Blackhawks cover the walls, along with a few other players I recognize from Justin’s room. Surprisingly, it’s cleaner than I expected, until my gaze lands on his bed. Bile rises in my throat. The sheets are scattered, and two empty condom wrappers lie on the floor. I bolt out, clutching my books, heat flooding my face. He follows, a look of amused surprise on his face, but I don’t slow down. “We’ll just read here,” I say, refusing to meet his eyes. I drop my books on the table, my hand aching from carrying them too long. Braydon prowls closer, shrinking the air between us “Why’d you run like that?” He asks. “Can’t handle being in the same room with me, Peach?” That damn nickname again. My patience frays. “You should clean up your room after sex, especially if you’ve got company. It’s called decency. Maybe you’ve heard of it, though clearly, you haven’t.” His fingers suddenly tilt my jaw, forcing my eyes to his. “Are you sure that’s the only reason? You know, I can make time for you.” That’s it. I’ve had enough. Heat floods my chest as I snatch my books off the table and storm toward the door. “Find someone else!” I yell. He catches my arm, trying to stop me, but I yank hard against his grip. I will not sit through two hours of his shameless flirting, not today. Not after the day I’ve had. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay?” Braydon’s voice softens as he pleads. “Get your hands off me.” I twist, trying to shake him loose. “I’ll behave, alright?” he rushes out. “I’ll put on a shirt, stop calling you Peach, never say another word you don’t like. Just, please, tutor me. I’m desperate.” I whirl around, ready to snap that he doesn’t act desperate enough, when my pocket starts buzzing nonstop. With a huff, I yank my phone out, half-expecting one of my study group members. But no, it’s Bryan. My stomach knots as I click the notification. Instead of apologies like I imagined for a second, my screen is filled with vile messages from him. My throat burns as my eyes lock on one message that makes the rest blur away. ~~BRYAN: Return my baseball jacket. My new girl wants it.~~ Everything else fades as hot anger sears through me. I read the line twice, but the words don’t change. He wants me to return his baseball jacket? And not just that, he already has a new girl, less than twelve hours after we broke up. My jaw clenches so tight it aches. He’s doing this to rile me up, and goddamn, it’s working. If I don’t hit back, he wins. The memory of him sneering that I’d never find someone better than him scorches me deeply. “Hey…” A tap on my shoulder jolts me, and Braydon’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Did you hear a word I said? I said I’ll do anything you want. Anything.” My head jerks toward him, and it takes a moment to recollect myself, his last word lingering in my mind. Anything you want. The words replay like a chant, and suddenly my mind is crawling with ideas that shouldn’t be there. My gaze rakes down his frame and back up, and he catches it, brows pulling together in confusion. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it, but the thought is so damn tempting. Braydon Cooper, the campus golden boy and star forward of the hockey team. He’s the guy girls would do anything to be seen with, and guys hate him because he can take their girlfriends with a smile. He might be a player, but everyone knows he’s picky. Ruthlessly picky. So much so that girls brag if they even make it into his bed. Just being seen with him is enough to boost your social status overnight. You get invitations to events just because you’ve caught the eye of Braydon Cooper. And right now, he’s standing in front of me, saying anything I want. He’s perfect for my revenge plan. Not just because of who he is, but because he’s Bryan’s brother. What better way to grind Bryan’s inflated ego to dust than to show him his so-called replaceable ex is on the arm of his hotter and better brother? I turn to face Braydon fully, heat prickling under my skin. “You’ll do anything?” I ask, watching him closely. He studies me, uncertainty flickering in his eyes for the first time since I walked in. Still, he nods. “Yeah.” I take a slow breath, steadying the heat in my voice. “Then here’s the deal. I’ll tutor you, and not just enough for you to pass. You’ll ace your classes, every single one of them, with at least a B. That’s my part.” He narrows his eyes, waiting. “And yours?” “In return,” I say, “you’ll use your charm, your connections, your golden-boy reputation to pursue me publicly. We’ll build a high-profile relationship and everyone will see us.” Chapter 004 KATY’S POV “What?” Braydon stares at me like I’ve just sprouted two heads. “I said that—” “Yeah, I got you.” He cuts in, stepping closer as if to read my face better. “You’re asking me to play boyfriend?” I lick my lips before answering, my pulse hammering. “Yes.” He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sorry to disappoint you, Peach, but dating isn’t my thing. Anything but that.” The sting hurts more than I expected, disappointment slicing through me. I exhale slowly, biting my lip. I’ve heard his no-dating rule before, but dismissed it as just another line to make himself more desirable. But now… the way he shuts me down makes me wonder if he’s actually serious enough to walk away from an offer like this. I clear my throat, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Think about it. Midterms are in four weeks, and it’s a major part of our final grade. If you want to pass, you need time with me, and that’s a month to prepare. This is a win-win deal.” “Uh-uh.” He flicks his hand. “I’ll pass. There has to be something else you want. I mean…” His smirk resurfaces. “I didn’t take you for one of my fangirls.” I roll my eyes, glaring at him. “I’m not interested in you. And I’ve never harbored some secret crush on you.” “Really?” He cuts in, his tone edged with disbelief. “So why? I mean… aren’t you still with Bryan or something?” “You should’ve remembered that before flirting with me,” I snap back. My chest heaves once, and I force myself to calm. It takes everything in me to push out the words. “Bryan and I broke up.” His face doesn’t change, not even a hint of sympathy. He also doesn’t look like he’s about to say an empty sorry to hear that. Instead, he cocks an eyebrow. “So what? Trying to use me as your rebound?” The urge to scream at him burns in my throat, but I bite it back. I’m negotiating, and I need this deal. Swallowing hard feels like impaling myself as I admit the truth. “He cheated on me.” That gets him. His expression shifts, the teasing dropping from his face. His eyes darken, a flash of anger sparking there. “That son of a bitch.” “It’s fine,” I choke out, though it’s not. “I just… I want to prove him wrong. He said I can’t find someone better than him. But—” I shrug, forcing the resignation into my voice. “I guess your rule is your rule.” I turn, feigning surrender, pretending to walk away even though part of me is begging for him to stop me. “Wait!” His voice rings out just as my hand grazes the door. My lips twitch into a smile, but I force it down, schooling my face into something neutral as I turn back to him. Braydon drags a hand through his hair, and I know he’s thinking. And honestly, I don’t blame him. I already know how explosive it’ll be once the news spreads. Justin will definitely flip out, and everyone will have their eyes glued to my life like it’s their favorite show. Frankly, the only good thing to come out of this is that Bryan will absolutely lose his shit. “You’ll really help me ace my courses?” he finally asks, his gaze locking with mine. I nod. “Yeah. But that depends on how convincing you are as my boyfriend.” His brow furrows. “What does that even mean?” “It means people have to believe we’re dating,” I say evenly. A smirk tugs at his lips. “That’s gonna be a hard sell, considering my track record.” I suck in a breath, my patience thinning. “Do you really want to graduate, or not?” He nods his head, shooting me a mock glare. “You’re so annoying.” “Then do we have a deal?” I press, refusing to back down. He stays quiet, the silence stretching long enough for me to second-guess everything. Then he sighs. “We’ve got a deal.” I almost squeal, but I bite it back hard. He actually agreed. I can’t believe I pulled this off. And suddenly, the weight of it sinks in…this is huge. In the history of Cadston College, I’m his first girlfriend. First. Which makes it not just a win, but a direct slap in Bryan’s face. Another point on the scoreboard for me. “Thank you,” I say, setting my books down before my hands can shake. “I hope you’ll be a great girlfriend,” he replies smoothly, that tone of mischief back in his voice. “Because I’ll give this my all. Quick notice though, I’m a handsy guy.” His teasing is back, but this time, when our eyes lock, I can’t fire back like I usually do. The air shifts between us, heavy and charged. My throat tightens, and I look away, scratching at my arm like that can distract me. It doesn’t. If anything, it only makes me more aware of how close he is. “Ummm…let’s talk about the rules.” I manage to say. “What rules?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer as his hand lands on my shoulder, tugging me a little closer. I go stiff instantly, every nerve locking up. His frown deepens. “You can’t freeze up when I touch you if we’re going to sell this dating thing.” A spark of alarm shoots through me. “And why would you even touch me?” He tilts his head, one brow arching. “Because, Peach, I’m supposed to be your boyfriend.” My throat tightens. “Can’t you convince people without touching me?” I counter, heat crawling up my neck. “We can…hold hands sometimes.” “Are you really that shy?” His lips twitch. “What, was your relationship with Bryan PG-12 or something?” “No,” I snap before I can stop myself. My voice falters, then steadies again as I lift my chin. “We had sex plenty of times. And yeah, there was PDA. Difference is, he was actually my boyfriend.” He steps closer, and with a maddening slowness, pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. My skin burns at the contact. “We just made a deal, Peach,” he says softly. “And the way I see it, that makes you my girlfriend now. If we’re gonna convince Bryan, we don’t get to half-ass it. He can smell bullshit a mile away so we do what real couples do.” The room feels like it’s closing in, the air too thick, my heartbeat too loud. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. If I want Bryan to choke on this, I have to play the part. I nod, forcing the words out. “Maybe…we should practice holding hands and some physical stuff. Just to make it natural.” He almost laughs but reins it in, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Practice, huh? Okay, Peach. Let’s practice.” He guides me stiffly to the couch and sits beside me. Then he extends his hand, and my throat dries. Slowly, I reach out and take it. The moment our skin touches, a zap of electricity shoots through me, and I yank my hand back. He feels it too, and I can tell because he doesn’t tease me. Instead, he licks his lips. “Let’s try again. Extend your hand.” I swallow, shove my hand forward, and he takes it. His fingers weave through mine, and my heart slams against my ribs, so loud it feels impossible he can’t hear it. His gaze lingers on me as he strokes the back of my hand with his thumb, and shivers ripple down my spine. Why does something as simple as holding his hand make me feel this way? “See?” he murmurs. “It’s not that hard.” I nod quickly, pretending the heat in my belly isn’t getting worse with every second. He shifts closer, his shoulder brushing mine, and his scent floods my senses. “Now,” he says, his voice dropping, “next on the list of physical contact is kissing.” Chapter 005 KATY’S POV I rip my hand away, glaring at him, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Are you out of your mind?” He snorts. “Do you, or do you not, want Bryan to believe we’re dating?” My jaw drops in outrage. “What does that have to do with my lips?” He shakes his head like I’m hopeless. “What do you think relationships are? Study groups? Business meetings?” He leans closer, and I instinctively lean back, my heart racing. “Men are physical beings and I’m the most physical of all. Bryan knows that. If he notices I’m not all over you, we’ve got a problem. And we don’t want problems, do we?” I bite my lip and look away, my brain spiraling. Maybe I should find someone else for this fake-dating nonsense, because his suggestions are ridiculous. He makes me react in ways I don’t understand, and now I’m actually considering kissing him. Him, of all people. No. I cross my arms and face him. “This isn’t a game. It’s fake dating, and I am not kissing you.” He leans back, unfazed. “Okay, then what do you suggest we do when we’re out? Bars, my hockey games…” I blink. “Wait, bars? I have to go with you to bars? Why?” He lifts a brow like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because that’s what girlfriends do.” Oh, this is already too much. The thought of hanging out with his friends, who I’m sure are just as loud and cocky as he is, makes my stomach turn. “Trust me, Peach,” he says with that maddening grin, “if you show up on my arm at a bar, Bryan will lose his mind. You’ve got to do things with me you’d never do with him, or he’ll never buy it.” I narrow my eyes. “And what exactly happens at this bar?” “We have fun, grab a couple drinks, and I introduce you as my girlfriend…” His grin widens. “Oh, and heads up? Half the girls there will probably want to kill you.” I roll my eyes, though I can’t deny it makes sense. Going out with him and stepping into his world will convince anyone we’re together. Bryan especially. He knows I hate loud places, so if he hears I went to a bar with Braydon, he’ll lose it. “Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll go.” “And at least one home game,” he adds quickly. I sigh. “That too.” “And you’ll wear my jacket around campus.” I give him a tight nod. “But no kissing. If you want that, call the redhead.” His lips curve. “Why don’t you want to kiss me? Scared you’re bad at it?” I scowl. “I’m a great kisser!” “Yeah?” He leans in, close enough for my breath to catch. My heart skips, heat curling low in my stomach. “Then prove it.” “Why do I have to prove anything to you?” I snap, though my palms are slick with sweat. “I know I’m a good kisser. End of story.” His tilts his head. “I see fear in your eyes. Don’t worry, I get it.” “Wh—” The sound sputters out of me. He’s unbelievable. “Why would I be scared to kiss you?” He shakes his head slowly, like he’s humoring me. “A lot of people freeze up when—” “Fine!” The word rips out of me before I can stop it. “Let’s do it.” For a second, his eyes widen, shock flickering there before it melts into a smile. His green eyes darken, heat sparking in them or maybe it’s just me burning up. My hands tremble against my thighs, and my whole body feels like it’s caught fire. This cannot be happening. Except it is, because he leans in and closes the gap between us. Our knees brush, and it feels like sparks shooting through me. My hand lifts almost on its own, my fingers brushing his cheek and my thumb traces along his jawline. His eyes catch the light, and I swear I can see the rapid flutter of his pulse in his throat. Slowly, I tilt forward until my lips press against his. The instant they touch, heat floods through me, racing from my mouth down the length of my body. My skin prickles, every nerve coming alive with a low pull in my stomach that I can’t control. He tastes faintly of beer as his tongue slides in my mouth, but somehow it’s addictive, like I’ve never tasted it before. For a moment, I forget everything: where we are, why we’re doing this, and even who I’m with. All I feel is heat rolling through me. And then reality slams back. I’m kissing Braydon. The last person I should ever be kissing. Panic claws at my chest, and I rip myself away, breathless. My face burns hot, my chest rising and falling too fast. From the corner of my eye, I catch him licking his lips, and I tighten my thighs. I should say something smart, but my throat is dry, and I don’t trust my voice not to give me away. My palms are damp, so I rub them against my jeans, praying he won’t point out how rattled I am. “Well,” he drawls at last, his eyes locked on me, “I guess we have chemistry. We’ve got nothing to worry about.” I force myself to look at him, but the heat in his gaze is too much, and I turn away almost instantly. “Is that so?” I laugh nervously, rubbing my arms. “Then I guess we’re done here.” I spring to my feet, gathering my things, but before I can escape, his hand closes around my wrist. My breath catches as I glance down at him. “There’s one more thing,” he says. “Wh…what?” My voice trips over itself. “The way you look at me.” I’m sure my chin is red now because I feel all the blood in my body rush to my face. How do I look at him? How? “What do you mean?” I manage to ask, barely above a whisper. “You need to look at me like you’re in love,” he says. Relief flickers through me when I realize he’s still talking about our act, not me. But then his fingers lift, tilting my chin toward him, and my throat goes dry. My gaze drops to his lips, and panic surges. “I think I’m good,” I blurt, stumbling back. Clutching my books to my chest, I make for the door before I can completely fall apart. Chapter 006 KATY’S POV I slip into the lecture hall and sink into my usual seat, letting my bag drop beside me. My gaze flicks around the room before I can stop myself, and I scan the faces of everyone present. Of course, I already know Braydon’s schedule, so I know he shouldn’t be here. Still, I only exhale once I’m certain. It’s ironic, really. He’s supposed to be my fake boyfriend, and yet here I am, relieved he isn’t anywhere near me. And today is supposed to be our first day for everything we planned but my stomach is fluttering with nerves. The truth is that after last night, I need space, breathing room, and time to convince myself I’m not making a mistake by trusting him. I usually pride myself on making good choices. Safe ones. But with him, all my carefully built walls crumble, and wisdom evaporates. That’s how I end up doing things like kissing him like I want it and like I’m not supposed to remember it’s fake. Worse, I didn’t just kiss him, I melted and moaned into his mouth as if I couldn’t help myself. The memory sends a shiver racing down my spine, and I shift in my seat, wishing I could shake the feeling away. “Miss me?” a familiar voice teases in my ear. I jump, startled, before turning. Allie slides into the chair beside me, her smile bright and easy. Right on cue, our professor walks to the podium, but I barely notice him because I’m too busy staring at my best friend. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow,” I whisper, grinning as relief warms my chest. God, it feels good to see her. Allie isn’t just my roommate, she’s my anchor, and my sister in every way that matters. She’s been gone for days, celebrating her anniversary with her boyfriend, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed her until now. “So basically, you didn’t miss me,” she says, pulling out her notebook, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I missed you so much my entire life collapsed without you,” I whisper dramatically. She smothers a laugh. “Or maybe you were just having too much fun without me.” If only she knew. Fun is the last word I’d use for all the mess that happened. And I know she’s going to freak out when I tell her because I have to tell her. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it while she was away because I didn’t want to ruin her week. But now that she’s back? There’s no hiding and there’s too much to unpack. “I’ll tell you everything after class,” I whisper, flipping open my notebook. Her pen pauses midair, and she leans closer, her brows raised. “Now I’m anxious.” “After class,” I whisper back, forcing my attention to the podium. The professor’s voice drones on, but the words might as well be static. My heart is already racing, my palms damp against the notebook. Just the thought of telling Allie what happened makes me feel nauseous. She has the kind of relationship people dream about with a steady, loving boyfriend. Meanwhile, mine crashed and burned in the ugliest way possible. The contrast feels like holding up my mess beside her perfection, and part of me wants to swallow it down and never say a word. But I know I can’t. She’s my best friend. And if there’s anyone I can break in front of, it’s her. When the lecture finally ends, Allie wastes no time. She grabs my wrist and practically drags me outside, weaving through the crowd until we find a quiet corner. Her eyes are already wide, her whole body buzzing like she might explode if I make her wait a second longer. “Okay,” she says, hands on her hips. “Tell. Me. Everything.” I let out a shaky laugh, but it dies in my throat. “You think it’s some funny, messy story,” I murmur, staring down at my shoes. “But it’s not.” Her teasing smile slips slightly. “Then start wherever you can.” So I do. I tell Allie everything, starting with catching Bryan cheating and his mockery afterward, which pushed me into a fake relationship with Braydon. The words come out shakier than I expect, and by the time I finish, I feel wrung out. Allie just stares at me, her eyes so wide it almost makes me laugh if it didn’t hurt so much. For a long moment, she doesn’t say a word. Then she exhales slowly and pulls me straight into her arms. I sink into her hug, holding on tightly because God, I needed this. I haven’t even told Justin yet, so she’s only the second person to know, and somehow that makes me feel relieved. When she finally pulls back, her hands stay firm on my arms as she searches my face. “Are you okay?” she asks quietly. I nod, a small, self-conscious laugh escaping. “Yeah. I mean, I cried last night… and then cringed myself into secondhand embarrassment over my own actions with Braydon.” “I’m going to kill Bryan when I see him,” she grinds out. “How could he do that, and who does he even think he is?” I give a small shrug. “Guess you never really know someone, do you?” For a moment, the noise of the hallway swallows us before Allie leans closer until her shoulder brushes mine. “Okay, but…” she lowers her voice, her eyes practically gleaming, “are you one hundred percent serious about Braydon? Because if you are…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but her grin is trying to break through. I narrow my eyes at her. “Don’t you dare get excited.” But it’s too late because the sparkle in her gaze gives her away. She’s always been obsessed with Braydon and thinks he’s hotter than every lead in her comic books combined. Back in freshman year, she even ran his fan page before she started dating and reluctantly passed it on like she was handing over a crown. The way her eyes shine now, I can tell she’s trying to hide how thrilled she is at the drama. With a sigh, I dig out my phone and thrust it into her hands. “Here. Proof.” Her jaw drops the second she sees his name light up my screen. I watch her scan the texts he sent me last night while I was curled up on my bed, crying over everything, and also trying to convince myself our fake relationship wasn’t a bad idea because of the kiss. BRAYDON: Send me your schedule, Peach. ME: Don’t call me Peach. BRAYDON: Okay, send me your schedule, Princess. Allie slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes bouncing between my screen and my face. “Oh my God. You’re not joking.” “Why would I joke about that?” I mutter, trying not to laugh. “Does Justin know about this?” she presses. I shake my head, sighing. “No. And I don’t even know how to tell him.” She grins wickedly. “Girl, you are treading dangerous waters… but I fully support this.” I open my mouth to respond when a new notification flashes across my screen. “It’s Braydon,” Allie squeaks, clutching my arm. “Shhh,” I hiss, leaning down to read it. BRAYDON: Your schedule says library time at 12 p.m. Still on, Princess? I roll my eyes at his text. First it was Peach, now it’s Princess. What’s next, Queen of the Universe? I turn to complain, but Allie is practically glowing, her face lit up like Christmas as she stares at my phone. “Really?” I scoff. “You have a boyfriend and you’re drooling over another guy.” She shakes her head. “I hate to be this kind of best friend, but you’re literally texting Braydon. Braydon!” She repeats it like she wants it to get inside my head. “Do you know what that is?” I stare down at my phone. It’s not like he’s Justin Bieber or something. “He’s a normal guy and my brother’s friend,” I say. She slaps her forehead. “Do you realize you’re his first girlfriend ever, and he doesn’t do relationships?” I’m about to laugh her off when a sight snatches the sound out of my mouth. My chest tightens as my gaze snags on a figure across the quad, and my body feels like it’s being pricked with thorns as I stare. Allie follows my gaze to Bryan, who’s walking slowly a few meters away with his arm wrapped around a girl’s shoulder. A girl, different from the redhead he was with yesterday. I force my gaze away and swallow, hoping it soothes the heat rising inside me, but it doesn’t. It hurts, and I’m scared to admit how much it does. Chapter 007 KATY’S POV The library is unusually packed today as if people know what’s coming. Every table is filled with groups cramming for midterms, laptops glowing, and coffee cups balanced on notebooks. I try to keep my eyes on the book in front of me, but the words blur together as I read the same line three times. My body also feels restless because any moment now, Braydon will walk in, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for the attention that will follow. After seeing Bryan with that girl, though, every hesitation I had about this arrangement with Braydon vanished. He didn’t just cheat, but also made a spectacle out of it. And as if doing that wasn’t enough, he had to parade someone else around campus like a trophy. But if he wants to go low, then fine. I’ll go lower. All the way down. I glance down at my wristwatch, trying to calm the pounding in my chest. “Where is—” “It’s Braydon Cooper.” Someone at the next table half-whispers, and squeals at the same time. My head lifts on instinct, and there he is, walking down the row of tables like he owns the place. Even in a library full of stressed-out students, he’s impossible to miss. Conversations dip, pages stop turning, and a few phones tilt in his direction as he heads straight for my table. He stops in front of me, his green eyes locking on mine. “Hey, Peach.” “You’re here,” I whisper, tearing my gaze away before anyone can see the heat creeping into my cheeks. He pulls out a chair and drops into the seat beside me, earning a chorus of gasps from nearby tables. I can’t tell if people are shocked to see him in the library because let’s be real, this is probably his first time here, or if it’s because he chose to sit with me. Either way, the attention is loud, and it’s exactly what we planned. “Reading without me?” he teases, leaning closer and his fingers brush a strand of hair behind my ear like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I feel so hurt.” I lick my lips, trying to keep my cool. He told me from the start he’s a handsy guy, and I agreed I’d play along. So yeah, I’ll be the girl who acts unbothered by the campus heartthrob touching her in the middle of the library, even if my pulse clearly didn’t get the memo. “We both know you hate reading,” I tell him, forcing a smile that feels way too charming. “And please don’t touch me out of nowhere. Give me a heads-up.” He leans in closer, and I almost jerk back but catch myself just in time. “I thought we went through this.” He whispers, then pulls out a can of Coke from his pocket, setting it in front of me. “I didn’t know if you preferred coffee or soda.” The gesture is simple, but it sends the room into overdrive. Whispers ripple from the aisles, and I catch people peeking from behind the shelves, pretending to browse while very obviously staring. Seriously? What’s their deal? Yeah, Braydon’s a star on the hockey team and will probably go pro after college, but they’re acting like he’s already a celebrity or in the NHL. Well… I shouldn’t complain. The faster the news reaches Bryan, the better. “Thanks, Bray,” I manage, the word strangling me on its way out. He cringes. “Bray? That’s the best you’ve got?” I bite my lip, mortified. What am I even supposed to call him? Bryan and I never did nicknames, and we were on a first-name or baby basis. And there is no universe where I’m calling Braydon baby. He sighs, clearly over my struggle, then grabs my wrist and tugs me to my feet. Before I can react, he’s pulling me between two shelves into a quiet corner, away from all the eyes burning holes into us. “Are you really this stiff?” he asks, caging me in against the wall. “Bray? Really?” I glance around, making sure no one’s watching, before muttering, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to call you. Bray’s not that bad.” He scoffs. “Out of thousands of options, you go with Bray? Try something better. Maybe… Big guy.” “Big guy?” I arch a brow. He nods smugly, gesturing to himself like the answer is obvious. My eyes betray me, running over him before I can stop. And fine, he’s not wrong. He’s all man, from the broad chest stretching his shirt to the long legs and fingers that make him seem even bigger in the cramped space. I snap myself out of it before my gaze drifts lower, folding my arms across my chest to put some distance between us. Not that it helps because he’s close enough that one wrong move and we’ll be pressed together. “I’m not calling you Big Guy,” I tell him flatly. “But I’ll come up with something… nicer.” “And it has to be before Zach’s party,” he shoots back. “Zach’s party?” I narrow my eyes. “Who the hell is Zach, and why are you suddenly bringing him into this?” I can tell where this is heading, and yeah, I hate it already. “Because we’re going to that party,” he says. I shake my head. “Nope, that’s not happening. We agreed on bars and one home game. That’s it. Nothing about frat houses, or parties.” “Zach’s our goalie,” he says, like that alone should settle the argument. “And there’s no way I’m missing his birthday bash.” “Then go alone.” He smirks, leaning closer. “That’d be weird… when I’ve got a hot girlfriend I’m supposed to show off.” My heart does that annoying thump-thump thing, but it’s not nearly enough to change my mind. Loud parties are the last place I want to be. They drag up memories I’ve spent years trying to bury, and a part of me I don’t let anyone near. Agreeing to bars was already pushing it, but this? This is a hard no. “I’m not going,” I say again, firmer this time. “Bryan isn’t going to figure it out just because I’m not glued to your side twenty-four-seven.” “Peach, it’s just—” “No.” The word scrapes out harsher than I intend, but I don’t care. His persistence grates on me, mostly because I can see where this is going. He’ll keep pressing, trying to dig into the reason I avoid places like that, but I don’t talk about it. Not now. Not ever. “I don’t know why—” he starts, only to stop when a girl sidles up to the shelf beside us. She isn’t fooling anyone by pretending to look at books, because her ears are all wide. I paste on a sweet smile and reach up, pretending to adjust Braydon’s collar. “Hold still,” I murmur. He raises a brow but quickly plays along, sliding his hand around my waist and tugging me against him. Now we’re chest-to-chest, close enough that my pulse skips in protest. The girl lingers a second too long before finally moving on. “Why can’t people just mind their business?” I mutter, tugging at his collar one last time before dropping my hand. He stays rooted to the spot, staring at me like he’s trying to figure me out. The silence stretches long enough to make me shift on my feet. “People are going to start talking about us,” he finally says, shrugging out of his jacket. “I know you hate loud places for some reason you won’t tell me, but everyone’s gonna be at that party. If you really want to prove him wrong, that’s the best night.” I open my mouth, ready to argue, but before I can get a word out, he presses his hockey jacket into my hands. Then, with a quick, almost disarming softness, he taps my chin with his knuckles. “I’ll see you tonight.” And just like that, he strides out, leaving me staring down at the jacket clutched in my grip.
"I woke up with my ex’s brother still buried inside me—and the bast@rd was smiling. “What the hell? Get out of me!” I punched him in the chest, but he just held me tighter against the mattress. “Shh. You’re the one who climbed on top of me last night, begging for it,” his thumb traced my lower lip. “And now you want to play the victim?” Before I could answer, the bedroom door shook with a violent bang. “KATY. OPEN THE FKING DOOR.” My ex’s roar made the walls shake. ""I know you’re in there with him!"" I froze. My heart was pounding against my ribs. Braydon didn’t even flinch. Instead, he grabbed my hips and thrvst into me again—so deep I had to bite my lip until it bled to keep from making a sound. “Let me go!” I hissed, struggling to get him off me. He flipped me over in one fluid motion, trapping me beneath his weight. “Where do you think you’re going, Peach? You wanted revenge, didn’t you? Well, let him hear exactly what you did with his brother.” Another blow. The wood creaked. “I’m going to kill you both!” Braydon let out a dark laugh against my ear. “Well, you’d better hold on tight.” He rammed into me again. Harder this time. On purpose. A moan escaped my throat before I could stop it. I should have been terrified. Humiliated. Instead, my body arched on its own, seeking the next thrust. He tightened his grip on my waist. “That’s good,” he murmured. “Let him hear.”" --- Chapter 001 KATY’S POV “Hey, I’m heading over now. Can you bring out the books I left?” I press send and shove my phone into my jacket pocket as Bryan’s townhouse comes into view, my steps automatically quickening. I have Statistics in thirty minutes, and Mrs. Tompson would rather swallow a jean jacket than let me walk into her class without my textbook, the same textbook I managed to leave lying around in my boyfriend’s room. As I walk faster, I recheck my phone, half expecting a reply, but there’s nothing. Not even a typing bubble. For a moment, I wonder if he has already left, but it‘s unlikely. It’s only 9:30 in the morning, and Bryan never leaves his room early. One of the perks of being a baseball player is that he doesn’t have to treat academics like life or death the way I do. I reach his townhouse and take the stairs two at a time, my purse bouncing against my hip. The higher I climb, the more rushed my breathing feels, though it has less to do with the stairs and more to do with this creeping frustration that he still hasn’t texted back. By the time I get to the third floor, where his room is, I’m already picturing walking in and tossing a sarcastic comment about how hard it is to answer a simple text. My hand reaches for his doorknob when I hear his voice through the door. “Hurry up, my girlfriend will be here soon.” I freeze. “You need to leave.” Who is he talking to? The question barely forms before the door flies open and a girl rushes out, nearly colliding with me. My breath hitches. She gasps, her eyes wide with a mix of panic and shame. In the sliver of a second before she bolts, I take in her messy red hair, wrinkled shirt, and unbuttoned jeans. A sickening masculine scent, one I recognize very well, clings to her. My gaze snaps to Bryan, who is standing in the middle of the room in nothing but his boxers, his own chest bare, and his hair tousled. A cold, sharp shiver runs down my spine, stealing the air from my lungs. My knees go weak, and the knot in my stomach turns to a solid block of ice. Without a word, the girl tears past me, disappearing down the hallway. My fingers begin to tremble, and my heart hammers so hard it feels like it will burst through my ribs. I stumble back, a bitter taste rising in my throat. “Baby, wait.” Bryan’s voice follows me as he steps into the hallway. I spin around and run, determined to put as much distance as I can between us, my chest burning with anger. He catches me, his hands clamping around my wrist before I can escape, spinning me back toward him and blocking my path. "Baby, let's talk.” "Let go of me," I snap, my voice shaking. "Don't touch me!" I shove against his chest, but he doesn't budge. He tugs me toward his room, his grip tight. "It's better if we go inside. Everyone can hear us out here." Inside, I shove him away, my chest rising and falling with quick breaths. I want to demand answers, but I already know the truth. The evidence is everywhere: in the rumpled sheets, the scent of her perfume, and the desperate, guilty look in his eyes. He paces the room, running a hand through his hair before stopping and grabbing my shoulder. "I messed up, okay?" He drags a hand over his face. "It was a mistake.” My eyes twitch. “A mistake?” “Yeah, baby," he says, his eyes skittering away from mine. "Some of the guys came over last night. We drank too much. I got so shit-faced I… I thought she was you. I don't even remember half of it.” I blink, unable to process his words. My mind stumbles over them, each syllable making less sense than the last. Did he really just say that? Does he actually expect me to believe this pathetic lie? I stare at him, my mouth slightly open, waiting for him to take the words back. But he doesn't. He just holds my gaze, searching my face as if he's trying to see if I'm stupid enough to swallow his bucket of lies. “You… you thought she was me?” I choke out in anger. “Are you actually serious right now?” “Yes, baby, I'm serious. I didn't mean it. It was a mistake," he insists. "And honestly, she came on to me first. How was I supposed to resist when I was drunk? Come on, you know I love you.” A bitter laugh escapes my lips. "Cheating is one thing, Bryan," I snap, taking a step toward him, "but thinking I'm stupid enough to believe your lies? That's a whole other level.” “Katy, you’re overreacting,” he states, his voice growing colder. “Jasper and Hannah had the same kind of problems, and they worked it out. Why can’t you be more like her?” I feel heat flare through me. “Overreacting?” I yell. “Fourteen months, Bryan! Fourteen months of promises, and you’ve broken every single one! And you have the nerve to tell me I’m overreacting?!” He scoffs, his mask finally dropping. "Promises? You really want to bring that up?" I recoil. "What do you mean by that?" He crosses his arms and steps toward me. "You want to talk about promises? Fine. Let's talk about it." He jabs a finger in my face, his eyes darkening. "You promised your schedule would never affect us. How's that working out? Every damn day, you're busy. Debate, magazines, some lame club! You put everything else before me.” “That’s not—” I start, but he cuts me off. “I play sports, and I still make time for you!” he yells, and I flinch. “You know what? This is your fault!” He jabs my shoulder again. “This happened because of you, not me. You!” I step back, rage crawling up my spine. Never in a million years did I imagine that the person I had loved and trusted for a whole year could be like this—twisting the truth, blaming me, acting as if I were at fault. “You are a coward, Bryan.” I whisper, lifting my head to meet his eyes. “That’s what you are. Blaming me, twisting everything, and calling it my fault? I’m done.” I dash to his desk, sending papers and books tumbling to the floor as I hunt for my textbook. I need to get out of here before my anger takes over, before I do something I will regret. “You act like there’s someone better out there. There isn’t, and there won’t ever be.” He sneers from behind me. “Nobody else will ever make you feel alive the way I do.” I pause, staring up at him. He steps closer, his voice rising as he repeats his claim. “You were nobody before me, Katy. I made you popular. You walk into a room, and people know your name because of me. Bryan Cooper.” Something inside me snaps. I close the distance between us, breathing against his face. "You will never speak to me again," I hiss. "And mark my words, you will be replaced by someone hotter, smarter, and better than you could ever be. I yank the couple necklace he gave me off my neck and fling it at his feet. Without another word, I storm out with my textbook, tears burning my eyes. I managed not to cry in front of him, but as I run down the stairs, the dam finally burst. I collapse against the side of the building, clutching my chest as sobs tear out of me. It feels like someone has ripped my heart away and shredded it into a million pieces. Our memories and moments fill my mind, stabbing me over and over. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fumble to answer it, my hands shaking. “Katy?”My brother’s voice floats through. “Yeah?” I sniffle, wiping my tears. “Don’t forget you promised to tutor Braydon after class today,” he says, sounding annoyed. “He’s already bugging me.” I bite my lip, wanting to tell him I can’t right now, not in this state, but I had promised to help his friend. I exhale, pushing back the lump in my throat, and slowly rise to my feet. “Okay,” I manage to say. Chapter 002 BRAYDON’S POV “Asshole!” I shout, the words ripping from my throat as some guy cuts me off. I slam my hand against the steering wheel, throwing a glare in the rearview mirror, even though I know he can’t see me. Perfect. Just perfect. I’m particularly in a bad mood today. Hell, I’ve been in a bad mood all week. Nothing seems to go right, and every little thing is just… another straw on the camel’s back. And it’s all because my old man’s ultimatum keeps gnawing at me. “Pass all your courses, or forget about hockey.” His voice drills into my skull. Simple, right? Like I could just flip a switch and make it happen. I can rock Cs in most of my courses, well, except in Marketing Management and Business Ethics. If I fail those, there’s no graduation, no hockey, and worse, Bryan gets his hands on my mom’s company. That’s exactly what he and his mother have been scheming for, and I’ll be damned if I let them take what my mom built with her own sweat and blood. The thought gnaws at me, making me want to punch something, and I can’t hold in the audible groan that escapes my throat. I pull into my apartment lot and kill the engine. For a moment, I sit there, gripping the wheel and staring at myself in the rearview mirror. “You got this,” I tell myself. I can do it. Lucky for me, Justin’s kid sister, Katy, is a genius. All I need is a few sessions with her, I’ll keep my grades, and hockey stays mine. That’s the plan, the smart plan. But right now, I need something to distract me before I lose it. I nod, shove the door open, and head for my building. I slow as I near my door, spotting someone leaning against the frame. Her head lifts, eyes locking with mine, and a smirk curls her lips. Stacy. Exactly the distraction I ordered. I’d shot her a text twenty minutes ago, but didn’t think she’d make it so quickly. Guess not. She’s in nothing but a jacket and lacy tights. And when a girl waits at your door dressed like that, you know damn well there’s nothing underneath. “Took you long enough.” She shoots me a sexy smile that says I’m about to forget all about my bad day. My gaze drags over her as I slip the key into the lock. “Is that all for me?” Her eyes glitter. “Sure, big guy.” I’ve barely stepped inside before her manicured fingers trail across my chest. “How long has it been?” she purrs. “A long time,” I answer. Her smile widens as she shrugs out of her jacket, letting it pool on the floor. She gets on her knees and crooks a finger at me. "Come here.” I waste no time closing the distance between us. The world outside the door, the frustrations of the day, my father's ultimatum, my grades, all fade into a distant hum. She takes the waistband of my jeans, her fingers teasing the button open before tugging at my zipper. A second later, my cock springs free, a release I've been craving all day, and lands in her waiting hand. The feel of her fingers wrapping around me pulls a low groan from my throat. “Go on, suck it,” I rumble. On my command, she opens her mouth and wraps her lips around my length. **************��Two hours later, Stacy is snuggled up beside me, her head resting on my chest. She traces meaningless lines across my skin, a gesture of intimacy, but I don’t like the cuddly stuff. It makes me feel trapped. I slowly shift, dislodging her head, and search for my shorts on the floor. “You..” “I missed you,” she blurts, cutting me off. I spin, caught off guard for half a second before I reel it back in. The first thought that comes to mind is: Did she forget the rules? We first hooked up three months ago, and I was crystal clear about my boundaries.Things were easy because she was fine with a no-strings-attached arrangement. But now, I'm not so sure. It seems she's going to be like all the others, the ones who start wanting more after a few times. “I’ve been busy,” I mutter, dragging on my shorts. I can’t say I missed her, too, because that’ll only mess things up and lead her on. But the truth that she hadn't crossed my mind once since we last hooked up is too cold to say aloud. “I’m exhausted. Got morning practice.” I rub the back of my neck, hoping she takes the hint and leaves. But that’s far from what she has in my mind. “Are you really kicking me out minutes after we just—” her voice sharpens, “after we just had sex?” “Stacy, listen…” “Seriously, is this it? Is this all I am to you? We just hook up and that’s all?” She looks visibly upset now. “I thought we were clear about this," I reply, my voice firm. "From the very beginning, I told you I'm not looking for anything serious. No strings attached, just this.” Her fingers tremble as she snatches her jacket off the floor. "Well, I don't want to be your whenever-you-want girl anymore. I want to be your girlfriend." “You know that’s not happening.” I respond flatly. “But why?” She demands. "I don't have to explain myself and don’t act like I tricked you. You knew the deal from day one,” I tilt my head at the door. “If casual wasn’t your thing, you shouldn’t have agreed. Now do us both a favor and leave.” Her expression immediately softens, her eyes filling with a plea as she realizes I'm serious. "Big guy..." she croaks, her voice breaking. "I just… I just really like you. Can't you—" She lifts a hand to touch me, and I take a sharp step back. Her hand is left hanging in the air, and her eyes turn cold instantly again. The vulnerability is gone, replaced by a cutting anger. "Why exactly can't I be your girlfriend?" she asks, her voice hard. "What is it? Do you have a checklist I don’t measure up to?” I don't answer. I turn and stride out of the bedroom. She follows, her shoes thudding on the hardwood floor, but I ignore her. I pass the dining table, head straight for the fridge, and crack open a beer. She stops short, the anger in her body suddenly replaced with bewildered hurt. "So that's it? You're just going to grab a beer? You don't even care, do you?" I take a slow sip, not looking at her. "I thought we were clear. I don't." "I can be a good girlfriend!" she pleads, her voice rising. "I'm a great girlfriend. Just give me a chance." I shake my head. "I don't need a girlfriend." The words hang in the air for a moment before something in her breaks. She lets out a frustrated cry and yells, "Screw you!" She lunges for the front door, yanking it open. She dashes out and almost collides with a girl coming down the hall, a stack of books in her arms. The girl sidesteps to avoid being hit. It's Katy. Her tired gaze lands on Stacy, then drifts to me, her expression unreadable. Stacy gives her a slow once-over, then whips back to me with a sneer. “Really? I thought you had standards!” My mouth opens, ready to shut her down, but Katy beats me to it. “Relax. I’m not here to hook up with him. Unlike you, I actually have a purpose.” Both of us freeze. My brows lift, caught off guard. Stacy’s smirk falters, and for a split second, she looks like she’s been slapped. Chapter 003 KATY’S POV The redhead glares at me, her chest rising and falling like she’s trying to push the anger out in measured breaths. I wait for a retort, but she spares me only a cutting look, huffs at Braydon in dismissal, and storms off, muttering cusses to herself. I stare after her, gritting my teeth as irritation prickles my skin. What’s it with me and redheads today? First, with Bryan in the morning, and now, his brother. It seems they both have a type. A low chuckle from the doorway yanks my attention back. Braydon leans casually against the frame, an infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. His abs are on full display, golden against the light, every line impossible to ignore. “Didn’t think you had that in you, Peach.” I lift an eyebrow, a mix of annoyance and curiosity bubbling up inside me. "Peach?" He pushes off the door and takes a step closer, his hand reaching toward me. I recoil slightly, a shiver running down my spine despite myself, and his grin only widens. “Relax,” he says, tilting his head toward my chest. I glance down and there it is: a peach, drawn smack in the center of my shirt. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I can’t help but roll my eyes, letting out an amused scoff. I bulldoze past him into his living area. “Put on a shirt.” “Why?” His voice hums with amusement, even though I refuse to look at him. “Getting a little distracted by the view?” I spin around. “Ever heard of the word decency?” I snap. “It’s spelled—” “Hey, I can spell that. What do you take me for?” he cuts in, feigning annoyance, which somehow makes it even more irritating. He shuts the door and strolls over to the eat-in counter. A can of beer sits there, and before my eyes, he tilts it back and gulps down the entire thing in one smooth motion. “Is that alcohol?” I ask, fists clenching at my sides. He shoots me a strange look, eyes flicking to the now-squashed can in his hand. “It’s beer… so yes, I’m pretty sure it’s alcohol.” He tilts his head, his smirk creeping back. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smarter one?” Anger bubbles inside me. Did Justin not tell him I’m coming over? But no, Justin called me this morning to remind me. So, Braydon knows I’m here to tutor, not watch him get drunk. “You’re drinking on a night I’m supposed to tutor you?” I demand, my voice tight. He sighs dramatically and tosses the can in the trash. “Don’t be so peachy, Peach,” he says, his voice teasing. “It’s just one can and it’s not enough to knock me out. Besides… we can just get to know each other today. Justin definitely didn’t mention you’ve grown into a pretty woman.” I feel irritation crawl up my spine, and my lips twitch. My eyes dart to the door, tempted to leave, but then I remember Justin’s pleading and the one thousand dollars he promised for my new MacBook. I fix him with a death glare. “First of all, don’t call me Peach again. Second, have you considered that the reason you’re flunking your courses is that you flirt too much, and let’s not forget your unhealthy obsession with hockey? If you actually stop thinking about ways to flirt with me, maybe we can get something done tonight. But if you don’t, I’ll be more than happy to waste your time and watch you fail.” “Do you have friends?” he throws at me casually, catching me off guard. “Or have they all ghosted you because all you do is read and forget to socialize?” His words sting, bringing back the memory of what Bryan said to me this morning, but I swallow the hurt. “You must be so good at socializing that you forget other things matter.” I lift my book. “Oh, things like graduating from college.” His smirk widens, and I can see he’s taking this as a challenge. Is my insistence… kind of a kink for him? “Now, where’s your room? Let’s get started,” I add, keeping my voice calm. He leads the way to his room, and I follow, my eyes scanning the space as I enter. Posters of the Chicago Blackhawks cover the walls, along with a few other players I recognize from Justin’s room. Surprisingly, it’s cleaner than I expected, until my gaze lands on his bed. Bile rises in my throat. The sheets are scattered, and two empty condom wrappers lie on the floor. I bolt out, clutching my books, heat flooding my face. He follows, a look of amused surprise on his face, but I don’t slow down. “We’ll just read here,” I say, refusing to meet his eyes. I drop my books on the table, my hand aching from carrying them too long. Braydon prowls closer, shrinking the air between us “Why’d you run like that?” He asks. “Can’t handle being in the same room with me, Peach?” That damn nickname again. My patience frays. “You should clean up your room after sex, especially if you’ve got company. It’s called decency. Maybe you’ve heard of it, though clearly, you haven’t.” His fingers suddenly tilt my jaw, forcing my eyes to his. “Are you sure that’s the only reason? You know, I can make time for you.” That’s it. I’ve had enough. Heat floods my chest as I snatch my books off the table and storm toward the door. “Find someone else!” I yell. He catches my arm, trying to stop me, but I yank hard against his grip. I will not sit through two hours of his shameless flirting, not today. Not after the day I’ve had. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay?” Braydon’s voice softens as he pleads. “Get your hands off me.” I twist, trying to shake him loose. “I’ll behave, alright?” he rushes out. “I’ll put on a shirt, stop calling you Peach, never say another word you don’t like. Just, please, tutor me. I’m desperate.” I whirl around, ready to snap that he doesn’t act desperate enough, when my pocket starts buzzing nonstop. With a huff, I yank my phone out, half-expecting one of my study group members. But no, it’s Bryan. My stomach knots as I click the notification. Instead of apologies like I imagined for a second, my screen is filled with vile messages from him. My throat burns as my eyes lock on one message that makes the rest blur away. ~~BRYAN: Return my baseball jacket. My new girl wants it.~~ Everything else fades as hot anger sears through me. I read the line twice, but the words don’t change. He wants me to return his baseball jacket? And not just that, he already has a new girl, less than twelve hours after we broke up. My jaw clenches so tight it aches. He’s doing this to rile me up, and goddamn, it’s working. If I don’t hit back, he wins. The memory of him sneering that I’d never find someone better than him scorches me deeply. “Hey…” A tap on my shoulder jolts me, and Braydon’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Did you hear a word I said? I said I’ll do anything you want. Anything.” My head jerks toward him, and it takes a moment to recollect myself, his last word lingering in my mind. Anything you want. The words replay like a chant, and suddenly my mind is crawling with ideas that shouldn’t be there. My gaze rakes down his frame and back up, and he catches it, brows pulling together in confusion. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it, but the thought is so damn tempting. Braydon Cooper, the campus golden boy and star forward of the hockey team. He’s the guy girls would do anything to be seen with, and guys hate him because he can take their girlfriends with a smile. He might be a player, but everyone knows he’s picky. Ruthlessly picky. So much so that girls brag if they even make it into his bed. Just being seen with him is enough to boost your social status overnight. You get invitations to events just because you’ve caught the eye of Braydon Cooper. And right now, he’s standing in front of me, saying anything I want. He’s perfect for my revenge plan. Not just because of who he is, but because he’s Bryan’s brother. What better way to grind Bryan’s inflated ego to dust than to show him his so-called replaceable ex is on the arm of his hotter and better brother? I turn to face Braydon fully, heat prickling under my skin. “You’ll do anything?” I ask, watching him closely. He studies me, uncertainty flickering in his eyes for the first time since I walked in. Still, he nods. “Yeah.” I take a slow breath, steadying the heat in my voice. “Then here’s the deal. I’ll tutor you, and not just enough for you to pass. You’ll ace your classes, every single one of them, with at least a B. That’s my part.” He narrows his eyes, waiting. “And yours?” “In return,” I say, “you’ll use your charm, your connections, your golden-boy reputation to pursue me publicly. We’ll build a high-profile relationship and everyone will see us.” Chapter 004 KATY’S POV “What?” Braydon stares at me like I’ve just sprouted two heads. “I said that—” “Yeah, I got you.” He cuts in, stepping closer as if to read my face better. “You’re asking me to play boyfriend?” I lick my lips before answering, my pulse hammering. “Yes.” He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sorry to disappoint you, Peach, but dating isn’t my thing. Anything but that.” The sting hurts more than I expected, disappointment slicing through me. I exhale slowly, biting my lip. I’ve heard his no-dating rule before, but dismissed it as just another line to make himself more desirable. But now… the way he shuts me down makes me wonder if he’s actually serious enough to walk away from an offer like this. I clear my throat, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Think about it. Midterms are in four weeks, and it’s a major part of our final grade. If you want to pass, you need time with me, and that’s a month to prepare. This is a win-win deal.” “Uh-uh.” He flicks his hand. “I’ll pass. There has to be something else you want. I mean…” His smirk resurfaces. “I didn’t take you for one of my fangirls.” I roll my eyes, glaring at him. “I’m not interested in you. And I’ve never harbored some secret crush on you.” “Really?” He cuts in, his tone edged with disbelief. “So why? I mean… aren’t you still with Bryan or something?” “You should’ve remembered that before flirting with me,” I snap back. My chest heaves once, and I force myself to calm. It takes everything in me to push out the words. “Bryan and I broke up.” His face doesn’t change, not even a hint of sympathy. He also doesn’t look like he’s about to say an empty sorry to hear that. Instead, he cocks an eyebrow. “So what? Trying to use me as your rebound?” The urge to scream at him burns in my throat, but I bite it back. I’m negotiating, and I need this deal. Swallowing hard feels like impaling myself as I admit the truth. “He cheated on me.” That gets him. His expression shifts, the teasing dropping from his face. His eyes darken, a flash of anger sparking there. “That son of a bitch.” “It’s fine,” I choke out, though it’s not. “I just… I want to prove him wrong. He said I can’t find someone better than him. But—” I shrug, forcing the resignation into my voice. “I guess your rule is your rule.” I turn, feigning surrender, pretending to walk away even though part of me is begging for him to stop me. “Wait!” His voice rings out just as my hand grazes the door. My lips twitch into a smile, but I force it down, schooling my face into something neutral as I turn back to him. Braydon drags a hand through his hair, and I know he’s thinking. And honestly, I don’t blame him. I already know how explosive it’ll be once the news spreads. Justin will definitely flip out, and everyone will have their eyes glued to my life like it’s their favorite show. Frankly, the only good thing to come out of this is that Bryan will absolutely lose his shit. “You’ll really help me ace my courses?” he finally asks, his gaze locking with mine. I nod. “Yeah. But that depends on how convincing you are as my boyfriend.” His brow furrows. “What does that even mean?” “It means people have to believe we’re dating,” I say evenly. A smirk tugs at his lips. “That’s gonna be a hard sell, considering my track record.” I suck in a breath, my patience thinning. “Do you really want to graduate, or not?” He nods his head, shooting me a mock glare. “You’re so annoying.” “Then do we have a deal?” I press, refusing to back down. He stays quiet, the silence stretching long enough for me to second-guess everything. Then he sighs. “We’ve got a deal.” I almost squeal, but I bite it back hard. He actually agreed. I can’t believe I pulled this off. And suddenly, the weight of it sinks in…this is huge. In the history of Cadston College, I’m his first girlfriend. First. Which makes it not just a win, but a direct slap in Bryan’s face. Another point on the scoreboard for me. “Thank you,” I say, setting my books down before my hands can shake. “I hope you’ll be a great girlfriend,” he replies smoothly, that tone of mischief back in his voice. “Because I’ll give this my all. Quick notice though, I’m a handsy guy.” His teasing is back, but this time, when our eyes lock, I can’t fire back like I usually do. The air shifts between us, heavy and charged. My throat tightens, and I look away, scratching at my arm like that can distract me. It doesn’t. If anything, it only makes me more aware of how close he is. “Ummm…let’s talk about the rules.” I manage to say. “What rules?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer as his hand lands on my shoulder, tugging me a little closer. I go stiff instantly, every nerve locking up. His frown deepens. “You can’t freeze up when I touch you if we’re going to sell this dating thing.” A spark of alarm shoots through me. “And why would you even touch me?” He tilts his head, one brow arching. “Because, Peach, I’m supposed to be your boyfriend.” My throat tightens. “Can’t you convince people without touching me?” I counter, heat crawling up my neck. “We can…hold hands sometimes.” “Are you really that shy?” His lips twitch. “What, was your relationship with Bryan PG-12 or something?” “No,” I snap before I can stop myself. My voice falters, then steadies again as I lift my chin. “We had sex plenty of times. And yeah, there was PDA. Difference is, he was actually my boyfriend.” He steps closer, and with a maddening slowness, pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. My skin burns at the contact. “We just made a deal, Peach,” he says softly. “And the way I see it, that makes you my girlfriend now. If we’re gonna convince Bryan, we don’t get to half-ass it. He can smell bullshit a mile away so we do what real couples do.” The room feels like it’s closing in, the air too thick, my heartbeat too loud. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. If I want Bryan to choke on this, I have to play the part. I nod, forcing the words out. “Maybe…we should practice holding hands and some physical stuff. Just to make it natural.” He almost laughs but reins it in, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Practice, huh? Okay, Peach. Let’s practice.” He guides me stiffly to the couch and sits beside me. Then he extends his hand, and my throat dries. Slowly, I reach out and take it. The moment our skin touches, a zap of electricity shoots through me, and I yank my hand back. He feels it too, and I can tell because he doesn’t tease me. Instead, he licks his lips. “Let’s try again. Extend your hand.” I swallow, shove my hand forward, and he takes it. His fingers weave through mine, and my heart slams against my ribs, so loud it feels impossible he can’t hear it. His gaze lingers on me as he strokes the back of my hand with his thumb, and shivers ripple down my spine. Why does something as simple as holding his hand make me feel this way? “See?” he murmurs. “It’s not that hard.” I nod quickly, pretending the heat in my belly isn’t getting worse with every second. He shifts closer, his shoulder brushing mine, and his scent floods my senses. “Now,” he says, his voice dropping, “next on the list of physical contact is kissing.” Chapter 005 KATY’S POV I rip my hand away, glaring at him, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Are you out of your mind?” He snorts. “Do you, or do you not, want Bryan to believe we’re dating?” My jaw drops in outrage. “What does that have to do with my lips?” He shakes his head like I’m hopeless. “What do you think relationships are? Study groups? Business meetings?” He leans closer, and I instinctively lean back, my heart racing. “Men are physical beings and I’m the most physical of all. Bryan knows that. If he notices I’m not all over you, we’ve got a problem. And we don’t want problems, do we?” I bite my lip and look away, my brain spiraling. Maybe I should find someone else for this fake-dating nonsense, because his suggestions are ridiculous. He makes me react in ways I don’t understand, and now I’m actually considering kissing him. Him, of all people. No. I cross my arms and face him. “This isn’t a game. It’s fake dating, and I am not kissing you.” He leans back, unfazed. “Okay, then what do you suggest we do when we’re out? Bars, my hockey games…” I blink. “Wait, bars? I have to go with you to bars? Why?” He lifts a brow like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because that’s what girlfriends do.” Oh, this is already too much. The thought of hanging out with his friends, who I’m sure are just as loud and cocky as he is, makes my stomach turn. “Trust me, Peach,” he says with that maddening grin, “if you show up on my arm at a bar, Bryan will lose his mind. You’ve got to do things with me you’d never do with him, or he’ll never buy it.” I narrow my eyes. “And what exactly happens at this bar?” “We have fun, grab a couple drinks, and I introduce you as my girlfriend…” His grin widens. “Oh, and heads up? Half the girls there will probably want to kill you.” I roll my eyes, though I can’t deny it makes sense. Going out with him and stepping into his world will convince anyone we’re together. Bryan especially. He knows I hate loud places, so if he hears I went to a bar with Braydon, he’ll lose it. “Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll go.” “And at least one home game,” he adds quickly. I sigh. “That too.” “And you’ll wear my jacket around campus.” I give him a tight nod. “But no kissing. If you want that, call the redhead.” His lips curve. “Why don’t you want to kiss me? Scared you’re bad at it?” I scowl. “I’m a great kisser!” “Yeah?” He leans in, close enough for my breath to catch. My heart skips, heat curling low in my stomach. “Then prove it.” “Why do I have to prove anything to you?” I snap, though my palms are slick with sweat. “I know I’m a good kisser. End of story.” His tilts his head. “I see fear in your eyes. Don’t worry, I get it.” “Wh—” The sound sputters out of me. He’s unbelievable. “Why would I be scared to kiss you?” He shakes his head slowly, like he’s humoring me. “A lot of people freeze up when—” “Fine!” The word rips out of me before I can stop it. “Let’s do it.” For a second, his eyes widen, shock flickering there before it melts into a smile. His green eyes darken, heat sparking in them or maybe it’s just me burning up. My hands tremble against my thighs, and my whole body feels like it’s caught fire. This cannot be happening. Except it is, because he leans in and closes the gap between us. Our knees brush, and it feels like sparks shooting through me. My hand lifts almost on its own, my fingers brushing his cheek and my thumb traces along his jawline. His eyes catch the light, and I swear I can see the rapid flutter of his pulse in his throat. Slowly, I tilt forward until my lips press against his. The instant they touch, heat floods through me, racing from my mouth down the length of my body. My skin prickles, every nerve coming alive with a low pull in my stomach that I can’t control. He tastes faintly of beer as his tongue slides in my mouth, but somehow it’s addictive, like I’ve never tasted it before. For a moment, I forget everything: where we are, why we’re doing this, and even who I’m with. All I feel is heat rolling through me. And then reality slams back. I’m kissing Braydon. The last person I should ever be kissing. Panic claws at my chest, and I rip myself away, breathless. My face burns hot, my chest rising and falling too fast. From the corner of my eye, I catch him licking his lips, and I tighten my thighs. I should say something smart, but my throat is dry, and I don’t trust my voice not to give me away. My palms are damp, so I rub them against my jeans, praying he won’t point out how rattled I am. “Well,” he drawls at last, his eyes locked on me, “I guess we have chemistry. We’ve got nothing to worry about.” I force myself to look at him, but the heat in his gaze is too much, and I turn away almost instantly. “Is that so?” I laugh nervously, rubbing my arms. “Then I guess we’re done here.” I spring to my feet, gathering my things, but before I can escape, his hand closes around my wrist. My breath catches as I glance down at him. “There’s one more thing,” he says. “Wh…what?” My voice trips over itself. “The way you look at me.” I’m sure my chin is red now because I feel all the blood in my body rush to my face. How do I look at him? How? “What do you mean?” I manage to ask, barely above a whisper. “You need to look at me like you’re in love,” he says. Relief flickers through me when I realize he’s still talking about our act, not me. But then his fingers lift, tilting my chin toward him, and my throat goes dry. My gaze drops to his lips, and panic surges. “I think I’m good,” I blurt, stumbling back. Clutching my books to my chest, I make for the door before I can completely fall apart. Chapter 006 KATY’S POV I slip into the lecture hall and sink into my usual seat, letting my bag drop beside me. My gaze flicks around the room before I can stop myself, and I scan the faces of everyone present. Of course, I already know Braydon’s schedule, so I know he shouldn’t be here. Still, I only exhale once I’m certain. It’s ironic, really. He’s supposed to be my fake boyfriend, and yet here I am, relieved he isn’t anywhere near me. And today is supposed to be our first day for everything we planned but my stomach is fluttering with nerves. The truth is that after last night, I need space, breathing room, and time to convince myself I’m not making a mistake by trusting him. I usually pride myself on making good choices. Safe ones. But with him, all my carefully built walls crumble, and wisdom evaporates. That’s how I end up doing things like kissing him like I want it and like I’m not supposed to remember it’s fake. Worse, I didn’t just kiss him, I melted and moaned into his mouth as if I couldn’t help myself. The memory sends a shiver racing down my spine, and I shift in my seat, wishing I could shake the feeling away. “Miss me?” a familiar voice teases in my ear. I jump, startled, before turning. Allie slides into the chair beside me, her smile bright and easy. Right on cue, our professor walks to the podium, but I barely notice him because I’m too busy staring at my best friend. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow,” I whisper, grinning as relief warms my chest. God, it feels good to see her. Allie isn’t just my roommate, she’s my anchor, and my sister in every way that matters. She’s been gone for days, celebrating her anniversary with her boyfriend, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed her until now. “So basically, you didn’t miss me,” she says, pulling out her notebook, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I missed you so much my entire life collapsed without you,” I whisper dramatically. She smothers a laugh. “Or maybe you were just having too much fun without me.” If only she knew. Fun is the last word I’d use for all the mess that happened. And I know she’s going to freak out when I tell her because I have to tell her. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it while she was away because I didn’t want to ruin her week. But now that she’s back? There’s no hiding and there’s too much to unpack. “I’ll tell you everything after class,” I whisper, flipping open my notebook. Her pen pauses midair, and she leans closer, her brows raised. “Now I’m anxious.” “After class,” I whisper back, forcing my attention to the podium. The professor’s voice drones on, but the words might as well be static. My heart is already racing, my palms damp against the notebook. Just the thought of telling Allie what happened makes me feel nauseous. She has the kind of relationship people dream about with a steady, loving boyfriend. Meanwhile, mine crashed and burned in the ugliest way possible. The contrast feels like holding up my mess beside her perfection, and part of me wants to swallow it down and never say a word. But I know I can’t. She’s my best friend. And if there’s anyone I can break in front of, it’s her. When the lecture finally ends, Allie wastes no time. She grabs my wrist and practically drags me outside, weaving through the crowd until we find a quiet corner. Her eyes are already wide, her whole body buzzing like she might explode if I make her wait a second longer. “Okay,” she says, hands on her hips. “Tell. Me. Everything.” I let out a shaky laugh, but it dies in my throat. “You think it’s some funny, messy story,” I murmur, staring down at my shoes. “But it’s not.” Her teasing smile slips slightly. “Then start wherever you can.” So I do. I tell Allie everything, starting with catching Bryan cheating and his mockery afterward, which pushed me into a fake relationship with Braydon. The words come out shakier than I expect, and by the time I finish, I feel wrung out. Allie just stares at me, her eyes so wide it almost makes me laugh if it didn’t hurt so much. For a long moment, she doesn’t say a word. Then she exhales slowly and pulls me straight into her arms. I sink into her hug, holding on tightly because God, I needed this. I haven’t even told Justin yet, so she’s only the second person to know, and somehow that makes me feel relieved. When she finally pulls back, her hands stay firm on my arms as she searches my face. “Are you okay?” she asks quietly. I nod, a small, self-conscious laugh escaping. “Yeah. I mean, I cried last night… and then cringed myself into secondhand embarrassment over my own actions with Braydon.” “I’m going to kill Bryan when I see him,” she grinds out. “How could he do that, and who does he even think he is?” I give a small shrug. “Guess you never really know someone, do you?” For a moment, the noise of the hallway swallows us before Allie leans closer until her shoulder brushes mine. “Okay, but…” she lowers her voice, her eyes practically gleaming, “are you one hundred percent serious about Braydon? Because if you are…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but her grin is trying to break through. I narrow my eyes at her. “Don’t you dare get excited.” But it’s too late because the sparkle in her gaze gives her away. She’s always been obsessed with Braydon and thinks he’s hotter than every lead in her comic books combined. Back in freshman year, she even ran his fan page before she started dating and reluctantly passed it on like she was handing over a crown. The way her eyes shine now, I can tell she’s trying to hide how thrilled she is at the drama. With a sigh, I dig out my phone and thrust it into her hands. “Here. Proof.” Her jaw drops the second she sees his name light up my screen. I watch her scan the texts he sent me last night while I was curled up on my bed, crying over everything, and also trying to convince myself our fake relationship wasn’t a bad idea because of the kiss. BRAYDON: Send me your schedule, Peach. ME: Don’t call me Peach. BRAYDON: Okay, send me your schedule, Princess. Allie slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes bouncing between my screen and my face. “Oh my God. You’re not joking.” “Why would I joke about that?” I mutter, trying not to laugh. “Does Justin know about this?” she presses. I shake my head, sighing. “No. And I don’t even know how to tell him.” She grins wickedly. “Girl, you are treading dangerous waters… but I fully support this.” I open my mouth to respond when a new notification flashes across my screen. “It’s Braydon,” Allie squeaks, clutching my arm. “Shhh,” I hiss, leaning down to read it. BRAYDON: Your schedule says library time at 12 p.m. Still on, Princess? I roll my eyes at his text. First it was Peach, now it’s Princess. What’s next, Queen of the Universe? I turn to complain, but Allie is practically glowing, her face lit up like Christmas as she stares at my phone. “Really?” I scoff. “You have a boyfriend and you’re drooling over another guy.” She shakes her head. “I hate to be this kind of best friend, but you’re literally texting Braydon. Braydon!” She repeats it like she wants it to get inside my head. “Do you know what that is?” I stare down at my phone. It’s not like he’s Justin Bieber or something. “He’s a normal guy and my brother’s friend,” I say. She slaps her forehead. “Do you realize you’re his first girlfriend ever, and he doesn’t do relationships?” I’m about to laugh her off when a sight snatches the sound out of my mouth. My chest tightens as my gaze snags on a figure across the quad, and my body feels like it’s being pricked with thorns as I stare. Allie follows my gaze to Bryan, who’s walking slowly a few meters away with his arm wrapped around a girl’s shoulder. A girl, different from the redhead he was with yesterday. I force my gaze away and swallow, hoping it soothes the heat rising inside me, but it doesn’t. It hurts, and I’m scared to admit how much it does. Chapter 007 KATY’S POV The library is unusually packed today as if people know what’s coming. Every table is filled with groups cramming for midterms, laptops glowing, and coffee cups balanced on notebooks. I try to keep my eyes on the book in front of me, but the words blur together as I read the same line three times. My body also feels restless because any moment now, Braydon will walk in, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for the attention that will follow. After seeing Bryan with that girl, though, every hesitation I had about this arrangement with Braydon vanished. He didn’t just cheat, but also made a spectacle out of it. And as if doing that wasn’t enough, he had to parade someone else around campus like a trophy. But if he wants to go low, then fine. I’ll go lower. All the way down. I glance down at my wristwatch, trying to calm the pounding in my chest. “Where is—” “It’s Braydon Cooper.” Someone at the next table half-whispers, and squeals at the same time. My head lifts on instinct, and there he is, walking down the row of tables like he owns the place. Even in a library full of stressed-out students, he’s impossible to miss. Conversations dip, pages stop turning, and a few phones tilt in his direction as he heads straight for my table. He stops in front of me, his green eyes locking on mine. “Hey, Peach.” “You’re here,” I whisper, tearing my gaze away before anyone can see the heat creeping into my cheeks. He pulls out a chair and drops into the seat beside me, earning a chorus of gasps from nearby tables. I can’t tell if people are shocked to see him in the library because let’s be real, this is probably his first time here, or if it’s because he chose to sit with me. Either way, the attention is loud, and it’s exactly what we planned. “Reading without me?” he teases, leaning closer and his fingers brush a strand of hair behind my ear like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I feel so hurt.” I lick my lips, trying to keep my cool. He told me from the start he’s a handsy guy, and I agreed I’d play along. So yeah, I’ll be the girl who acts unbothered by the campus heartthrob touching her in the middle of the library, even if my pulse clearly didn’t get the memo. “We both know you hate reading,” I tell him, forcing a smile that feels way too charming. “And please don’t touch me out of nowhere. Give me a heads-up.” He leans in closer, and I almost jerk back but catch myself just in time. “I thought we went through this.” He whispers, then pulls out a can of Coke from his pocket, setting it in front of me. “I didn’t know if you preferred coffee or soda.” The gesture is simple, but it sends the room into overdrive. Whispers ripple from the aisles, and I catch people peeking from behind the shelves, pretending to browse while very obviously staring. Seriously? What’s their deal? Yeah, Braydon’s a star on the hockey team and will probably go pro after college, but they’re acting like he’s already a celebrity or in the NHL. Well… I shouldn’t complain. The faster the news reaches Bryan, the better. “Thanks, Bray,” I manage, the word strangling me on its way out. He cringes. “Bray? That’s the best you’ve got?” I bite my lip, mortified. What am I even supposed to call him? Bryan and I never did nicknames, and we were on a first-name or baby basis. And there is no universe where I’m calling Braydon baby. He sighs, clearly over my struggle, then grabs my wrist and tugs me to my feet. Before I can react, he’s pulling me between two shelves into a quiet corner, away from all the eyes burning holes into us. “Are you really this stiff?” he asks, caging me in against the wall. “Bray? Really?” I glance around, making sure no one’s watching, before muttering, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to call you. Bray’s not that bad.” He scoffs. “Out of thousands of options, you go with Bray? Try something better. Maybe… Big guy.” “Big guy?” I arch a brow. He nods smugly, gesturing to himself like the answer is obvious. My eyes betray me, running over him before I can stop. And fine, he’s not wrong. He’s all man, from the broad chest stretching his shirt to the long legs and fingers that make him seem even bigger in the cramped space. I snap myself out of it before my gaze drifts lower, folding my arms across my chest to put some distance between us. Not that it helps because he’s close enough that one wrong move and we’ll be pressed together. “I’m not calling you Big Guy,” I tell him flatly. “But I’ll come up with something… nicer.” “And it has to be before Zach’s party,” he shoots back. “Zach’s party?” I narrow my eyes. “Who the hell is Zach, and why are you suddenly bringing him into this?” I can tell where this is heading, and yeah, I hate it already. “Because we’re going to that party,” he says. I shake my head. “Nope, that’s not happening. We agreed on bars and one home game. That’s it. Nothing about frat houses, or parties.” “Zach’s our goalie,” he says, like that alone should settle the argument. “And there’s no way I’m missing his birthday bash.” “Then go alone.” He smirks, leaning closer. “That’d be weird… when I’ve got a hot girlfriend I’m supposed to show off.” My heart does that annoying thump-thump thing, but it’s not nearly enough to change my mind. Loud parties are the last place I want to be. They drag up memories I’ve spent years trying to bury, and a part of me I don’t let anyone near. Agreeing to bars was already pushing it, but this? This is a hard no. “I’m not going,” I say again, firmer this time. “Bryan isn’t going to figure it out just because I’m not glued to your side twenty-four-seven.” “Peach, it’s just—” “No.” The word scrapes out harsher than I intend, but I don’t care. His persistence grates on me, mostly because I can see where this is going. He’ll keep pressing, trying to dig into the reason I avoid places like that, but I don’t talk about it. Not now. Not ever. “I don’t know why—” he starts, only to stop when a girl sidles up to the shelf beside us. She isn’t fooling anyone by pretending to look at books, because her ears are all wide. I paste on a sweet smile and reach up, pretending to adjust Braydon’s collar. “Hold still,” I murmur. He raises a brow but quickly plays along, sliding his hand around my waist and tugging me against him. Now we’re chest-to-chest, close enough that my pulse skips in protest. The girl lingers a second too long before finally moving on. “Why can’t people just mind their business?” I mutter, tugging at his collar one last time before dropping my hand. He stays rooted to the spot, staring at me like he’s trying to figure me out. The silence stretches long enough to make me shift on my feet. “People are going to start talking about us,” he finally says, shrugging out of his jacket. “I know you hate loud places for some reason you won’t tell me, but everyone’s gonna be at that party. If you really want to prove him wrong, that’s the best night.” I open my mouth, ready to argue, but before I can get a word out, he presses his hockey jacket into my hands. Then, with a quick, almost disarming softness, he taps my chin with his knuckles. “I’ll see you tonight.” And just like that, he strides out, leaving me staring down at the jacket clutched in my grip.
"I woke up with my ex’s brother still buried inside me—and the bast@rd was smiling. “What the hell? Get out of me!” I punched him in the chest, but he just held me tighter against the mattress. “Shh. You’re the one who climbed on top of me last night, begging for it,” his thumb traced my lower lip. “And now you want to play the victim?” Before I could answer, the bedroom door shook with a violent bang. “KATY. OPEN THE FKING DOOR.” My ex’s roar made the walls shake. ""I know you’re in there with him!"" I froze. My heart was pounding against my ribs. Braydon didn’t even flinch. Instead, he grabbed my hips and thrvst into me again—so deep I had to bite my lip until it bled to keep from making a sound. “Let me go!” I hissed, struggling to get him off me. He flipped me over in one fluid motion, trapping me beneath his weight. “Where do you think you’re going, Peach? You wanted revenge, didn’t you? Well, let him hear exactly what you did with his brother.” Another blow. The wood creaked. “I’m going to kill you both!” Braydon let out a dark laugh against my ear. “Well, you’d better hold on tight.” He rammed into me again. Harder this time. On purpose. A moan escaped my throat before I could stop it. I should have been terrified. Humiliated. Instead, my body arched on its own, seeking the next thrust. He tightened his grip on my waist. “That’s good,” he murmured. “Let him hear.”" --- Chapter 001 KATY’S POV “Hey, I’m heading over now. Can you bring out the books I left?” I press send and shove my phone into my jacket pocket as Bryan’s townhouse comes into view, my steps automatically quickening. I have Statistics in thirty minutes, and Mrs. Tompson would rather swallow a jean jacket than let me walk into her class without my textbook, the same textbook I managed to leave lying around in my boyfriend’s room. As I walk faster, I recheck my phone, half expecting a reply, but there’s nothing. Not even a typing bubble. For a moment, I wonder if he has already left, but it‘s unlikely. It’s only 9:30 in the morning, and Bryan never leaves his room early. One of the perks of being a baseball player is that he doesn’t have to treat academics like life or death the way I do. I reach his townhouse and take the stairs two at a time, my purse bouncing against my hip. The higher I climb, the more rushed my breathing feels, though it has less to do with the stairs and more to do with this creeping frustration that he still hasn’t texted back. By the time I get to the third floor, where his room is, I’m already picturing walking in and tossing a sarcastic comment about how hard it is to answer a simple text. My hand reaches for his doorknob when I hear his voice through the door. “Hurry up, my girlfriend will be here soon.” I freeze. “You need to leave.” Who is he talking to? The question barely forms before the door flies open and a girl rushes out, nearly colliding with me. My breath hitches. She gasps, her eyes wide with a mix of panic and shame. In the sliver of a second before she bolts, I take in her messy red hair, wrinkled shirt, and unbuttoned jeans. A sickening masculine scent, one I recognize very well, clings to her. My gaze snaps to Bryan, who is standing in the middle of the room in nothing but his boxers, his own chest bare, and his hair tousled. A cold, sharp shiver runs down my spine, stealing the air from my lungs. My knees go weak, and the knot in my stomach turns to a solid block of ice. Without a word, the girl tears past me, disappearing down the hallway. My fingers begin to tremble, and my heart hammers so hard it feels like it will burst through my ribs. I stumble back, a bitter taste rising in my throat. “Baby, wait.” Bryan’s voice follows me as he steps into the hallway. I spin around and run, determined to put as much distance as I can between us, my chest burning with anger. He catches me, his hands clamping around my wrist before I can escape, spinning me back toward him and blocking my path. "Baby, let's talk.” "Let go of me," I snap, my voice shaking. "Don't touch me!" I shove against his chest, but he doesn't budge. He tugs me toward his room, his grip tight. "It's better if we go inside. Everyone can hear us out here." Inside, I shove him away, my chest rising and falling with quick breaths. I want to demand answers, but I already know the truth. The evidence is everywhere: in the rumpled sheets, the scent of her perfume, and the desperate, guilty look in his eyes. He paces the room, running a hand through his hair before stopping and grabbing my shoulder. "I messed up, okay?" He drags a hand over his face. "It was a mistake.” My eyes twitch. “A mistake?” “Yeah, baby," he says, his eyes skittering away from mine. "Some of the guys came over last night. We drank too much. I got so shit-faced I… I thought she was you. I don't even remember half of it.” I blink, unable to process his words. My mind stumbles over them, each syllable making less sense than the last. Did he really just say that? Does he actually expect me to believe this pathetic lie? I stare at him, my mouth slightly open, waiting for him to take the words back. But he doesn't. He just holds my gaze, searching my face as if he's trying to see if I'm stupid enough to swallow his bucket of lies. “You… you thought she was me?” I choke out in anger. “Are you actually serious right now?” “Yes, baby, I'm serious. I didn't mean it. It was a mistake," he insists. "And honestly, she came on to me first. How was I supposed to resist when I was drunk? Come on, you know I love you.” A bitter laugh escapes my lips. "Cheating is one thing, Bryan," I snap, taking a step toward him, "but thinking I'm stupid enough to believe your lies? That's a whole other level.” “Katy, you’re overreacting,” he states, his voice growing colder. “Jasper and Hannah had the same kind of problems, and they worked it out. Why can’t you be more like her?” I feel heat flare through me. “Overreacting?” I yell. “Fourteen months, Bryan! Fourteen months of promises, and you’ve broken every single one! And you have the nerve to tell me I’m overreacting?!” He scoffs, his mask finally dropping. "Promises? You really want to bring that up?" I recoil. "What do you mean by that?" He crosses his arms and steps toward me. "You want to talk about promises? Fine. Let's talk about it." He jabs a finger in my face, his eyes darkening. "You promised your schedule would never affect us. How's that working out? Every damn day, you're busy. Debate, magazines, some lame club! You put everything else before me.” “That’s not—” I start, but he cuts me off. “I play sports, and I still make time for you!” he yells, and I flinch. “You know what? This is your fault!” He jabs my shoulder again. “This happened because of you, not me. You!” I step back, rage crawling up my spine. Never in a million years did I imagine that the person I had loved and trusted for a whole year could be like this—twisting the truth, blaming me, acting as if I were at fault. “You are a coward, Bryan.” I whisper, lifting my head to meet his eyes. “That’s what you are. Blaming me, twisting everything, and calling it my fault? I’m done.” I dash to his desk, sending papers and books tumbling to the floor as I hunt for my textbook. I need to get out of here before my anger takes over, before I do something I will regret. “You act like there’s someone better out there. There isn’t, and there won’t ever be.” He sneers from behind me. “Nobody else will ever make you feel alive the way I do.” I pause, staring up at him. He steps closer, his voice rising as he repeats his claim. “You were nobody before me, Katy. I made you popular. You walk into a room, and people know your name because of me. Bryan Cooper.” Something inside me snaps. I close the distance between us, breathing against his face. "You will never speak to me again," I hiss. "And mark my words, you will be replaced by someone hotter, smarter, and better than you could ever be. I yank the couple necklace he gave me off my neck and fling it at his feet. Without another word, I storm out with my textbook, tears burning my eyes. I managed not to cry in front of him, but as I run down the stairs, the dam finally burst. I collapse against the side of the building, clutching my chest as sobs tear out of me. It feels like someone has ripped my heart away and shredded it into a million pieces. Our memories and moments fill my mind, stabbing me over and over. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fumble to answer it, my hands shaking. “Katy?”My brother’s voice floats through. “Yeah?” I sniffle, wiping my tears. “Don’t forget you promised to tutor Braydon after class today,” he says, sounding annoyed. “He’s already bugging me.” I bite my lip, wanting to tell him I can’t right now, not in this state, but I had promised to help his friend. I exhale, pushing back the lump in my throat, and slowly rise to my feet. “Okay,” I manage to say. Chapter 002 BRAYDON’S POV “Asshole!” I shout, the words ripping from my throat as some guy cuts me off. I slam my hand against the steering wheel, throwing a glare in the rearview mirror, even though I know he can’t see me. Perfect. Just perfect. I’m particularly in a bad mood today. Hell, I’ve been in a bad mood all week. Nothing seems to go right, and every little thing is just… another straw on the camel’s back. And it’s all because my old man’s ultimatum keeps gnawing at me. “Pass all your courses, or forget about hockey.” His voice drills into my skull. Simple, right? Like I could just flip a switch and make it happen. I can rock Cs in most of my courses, well, except in Marketing Management and Business Ethics. If I fail those, there’s no graduation, no hockey, and worse, Bryan gets his hands on my mom’s company. That’s exactly what he and his mother have been scheming for, and I’ll be damned if I let them take what my mom built with her own sweat and blood. The thought gnaws at me, making me want to punch something, and I can’t hold in the audible groan that escapes my throat. I pull into my apartment lot and kill the engine. For a moment, I sit there, gripping the wheel and staring at myself in the rearview mirror. “You got this,” I tell myself. I can do it. Lucky for me, Justin’s kid sister, Katy, is a genius. All I need is a few sessions with her, I’ll keep my grades, and hockey stays mine. That’s the plan, the smart plan. But right now, I need something to distract me before I lose it. I nod, shove the door open, and head for my building. I slow as I near my door, spotting someone leaning against the frame. Her head lifts, eyes locking with mine, and a smirk curls her lips. Stacy. Exactly the distraction I ordered. I’d shot her a text twenty minutes ago, but didn’t think she’d make it so quickly. Guess not. She’s in nothing but a jacket and lacy tights. And when a girl waits at your door dressed like that, you know damn well there’s nothing underneath. “Took you long enough.” She shoots me a sexy smile that says I’m about to forget all about my bad day. My gaze drags over her as I slip the key into the lock. “Is that all for me?” Her eyes glitter. “Sure, big guy.” I’ve barely stepped inside before her manicured fingers trail across my chest. “How long has it been?” she purrs. “A long time,” I answer. Her smile widens as she shrugs out of her jacket, letting it pool on the floor. She gets on her knees and crooks a finger at me. "Come here.” I waste no time closing the distance between us. The world outside the door, the frustrations of the day, my father's ultimatum, my grades, all fade into a distant hum. She takes the waistband of my jeans, her fingers teasing the button open before tugging at my zipper. A second later, my cock springs free, a release I've been craving all day, and lands in her waiting hand. The feel of her fingers wrapping around me pulls a low groan from my throat. “Go on, suck it,” I rumble. On my command, she opens her mouth and wraps her lips around my length. **************��Two hours later, Stacy is snuggled up beside me, her head resting on my chest. She traces meaningless lines across my skin, a gesture of intimacy, but I don’t like the cuddly stuff. It makes me feel trapped. I slowly shift, dislodging her head, and search for my shorts on the floor. “You..” “I missed you,” she blurts, cutting me off. I spin, caught off guard for half a second before I reel it back in. The first thought that comes to mind is: Did she forget the rules? We first hooked up three months ago, and I was crystal clear about my boundaries.Things were easy because she was fine with a no-strings-attached arrangement. But now, I'm not so sure. It seems she's going to be like all the others, the ones who start wanting more after a few times. “I’ve been busy,” I mutter, dragging on my shorts. I can’t say I missed her, too, because that’ll only mess things up and lead her on. But the truth that she hadn't crossed my mind once since we last hooked up is too cold to say aloud. “I’m exhausted. Got morning practice.” I rub the back of my neck, hoping she takes the hint and leaves. But that’s far from what she has in my mind. “Are you really kicking me out minutes after we just—” her voice sharpens, “after we just had sex?” “Stacy, listen…” “Seriously, is this it? Is this all I am to you? We just hook up and that’s all?” She looks visibly upset now. “I thought we were clear about this," I reply, my voice firm. "From the very beginning, I told you I'm not looking for anything serious. No strings attached, just this.” Her fingers tremble as she snatches her jacket off the floor. "Well, I don't want to be your whenever-you-want girl anymore. I want to be your girlfriend." “You know that’s not happening.” I respond flatly. “But why?” She demands. "I don't have to explain myself and don’t act like I tricked you. You knew the deal from day one,” I tilt my head at the door. “If casual wasn’t your thing, you shouldn’t have agreed. Now do us both a favor and leave.” Her expression immediately softens, her eyes filling with a plea as she realizes I'm serious. "Big guy..." she croaks, her voice breaking. "I just… I just really like you. Can't you—" She lifts a hand to touch me, and I take a sharp step back. Her hand is left hanging in the air, and her eyes turn cold instantly again. The vulnerability is gone, replaced by a cutting anger. "Why exactly can't I be your girlfriend?" she asks, her voice hard. "What is it? Do you have a checklist I don’t measure up to?” I don't answer. I turn and stride out of the bedroom. She follows, her shoes thudding on the hardwood floor, but I ignore her. I pass the dining table, head straight for the fridge, and crack open a beer. She stops short, the anger in her body suddenly replaced with bewildered hurt. "So that's it? You're just going to grab a beer? You don't even care, do you?" I take a slow sip, not looking at her. "I thought we were clear. I don't." "I can be a good girlfriend!" she pleads, her voice rising. "I'm a great girlfriend. Just give me a chance." I shake my head. "I don't need a girlfriend." The words hang in the air for a moment before something in her breaks. She lets out a frustrated cry and yells, "Screw you!" She lunges for the front door, yanking it open. She dashes out and almost collides with a girl coming down the hall, a stack of books in her arms. The girl sidesteps to avoid being hit. It's Katy. Her tired gaze lands on Stacy, then drifts to me, her expression unreadable. Stacy gives her a slow once-over, then whips back to me with a sneer. “Really? I thought you had standards!” My mouth opens, ready to shut her down, but Katy beats me to it. “Relax. I’m not here to hook up with him. Unlike you, I actually have a purpose.” Both of us freeze. My brows lift, caught off guard. Stacy’s smirk falters, and for a split second, she looks like she’s been slapped. Chapter 003 KATY’S POV The redhead glares at me, her chest rising and falling like she’s trying to push the anger out in measured breaths. I wait for a retort, but she spares me only a cutting look, huffs at Braydon in dismissal, and storms off, muttering cusses to herself. I stare after her, gritting my teeth as irritation prickles my skin. What’s it with me and redheads today? First, with Bryan in the morning, and now, his brother. It seems they both have a type. A low chuckle from the doorway yanks my attention back. Braydon leans casually against the frame, an infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. His abs are on full display, golden against the light, every line impossible to ignore. “Didn’t think you had that in you, Peach.” I lift an eyebrow, a mix of annoyance and curiosity bubbling up inside me. "Peach?" He pushes off the door and takes a step closer, his hand reaching toward me. I recoil slightly, a shiver running down my spine despite myself, and his grin only widens. “Relax,” he says, tilting his head toward my chest. I glance down and there it is: a peach, drawn smack in the center of my shirt. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I can’t help but roll my eyes, letting out an amused scoff. I bulldoze past him into his living area. “Put on a shirt.” “Why?” His voice hums with amusement, even though I refuse to look at him. “Getting a little distracted by the view?” I spin around. “Ever heard of the word decency?” I snap. “It’s spelled—” “Hey, I can spell that. What do you take me for?” he cuts in, feigning annoyance, which somehow makes it even more irritating. He shuts the door and strolls over to the eat-in counter. A can of beer sits there, and before my eyes, he tilts it back and gulps down the entire thing in one smooth motion. “Is that alcohol?” I ask, fists clenching at my sides. He shoots me a strange look, eyes flicking to the now-squashed can in his hand. “It’s beer… so yes, I’m pretty sure it’s alcohol.” He tilts his head, his smirk creeping back. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smarter one?” Anger bubbles inside me. Did Justin not tell him I’m coming over? But no, Justin called me this morning to remind me. So, Braydon knows I’m here to tutor, not watch him get drunk. “You’re drinking on a night I’m supposed to tutor you?” I demand, my voice tight. He sighs dramatically and tosses the can in the trash. “Don’t be so peachy, Peach,” he says, his voice teasing. “It’s just one can and it’s not enough to knock me out. Besides… we can just get to know each other today. Justin definitely didn’t mention you’ve grown into a pretty woman.” I feel irritation crawl up my spine, and my lips twitch. My eyes dart to the door, tempted to leave, but then I remember Justin’s pleading and the one thousand dollars he promised for my new MacBook. I fix him with a death glare. “First of all, don’t call me Peach again. Second, have you considered that the reason you’re flunking your courses is that you flirt too much, and let’s not forget your unhealthy obsession with hockey? If you actually stop thinking about ways to flirt with me, maybe we can get something done tonight. But if you don’t, I’ll be more than happy to waste your time and watch you fail.” “Do you have friends?” he throws at me casually, catching me off guard. “Or have they all ghosted you because all you do is read and forget to socialize?” His words sting, bringing back the memory of what Bryan said to me this morning, but I swallow the hurt. “You must be so good at socializing that you forget other things matter.” I lift my book. “Oh, things like graduating from college.” His smirk widens, and I can see he’s taking this as a challenge. Is my insistence… kind of a kink for him? “Now, where’s your room? Let’s get started,” I add, keeping my voice calm. He leads the way to his room, and I follow, my eyes scanning the space as I enter. Posters of the Chicago Blackhawks cover the walls, along with a few other players I recognize from Justin’s room. Surprisingly, it’s cleaner than I expected, until my gaze lands on his bed. Bile rises in my throat. The sheets are scattered, and two empty condom wrappers lie on the floor. I bolt out, clutching my books, heat flooding my face. He follows, a look of amused surprise on his face, but I don’t slow down. “We’ll just read here,” I say, refusing to meet his eyes. I drop my books on the table, my hand aching from carrying them too long. Braydon prowls closer, shrinking the air between us “Why’d you run like that?” He asks. “Can’t handle being in the same room with me, Peach?” That damn nickname again. My patience frays. “You should clean up your room after sex, especially if you’ve got company. It’s called decency. Maybe you’ve heard of it, though clearly, you haven’t.” His fingers suddenly tilt my jaw, forcing my eyes to his. “Are you sure that’s the only reason? You know, I can make time for you.” That’s it. I’ve had enough. Heat floods my chest as I snatch my books off the table and storm toward the door. “Find someone else!” I yell. He catches my arm, trying to stop me, but I yank hard against his grip. I will not sit through two hours of his shameless flirting, not today. Not after the day I’ve had. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay?” Braydon’s voice softens as he pleads. “Get your hands off me.” I twist, trying to shake him loose. “I’ll behave, alright?” he rushes out. “I’ll put on a shirt, stop calling you Peach, never say another word you don’t like. Just, please, tutor me. I’m desperate.” I whirl around, ready to snap that he doesn’t act desperate enough, when my pocket starts buzzing nonstop. With a huff, I yank my phone out, half-expecting one of my study group members. But no, it’s Bryan. My stomach knots as I click the notification. Instead of apologies like I imagined for a second, my screen is filled with vile messages from him. My throat burns as my eyes lock on one message that makes the rest blur away. ~~BRYAN: Return my baseball jacket. My new girl wants it.~~ Everything else fades as hot anger sears through me. I read the line twice, but the words don’t change. He wants me to return his baseball jacket? And not just that, he already has a new girl, less than twelve hours after we broke up. My jaw clenches so tight it aches. He’s doing this to rile me up, and goddamn, it’s working. If I don’t hit back, he wins. The memory of him sneering that I’d never find someone better than him scorches me deeply. “Hey…” A tap on my shoulder jolts me, and Braydon’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Did you hear a word I said? I said I’ll do anything you want. Anything.” My head jerks toward him, and it takes a moment to recollect myself, his last word lingering in my mind. Anything you want. The words replay like a chant, and suddenly my mind is crawling with ideas that shouldn’t be there. My gaze rakes down his frame and back up, and he catches it, brows pulling together in confusion. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it, but the thought is so damn tempting. Braydon Cooper, the campus golden boy and star forward of the hockey team. He’s the guy girls would do anything to be seen with, and guys hate him because he can take their girlfriends with a smile. He might be a player, but everyone knows he’s picky. Ruthlessly picky. So much so that girls brag if they even make it into his bed. Just being seen with him is enough to boost your social status overnight. You get invitations to events just because you’ve caught the eye of Braydon Cooper. And right now, he’s standing in front of me, saying anything I want. He’s perfect for my revenge plan. Not just because of who he is, but because he’s Bryan’s brother. What better way to grind Bryan’s inflated ego to dust than to show him his so-called replaceable ex is on the arm of his hotter and better brother? I turn to face Braydon fully, heat prickling under my skin. “You’ll do anything?” I ask, watching him closely. He studies me, uncertainty flickering in his eyes for the first time since I walked in. Still, he nods. “Yeah.” I take a slow breath, steadying the heat in my voice. “Then here’s the deal. I’ll tutor you, and not just enough for you to pass. You’ll ace your classes, every single one of them, with at least a B. That’s my part.” He narrows his eyes, waiting. “And yours?” “In return,” I say, “you’ll use your charm, your connections, your golden-boy reputation to pursue me publicly. We’ll build a high-profile relationship and everyone will see us.” Chapter 004 KATY’S POV “What?” Braydon stares at me like I’ve just sprouted two heads. “I said that—” “Yeah, I got you.” He cuts in, stepping closer as if to read my face better. “You’re asking me to play boyfriend?” I lick my lips before answering, my pulse hammering. “Yes.” He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sorry to disappoint you, Peach, but dating isn’t my thing. Anything but that.” The sting hurts more than I expected, disappointment slicing through me. I exhale slowly, biting my lip. I’ve heard his no-dating rule before, but dismissed it as just another line to make himself more desirable. But now… the way he shuts me down makes me wonder if he’s actually serious enough to walk away from an offer like this. I clear my throat, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Think about it. Midterms are in four weeks, and it’s a major part of our final grade. If you want to pass, you need time with me, and that’s a month to prepare. This is a win-win deal.” “Uh-uh.” He flicks his hand. “I’ll pass. There has to be something else you want. I mean…” His smirk resurfaces. “I didn’t take you for one of my fangirls.” I roll my eyes, glaring at him. “I’m not interested in you. And I’ve never harbored some secret crush on you.” “Really?” He cuts in, his tone edged with disbelief. “So why? I mean… aren’t you still with Bryan or something?” “You should’ve remembered that before flirting with me,” I snap back. My chest heaves once, and I force myself to calm. It takes everything in me to push out the words. “Bryan and I broke up.” His face doesn’t change, not even a hint of sympathy. He also doesn’t look like he’s about to say an empty sorry to hear that. Instead, he cocks an eyebrow. “So what? Trying to use me as your rebound?” The urge to scream at him burns in my throat, but I bite it back. I’m negotiating, and I need this deal. Swallowing hard feels like impaling myself as I admit the truth. “He cheated on me.” That gets him. His expression shifts, the teasing dropping from his face. His eyes darken, a flash of anger sparking there. “That son of a bitch.” “It’s fine,” I choke out, though it’s not. “I just… I want to prove him wrong. He said I can’t find someone better than him. But—” I shrug, forcing the resignation into my voice. “I guess your rule is your rule.” I turn, feigning surrender, pretending to walk away even though part of me is begging for him to stop me. “Wait!” His voice rings out just as my hand grazes the door. My lips twitch into a smile, but I force it down, schooling my face into something neutral as I turn back to him. Braydon drags a hand through his hair, and I know he’s thinking. And honestly, I don’t blame him. I already know how explosive it’ll be once the news spreads. Justin will definitely flip out, and everyone will have their eyes glued to my life like it’s their favorite show. Frankly, the only good thing to come out of this is that Bryan will absolutely lose his shit. “You’ll really help me ace my courses?” he finally asks, his gaze locking with mine. I nod. “Yeah. But that depends on how convincing you are as my boyfriend.” His brow furrows. “What does that even mean?” “It means people have to believe we’re dating,” I say evenly. A smirk tugs at his lips. “That’s gonna be a hard sell, considering my track record.” I suck in a breath, my patience thinning. “Do you really want to graduate, or not?” He nods his head, shooting me a mock glare. “You’re so annoying.” “Then do we have a deal?” I press, refusing to back down. He stays quiet, the silence stretching long enough for me to second-guess everything. Then he sighs. “We’ve got a deal.” I almost squeal, but I bite it back hard. He actually agreed. I can’t believe I pulled this off. And suddenly, the weight of it sinks in…this is huge. In the history of Cadston College, I’m his first girlfriend. First. Which makes it not just a win, but a direct slap in Bryan’s face. Another point on the scoreboard for me. “Thank you,” I say, setting my books down before my hands can shake. “I hope you’ll be a great girlfriend,” he replies smoothly, that tone of mischief back in his voice. “Because I’ll give this my all. Quick notice though, I’m a handsy guy.” His teasing is back, but this time, when our eyes lock, I can’t fire back like I usually do. The air shifts between us, heavy and charged. My throat tightens, and I look away, scratching at my arm like that can distract me. It doesn’t. If anything, it only makes me more aware of how close he is. “Ummm…let’s talk about the rules.” I manage to say. “What rules?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer as his hand lands on my shoulder, tugging me a little closer. I go stiff instantly, every nerve locking up. His frown deepens. “You can’t freeze up when I touch you if we’re going to sell this dating thing.” A spark of alarm shoots through me. “And why would you even touch me?” He tilts his head, one brow arching. “Because, Peach, I’m supposed to be your boyfriend.” My throat tightens. “Can’t you convince people without touching me?” I counter, heat crawling up my neck. “We can…hold hands sometimes.” “Are you really that shy?” His lips twitch. “What, was your relationship with Bryan PG-12 or something?” “No,” I snap before I can stop myself. My voice falters, then steadies again as I lift my chin. “We had sex plenty of times. And yeah, there was PDA. Difference is, he was actually my boyfriend.” He steps closer, and with a maddening slowness, pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. My skin burns at the contact. “We just made a deal, Peach,” he says softly. “And the way I see it, that makes you my girlfriend now. If we’re gonna convince Bryan, we don’t get to half-ass it. He can smell bullshit a mile away so we do what real couples do.” The room feels like it’s closing in, the air too thick, my heartbeat too loud. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. If I want Bryan to choke on this, I have to play the part. I nod, forcing the words out. “Maybe…we should practice holding hands and some physical stuff. Just to make it natural.” He almost laughs but reins it in, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Practice, huh? Okay, Peach. Let’s practice.” He guides me stiffly to the couch and sits beside me. Then he extends his hand, and my throat dries. Slowly, I reach out and take it. The moment our skin touches, a zap of electricity shoots through me, and I yank my hand back. He feels it too, and I can tell because he doesn’t tease me. Instead, he licks his lips. “Let’s try again. Extend your hand.” I swallow, shove my hand forward, and he takes it. His fingers weave through mine, and my heart slams against my ribs, so loud it feels impossible he can’t hear it. His gaze lingers on me as he strokes the back of my hand with his thumb, and shivers ripple down my spine. Why does something as simple as holding his hand make me feel this way? “See?” he murmurs. “It’s not that hard.” I nod quickly, pretending the heat in my belly isn’t getting worse with every second. He shifts closer, his shoulder brushing mine, and his scent floods my senses. “Now,” he says, his voice dropping, “next on the list of physical contact is kissing.” Chapter 005 KATY’S POV I rip my hand away, glaring at him, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Are you out of your mind?” He snorts. “Do you, or do you not, want Bryan to believe we’re dating?” My jaw drops in outrage. “What does that have to do with my lips?” He shakes his head like I’m hopeless. “What do you think relationships are? Study groups? Business meetings?” He leans closer, and I instinctively lean back, my heart racing. “Men are physical beings and I’m the most physical of all. Bryan knows that. If he notices I’m not all over you, we’ve got a problem. And we don’t want problems, do we?” I bite my lip and look away, my brain spiraling. Maybe I should find someone else for this fake-dating nonsense, because his suggestions are ridiculous. He makes me react in ways I don’t understand, and now I’m actually considering kissing him. Him, of all people. No. I cross my arms and face him. “This isn’t a game. It’s fake dating, and I am not kissing you.” He leans back, unfazed. “Okay, then what do you suggest we do when we’re out? Bars, my hockey games…” I blink. “Wait, bars? I have to go with you to bars? Why?” He lifts a brow like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because that’s what girlfriends do.” Oh, this is already too much. The thought of hanging out with his friends, who I’m sure are just as loud and cocky as he is, makes my stomach turn. “Trust me, Peach,” he says with that maddening grin, “if you show up on my arm at a bar, Bryan will lose his mind. You’ve got to do things with me you’d never do with him, or he’ll never buy it.” I narrow my eyes. “And what exactly happens at this bar?” “We have fun, grab a couple drinks, and I introduce you as my girlfriend…” His grin widens. “Oh, and heads up? Half the girls there will probably want to kill you.” I roll my eyes, though I can’t deny it makes sense. Going out with him and stepping into his world will convince anyone we’re together. Bryan especially. He knows I hate loud places, so if he hears I went to a bar with Braydon, he’ll lose it. “Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll go.” “And at least one home game,” he adds quickly. I sigh. “That too.” “And you’ll wear my jacket around campus.” I give him a tight nod. “But no kissing. If you want that, call the redhead.” His lips curve. “Why don’t you want to kiss me? Scared you’re bad at it?” I scowl. “I’m a great kisser!” “Yeah?” He leans in, close enough for my breath to catch. My heart skips, heat curling low in my stomach. “Then prove it.” “Why do I have to prove anything to you?” I snap, though my palms are slick with sweat. “I know I’m a good kisser. End of story.” His tilts his head. “I see fear in your eyes. Don’t worry, I get it.” “Wh—” The sound sputters out of me. He’s unbelievable. “Why would I be scared to kiss you?” He shakes his head slowly, like he’s humoring me. “A lot of people freeze up when—” “Fine!” The word rips out of me before I can stop it. “Let’s do it.” For a second, his eyes widen, shock flickering there before it melts into a smile. His green eyes darken, heat sparking in them or maybe it’s just me burning up. My hands tremble against my thighs, and my whole body feels like it’s caught fire. This cannot be happening. Except it is, because he leans in and closes the gap between us. Our knees brush, and it feels like sparks shooting through me. My hand lifts almost on its own, my fingers brushing his cheek and my thumb traces along his jawline. His eyes catch the light, and I swear I can see the rapid flutter of his pulse in his throat. Slowly, I tilt forward until my lips press against his. The instant they touch, heat floods through me, racing from my mouth down the length of my body. My skin prickles, every nerve coming alive with a low pull in my stomach that I can’t control. He tastes faintly of beer as his tongue slides in my mouth, but somehow it’s addictive, like I’ve never tasted it before. For a moment, I forget everything: where we are, why we’re doing this, and even who I’m with. All I feel is heat rolling through me. And then reality slams back. I’m kissing Braydon. The last person I should ever be kissing. Panic claws at my chest, and I rip myself away, breathless. My face burns hot, my chest rising and falling too fast. From the corner of my eye, I catch him licking his lips, and I tighten my thighs. I should say something smart, but my throat is dry, and I don’t trust my voice not to give me away. My palms are damp, so I rub them against my jeans, praying he won’t point out how rattled I am. “Well,” he drawls at last, his eyes locked on me, “I guess we have chemistry. We’ve got nothing to worry about.” I force myself to look at him, but the heat in his gaze is too much, and I turn away almost instantly. “Is that so?” I laugh nervously, rubbing my arms. “Then I guess we’re done here.” I spring to my feet, gathering my things, but before I can escape, his hand closes around my wrist. My breath catches as I glance down at him. “There’s one more thing,” he says. “Wh…what?” My voice trips over itself. “The way you look at me.” I’m sure my chin is red now because I feel all the blood in my body rush to my face. How do I look at him? How? “What do you mean?” I manage to ask, barely above a whisper. “You need to look at me like you’re in love,” he says. Relief flickers through me when I realize he’s still talking about our act, not me. But then his fingers lift, tilting my chin toward him, and my throat goes dry. My gaze drops to his lips, and panic surges. “I think I’m good,” I blurt, stumbling back. Clutching my books to my chest, I make for the door before I can completely fall apart. Chapter 006 KATY’S POV I slip into the lecture hall and sink into my usual seat, letting my bag drop beside me. My gaze flicks around the room before I can stop myself, and I scan the faces of everyone present. Of course, I already know Braydon’s schedule, so I know he shouldn’t be here. Still, I only exhale once I’m certain. It’s ironic, really. He’s supposed to be my fake boyfriend, and yet here I am, relieved he isn’t anywhere near me. And today is supposed to be our first day for everything we planned but my stomach is fluttering with nerves. The truth is that after last night, I need space, breathing room, and time to convince myself I’m not making a mistake by trusting him. I usually pride myself on making good choices. Safe ones. But with him, all my carefully built walls crumble, and wisdom evaporates. That’s how I end up doing things like kissing him like I want it and like I’m not supposed to remember it’s fake. Worse, I didn’t just kiss him, I melted and moaned into his mouth as if I couldn’t help myself. The memory sends a shiver racing down my spine, and I shift in my seat, wishing I could shake the feeling away. “Miss me?” a familiar voice teases in my ear. I jump, startled, before turning. Allie slides into the chair beside me, her smile bright and easy. Right on cue, our professor walks to the podium, but I barely notice him because I’m too busy staring at my best friend. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow,” I whisper, grinning as relief warms my chest. God, it feels good to see her. Allie isn’t just my roommate, she’s my anchor, and my sister in every way that matters. She’s been gone for days, celebrating her anniversary with her boyfriend, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed her until now. “So basically, you didn’t miss me,” she says, pulling out her notebook, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I missed you so much my entire life collapsed without you,” I whisper dramatically. She smothers a laugh. “Or maybe you were just having too much fun without me.” If only she knew. Fun is the last word I’d use for all the mess that happened. And I know she’s going to freak out when I tell her because I have to tell her. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it while she was away because I didn’t want to ruin her week. But now that she’s back? There’s no hiding and there’s too much to unpack. “I’ll tell you everything after class,” I whisper, flipping open my notebook. Her pen pauses midair, and she leans closer, her brows raised. “Now I’m anxious.” “After class,” I whisper back, forcing my attention to the podium. The professor’s voice drones on, but the words might as well be static. My heart is already racing, my palms damp against the notebook. Just the thought of telling Allie what happened makes me feel nauseous. She has the kind of relationship people dream about with a steady, loving boyfriend. Meanwhile, mine crashed and burned in the ugliest way possible. The contrast feels like holding up my mess beside her perfection, and part of me wants to swallow it down and never say a word. But I know I can’t. She’s my best friend. And if there’s anyone I can break in front of, it’s her. When the lecture finally ends, Allie wastes no time. She grabs my wrist and practically drags me outside, weaving through the crowd until we find a quiet corner. Her eyes are already wide, her whole body buzzing like she might explode if I make her wait a second longer. “Okay,” she says, hands on her hips. “Tell. Me. Everything.” I let out a shaky laugh, but it dies in my throat. “You think it’s some funny, messy story,” I murmur, staring down at my shoes. “But it’s not.” Her teasing smile slips slightly. “Then start wherever you can.” So I do. I tell Allie everything, starting with catching Bryan cheating and his mockery afterward, which pushed me into a fake relationship with Braydon. The words come out shakier than I expect, and by the time I finish, I feel wrung out. Allie just stares at me, her eyes so wide it almost makes me laugh if it didn’t hurt so much. For a long moment, she doesn’t say a word. Then she exhales slowly and pulls me straight into her arms. I sink into her hug, holding on tightly because God, I needed this. I haven’t even told Justin yet, so she’s only the second person to know, and somehow that makes me feel relieved. When she finally pulls back, her hands stay firm on my arms as she searches my face. “Are you okay?” she asks quietly. I nod, a small, self-conscious laugh escaping. “Yeah. I mean, I cried last night… and then cringed myself into secondhand embarrassment over my own actions with Braydon.” “I’m going to kill Bryan when I see him,” she grinds out. “How could he do that, and who does he even think he is?” I give a small shrug. “Guess you never really know someone, do you?” For a moment, the noise of the hallway swallows us before Allie leans closer until her shoulder brushes mine. “Okay, but…” she lowers her voice, her eyes practically gleaming, “are you one hundred percent serious about Braydon? Because if you are…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but her grin is trying to break through. I narrow my eyes at her. “Don’t you dare get excited.” But it’s too late because the sparkle in her gaze gives her away. She’s always been obsessed with Braydon and thinks he’s hotter than every lead in her comic books combined. Back in freshman year, she even ran his fan page before she started dating and reluctantly passed it on like she was handing over a crown. The way her eyes shine now, I can tell she’s trying to hide how thrilled she is at the drama. With a sigh, I dig out my phone and thrust it into her hands. “Here. Proof.” Her jaw drops the second she sees his name light up my screen. I watch her scan the texts he sent me last night while I was curled up on my bed, crying over everything, and also trying to convince myself our fake relationship wasn’t a bad idea because of the kiss. BRAYDON: Send me your schedule, Peach. ME: Don’t call me Peach. BRAYDON: Okay, send me your schedule, Princess. Allie slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes bouncing between my screen and my face. “Oh my God. You’re not joking.” “Why would I joke about that?” I mutter, trying not to laugh. “Does Justin know about this?” she presses. I shake my head, sighing. “No. And I don’t even know how to tell him.” She grins wickedly. “Girl, you are treading dangerous waters… but I fully support this.” I open my mouth to respond when a new notification flashes across my screen. “It’s Braydon,” Allie squeaks, clutching my arm. “Shhh,” I hiss, leaning down to read it. BRAYDON: Your schedule says library time at 12 p.m. Still on, Princess? I roll my eyes at his text. First it was Peach, now it’s Princess. What’s next, Queen of the Universe? I turn to complain, but Allie is practically glowing, her face lit up like Christmas as she stares at my phone. “Really?” I scoff. “You have a boyfriend and you’re drooling over another guy.” She shakes her head. “I hate to be this kind of best friend, but you’re literally texting Braydon. Braydon!” She repeats it like she wants it to get inside my head. “Do you know what that is?” I stare down at my phone. It’s not like he’s Justin Bieber or something. “He’s a normal guy and my brother’s friend,” I say. She slaps her forehead. “Do you realize you’re his first girlfriend ever, and he doesn’t do relationships?” I’m about to laugh her off when a sight snatches the sound out of my mouth. My chest tightens as my gaze snags on a figure across the quad, and my body feels like it’s being pricked with thorns as I stare. Allie follows my gaze to Bryan, who’s walking slowly a few meters away with his arm wrapped around a girl’s shoulder. A girl, different from the redhead he was with yesterday. I force my gaze away and swallow, hoping it soothes the heat rising inside me, but it doesn’t. It hurts, and I’m scared to admit how much it does. Chapter 007 KATY’S POV The library is unusually packed today as if people know what’s coming. Every table is filled with groups cramming for midterms, laptops glowing, and coffee cups balanced on notebooks. I try to keep my eyes on the book in front of me, but the words blur together as I read the same line three times. My body also feels restless because any moment now, Braydon will walk in, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for the attention that will follow. After seeing Bryan with that girl, though, every hesitation I had about this arrangement with Braydon vanished. He didn’t just cheat, but also made a spectacle out of it. And as if doing that wasn’t enough, he had to parade someone else around campus like a trophy. But if he wants to go low, then fine. I’ll go lower. All the way down. I glance down at my wristwatch, trying to calm the pounding in my chest. “Where is—” “It’s Braydon Cooper.” Someone at the next table half-whispers, and squeals at the same time. My head lifts on instinct, and there he is, walking down the row of tables like he owns the place. Even in a library full of stressed-out students, he’s impossible to miss. Conversations dip, pages stop turning, and a few phones tilt in his direction as he heads straight for my table. He stops in front of me, his green eyes locking on mine. “Hey, Peach.” “You’re here,” I whisper, tearing my gaze away before anyone can see the heat creeping into my cheeks. He pulls out a chair and drops into the seat beside me, earning a chorus of gasps from nearby tables. I can’t tell if people are shocked to see him in the library because let’s be real, this is probably his first time here, or if it’s because he chose to sit with me. Either way, the attention is loud, and it’s exactly what we planned. “Reading without me?” he teases, leaning closer and his fingers brush a strand of hair behind my ear like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I feel so hurt.” I lick my lips, trying to keep my cool. He told me from the start he’s a handsy guy, and I agreed I’d play along. So yeah, I’ll be the girl who acts unbothered by the campus heartthrob touching her in the middle of the library, even if my pulse clearly didn’t get the memo. “We both know you hate reading,” I tell him, forcing a smile that feels way too charming. “And please don’t touch me out of nowhere. Give me a heads-up.” He leans in closer, and I almost jerk back but catch myself just in time. “I thought we went through this.” He whispers, then pulls out a can of Coke from his pocket, setting it in front of me. “I didn’t know if you preferred coffee or soda.” The gesture is simple, but it sends the room into overdrive. Whispers ripple from the aisles, and I catch people peeking from behind the shelves, pretending to browse while very obviously staring. Seriously? What’s their deal? Yeah, Braydon’s a star on the hockey team and will probably go pro after college, but they’re acting like he’s already a celebrity or in the NHL. Well… I shouldn’t complain. The faster the news reaches Bryan, the better. “Thanks, Bray,” I manage, the word strangling me on its way out. He cringes. “Bray? That’s the best you’ve got?” I bite my lip, mortified. What am I even supposed to call him? Bryan and I never did nicknames, and we were on a first-name or baby basis. And there is no universe where I’m calling Braydon baby. He sighs, clearly over my struggle, then grabs my wrist and tugs me to my feet. Before I can react, he’s pulling me between two shelves into a quiet corner, away from all the eyes burning holes into us. “Are you really this stiff?” he asks, caging me in against the wall. “Bray? Really?” I glance around, making sure no one’s watching, before muttering, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to call you. Bray’s not that bad.” He scoffs. “Out of thousands of options, you go with Bray? Try something better. Maybe… Big guy.” “Big guy?” I arch a brow. He nods smugly, gesturing to himself like the answer is obvious. My eyes betray me, running over him before I can stop. And fine, he’s not wrong. He’s all man, from the broad chest stretching his shirt to the long legs and fingers that make him seem even bigger in the cramped space. I snap myself out of it before my gaze drifts lower, folding my arms across my chest to put some distance between us. Not that it helps because he’s close enough that one wrong move and we’ll be pressed together. “I’m not calling you Big Guy,” I tell him flatly. “But I’ll come up with something… nicer.” “And it has to be before Zach’s party,” he shoots back. “Zach’s party?” I narrow my eyes. “Who the hell is Zach, and why are you suddenly bringing him into this?” I can tell where this is heading, and yeah, I hate it already. “Because we’re going to that party,” he says. I shake my head. “Nope, that’s not happening. We agreed on bars and one home game. That’s it. Nothing about frat houses, or parties.” “Zach’s our goalie,” he says, like that alone should settle the argument. “And there’s no way I’m missing his birthday bash.” “Then go alone.” He smirks, leaning closer. “That’d be weird… when I’ve got a hot girlfriend I’m supposed to show off.” My heart does that annoying thump-thump thing, but it’s not nearly enough to change my mind. Loud parties are the last place I want to be. They drag up memories I’ve spent years trying to bury, and a part of me I don’t let anyone near. Agreeing to bars was already pushing it, but this? This is a hard no. “I’m not going,” I say again, firmer this time. “Bryan isn’t going to figure it out just because I’m not glued to your side twenty-four-seven.” “Peach, it’s just—” “No.” The word scrapes out harsher than I intend, but I don’t care. His persistence grates on me, mostly because I can see where this is going. He’ll keep pressing, trying to dig into the reason I avoid places like that, but I don’t talk about it. Not now. Not ever. “I don’t know why—” he starts, only to stop when a girl sidles up to the shelf beside us. She isn’t fooling anyone by pretending to look at books, because her ears are all wide. I paste on a sweet smile and reach up, pretending to adjust Braydon’s collar. “Hold still,” I murmur. He raises a brow but quickly plays along, sliding his hand around my waist and tugging me against him. Now we’re chest-to-chest, close enough that my pulse skips in protest. The girl lingers a second too long before finally moving on. “Why can’t people just mind their business?” I mutter, tugging at his collar one last time before dropping my hand. He stays rooted to the spot, staring at me like he’s trying to figure me out. The silence stretches long enough to make me shift on my feet. “People are going to start talking about us,” he finally says, shrugging out of his jacket. “I know you hate loud places for some reason you won’t tell me, but everyone’s gonna be at that party. If you really want to prove him wrong, that’s the best night.” I open my mouth, ready to argue, but before I can get a word out, he presses his hockey jacket into my hands. Then, with a quick, almost disarming softness, he taps my chin with his knuckles. “I’ll see you tonight.” And just like that, he strides out, leaving me staring down at the jacket clutched in my grip.
"I woke up with my ex’s brother still buried inside me—and the bast@rd was smiling. “What the hell? Get out of me!” I punched him in the chest, but he just held me tighter against the mattress. “Shh. You’re the one who climbed on top of me last night, begging for it,” his thumb traced my lower lip. “And now you want to play the victim?” Before I could answer, the bedroom door shook with a violent bang. “KATY. OPEN THE FKING DOOR.” My ex’s roar made the walls shake. ""I know you’re in there with him!"" I froze. My heart was pounding against my ribs. Braydon didn’t even flinch. Instead, he grabbed my hips and thrvst into me again—so deep I had to bite my lip until it bled to keep from making a sound. “Let me go!” I hissed, struggling to get him off me. He flipped me over in one fluid motion, trapping me beneath his weight. “Where do you think you’re going, Peach? You wanted revenge, didn’t you? Well, let him hear exactly what you did with his brother.” Another blow. The wood creaked. “I’m going to kill you both!” Braydon let out a dark laugh against my ear. “Well, you’d better hold on tight.” He rammed into me again. Harder this time. On purpose. A moan escaped my throat before I could stop it. I should have been terrified. Humiliated. Instead, my body arched on its own, seeking the next thrust. He tightened his grip on my waist. “That’s good,” he murmured. “Let him hear.”" --- Chapter 001 KATY’S POV “Hey, I’m heading over now. Can you bring out the books I left?” I press send and shove my phone into my jacket pocket as Bryan’s townhouse comes into view, my steps automatically quickening. I have Statistics in thirty minutes, and Mrs. Tompson would rather swallow a jean jacket than let me walk into her class without my textbook, the same textbook I managed to leave lying around in my boyfriend’s room. As I walk faster, I recheck my phone, half expecting a reply, but there’s nothing. Not even a typing bubble. For a moment, I wonder if he has already left, but it‘s unlikely. It’s only 9:30 in the morning, and Bryan never leaves his room early. One of the perks of being a baseball player is that he doesn’t have to treat academics like life or death the way I do. I reach his townhouse and take the stairs two at a time, my purse bouncing against my hip. The higher I climb, the more rushed my breathing feels, though it has less to do with the stairs and more to do with this creeping frustration that he still hasn’t texted back. By the time I get to the third floor, where his room is, I’m already picturing walking in and tossing a sarcastic comment about how hard it is to answer a simple text. My hand reaches for his doorknob when I hear his voice through the door. “Hurry up, my girlfriend will be here soon.” I freeze. “You need to leave.” Who is he talking to? The question barely forms before the door flies open and a girl rushes out, nearly colliding with me. My breath hitches. She gasps, her eyes wide with a mix of panic and shame. In the sliver of a second before she bolts, I take in her messy red hair, wrinkled shirt, and unbuttoned jeans. A sickening masculine scent, one I recognize very well, clings to her. My gaze snaps to Bryan, who is standing in the middle of the room in nothing but his boxers, his own chest bare, and his hair tousled. A cold, sharp shiver runs down my spine, stealing the air from my lungs. My knees go weak, and the knot in my stomach turns to a solid block of ice. Without a word, the girl tears past me, disappearing down the hallway. My fingers begin to tremble, and my heart hammers so hard it feels like it will burst through my ribs. I stumble back, a bitter taste rising in my throat. “Baby, wait.” Bryan’s voice follows me as he steps into the hallway. I spin around and run, determined to put as much distance as I can between us, my chest burning with anger. He catches me, his hands clamping around my wrist before I can escape, spinning me back toward him and blocking my path. "Baby, let's talk.” "Let go of me," I snap, my voice shaking. "Don't touch me!" I shove against his chest, but he doesn't budge. He tugs me toward his room, his grip tight. "It's better if we go inside. Everyone can hear us out here." Inside, I shove him away, my chest rising and falling with quick breaths. I want to demand answers, but I already know the truth. The evidence is everywhere: in the rumpled sheets, the scent of her perfume, and the desperate, guilty look in his eyes. He paces the room, running a hand through his hair before stopping and grabbing my shoulder. "I messed up, okay?" He drags a hand over his face. "It was a mistake.” My eyes twitch. “A mistake?” “Yeah, baby," he says, his eyes skittering away from mine. "Some of the guys came over last night. We drank too much. I got so shit-faced I… I thought she was you. I don't even remember half of it.” I blink, unable to process his words. My mind stumbles over them, each syllable making less sense than the last. Did he really just say that? Does he actually expect me to believe this pathetic lie? I stare at him, my mouth slightly open, waiting for him to take the words back. But he doesn't. He just holds my gaze, searching my face as if he's trying to see if I'm stupid enough to swallow his bucket of lies. “You… you thought she was me?” I choke out in anger. “Are you actually serious right now?” “Yes, baby, I'm serious. I didn't mean it. It was a mistake," he insists. "And honestly, she came on to me first. How was I supposed to resist when I was drunk? Come on, you know I love you.” A bitter laugh escapes my lips. "Cheating is one thing, Bryan," I snap, taking a step toward him, "but thinking I'm stupid enough to believe your lies? That's a whole other level.” “Katy, you’re overreacting,” he states, his voice growing colder. “Jasper and Hannah had the same kind of problems, and they worked it out. Why can’t you be more like her?” I feel heat flare through me. “Overreacting?” I yell. “Fourteen months, Bryan! Fourteen months of promises, and you’ve broken every single one! And you have the nerve to tell me I’m overreacting?!” He scoffs, his mask finally dropping. "Promises? You really want to bring that up?" I recoil. "What do you mean by that?" He crosses his arms and steps toward me. "You want to talk about promises? Fine. Let's talk about it." He jabs a finger in my face, his eyes darkening. "You promised your schedule would never affect us. How's that working out? Every damn day, you're busy. Debate, magazines, some lame club! You put everything else before me.” “That’s not—” I start, but he cuts me off. “I play sports, and I still make time for you!” he yells, and I flinch. “You know what? This is your fault!” He jabs my shoulder again. “This happened because of you, not me. You!” I step back, rage crawling up my spine. Never in a million years did I imagine that the person I had loved and trusted for a whole year could be like this—twisting the truth, blaming me, acting as if I were at fault. “You are a coward, Bryan.” I whisper, lifting my head to meet his eyes. “That’s what you are. Blaming me, twisting everything, and calling it my fault? I’m done.” I dash to his desk, sending papers and books tumbling to the floor as I hunt for my textbook. I need to get out of here before my anger takes over, before I do something I will regret. “You act like there’s someone better out there. There isn’t, and there won’t ever be.” He sneers from behind me. “Nobody else will ever make you feel alive the way I do.” I pause, staring up at him. He steps closer, his voice rising as he repeats his claim. “You were nobody before me, Katy. I made you popular. You walk into a room, and people know your name because of me. Bryan Cooper.” Something inside me snaps. I close the distance between us, breathing against his face. "You will never speak to me again," I hiss. "And mark my words, you will be replaced by someone hotter, smarter, and better than you could ever be. I yank the couple necklace he gave me off my neck and fling it at his feet. Without another word, I storm out with my textbook, tears burning my eyes. I managed not to cry in front of him, but as I run down the stairs, the dam finally burst. I collapse against the side of the building, clutching my chest as sobs tear out of me. It feels like someone has ripped my heart away and shredded it into a million pieces. Our memories and moments fill my mind, stabbing me over and over. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fumble to answer it, my hands shaking. “Katy?”My brother’s voice floats through. “Yeah?” I sniffle, wiping my tears. “Don’t forget you promised to tutor Braydon after class today,” he says, sounding annoyed. “He’s already bugging me.” I bite my lip, wanting to tell him I can’t right now, not in this state, but I had promised to help his friend. I exhale, pushing back the lump in my throat, and slowly rise to my feet. “Okay,” I manage to say. Chapter 002 BRAYDON’S POV “Asshole!” I shout, the words ripping from my throat as some guy cuts me off. I slam my hand against the steering wheel, throwing a glare in the rearview mirror, even though I know he can’t see me. Perfect. Just perfect. I’m particularly in a bad mood today. Hell, I’ve been in a bad mood all week. Nothing seems to go right, and every little thing is just… another straw on the camel’s back. And it’s all because my old man’s ultimatum keeps gnawing at me. “Pass all your courses, or forget about hockey.” His voice drills into my skull. Simple, right? Like I could just flip a switch and make it happen. I can rock Cs in most of my courses, well, except in Marketing Management and Business Ethics. If I fail those, there’s no graduation, no hockey, and worse, Bryan gets his hands on my mom’s company. That’s exactly what he and his mother have been scheming for, and I’ll be damned if I let them take what my mom built with her own sweat and blood. The thought gnaws at me, making me want to punch something, and I can’t hold in the audible groan that escapes my throat. I pull into my apartment lot and kill the engine. For a moment, I sit there, gripping the wheel and staring at myself in the rearview mirror. “You got this,” I tell myself. I can do it. Lucky for me, Justin’s kid sister, Katy, is a genius. All I need is a few sessions with her, I’ll keep my grades, and hockey stays mine. That’s the plan, the smart plan. But right now, I need something to distract me before I lose it. I nod, shove the door open, and head for my building. I slow as I near my door, spotting someone leaning against the frame. Her head lifts, eyes locking with mine, and a smirk curls her lips. Stacy. Exactly the distraction I ordered. I’d shot her a text twenty minutes ago, but didn’t think she’d make it so quickly. Guess not. She’s in nothing but a jacket and lacy tights. And when a girl waits at your door dressed like that, you know damn well there’s nothing underneath. “Took you long enough.” She shoots me a sexy smile that says I’m about to forget all about my bad day. My gaze drags over her as I slip the key into the lock. “Is that all for me?” Her eyes glitter. “Sure, big guy.” I’ve barely stepped inside before her manicured fingers trail across my chest. “How long has it been?” she purrs. “A long time,” I answer. Her smile widens as she shrugs out of her jacket, letting it pool on the floor. She gets on her knees and crooks a finger at me. "Come here.” I waste no time closing the distance between us. The world outside the door, the frustrations of the day, my father's ultimatum, my grades, all fade into a distant hum. She takes the waistband of my jeans, her fingers teasing the button open before tugging at my zipper. A second later, my cock springs free, a release I've been craving all day, and lands in her waiting hand. The feel of her fingers wrapping around me pulls a low groan from my throat. “Go on, suck it,” I rumble. On my command, she opens her mouth and wraps her lips around my length. **************��Two hours later, Stacy is snuggled up beside me, her head resting on my chest. She traces meaningless lines across my skin, a gesture of intimacy, but I don’t like the cuddly stuff. It makes me feel trapped. I slowly shift, dislodging her head, and search for my shorts on the floor. “You..” “I missed you,” she blurts, cutting me off. I spin, caught off guard for half a second before I reel it back in. The first thought that comes to mind is: Did she forget the rules? We first hooked up three months ago, and I was crystal clear about my boundaries.Things were easy because she was fine with a no-strings-attached arrangement. But now, I'm not so sure. It seems she's going to be like all the others, the ones who start wanting more after a few times. “I’ve been busy,” I mutter, dragging on my shorts. I can’t say I missed her, too, because that’ll only mess things up and lead her on. But the truth that she hadn't crossed my mind once since we last hooked up is too cold to say aloud. “I’m exhausted. Got morning practice.” I rub the back of my neck, hoping she takes the hint and leaves. But that’s far from what she has in my mind. “Are you really kicking me out minutes after we just—” her voice sharpens, “after we just had sex?” “Stacy, listen…” “Seriously, is this it? Is this all I am to you? We just hook up and that’s all?” She looks visibly upset now. “I thought we were clear about this," I reply, my voice firm. "From the very beginning, I told you I'm not looking for anything serious. No strings attached, just this.” Her fingers tremble as she snatches her jacket off the floor. "Well, I don't want to be your whenever-you-want girl anymore. I want to be your girlfriend." “You know that’s not happening.” I respond flatly. “But why?” She demands. "I don't have to explain myself and don’t act like I tricked you. You knew the deal from day one,” I tilt my head at the door. “If casual wasn’t your thing, you shouldn’t have agreed. Now do us both a favor and leave.” Her expression immediately softens, her eyes filling with a plea as she realizes I'm serious. "Big guy..." she croaks, her voice breaking. "I just… I just really like you. Can't you—" She lifts a hand to touch me, and I take a sharp step back. Her hand is left hanging in the air, and her eyes turn cold instantly again. The vulnerability is gone, replaced by a cutting anger. "Why exactly can't I be your girlfriend?" she asks, her voice hard. "What is it? Do you have a checklist I don’t measure up to?” I don't answer. I turn and stride out of the bedroom. She follows, her shoes thudding on the hardwood floor, but I ignore her. I pass the dining table, head straight for the fridge, and crack open a beer. She stops short, the anger in her body suddenly replaced with bewildered hurt. "So that's it? You're just going to grab a beer? You don't even care, do you?" I take a slow sip, not looking at her. "I thought we were clear. I don't." "I can be a good girlfriend!" she pleads, her voice rising. "I'm a great girlfriend. Just give me a chance." I shake my head. "I don't need a girlfriend." The words hang in the air for a moment before something in her breaks. She lets out a frustrated cry and yells, "Screw you!" She lunges for the front door, yanking it open. She dashes out and almost collides with a girl coming down the hall, a stack of books in her arms. The girl sidesteps to avoid being hit. It's Katy. Her tired gaze lands on Stacy, then drifts to me, her expression unreadable. Stacy gives her a slow once-over, then whips back to me with a sneer. “Really? I thought you had standards!” My mouth opens, ready to shut her down, but Katy beats me to it. “Relax. I’m not here to hook up with him. Unlike you, I actually have a purpose.” Both of us freeze. My brows lift, caught off guard. Stacy’s smirk falters, and for a split second, she looks like she’s been slapped. Chapter 003 KATY’S POV The redhead glares at me, her chest rising and falling like she’s trying to push the anger out in measured breaths. I wait for a retort, but she spares me only a cutting look, huffs at Braydon in dismissal, and storms off, muttering cusses to herself. I stare after her, gritting my teeth as irritation prickles my skin. What’s it with me and redheads today? First, with Bryan in the morning, and now, his brother. It seems they both have a type. A low chuckle from the doorway yanks my attention back. Braydon leans casually against the frame, an infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. His abs are on full display, golden against the light, every line impossible to ignore. “Didn’t think you had that in you, Peach.” I lift an eyebrow, a mix of annoyance and curiosity bubbling up inside me. "Peach?" He pushes off the door and takes a step closer, his hand reaching toward me. I recoil slightly, a shiver running down my spine despite myself, and his grin only widens. “Relax,” he says, tilting his head toward my chest. I glance down and there it is: a peach, drawn smack in the center of my shirt. Heat rises to my cheeks, and I can’t help but roll my eyes, letting out an amused scoff. I bulldoze past him into his living area. “Put on a shirt.” “Why?” His voice hums with amusement, even though I refuse to look at him. “Getting a little distracted by the view?” I spin around. “Ever heard of the word decency?” I snap. “It’s spelled—” “Hey, I can spell that. What do you take me for?” he cuts in, feigning annoyance, which somehow makes it even more irritating. He shuts the door and strolls over to the eat-in counter. A can of beer sits there, and before my eyes, he tilts it back and gulps down the entire thing in one smooth motion. “Is that alcohol?” I ask, fists clenching at my sides. He shoots me a strange look, eyes flicking to the now-squashed can in his hand. “It’s beer… so yes, I’m pretty sure it’s alcohol.” He tilts his head, his smirk creeping back. “Aren’t you supposed to be the smarter one?” Anger bubbles inside me. Did Justin not tell him I’m coming over? But no, Justin called me this morning to remind me. So, Braydon knows I’m here to tutor, not watch him get drunk. “You’re drinking on a night I’m supposed to tutor you?” I demand, my voice tight. He sighs dramatically and tosses the can in the trash. “Don’t be so peachy, Peach,” he says, his voice teasing. “It’s just one can and it’s not enough to knock me out. Besides… we can just get to know each other today. Justin definitely didn’t mention you’ve grown into a pretty woman.” I feel irritation crawl up my spine, and my lips twitch. My eyes dart to the door, tempted to leave, but then I remember Justin’s pleading and the one thousand dollars he promised for my new MacBook. I fix him with a death glare. “First of all, don’t call me Peach again. Second, have you considered that the reason you’re flunking your courses is that you flirt too much, and let’s not forget your unhealthy obsession with hockey? If you actually stop thinking about ways to flirt with me, maybe we can get something done tonight. But if you don’t, I’ll be more than happy to waste your time and watch you fail.” “Do you have friends?” he throws at me casually, catching me off guard. “Or have they all ghosted you because all you do is read and forget to socialize?” His words sting, bringing back the memory of what Bryan said to me this morning, but I swallow the hurt. “You must be so good at socializing that you forget other things matter.” I lift my book. “Oh, things like graduating from college.” His smirk widens, and I can see he’s taking this as a challenge. Is my insistence… kind of a kink for him? “Now, where’s your room? Let’s get started,” I add, keeping my voice calm. He leads the way to his room, and I follow, my eyes scanning the space as I enter. Posters of the Chicago Blackhawks cover the walls, along with a few other players I recognize from Justin’s room. Surprisingly, it’s cleaner than I expected, until my gaze lands on his bed. Bile rises in my throat. The sheets are scattered, and two empty condom wrappers lie on the floor. I bolt out, clutching my books, heat flooding my face. He follows, a look of amused surprise on his face, but I don’t slow down. “We’ll just read here,” I say, refusing to meet his eyes. I drop my books on the table, my hand aching from carrying them too long. Braydon prowls closer, shrinking the air between us “Why’d you run like that?” He asks. “Can’t handle being in the same room with me, Peach?” That damn nickname again. My patience frays. “You should clean up your room after sex, especially if you’ve got company. It’s called decency. Maybe you’ve heard of it, though clearly, you haven’t.” His fingers suddenly tilt my jaw, forcing my eyes to his. “Are you sure that’s the only reason? You know, I can make time for you.” That’s it. I’ve had enough. Heat floods my chest as I snatch my books off the table and storm toward the door. “Find someone else!” I yell. He catches my arm, trying to stop me, but I yank hard against his grip. I will not sit through two hours of his shameless flirting, not today. Not after the day I’ve had. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay?” Braydon’s voice softens as he pleads. “Get your hands off me.” I twist, trying to shake him loose. “I’ll behave, alright?” he rushes out. “I’ll put on a shirt, stop calling you Peach, never say another word you don’t like. Just, please, tutor me. I’m desperate.” I whirl around, ready to snap that he doesn’t act desperate enough, when my pocket starts buzzing nonstop. With a huff, I yank my phone out, half-expecting one of my study group members. But no, it’s Bryan. My stomach knots as I click the notification. Instead of apologies like I imagined for a second, my screen is filled with vile messages from him. My throat burns as my eyes lock on one message that makes the rest blur away. ~~BRYAN: Return my baseball jacket. My new girl wants it.~~ Everything else fades as hot anger sears through me. I read the line twice, but the words don’t change. He wants me to return his baseball jacket? And not just that, he already has a new girl, less than twelve hours after we broke up. My jaw clenches so tight it aches. He’s doing this to rile me up, and goddamn, it’s working. If I don’t hit back, he wins. The memory of him sneering that I’d never find someone better than him scorches me deeply. “Hey…” A tap on my shoulder jolts me, and Braydon’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Did you hear a word I said? I said I’ll do anything you want. Anything.” My head jerks toward him, and it takes a moment to recollect myself, his last word lingering in my mind. Anything you want. The words replay like a chant, and suddenly my mind is crawling with ideas that shouldn’t be there. My gaze rakes down his frame and back up, and he catches it, brows pulling together in confusion. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it, but the thought is so damn tempting. Braydon Cooper, the campus golden boy and star forward of the hockey team. He’s the guy girls would do anything to be seen with, and guys hate him because he can take their girlfriends with a smile. He might be a player, but everyone knows he’s picky. Ruthlessly picky. So much so that girls brag if they even make it into his bed. Just being seen with him is enough to boost your social status overnight. You get invitations to events just because you’ve caught the eye of Braydon Cooper. And right now, he’s standing in front of me, saying anything I want. He’s perfect for my revenge plan. Not just because of who he is, but because he’s Bryan’s brother. What better way to grind Bryan’s inflated ego to dust than to show him his so-called replaceable ex is on the arm of his hotter and better brother? I turn to face Braydon fully, heat prickling under my skin. “You’ll do anything?” I ask, watching him closely. He studies me, uncertainty flickering in his eyes for the first time since I walked in. Still, he nods. “Yeah.” I take a slow breath, steadying the heat in my voice. “Then here’s the deal. I’ll tutor you, and not just enough for you to pass. You’ll ace your classes, every single one of them, with at least a B. That’s my part.” He narrows his eyes, waiting. “And yours?” “In return,” I say, “you’ll use your charm, your connections, your golden-boy reputation to pursue me publicly. We’ll build a high-profile relationship and everyone will see us.” Chapter 004 KATY’S POV “What?” Braydon stares at me like I’ve just sprouted two heads. “I said that—” “Yeah, I got you.” He cuts in, stepping closer as if to read my face better. “You’re asking me to play boyfriend?” I lick my lips before answering, my pulse hammering. “Yes.” He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sorry to disappoint you, Peach, but dating isn’t my thing. Anything but that.” The sting hurts more than I expected, disappointment slicing through me. I exhale slowly, biting my lip. I’ve heard his no-dating rule before, but dismissed it as just another line to make himself more desirable. But now… the way he shuts me down makes me wonder if he’s actually serious enough to walk away from an offer like this. I clear my throat, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Think about it. Midterms are in four weeks, and it’s a major part of our final grade. If you want to pass, you need time with me, and that’s a month to prepare. This is a win-win deal.” “Uh-uh.” He flicks his hand. “I’ll pass. There has to be something else you want. I mean…” His smirk resurfaces. “I didn’t take you for one of my fangirls.” I roll my eyes, glaring at him. “I’m not interested in you. And I’ve never harbored some secret crush on you.” “Really?” He cuts in, his tone edged with disbelief. “So why? I mean… aren’t you still with Bryan or something?” “You should’ve remembered that before flirting with me,” I snap back. My chest heaves once, and I force myself to calm. It takes everything in me to push out the words. “Bryan and I broke up.” His face doesn’t change, not even a hint of sympathy. He also doesn’t look like he’s about to say an empty sorry to hear that. Instead, he cocks an eyebrow. “So what? Trying to use me as your rebound?” The urge to scream at him burns in my throat, but I bite it back. I’m negotiating, and I need this deal. Swallowing hard feels like impaling myself as I admit the truth. “He cheated on me.” That gets him. His expression shifts, the teasing dropping from his face. His eyes darken, a flash of anger sparking there. “That son of a bitch.” “It’s fine,” I choke out, though it’s not. “I just… I want to prove him wrong. He said I can’t find someone better than him. But—” I shrug, forcing the resignation into my voice. “I guess your rule is your rule.” I turn, feigning surrender, pretending to walk away even though part of me is begging for him to stop me. “Wait!” His voice rings out just as my hand grazes the door. My lips twitch into a smile, but I force it down, schooling my face into something neutral as I turn back to him. Braydon drags a hand through his hair, and I know he’s thinking. And honestly, I don’t blame him. I already know how explosive it’ll be once the news spreads. Justin will definitely flip out, and everyone will have their eyes glued to my life like it’s their favorite show. Frankly, the only good thing to come out of this is that Bryan will absolutely lose his shit. “You’ll really help me ace my courses?” he finally asks, his gaze locking with mine. I nod. “Yeah. But that depends on how convincing you are as my boyfriend.” His brow furrows. “What does that even mean?” “It means people have to believe we’re dating,” I say evenly. A smirk tugs at his lips. “That’s gonna be a hard sell, considering my track record.” I suck in a breath, my patience thinning. “Do you really want to graduate, or not?” He nods his head, shooting me a mock glare. “You’re so annoying.” “Then do we have a deal?” I press, refusing to back down. He stays quiet, the silence stretching long enough for me to second-guess everything. Then he sighs. “We’ve got a deal.” I almost squeal, but I bite it back hard. He actually agreed. I can’t believe I pulled this off. And suddenly, the weight of it sinks in…this is huge. In the history of Cadston College, I’m his first girlfriend. First. Which makes it not just a win, but a direct slap in Bryan’s face. Another point on the scoreboard for me. “Thank you,” I say, setting my books down before my hands can shake. “I hope you’ll be a great girlfriend,” he replies smoothly, that tone of mischief back in his voice. “Because I’ll give this my all. Quick notice though, I’m a handsy guy.” His teasing is back, but this time, when our eyes lock, I can’t fire back like I usually do. The air shifts between us, heavy and charged. My throat tightens, and I look away, scratching at my arm like that can distract me. It doesn’t. If anything, it only makes me more aware of how close he is. “Ummm…let’s talk about the rules.” I manage to say. “What rules?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer as his hand lands on my shoulder, tugging me a little closer. I go stiff instantly, every nerve locking up. His frown deepens. “You can’t freeze up when I touch you if we’re going to sell this dating thing.” A spark of alarm shoots through me. “And why would you even touch me?” He tilts his head, one brow arching. “Because, Peach, I’m supposed to be your boyfriend.” My throat tightens. “Can’t you convince people without touching me?” I counter, heat crawling up my neck. “We can…hold hands sometimes.” “Are you really that shy?” His lips twitch. “What, was your relationship with Bryan PG-12 or something?” “No,” I snap before I can stop myself. My voice falters, then steadies again as I lift my chin. “We had sex plenty of times. And yeah, there was PDA. Difference is, he was actually my boyfriend.” He steps closer, and with a maddening slowness, pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. My skin burns at the contact. “We just made a deal, Peach,” he says softly. “And the way I see it, that makes you my girlfriend now. If we’re gonna convince Bryan, we don’t get to half-ass it. He can smell bullshit a mile away so we do what real couples do.” The room feels like it’s closing in, the air too thick, my heartbeat too loud. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. If I want Bryan to choke on this, I have to play the part. I nod, forcing the words out. “Maybe…we should practice holding hands and some physical stuff. Just to make it natural.” He almost laughs but reins it in, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Practice, huh? Okay, Peach. Let’s practice.” He guides me stiffly to the couch and sits beside me. Then he extends his hand, and my throat dries. Slowly, I reach out and take it. The moment our skin touches, a zap of electricity shoots through me, and I yank my hand back. He feels it too, and I can tell because he doesn’t tease me. Instead, he licks his lips. “Let’s try again. Extend your hand.” I swallow, shove my hand forward, and he takes it. His fingers weave through mine, and my heart slams against my ribs, so loud it feels impossible he can’t hear it. His gaze lingers on me as he strokes the back of my hand with his thumb, and shivers ripple down my spine. Why does something as simple as holding his hand make me feel this way? “See?” he murmurs. “It’s not that hard.” I nod quickly, pretending the heat in my belly isn’t getting worse with every second. He shifts closer, his shoulder brushing mine, and his scent floods my senses. “Now,” he says, his voice dropping, “next on the list of physical contact is kissing.” Chapter 005 KATY’S POV I rip my hand away, glaring at him, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Are you out of your mind?” He snorts. “Do you, or do you not, want Bryan to believe we’re dating?” My jaw drops in outrage. “What does that have to do with my lips?” He shakes his head like I’m hopeless. “What do you think relationships are? Study groups? Business meetings?” He leans closer, and I instinctively lean back, my heart racing. “Men are physical beings and I’m the most physical of all. Bryan knows that. If he notices I’m not all over you, we’ve got a problem. And we don’t want problems, do we?” I bite my lip and look away, my brain spiraling. Maybe I should find someone else for this fake-dating nonsense, because his suggestions are ridiculous. He makes me react in ways I don’t understand, and now I’m actually considering kissing him. Him, of all people. No. I cross my arms and face him. “This isn’t a game. It’s fake dating, and I am not kissing you.” He leans back, unfazed. “Okay, then what do you suggest we do when we’re out? Bars, my hockey games…” I blink. “Wait, bars? I have to go with you to bars? Why?” He lifts a brow like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because that’s what girlfriends do.” Oh, this is already too much. The thought of hanging out with his friends, who I’m sure are just as loud and cocky as he is, makes my stomach turn. “Trust me, Peach,” he says with that maddening grin, “if you show up on my arm at a bar, Bryan will lose his mind. You’ve got to do things with me you’d never do with him, or he’ll never buy it.” I narrow my eyes. “And what exactly happens at this bar?” “We have fun, grab a couple drinks, and I introduce you as my girlfriend…” His grin widens. “Oh, and heads up? Half the girls there will probably want to kill you.” I roll my eyes, though I can’t deny it makes sense. Going out with him and stepping into his world will convince anyone we’re together. Bryan especially. He knows I hate loud places, so if he hears I went to a bar with Braydon, he’ll lose it. “Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll go.” “And at least one home game,” he adds quickly. I sigh. “That too.” “And you’ll wear my jacket around campus.” I give him a tight nod. “But no kissing. If you want that, call the redhead.” His lips curve. “Why don’t you want to kiss me? Scared you’re bad at it?” I scowl. “I’m a great kisser!” “Yeah?” He leans in, close enough for my breath to catch. My heart skips, heat curling low in my stomach. “Then prove it.” “Why do I have to prove anything to you?” I snap, though my palms are slick with sweat. “I know I’m a good kisser. End of story.” His tilts his head. “I see fear in your eyes. Don’t worry, I get it.” “Wh—” The sound sputters out of me. He’s unbelievable. “Why would I be scared to kiss you?” He shakes his head slowly, like he’s humoring me. “A lot of people freeze up when—” “Fine!” The word rips out of me before I can stop it. “Let’s do it.” For a second, his eyes widen, shock flickering there before it melts into a smile. His green eyes darken, heat sparking in them or maybe it’s just me burning up. My hands tremble against my thighs, and my whole body feels like it’s caught fire. This cannot be happening. Except it is, because he leans in and closes the gap between us. Our knees brush, and it feels like sparks shooting through me. My hand lifts almost on its own, my fingers brushing his cheek and my thumb traces along his jawline. His eyes catch the light, and I swear I can see the rapid flutter of his pulse in his throat. Slowly, I tilt forward until my lips press against his. The instant they touch, heat floods through me, racing from my mouth down the length of my body. My skin prickles, every nerve coming alive with a low pull in my stomach that I can’t control. He tastes faintly of beer as his tongue slides in my mouth, but somehow it’s addictive, like I’ve never tasted it before. For a moment, I forget everything: where we are, why we’re doing this, and even who I’m with. All I feel is heat rolling through me. And then reality slams back. I’m kissing Braydon. The last person I should ever be kissing. Panic claws at my chest, and I rip myself away, breathless. My face burns hot, my chest rising and falling too fast. From the corner of my eye, I catch him licking his lips, and I tighten my thighs. I should say something smart, but my throat is dry, and I don’t trust my voice not to give me away. My palms are damp, so I rub them against my jeans, praying he won’t point out how rattled I am. “Well,” he drawls at last, his eyes locked on me, “I guess we have chemistry. We’ve got nothing to worry about.” I force myself to look at him, but the heat in his gaze is too much, and I turn away almost instantly. “Is that so?” I laugh nervously, rubbing my arms. “Then I guess we’re done here.” I spring to my feet, gathering my things, but before I can escape, his hand closes around my wrist. My breath catches as I glance down at him. “There’s one more thing,” he says. “Wh…what?” My voice trips over itself. “The way you look at me.” I’m sure my chin is red now because I feel all the blood in my body rush to my face. How do I look at him? How? “What do you mean?” I manage to ask, barely above a whisper. “You need to look at me like you’re in love,” he says. Relief flickers through me when I realize he’s still talking about our act, not me. But then his fingers lift, tilting my chin toward him, and my throat goes dry. My gaze drops to his lips, and panic surges. “I think I’m good,” I blurt, stumbling back. Clutching my books to my chest, I make for the door before I can completely fall apart. Chapter 006 KATY’S POV I slip into the lecture hall and sink into my usual seat, letting my bag drop beside me. My gaze flicks around the room before I can stop myself, and I scan the faces of everyone present. Of course, I already know Braydon’s schedule, so I know he shouldn’t be here. Still, I only exhale once I’m certain. It’s ironic, really. He’s supposed to be my fake boyfriend, and yet here I am, relieved he isn’t anywhere near me. And today is supposed to be our first day for everything we planned but my stomach is fluttering with nerves. The truth is that after last night, I need space, breathing room, and time to convince myself I’m not making a mistake by trusting him. I usually pride myself on making good choices. Safe ones. But with him, all my carefully built walls crumble, and wisdom evaporates. That’s how I end up doing things like kissing him like I want it and like I’m not supposed to remember it’s fake. Worse, I didn’t just kiss him, I melted and moaned into his mouth as if I couldn’t help myself. The memory sends a shiver racing down my spine, and I shift in my seat, wishing I could shake the feeling away. “Miss me?” a familiar voice teases in my ear. I jump, startled, before turning. Allie slides into the chair beside me, her smile bright and easy. Right on cue, our professor walks to the podium, but I barely notice him because I’m too busy staring at my best friend. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow,” I whisper, grinning as relief warms my chest. God, it feels good to see her. Allie isn’t just my roommate, she’s my anchor, and my sister in every way that matters. She’s been gone for days, celebrating her anniversary with her boyfriend, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed her until now. “So basically, you didn’t miss me,” she says, pulling out her notebook, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I missed you so much my entire life collapsed without you,” I whisper dramatically. She smothers a laugh. “Or maybe you were just having too much fun without me.” If only she knew. Fun is the last word I’d use for all the mess that happened. And I know she’s going to freak out when I tell her because I have to tell her. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it while she was away because I didn’t want to ruin her week. But now that she’s back? There’s no hiding and there’s too much to unpack. “I’ll tell you everything after class,” I whisper, flipping open my notebook. Her pen pauses midair, and she leans closer, her brows raised. “Now I’m anxious.” “After class,” I whisper back, forcing my attention to the podium. The professor’s voice drones on, but the words might as well be static. My heart is already racing, my palms damp against the notebook. Just the thought of telling Allie what happened makes me feel nauseous. She has the kind of relationship people dream about with a steady, loving boyfriend. Meanwhile, mine crashed and burned in the ugliest way possible. The contrast feels like holding up my mess beside her perfection, and part of me wants to swallow it down and never say a word. But I know I can’t. She’s my best friend. And if there’s anyone I can break in front of, it’s her. When the lecture finally ends, Allie wastes no time. She grabs my wrist and practically drags me outside, weaving through the crowd until we find a quiet corner. Her eyes are already wide, her whole body buzzing like she might explode if I make her wait a second longer. “Okay,” she says, hands on her hips. “Tell. Me. Everything.” I let out a shaky laugh, but it dies in my throat. “You think it’s some funny, messy story,” I murmur, staring down at my shoes. “But it’s not.” Her teasing smile slips slightly. “Then start wherever you can.” So I do. I tell Allie everything, starting with catching Bryan cheating and his mockery afterward, which pushed me into a fake relationship with Braydon. The words come out shakier than I expect, and by the time I finish, I feel wrung out. Allie just stares at me, her eyes so wide it almost makes me laugh if it didn’t hurt so much. For a long moment, she doesn’t say a word. Then she exhales slowly and pulls me straight into her arms. I sink into her hug, holding on tightly because God, I needed this. I haven’t even told Justin yet, so she’s only the second person to know, and somehow that makes me feel relieved. When she finally pulls back, her hands stay firm on my arms as she searches my face. “Are you okay?” she asks quietly. I nod, a small, self-conscious laugh escaping. “Yeah. I mean, I cried last night… and then cringed myself into secondhand embarrassment over my own actions with Braydon.” “I’m going to kill Bryan when I see him,” she grinds out. “How could he do that, and who does he even think he is?” I give a small shrug. “Guess you never really know someone, do you?” For a moment, the noise of the hallway swallows us before Allie leans closer until her shoulder brushes mine. “Okay, but…” she lowers her voice, her eyes practically gleaming, “are you one hundred percent serious about Braydon? Because if you are…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but her grin is trying to break through. I narrow my eyes at her. “Don’t you dare get excited.” But it’s too late because the sparkle in her gaze gives her away. She’s always been obsessed with Braydon and thinks he’s hotter than every lead in her comic books combined. Back in freshman year, she even ran his fan page before she started dating and reluctantly passed it on like she was handing over a crown. The way her eyes shine now, I can tell she’s trying to hide how thrilled she is at the drama. With a sigh, I dig out my phone and thrust it into her hands. “Here. Proof.” Her jaw drops the second she sees his name light up my screen. I watch her scan the texts he sent me last night while I was curled up on my bed, crying over everything, and also trying to convince myself our fake relationship wasn’t a bad idea because of the kiss. BRAYDON: Send me your schedule, Peach. ME: Don’t call me Peach. BRAYDON: Okay, send me your schedule, Princess. Allie slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes bouncing between my screen and my face. “Oh my God. You’re not joking.” “Why would I joke about that?” I mutter, trying not to laugh. “Does Justin know about this?” she presses. I shake my head, sighing. “No. And I don’t even know how to tell him.” She grins wickedly. “Girl, you are treading dangerous waters… but I fully support this.” I open my mouth to respond when a new notification flashes across my screen. “It’s Braydon,” Allie squeaks, clutching my arm. “Shhh,” I hiss, leaning down to read it. BRAYDON: Your schedule says library time at 12 p.m. Still on, Princess? I roll my eyes at his text. First it was Peach, now it’s Princess. What’s next, Queen of the Universe? I turn to complain, but Allie is practically glowing, her face lit up like Christmas as she stares at my phone. “Really?” I scoff. “You have a boyfriend and you’re drooling over another guy.” She shakes her head. “I hate to be this kind of best friend, but you’re literally texting Braydon. Braydon!” She repeats it like she wants it to get inside my head. “Do you know what that is?” I stare down at my phone. It’s not like he’s Justin Bieber or something. “He’s a normal guy and my brother’s friend,” I say. She slaps her forehead. “Do you realize you’re his first girlfriend ever, and he doesn’t do relationships?” I’m about to laugh her off when a sight snatches the sound out of my mouth. My chest tightens as my gaze snags on a figure across the quad, and my body feels like it’s being pricked with thorns as I stare. Allie follows my gaze to Bryan, who’s walking slowly a few meters away with his arm wrapped around a girl’s shoulder. A girl, different from the redhead he was with yesterday. I force my gaze away and swallow, hoping it soothes the heat rising inside me, but it doesn’t. It hurts, and I’m scared to admit how much it does. Chapter 007 KATY’S POV The library is unusually packed today as if people know what’s coming. Every table is filled with groups cramming for midterms, laptops glowing, and coffee cups balanced on notebooks. I try to keep my eyes on the book in front of me, but the words blur together as I read the same line three times. My body also feels restless because any moment now, Braydon will walk in, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for the attention that will follow. After seeing Bryan with that girl, though, every hesitation I had about this arrangement with Braydon vanished. He didn’t just cheat, but also made a spectacle out of it. And as if doing that wasn’t enough, he had to parade someone else around campus like a trophy. But if he wants to go low, then fine. I’ll go lower. All the way down. I glance down at my wristwatch, trying to calm the pounding in my chest. “Where is—” “It’s Braydon Cooper.” Someone at the next table half-whispers, and squeals at the same time. My head lifts on instinct, and there he is, walking down the row of tables like he owns the place. Even in a library full of stressed-out students, he’s impossible to miss. Conversations dip, pages stop turning, and a few phones tilt in his direction as he heads straight for my table. He stops in front of me, his green eyes locking on mine. “Hey, Peach.” “You’re here,” I whisper, tearing my gaze away before anyone can see the heat creeping into my cheeks. He pulls out a chair and drops into the seat beside me, earning a chorus of gasps from nearby tables. I can’t tell if people are shocked to see him in the library because let’s be real, this is probably his first time here, or if it’s because he chose to sit with me. Either way, the attention is loud, and it’s exactly what we planned. “Reading without me?” he teases, leaning closer and his fingers brush a strand of hair behind my ear like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I feel so hurt.” I lick my lips, trying to keep my cool. He told me from the start he’s a handsy guy, and I agreed I’d play along. So yeah, I’ll be the girl who acts unbothered by the campus heartthrob touching her in the middle of the library, even if my pulse clearly didn’t get the memo. “We both know you hate reading,” I tell him, forcing a smile that feels way too charming. “And please don’t touch me out of nowhere. Give me a heads-up.” He leans in closer, and I almost jerk back but catch myself just in time. “I thought we went through this.” He whispers, then pulls out a can of Coke from his pocket, setting it in front of me. “I didn’t know if you preferred coffee or soda.” The gesture is simple, but it sends the room into overdrive. Whispers ripple from the aisles, and I catch people peeking from behind the shelves, pretending to browse while very obviously staring. Seriously? What’s their deal? Yeah, Braydon’s a star on the hockey team and will probably go pro after college, but they’re acting like he’s already a celebrity or in the NHL. Well… I shouldn’t complain. The faster the news reaches Bryan, the better. “Thanks, Bray,” I manage, the word strangling me on its way out. He cringes. “Bray? That’s the best you’ve got?” I bite my lip, mortified. What am I even supposed to call him? Bryan and I never did nicknames, and we were on a first-name or baby basis. And there is no universe where I’m calling Braydon baby. He sighs, clearly over my struggle, then grabs my wrist and tugs me to my feet. Before I can react, he’s pulling me between two shelves into a quiet corner, away from all the eyes burning holes into us. “Are you really this stiff?” he asks, caging me in against the wall. “Bray? Really?” I glance around, making sure no one’s watching, before muttering, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to call you. Bray’s not that bad.” He scoffs. “Out of thousands of options, you go with Bray? Try something better. Maybe… Big guy.” “Big guy?” I arch a brow. He nods smugly, gesturing to himself like the answer is obvious. My eyes betray me, running over him before I can stop. And fine, he’s not wrong. He’s all man, from the broad chest stretching his shirt to the long legs and fingers that make him seem even bigger in the cramped space. I snap myself out of it before my gaze drifts lower, folding my arms across my chest to put some distance between us. Not that it helps because he’s close enough that one wrong move and we’ll be pressed together. “I’m not calling you Big Guy,” I tell him flatly. “But I’ll come up with something… nicer.” “And it has to be before Zach’s party,” he shoots back. “Zach’s party?” I narrow my eyes. “Who the hell is Zach, and why are you suddenly bringing him into this?” I can tell where this is heading, and yeah, I hate it already. “Because we’re going to that party,” he says. I shake my head. “Nope, that’s not happening. We agreed on bars and one home game. That’s it. Nothing about frat houses, or parties.” “Zach’s our goalie,” he says, like that alone should settle the argument. “And there’s no way I’m missing his birthday bash.” “Then go alone.” He smirks, leaning closer. “That’d be weird… when I’ve got a hot girlfriend I’m supposed to show off.” My heart does that annoying thump-thump thing, but it’s not nearly enough to change my mind. Loud parties are the last place I want to be. They drag up memories I’ve spent years trying to bury, and a part of me I don’t let anyone near. Agreeing to bars was already pushing it, but this? This is a hard no. “I’m not going,” I say again, firmer this time. “Bryan isn’t going to figure it out just because I’m not glued to your side twenty-four-seven.” “Peach, it’s just—” “No.” The word scrapes out harsher than I intend, but I don’t care. His persistence grates on me, mostly because I can see where this is going. He’ll keep pressing, trying to dig into the reason I avoid places like that, but I don’t talk about it. Not now. Not ever. “I don’t know why—” he starts, only to stop when a girl sidles up to the shelf beside us. She isn’t fooling anyone by pretending to look at books, because her ears are all wide. I paste on a sweet smile and reach up, pretending to adjust Braydon’s collar. “Hold still,” I murmur. He raises a brow but quickly plays along, sliding his hand around my waist and tugging me against him. Now we’re chest-to-chest, close enough that my pulse skips in protest. The girl lingers a second too long before finally moving on. “Why can’t people just mind their business?” I mutter, tugging at his collar one last time before dropping my hand. He stays rooted to the spot, staring at me like he’s trying to figure me out. The silence stretches long enough to make me shift on my feet. “People are going to start talking about us,” he finally says, shrugging out of his jacket. “I know you hate loud places for some reason you won’t tell me, but everyone’s gonna be at that party. If you really want to prove him wrong, that’s the best night.” I open my mouth, ready to argue, but before I can get a word out, he presses his hockey jacket into my hands. Then, with a quick, almost disarming softness, he taps my chin with his knuckles. “I’ll see you tonight.” And just like that, he strides out, leaving me staring down at the jacket clutched in my grip.
At the bond-severing ceremony, my mate rejected me without hesitation. "I, Damian, future Alpha of the Argent Pack, reject you, Astrid Stormont, as my Luna." And then he chose my twin sister instead. The entire pack erupted in cheers. To them, I had always been the ugly twin, the weak one. I accepted Damian's rejection… and then, I released my true scent. Chapter 1 Astrid's POV. They say twins are supposed to be inseparable, like two halves of the same soul. That's cute in theory, but in reality? My twin sister and I might share a birthday, the same red hair, and identical hazel eyes, but that's where the similarities end. Ariana is the star. The beautiful one. The one who walks into a room and somehow everything dims around her just so she can shine brighter. And me? I'm the shadow that follows quietly behind, clutching books like a shield and pretending not to notice when people compare us. Spoiler alert: they always compare us. It was a constant everywhere, she was Ariana and I was "Ariana's sister". Mother and father spoiled her to bits and somehow forgot that Ariana was my twin. As we got older, Ariana's hair began to turn lighter, close to orange, while mine went from normal red to fiery red, just like my maternal grandmother's hair whom everyone apparently hated as she was pure wicked. "Astrid, seriously?" Ariana's voice cuts through my thoughts like nails on a chalkboard. I glance up from my sketchbook just in time to see her rolling her eyes dramatically in the full-length mirror. She's standing there in a tiny denim skirt and a crop top that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe. If I had good clothes, they were Ariana's disposed clothes she probably wore once and lost interest. Not that our parents couldn't afford it, the pack was wealthy, but I was just never a priority to them. "What?" I ask, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose. She spins around, hands on her hips. "You're wearing that?" I look down at myself. An oversized hoodie with faded jeans. My sneakers even had paint splatters on them from last week's art project. "Yeah," I mutter. "What's wrong with it?" Ariana's laugh is sharp, like glass breaking. "What's right with it?" She struts across the room and plops onto my bed without permission, her perfume clouding the air—sweet, expensive, suffocating. "You know Mom and Dad are taking us to brunch after school, right? You could at least try to look like you're related to me. Stop acting like an attention-seeking lone wolf." My wallflower nature was apparently attention-seeking to them. "I am related to you," I reply dryly, going back to shading the wings on my sketch. "Unfortunately." "Ha-ha. Hilarious." She leans over and snatches the pencil from my hand so fast it scrapes across the page, ruining the drawing. "Hey!" I grab it back and growl. "What's your problem?" "My problem," she says, flipping her perfect hair over her shoulder, "is that you keep acting like a freak. You're seventeen, going to eighteen, Astrid. No one cares about your little doodles. Try living in the real world for once. Soon, you will shift, and all these nonsense doodles will go. Dad will simply not allow it." "They're not doodles. They're—" I stop myself because it doesn't matter. She wouldn't get it. She never does. She was very capable of tearing my dreams apart. I wanted to go to Edom University to study art after school and I was working towards a full scholarship because there was no way I was leaving my "precious twin" behind while wasting my time in Edom, they would say. I didn't want to depend on them for anything. I will go to Edom, meet my mate, and be happy with him and my art. Hopefully, my mate wasn't in this pack, so I can be as far away as possible. Ariana sighs like my existence is exhausting and stands, grabbing her designer bag. "Whatever. Don't embarrass me today, okay? People already think it's weird that we're twins." "Trust me," I mutter, closing my sketchbook carefully. "You do enough embarrassing for the both of us." She gasps. "Excuse me?" "Nothing," I say quickly, sliding my sketchbook into my bag. There's no point in arguing. Ariana always wins, especially when Mom and Dad are around. --- Breakfast is a war zone—if wars were fought with passive-aggressive comments and the constant ping of Ariana's phone notifications. Mom sets a plate of pancakes in front of me without looking. "Eat up, Astrid. You're so thin. It's unhealthy." "Good morning to you too," I mumble, stabbing a piece of pancake with my fork. "Don't mumble," Dad says from behind his newspaper. "It's unattractive." Right. Because my biggest goal in life is to be attractive. Ariana breezes in like the queen she believes she is, ki.ssing Mom on the cheek. "Morning, Mom! Love your blouse. Is that new?" Mom beams. "It is! You have such an eye, sweetheart." I sip my orange juice quietly, invisible as usual. Ariana slides into the chair across from me and starts scrolling through her phone, her nails tapping against the screen. "Oh my gosh, Madison just posted about her party tonight. It's going to be huge." She glances at me with a smirk. "Don't worry, Astrid. You're not invited." "I wasn't planning on going," I say flatly. "Good," she chirps. "Wouldn't want you scaring people off with your creepy bookworm vibes." "Ariana," Mom says in that fake-scolding tone that means nothing. "Be nice to your sister." "I am nice," Ariana insists, flipping her hair again. "I'm just honest like you taught me to." Dad chuckles like that's the funniest thing he's ever heard. I push my chair back before they notice the way my hands tremble under the table. If I had had my first shift, I would have just gone for a run. Soon, though. "I'm done," I say quietly, grabbing my bag. "Wait," Mom calls. "Don't forget to smile today, Astrid. You look prettier when you smile." I don't answer. I just walk out the door and let it slam behind me. --- School isn't any better. It never is. I slide into my usual seat in the back of English class, hoping to disappear. My safe zone: books, notebooks, and the quiet hum of my thoughts. But peace is short-lived because Ariana walks in, surrounded by her pack of friends, all laughter and lip gloss. "Oh my Gosh, look at her," one of them whispers loudly. Madison, I think. She's the worst. "Same hoodie, three days in a row?" I clench my jaw and keep my eyes on my notebook. "Leave her," Ariana says, but her voice is dripping with amusement. "She likes being invisible." Laughter erupts around me. I bite down hard on my lip until the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. If I look up, they'll see the tears burning behind my eyes. And I refuse to give them that satisfaction. So I do what I always do—I hide. I shrink into myself, into the pages of my book, into the worlds I create with pencil and paper. Because in those worlds, I'm not the weird twin. I'm not the disappointment. I'm someone. But even as I sketch the outline of how my wolf would look like during my first shift, in the margin of my notes, I can't drown out Ariana's voice echoing in my head. You're going to be eighteen, Astrid. No one cares about your little doodles. Maybe she's right. Maybe no one cares. But that doesn't stop me from drawing anyway. Chapter 2 Astrid's POV. If high school had royalty, Ariana would be queen. No, scratch that—she is queen. Walking down the hallway with her entourage feels like watching a music video: hair that gleams like it belongs in a shampoo commercial, lip gloss so shiny it reflects the fluorescent lights, and that perfect laugh that makes every guy trip over his own shoelaces. And then there's me—her twin. The footnote to her fairy tale. The bell hasn't even rung, and I'm already counting down the hours until I can hide in my room again. I'm at my locker, swapping out my English book for my art sketchpad, when I hear it. The laugh. Hers. Loud, perfect, and cruel. My stomach twists. "Look at this!" Ariana's voice carries down the hall like an announcement on the PA system. I freeze. I know that tone. That tone means trouble—for me. I was always the buns of her jokes and pranks, always the one at the receiving end. Slowly, I turn, and my worst fear is confirmed: Ariana is standing with Madison, Chloe, and Liam—the boy half the school drools over. In Ariana's hand is my sketchbook. My private sketchbook. Oh no. Those are in my portfolio. What I would submit to Edom. My throat closes. "Give that back." Ariana smiles sweetly, which is her signature look before she ruins someone's life. "Relax, Astrid. We're just appreciating your… artwork." Madison leans over Ariana's shoulder, her fake nails clicking against the cover. "Ooh, what's this? An angel with, like, a sword? Cute. Super edgy." "Seriously, Ari, your sister's got a wild imagination." Liam says, laughing as Ariana flips to another page. "Is this supposed to be her wolf? Darn, this wolf is hot." Liam let out a wolf whistle, and heat flooded my cheeks as they all laughed. I shove through them and snatch the sketchbook out of Ariana's hands, clutching it to my chest like it's a life preserver. "What is wrong with you?" Ariana tilts her head, giving me that innocent look that everyone falls for. Everyone except me. "What? We were just looking." "No, you weren't," I snap. My voice shakes, and I hate it. "You were making fun of me." Her smile widens, sharp and sugary. "Astrid, don't be so dramatic. Honestly, you should thank me. At least people are finally noticing you for once." "Noticing me?" I choke out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. "By humiliating me?" Ariana shrugs like it's no big deal. "Oh, come on. It's just a few drawings. Who cares?" "I care," I whisper. She leans closer, lowering her voice so only I can hear. "Then maybe stop hiding behind them and try being… I don't know… normal. Freak." Before I can respond, Madison's voice cuts in. "Hey, Ari, come on. We're gonna be late for wolf history. Liam, you coming?" Liam grins at Ariana. "Obviously." She gives me one last smirk, the kind that twists in my gut like a knife, then saunters off with them like nothing happened. Like she didn't just rip me open and leave me bleeding in front of the whole hallway. The bell rings, but I don't move. I just stand there, clutching my sketchbook so hard my knuckles turn white, wishing I could disappear. --- By lunch, the whole school knows. Of course they do. Ariana doesn't even need social media to spread gossip—she has her smile, her charm, and a fan club that hangs on her every word. I sit at the far corner of the cafeteria, stabbing my salad with a plastic fork like it personally offended me. The whispers float across the room like smoke. "Did you see her drawings?" "Total freak." "Like, does she think she has the third eye?" "She hasn't shifted yet, and she's drawing her wolf." "Her wolf's probably going to be red." "That would be so unattractive, yuck." "She might be like her grandmother." I keep my eyes on my tray, but my ears burn. "Mind if I sit?" a voice asks. I glance up and almost drop my fork. It's Mason—quiet, tall, always reading in the library like me. We've never really talked, but I've noticed him. Mostly because he's the only person in school who looks like he hates being here as much as I do. "Um… sure," I say, scooting over. He sits down, dropping his backpack on the bench. "Ignore them," he says, nodding toward the whispering crowd. "People here are goofballs." A surprised laugh escapes me before I can stop it. "That's… accurate." He smirks, pulling out a book from his bag. "You draw, right? I mean, obviously, since…" He gestures vaguely. I sigh, dropping my head into my hands. "Don't remind me." "Hey," he says softly. "They're just jealous." I snort. "Yeah, sure. Jealous of what? My ability to make a total fool of myself?" "No," he says simply. "Jealous that you're good at something they don't understand. You'd definitely make it at Edom. You should apply." For a second, I forget how to breathe. No one's ever said that to me before. Before I can respond, though, a shadow falls over the table. "Well, isn't this adorable?" Ariana's voice drips like honey, but it's poisonous. She's standing there with her friends, tray in hand, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Go away, Ariana," I say through clenched teeth. "Relax," she coos, sliding into the seat beside me without asking. Madison and Chloe take the other spots, practically boxing me in. Mason tenses across from me, his jaw tightening. "So," Ariana says loudly enough for half the cafeteria to hear. "Astrid's got herself a lunch date! Who knew?" I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole. "Stop." This was extremely embarrassing, with someone who didn't even know me. Way to go, Ari. "Why?" Ariana grins wickedly. "This is cute. Really. You two can bond over… I don't know… books and weird self-sketches. You both are probably mates. Two nerds fated together buried in books." "That's enough," Mason says, his voice calm but firm. Ariana blinks, feigning innocence. "Oh? I'm just looking out for my sister. She doesn't get out much. Don't want her to miss out, or she would be so much alone in her books." Madison giggles. "Or at all." My cheeks burn hotter than ever. I shove back my chair, my legs trembling. "I'm done." I grab my tray and storm out, ignoring Ariana's laughter trailing behind me like chains. --- By the time I make it to the bathroom, the tears I've been holding back finally spill over. I lock myself in a stall and sink to the floor, clutching my sketchbook against my chest. Why does she hate me so much? We're twins. Sisters. Aren't we supposed to have each other's backs? The fact is, Ariana doesn't just want to be the best. She wants me to be less. And I'm so tired of letting her win. I wipe my eyes and flip open the sketchbook. The angel with the sword stares back at me, strong and unbreakable. Everything I'm not. Even the picture of how I imagined my wolf to be looked strong and independent, with a backbone. She is probably going to turn out to be a red wolf like grandmother, but she sure as heck looked fierce. Nothing like me. But maybe… maybe one day I will be. Chapter 3 Damian's POV. Being an Alpha isn't just about strength—it's about control. Control of your pack. Control of your instincts. Control of the beast inside you that wants to rip apart anyone who challenges you. That's what Alpha training is all about. And honestly? Most days, it feels like a test I can never fail. Because one mistake, one slip, and it isn't just me who suffers. It's everyone. So yeah, my life is strict schedules, gruelling combat drills, endless lectures on diplomacy, and leadership. No parties. No freedom. No fun. Ever since my father passed away from a heart attack, my uncle had taken the seat of Alpha until I was the right age to take over my place. All I did was go to Edom for the Alpha training, with many other Alpha heirs from different packs. In a year's time, I will assume my position as Alpha of Argent pack, like my father and his father. But days like today? They remind me why it's worth it. "Damian, the Stormont are here," my uncle calls from the foyer, his deep voice echoing through the mansion. The Stormonts. A wealthy family in the pack, responsible for the gold mines. I know the name, but I've never paid much attention to them or their kids—mainly because I don't have time for drama that doesn't involve keeping rogue wolf smugglers off our borders or reading in Edom. Still, I smooth a hand over my black button-down shirt and make my way downstairs. As Alpha heir, appearances matter. The first thing I notice when I reach the foyer is my mother, all grace and poise, greeting the guests. The second thing I notice? Her. The girl standing next to her mother isn't just pretty—she's devastating. Long, glossy red hair cascading down her back, a figure that curves in all the right places, and a face that looks like it was carved by the gods. She's smiling at something my father says, and darn if that smile doesn't hit me like a punch to the gut. I have never seen such beauty in this pack. Who the heck is she? I stride forward, masking the sudden rush of heat under my skin. "Welcome," I say smoothly, my eyes locking on hers. "I'm Damian." Her eyes—golden-brown and bright—lift to meet mine, and for a second, she just stares. Like she wasn't expecting me. Then, her lips curve in a perfect smile. "Ariana," she says, her voice soft and sweet like honey dripping from a spoon. "It's nice to meet you." Ariana. The name tastes good on my lingua. "And this is our other daughter, Astrid." her mother adds, gesturing to the girl standing a step behind Ariana. I glance at her briefly—plain clothes, oversized glasses, clutching a sketchbook like it's her lifeline. They looked alike, twins definitely, but not at all—and then my gaze slides right back to Ariana. Because honestly, the other one barely registers. "Pleasure," I murmur automatically, though I don't even look long enough to see Astrid's reaction. Ariana, though? She holds my attention like gravity. --- We move into the sitting room, and as my parents chat with the Stormonts about business and alliances, I find myself watching Ariana. The way she crosses her legs, the delicate tilt of her head when she laughs, the soft pink gloss on her lips. Every guy in this pack would slay for a chance with a girl like this. She definitely knew she was pretty and a head turner. And right now, she's sitting on my couch, in my house, smiling at me like she knows exactly what she's doing. I wanted to ask if she was seeing anyone, but I changed my question the second I opened my mouth. "So," I say, leaning back in my chair, letting my gaze settle on her. "Do you come here often?" Dumb question, of course not. I would have seen her if she had come to my house. Her smile widens. "Not really. First time, actually." "Then I'll make sure it's not your last." Her cheeks flush the faintest shade of pink, and darn if it doesn't make me want to pull her closer, see if her lips taste as sweet as they look. Astrid shifts uncomfortably in her seat, and for a split second, I remember she exists. She hasn't said a word this entire time. she just sits there like she wants to disappear into the wallpaper. I almost feel bad—almost—but then Ariana laughs at something I said, and I forget all about her again. --- "So, Damian," Ariana says after a while, her voice lilting like music. "Alpha training school… that sounds intense." "It is," I admit with a smirk. "Only the strongest make it through. You've gotta be smart, fast, and ruthless when you need to be." Her eyes sparkle like I just told her the world's best secret. "Sounds like something you're perfect for." "I try." I let the smirk deepen, holding her gaze just long enough to see her bite her lip. Oh yeah—she's interested. "Must be hard," she says, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "All that training… no time for fun?" I lean forward slightly, lowering my voice so it's just for her. "Who says I don't make time for the things I want?" Her breath hitches—barely, but I notice. She wants me. And I want her. --- "Ariana," her mother says suddenly, breaking the tension. "Why don't you and Astrid go the garden? It's beautiful this time of year. The maid will show you around." Ariana pouts slightly but then nods. "Sure, Mom." She stands, and so does her sister, clutching that sketchbook like a lifeline. For the first time, Astrid glances at me, and I catch something in her eyes—something sharp, something… different. But then it's gone, and she follows Ariana out without a word. I noticed the tension between the twins and how the one named Astrid avoided her sister. The room feels colder without Ariana in it. My uncle clears his throat. "Damian, a word in private." I drag my eyes from the doorway Ariana just walked through. "Yeah, sure." We step into his office, and he closes the door behind us. "You were staring," he says bluntly. I smirk. "She's… interesting." "She's a Stormont." he reminds me. "Good family. Strong bloodline. But remember—you're not just any wolf, Damian. You're the future, Alpha. You can't afford distractions." "Who says she's a distraction?" I counter. "An alliance through marriage would be very good. I heard they owned the gold mines in the pack." His eyes narrow, studying me like he can see every thought in my head. Finally, he sighs. "Just don't do anything reckless." I grin, already thinking of a hundred ways to make Ariana mine. "When have I ever?" --- When the Stormonts leave, Ariana gives me one last smile over her shoulder. It's small, teasing, and promising. And right then, I decided something. Ariana isn't just going to be a pretty face I met once. She's going to be mine. Chapter 4 Astrid's POV. Sometimes at night, when the house is quiet and Ariana is probably texting a dozen boys who worship the ground, she walks on, I close my eyes and wish for one thing: A mate. Someone who will look at me and not see Ariana's less-pretty twin. Someone who will love me for the way I lose myself in art, who will think my messy hair and paint-stained hands are beautiful. Someone who will make me feel like I'm not… nothing. Someone who won't see me as the weird red-haired that deserved to be hidden. Pathetic, right? Almost eighteen years old and still dreaming like a kid. But dreams are the only thing keeping me sane in this house. At least they were—until today. I walk into my room after school, humming softly, only to freeze when I see Ariana sitting on my bed. My bed. With a smug smile stretched across her glossy lips and a stack of papers in her hand. My heart stops. No. She found it. What I have kept hidden since last week. My Edom art school application form. She searched through my room. "Ariana," I whisper. "Give those back." She waves the papers in the air like a victory flag. She was never up to any good. "Edom School of Art? Wow, Astrid. Really aiming high, aren't you?" Heat floods my cheeks. "Give. Them. Back." She smirks. "You really think they'd take someone like you? I mean, come on, Astrid. You can barely look people in the eye, and you think you can live in some big art school? Please. How are you going to afford Edom? Do you think father or mother would pay? Silly Astrid." I lunge for the forms, but she dances out of reach, laughing. "Oh, Mom and Dad are going to love this." "Ariana, don't—" My voice cracks. "Please. Don't tell them." "Oh, sweetheart," she purrs, her eyes glittering with malice. "You should know by now… I love telling them." She sashays out of my room, and panic slams into me like a punch to the gut. "Ariana!" I scream, chasing after her, my feet pounding down the stairs. She was already in the living room, holding up the forms like a trophy. "Mom! Dad! Look what Astrid's been hiding!" My parents look up from their conversation, curiosity flickering into shock as Ariana hands them the papers. "What is this?" Mom snaps. "It's… nothing," I stammer, reaching for the forms, but Dad snatches them away before I can touch them. "Nothing? You were planning to apply to an art school? Without telling us?" "I—I just wanted—" "You just wanted to embarrass this family?" Mom cuts in, her face twisting in fury. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous this is?" "It's not ridiculous!" I shout, surprising even myself. "It's my dream!" Mom laughs—a cold, bitter sound. "Dreams don't put food on the table, Astrid. Dreams don't strengthen alliances. You have a duty." "A duty?" My voice trembles with anger. So I had a duty now. After being ignored and treated like shoot for years, suddenly I have a duty? "What about Ariana? Does she have any duty to this family, or is it just me who has to sacrifice everything?" "Ariana is precious," Mom snaps without hesitation. "She's caught the eye of Damian—the Alpha heir. Do you understand what that means? Ariana is special. You…" Her lip curls in disgust. "You're not beautiful, Astrid. You have nothing. And you probably won't even find your mate, so stop living in a fantasy. Art school? What do you think will come out of it? Who do you expect to pay for that?" The words hit me like bullets, each one tearing through what little armour I have left. Not beautiful. Nothing. Won't find your mate. They never believed I would find my mate, and I won't be worth being mated to. They didn't even believe I could survive without them. They had no plans for me. I can barely breathe. Dad steps forward and rips the forms in half, the sound sharp and final. "You're not going to that art school. In fact, you're not going anywhere. From now on, you stay home. No more nonsense. School is putting useless ideas in your head. Maybe it's time for you to stop schooling." "No!" My scream rips from my throat before I can stop it. "You can't do this!" "We just did," Mom says coldly. "You'll stay here and learn the books. One day, you'll handle the accounts for the gold mine. That's your place." "My place?" I whisper, shaking. "You think my place is in a cage while Ariana gets to live her perfect life?!" Ariana, who's been standing there like the devil in designer jeans, smirks. "Well, someone has to, right?" Something inside me snaps. Before I even realize what I'm doing, I'm storming up the stairs, ready to lock myself in my room, when I notice something. My portfolio—the leather folder that holds every sketch I've ever poured my soul into—is gone. "Ariana," I breathe, ice flooding my veins. When I whirl around, she's standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding my portfolio like a prize. Smiling. When did she even take that? "Give. That. Back." She tilts her head. "Or what?" The rage that explodes inside me is wild and uncontrollable. A growl—an actual growl—rips from my throat, startling even me. And then I'm flying down the stairs. "Astrid!" Mom screams, but it's too late. I slam into Ariana, and we crash to the floor. Her gasp turns into a shriek as my fists pound, my nails claw. I yank her perfect hair, scratching across her flawless face. She screams again, trying to push me off, but I'm stronger. So much stronger than I ever thought I could be. "You ruined everything!" I roar, my voice animalistic, foreign. "Everything!" "Girls! Stop this!" Dad booms, and suddenly strong arms are dragging me back, hauling me off Ariana. I thrash against him, shaking, my chest heaving, a snarl curling my lips. Ariana scrambles to her feet, her face streaked with blood and fury, hair a tangled mess. She glares at me like she wants to slay me. But when I look at Mom, I see something I've never seen before. Fear. She's afraid of me. The realization slams into me like ice water. My breathing slows, but my body still trembles violently. "You…" I point a shaking finger at Ariana. "You're dead to me." Her eyes widen, but I don't wait for a response. I rip free from Dad's grip, storm up the stairs, and slam my door so hard the walls shake. Then I collapse onto the floor, tears burning my eyes as sobs tear out of me. My chest aches, my throat hurts, my hands are raw and bloodstained, but none of it compares to the pain clawing at my heart. I wanted freedom. I wanted art. I wanted… love. And now all I want is my mate. Someone to take me away from this heck because the last thing I'll ever do is stay here and rot behind a desk, watching Ariana live the life I can only dream of. That she will get everything and everyone at her beck and call while I struggle to gain scraps. I didn't want that life. I didn't want my life to be here. Someone, please. Come find me. Before I lose what's left of myself. Chapter 5 Astrid's POV. Three days. That's all that's left before my eighteenth birthday. Our eighteenth birthday. The day that's supposed to change everything. I sit cross-legged on my bed, staring at the calendar on my wall. The red circle around Saturday looks almost like it's glowing. My heart pounds every time I look at it. Not because of the cake or the idiot party Mom's probably planning for Ariana, but because of what it means for me. The first shift. Everyone says turning eighteen is magical for a wolf. That first shift… it's like being reborn. Stronger. Faster. Powerful. No more being the weak one. No more being invisible. For the first time in my life, I might matter. I press my hands together, whispering to the silence of my room. "Please… let this change something." I close my eyes and imagine it: fur as red as flames, eyes glowing like stars. Not because I care about being beautiful like Ariana, but because… maybe if I'm strong, Mom and Dad will stop looking at me like I'm a mistake. Maybe they'll see me. I will find my mate and finally be rid of this family forever. I won't look back. The door creaks open without warning. Of course, she doesn't knock. "What are you doing? Meditating?" Ariana steps in, wearing silk pyjamas that probably cost a fortune. Her hair is in perfect waves even though it's bedtime. After the Edom incident, I had to reluctantly apologise to my parents, and sadly, Ariana. As much as I loved to rip her hair out of her scalp, being sp violent and aggressive wasn't my style. I was so ridden with guilt, and the look of fear in my mother's eyes haunted me. They were still my parents, and I still lived under their roof. They tore up my application, which cost me several sketch money to save up, but it is what it is. When I find my mate, I'm so out of here. I glare at her. "Ever heard of knocking?" She smirks. "Ever heard of getting a life?" "Wow," I mutter, rolling my eyes. "You came all the way in here just to say that? Must've been exhausting." Ariana flops onto my bed like she owns it, scrolling through her phone. "Relax, I'm just here to talk. My big day's coming up." "Our big day," I repeat flatly. "Right." "You're not excited?" she asks, eyes still glued to her screen. "I am," I say carefully. "Just…" nervous, I guess." This was the first time she was ever talking to me like a semi normal person. "Nervous?" Ariana snorts. "Why? It's going to be amazing. Everyone will finally see how powerful I am." She flips her hair and grins at her reflection in my mirror. Sratch that... It's totally not normal. "I'm going to be the prettiest, strongest wolf this pack has ever seen. Damian will lose his mind when he sees me shift. I'm definitely his mate, I can feel it." Of course, this is about Damian. Everything lately is about Damian. Damian, Damian, Damian. That was all Mom and Ari could ever talk about. She barely knew the Alpha heir, but somehow they were 'perfect' together. But that day, he looked at her, and I saw the glint in his eyes. He was just like every other guy in this pack, attracted to her beauty without knowing the evil inside of her. He was definitely her mate. "Must be nice," I mumble. "What?" "Having everyone already think you're perfect before you've even shifted." Ariana looks at me then, her brows arching. "Oh, Astrid. Don't be like that. It's not my fault you—" She stops, smirking. "Never mind." "Finish it," I snap. Her smirk deepens. "It's not my fault you're… average. Sorry, below average" The words sting, but I swallow them down. I've had years of practice. I knew I was below average. They made sure to remind me of that. I was the other twin, the unattractive one who loved nerdy stuff. I was never my own person to them. "Whatever," I say, turning away. "You've got what you want. Damian, attention, everything. So leave me alone." They would probably fit. Two insanely attractive people with stuck-up personalities. It's definitely a match made by the moon goddess. She studies me for a moment, then laughs softly. "You know what? I hope you do get a mate. Maybe then you'll stop being so bitter. Maybe he would even change how you look. Just hope it's not one of the commoners." And with that, she struts out, leaving the faint smell of her expensive perfume behind. I curl into myself, gripping the blanket tight, whispering the same prayer I've whispered a hundred times. "Please… let this change everything." --- Ariana's POV Finally. Finally, after eighteen years of waiting, it's almost here. Our birthday. The night I've dreamed about since I was old enough to understand what being a wolf really means. I stand in front of my full-length mirror, turning side to side as I hold up a silver dress against my body. Perfect. It's absolutely perfect. The way it catches the light? Damian won't be able to look away. It suited my hair so perfectly. Speaking of Damian… I pull out my phone and scroll through our messages. He hasn't texted yet today, but that's fine. He's probably busy with Alpha training. Still, I can't help but imagine his face when he sees me on my birthday—powerful, radiant, everything a Luna should be. He was definitely my mate, and I couldn't wait to be marked and ravished by him again. I toss the dress onto my bed and start brushing my hair, humming softly. I snuck out last night to see Damian, and the way he thrust into me was the best thing I have ever felt in my life. I couldn't wait to be his forever. "Ariana!" Mom calls from downstairs. I grab the brush and head down, finding Mom in the kitchen with a glass of wine in her hand, and that usual sparkle in her eyes whenever she talks about him. "We need to finalize the guest list," she says. "This party has to be perfect. The Argents will be there." I smile, leaning against the counter. "I've already got the perfect dress." "Of course you do." Mom beams at me like I hung the moon. "You're going to take his breath away." "I plan to," I say, my voice light but full of confidence. "What about Astrid?" she asks absently. I shrug. "What about her?" "She's… well, she's Astrid. Make sure she doesn't embarrass us." "Please." I laugh. "She doesn't even talk to anyone. She'll probably hide in a corner with her sketchbook like always." Mom sighs but waves it off. "As long as she doesn't cause trouble." "She won't." I smile sweetly, even though I remember the wild look in her eyes when she attacked me the other time. For a second, the memory sends a shiver down my spine. But no. Astrid is nothing compared to me. And when Damian sees me, when he claims me as his mate, everyone will finally understand. I'll be the Luna. The most powerful female in this pack. And Astrid? She'll still be the girl in the shadows, buried in goldmine records. --- Later that night, I passed by her room and heard faint music playing. I peek in and see her hunched over her sketchbook like usual, lost in her little world. Pathetic. She looks up, catching me in the doorway. "What?" she snaps. She was always smart. I was jealous of that. Her senses were far sharper than mine, and she would have been the perfect daughter if she wasn't so unattractive with a idiot pair of unattractive buns glasses. I smile sweetly. "Just checking to see if you're still breathing." "Unfortunately for you, I am." Her tone is sharp, and for a moment, I see something fierce in her eyes—something that almost makes me pause. Almost. "Goodnight, Astrid," I say lightly, shutting the door. She doesn't answer. --- As I crawl into bed, I scroll through my phone one last time. Still no text from Damian, but that's okay. In three days, he'll see me shift, and then… Then, everything I've ever wanted will be mine.
To keep our relationship passionate forever, starting today, give me one month of absolute freedom every year. We don't interfere with each other." "If one of us finds someone more exciting, we let go gracefully. If not, when the month is up, you are still my Donna." This is the ninth year Dante and I have honored the Month of No Masters. The Corinni family's heir apparent believes this will make our relationship last longer. For one month after our dating anniversary each year, he is free, and we stay out of each other's lives. If either of us finds someone more suitable, we are to wish them well. If not, we go back to the way things were after a month. Around me, the men of the family are spraying champagne with abandon. "To another year of freedom! Congratulations to our Underboss on reclaiming his bachelor status!" "The family betting pool is open! Place your bets on the left if you think they'll still get married, and on the right if you think it's over for good!" Through the hazy cigar smoke, I sat on the corner of a leather sofa, a cold observer, as if this whole farce had nothing to do with me. Dante's hand was curled around Scarlett's waist as he brushed past me, whispering, "Don't get any ideas. You'll always be my only Donna." "I'm a kite. No matter how far I fly, the string is always in your hand." I pressed my cold fingers against the gentle swell of my belly, my expression a blank mask. Dante, this time at the family's betting table, I'm putting my money on "the end." I'm going to vanish from your world completely. That kite string you're so proud of? Tonight, I'm cutting it myself. ... A shaken bottle of champagne exploded overhead as everyone in the private room erupted into a frenzy. They were celebrating the Corinni family's youngest, most untamable wolf finally slipping his girlfriend's leash. One moment I was the revered future Donna of the family, the next I was a ghost in the corner, unnoticed. Dante was rebellious by nature. He usually scoffed at this kind of crass celebration, and his men practically had to beg him to make an appearance. That was precisely what made this annual "Month of No Masters" all the more thrilling. Dante and I met in Colombia. The youngest mafia heir and the most talented designer. Youth is the most combustible kind of danger. The collision of his raw wildness and my quiet composure had been the talk of the town. But over time, even the most potent attraction wears thin. On the anniversary of our fourth year of dating, I had just blown out the candles. Dante's long fingers, holding a cigar, paused. He stared at me through the smoke. "Aurora, after four years of sleeping next to the same face, don't you feel suffocated?" I looked up, stunned, only to see his eyes, as deep and dark as an abyss. They swirled with emotions I couldn't comprehend. He suddenly pinned me against the wall, his searing lips tracing my collarbone as he coaxed in a low, husky voice, "To keep our relationship passionate forever, starting today, give me one month of absolute freedom every year. We don't interfere with each other." "If one of us finds someone more exciting, we let go gracefully. If not, when the month is up, you are still my Donna." I jolted back in shock, knocking over our custom-made cake. The colored frosting splattered across the floor like a chaotic abstract painting. With his arms now empty, Dante's jaw tensed. He rubbed his thumb over his knuckles in annoyance, but his eyes held a fanatical glint. "Promise me, will you?" Perhaps it was the shock, but my limbs felt numb. But I had my own pride. I bit out, "Fine." Seeing me yield, the tension in Dante's shoulders instantly eased, his eyes alight with the thrill of getting his way. The first time we entered the Month of No Masters, I used family contacts to track his every move, almost torturing myself. I obsessively compared every woman he was with to myself. Did they hold hands? Did they hug? Did they sleep together? Every sordid rumor was a new wound. My sanity frayed. I would wake up on our cold bed in the middle of the night, shaking with despair. One night, when I couldn't bear it any longer, I called him. He answered immediately. He didn't complain about the interruption or accuse me of spying. Instead, he told me a childish fairy tale in a gentle voice, lulling me to sleep. "Aurora, is this month too hard on you?" The next day, with three days still left in the month, we reconciled early, ending the game. On our fifth anniversary, I thought he wouldn't bring it up again. I was wrong. And now, this is the ninth year. The same drama, year after year. He insisted on draining every last second from those thirty days. A minute less, and the month wasn't whole, his freedom incomplete. It had become the most sensational gossip in the entire criminal underworld. Every year on this day, enormous sums of money flowed into the betting pool. The odds of us reconciling were one-to-one. The odds of us breaking up for good were one-to-a-hundred. A cloying wave of perfume washed over me as Victoria sat down beside me with a sly laugh. "Aurora, what are you betting on this year?" I gave a faint smile. "I'm just watching." I lied. This time, I was betting against us. Chapter 2 Victoria was the woman from Dante's first 'Month of No Masters.' It had only lasted twenty-seven days. She was a civilian who had stumbled into our twisted game, and the truth had left her bitter. Dante brought her into the fold as compensation. After years in this life, the once-inconspicuous civilian girl had been forged into an elegant and striking woman. I raised the glass of whiskey in front of me and toasted her. "I didn't bet on anything." A capo, slurring "long live freedom," passed by with a wink. "Our future Donna must be praying that Boss doesn't get snatched up by some little vixen out there, so he'll come crawling back to you." "Right, Aurora?" Victoria shooed him away, then turned back to advise me, "He's playing, so you should play too. Why tie yourself down to one man?" "You should go find some fun of your own. There are plenty of men in New York." I swirled the ice in my glass and leaned closer to her ear. "If you want to win big, bet with me. You won't regret it." Victoria's head snapped around, her eyes flashing with astonishment. But before she could ask, a chorus of screams and whistles erupted from the center of the dance floor, drowning out our conversation. "Whoa!" The spotlight focused on one spot, where Dante was dancing a tango, his arm wrapped around a girl with a slim, pale waist. I could feel the raw chemistry crackling between them. "It's only been five minutes and Dante's already picked someone. Looks a little risky for you again, Aurora. Maybe I should change my bet? Is it too late?" "Wait, her face looks familiar." As someone said it, I realized it too. That face was indeed familiar. Scarlett. She was last year's thirty-days lover. Scarlett was a wildfire, the complete opposite of me. She wore an extremely short leather skirt, wild, unrestrained, and full of a primal energy. It was a feeling I could never give him. For me, a month was just thirty ordinary nights. Dante would accompany me to art exhibitions and wine tastings, over and over. But for her, it was a kaleidoscope of color. She took Dante diving and skydiving, doing every adrenaline-pumping, dangerous thing imaginable. For their grand finale, she coaxed Dante into doing something insane. She ran an underground racing club and provoked Dante into crossing the line into Brooklyn, the territory of a rival family, to compete in an illegal midnight street race. When I heard the news, I was sick with worry, unable to sleep. But Dante rejected all my calls. I dropped my work and chased after them, using family resources to forcibly block both ends of the overpass. In the cold night wind, I forced the roaring Aston Martin to a stop. "You have no experience. You can't participate in a street race." Dante toyed with the car keys, unconcerned. "You're crossing a line, Aurora. This is my free time. Besides, Scarlett will protect me." Scarlett, sitting in the passenger seat chewing gum, shot me a provocative look. "Well, if it isn't Dante's killjoy of a babysitter." The words froze in my throat, each one a painful shard of ice. I felt like I'd lost the ability to speak, just staring straight at Dante. He avoided my gaze. I silently stepped aside to let them pass. Scarlett's triumphant laughter pierced the engine's roar, striking my ears. As I drove away, I thought, it's finally over. I'm finally free. But ten minutes later, Dante caught up to me. "Aurora, I'll do whatever you say. I won't race." Later that night, Scarlett went to the race alone and got into an accident. The moment Dante got the news, his expression changed. He shot me a glare, then spun around and rushed to the hospital. Dante himself wheeled Scarlett's stretcher. She'd broken her leg; her calf was twisted at a gruesome angle. She grabbed my hand, her voice a pitiful whimper. "Aurora, I don't blame you, but you two are broken up now. I'm begging you, please stop clinging to him." Scornful, disdainful, and contemptuous glares fell on me. I was so ashamed I wanted to disappear. After nine years of dating, I had become the other woman. After she was hospitalized, Dante cleared out the family's top private medical center for her, neglecting family business and his own health to stay by her bedside day and night. For three whole months, Dante completely shattered the rules of the Month of No Masters. He never once came back. During that time, the stress from the family alliance and his betrayal triggered a severe stomach hemorrhage. I lay in the intensive care unit, surrounded by the cold beeping of machines. He never even called. "Since when did she learn to fake an illness? Besides, she has all of you to take care of her. Scarlett only has me." The entire New York underworld was gossiping that the Corinni family's future Donna was about to be replaced. I believed it myself. But just as everyone was preparing to laugh at my expense, he pushed open the door to my apartment again. Apparently, he and Scarlett had a sudden, sharp breakup. He had insisted on coming back to me, even when Scarlett threatened her own life. Late that night, he held me in his arms, his breath a hot whisper against my ear. "Aurora, that was just me repaying a debt to her." "You are the only Donna of the Corinni family. That will never change." I saw the faint red mark on his collarbone, and the acid in my stomach churned again. The moonlight outside was like liquid silver. I said faintly, "In that case, let's get married immediately." The tender look on Dante's face froze. He let go of me, turned silently, and walked to the bar to pour himself a whiskey. The sharp clink of ice against the glass was deafening. Chapter 3 The tango's rhythm grew faster, shifting from a slow dance to a wild Latin beat. The two of them spun wildly in the center of the room, clinging to each other as Scarlett's short skirt flew higher and higher. She was the only one in nine years to break the rules and get an "encore." If I was cool water, she was straight whiskey, a fire in his veins that tempted him toward the abyss. The music stopped abruptly. They looked at each other and burst into laughter. "Dante, you really didn't lie to me," Scarlett panted, pressing herself against him. "For you, I'd toss the rules out the window," Dante said with a wicked grin. "It's your fault for saying you couldn't live without me. I'm just too soft-hearted." Her slender hand roamed over his chest. He had an old wound there, and though he grunted in faint pain, he didn't stop her. How ridiculous. Even now, I was still worried about his injury. Just as Scarlett's hand was about to venture further under his shirt, he caught it tenderly and dropped to one knee, pulling something from his inner pocket. The room, which had been as loud as a carnival, fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. Scarlett's eyes went wide with disbelief as she clamped a hand over her mouth. A black velvet box opened slowly, revealing a dazzling necklace. At its heart was a rare blue sapphire, set on a platinum chain that cascaded like a meteor's tail. It was breathtaking, the ultimate fusion of power and wealth. Everyone held their breath. Dante looked up, his gaze intense. "You gave me the ultimate thrill of a midnight race. So tonight, I'm giving you the sky from that night." Scarlett nodded frantically, tears streaming down her face, catching the blue light of the sapphire. Dante stood and personally fastened the heavy necklace around her pale neck. I stared at that necklace, speechless for a long time. A sharp pain pierced my heart. The betrayal was a suffocating tide, and it was drowning me. My stomach cramped violently, and my vision began to go dark. Victoria frowned beside me. "Aurora, you look terrible." I didn't even have the strength to speak. I could only push her away and stagger towards the lounge, escaping. The lights in the hallway twisted and blurred. Time seemed to warp, throwing me back to a month ago. As the anniversary approached, Dante had been unusually restless, always seeming on the verge of saying something. When I asked, he requested that I design and craft a brand-new necklace, using a rare, heirloom blue sapphire from the family. Outwardly I was calm, but inside, I erupted with ecstatic joy. Because I remembered a time, in a moment of passion, when he had kissed my fingers and caressed my bare collarbone, promising me solemnly. "Aurora, this necklace will only ever be worn by the true future Donna." I thought he was finally going to marry me. Time was short, and I worked nonstop. From the initial sketches to the polishing and setting, to the final cleaning and maintenance, I did everything myself. My morning sickness was severe then, and I wore loose robes to hide my changing figure. But he was so wrapped up in his coming freedom that he never even noticed my unusual fatigue and nausea. I refused to delegate a single detail, thinking it was a symbol of honor for my own wedding, something I had to create myself. It turned out that while I was eagerly awaiting a proposal on our anniversary, he was excitedly waiting to embrace Scarlett again. He had taken my memories, my heart, and the work of my own hands, and given it all to her. "Miss, are you all right? Should I call an ambulance?" A voice calling my name pulled me back to the present. So I had passed out. A broken heart, it turned out, could literally knock you out. Time seemed to warp. I felt as if an eternity had passed, but it had only been a few heartbeats. A heart can hurt so much it sends you into shock. I coldly brushed away the bodyguard's outstretched hand and used the cold wall to pull myself up. I walked resolutely towards the club's main entrance. I couldn't breathe this air for another second. The New York wind was cold and damp, cutting at my face like a knife. The family car hadn't arrived yet. The revolving door behind me pushed open. Dante came out, carrying Scarlett in his arms. The coat I had picked out for him was draped over her shoulders. He looked up sharply, his eyes meeting my dead, cold stare. He clearly hadn't expected me to still be there. Caught in the act, he at least had the decency to look ashamed. "Aurora, her injury hasn't fully healed. She needs better care, so I..." He trailed off, probably realizing how inappropriate that sounded. Seeing his reaction, my muddled brain slowly, painfully understood. They had never cut ties. No matter what month it was, they had maintained their relationship. His mind was so consumed by Scarlett's so-called injury that he didn't even see me, pale and shivering in the cold. Their car arrived first. Dante said to me, "See you in a bit." "Never again." My voice was a whisper, lost to the wind. He didn't hear. Chapter 4 Dante was a man who lived by rules, but for Scarlett, he broke them again and again during the "Month of No Masters." The night of the party, he never returned to the apartment. I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Manhattan, and in a way, it was peaceful. Time seemed to slow as I methodically erased all traces of us from the penthouse apartment. I called the family's legal advisor on his encrypted line. Within forty-eight hours, I initiated the liquidation process for all our joint assets. On the fifth day, Dante called, the roar of a sports car in the background. He asked, breathless, where I had put the ivory-gripped Browning pistol engraved with the Corinni family crest. At that moment, I was tossing a framed photo of us into the fireplace. I told him where it was in a cold, detached voice. On the tenth day, he sent a man to pick up a few custom suits. I went into the music room, where the limited-edition vinyl records that had once chronicled our shared tastes were stored. I snapped each one over my knee. On the twentieth day, he sent roses from afar to wish me a happy birthday. I was busy watching the auction house take away our pair of custom-made pianos. Those musical legends from Vienna. A famous composer and his wife were said to have played duets on them their entire lives, creating countless moving pieces. On the thirtieth day, I had them dismantle the nursery I had secretly spent two months preparing. The soft cradle, the expensive pacifying toys, even the warm-toned wallpaper was scraped clean from the walls. Just as the last truck was leaving the underground garage, the keypad on the door beeped. Dante was back. He was wearing a black shirt, slightly unbuttoned, the scent of perfume still lingering on him. It was a scent I despised. He opened his arms with a smile, assuming I was still powerless to resist him. "Aurora, the month is up. I'm back. Thanks for waiting." I didn't throw myself into his arms as I usually did, whether to pout or to cry. He laughed again. "So happy you're speechless, Aurora?" "Missed me that much?" I thought for a moment before answering. "No." I wasn't happy, and I hadn't missed him. The smile on his lips faltered. He tugged at his cufflinks in frustration and strode inside. "Why does it feel so empty in here?" His sharp eyes scanned the hallway, then his gaze landed on the recently emptied room. A flicker of curiosity crossed his face as he walked quickly towards it. "Finally decided to unlock it? You always kept it locked, said it was a secret." He chuckled, his tone flippant. "What, did you paint a room full of nudes of me in there?" I couldn't ignore the dull ache in my heart. It was my secret. A hidden shrine to a love that was dead. Now, my love was gone. I had nothing left. He pushed the door open, and his smile froze. "Huh? Why is it empty?" Because you were too late. Just as he was about to ask me what I wanted for dinner, his phone rang. The sound echoed in the now-cavernous apartment. And I heard the voice on the other end clearly, tinged with static, crying weakly. "Dante! Help me! Those bastards from Brooklyn have me cornered at the docks... they have guns!" Dante's expression changed in an instant, a visible panic washing over him. I crossed my arms and watched him, waiting for his choice. He didn't even hesitate. He turned and walked straight to the door. As his hand closed around the doorknob, he looked back at me, his tone casual and entitled. "Aurora, this is life and death. Give me one more day. July has thirty-one days, so it doesn't break the rules." I found it darkly ironic. His rules usually demanded he drain every last second of those thirty days, but now, for her, he was scrambling to claw back just one more. "Aurora, you have to wait for me! You have to wait one more day!" This wasn't about a life being in danger. With the Corinni family's intelligence network, a few soldiers could have handled it. There was no reason for him to go personally. There was only one answer. He wanted to go. For her, he would fight for even a single day. I watched him go, a soft, hollow laugh escaping my lips. "Goodbye." The moment the door slammed shut, I was right behind him, suitcase in hand. I would not wait another day. Not even another second.
At the bond-severing ceremony, my mate rejected me without hesitation. "I, Damian, future Alpha of the Argent Pack, reject you, Astrid Stormont, as my Luna." And then he chose my twin sister instead. The entire pack erupted in cheers. To them, I had always been the ugly twin, the weak one. I accepted Damian's rejection… and then, I released my true scent. Chapter 1 Astrid's POV. They say twins are supposed to be inseparable, like two halves of the same soul. That's cute in theory, but in reality? My twin sister and I might share a birthday, the same red hair, and identical hazel eyes, but that's where the similarities end. Ariana is the star. The beautiful one. The one who walks into a room and somehow everything dims around her just so she can shine brighter. And me? I'm the shadow that follows quietly behind, clutching books like a shield and pretending not to notice when people compare us. Spoiler alert: they always compare us. It was a constant everywhere, she was Ariana and I was "Ariana's sister". Mother and father spoiled her to bits and somehow forgot that Ariana was my twin. As we got older, Ariana's hair began to turn lighter, close to orange, while mine went from normal red to fiery red, just like my maternal grandmother's hair whom everyone apparently hated as she was pure wicked. "Astrid, seriously?" Ariana's voice cuts through my thoughts like nails on a chalkboard. I glance up from my sketchbook just in time to see her rolling her eyes dramatically in the full-length mirror. She's standing there in a tiny denim skirt and a crop top that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe. If I had good clothes, they were Ariana's disposed clothes she probably wore once and lost interest. Not that our parents couldn't afford it, the pack was wealthy, but I was just never a priority to them. "What?" I ask, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose. She spins around, hands on her hips. "You're wearing that?" I look down at myself. An oversized hoodie with faded jeans. My sneakers even had paint splatters on them from last week's art project. "Yeah," I mutter. "What's wrong with it?" Ariana's laugh is sharp, like glass breaking. "What's right with it?" She struts across the room and plops onto my bed without permission, her perfume clouding the air—sweet, expensive, suffocating. "You know Mom and Dad are taking us to brunch after school, right? You could at least try to look like you're related to me. Stop acting like an attention-seeking lone wolf." My wallflower nature was apparently attention-seeking to them. "I am related to you," I reply dryly, going back to shading the wings on my sketch. "Unfortunately." "Ha-ha. Hilarious." She leans over and snatches the pencil from my hand so fast it scrapes across the page, ruining the drawing. "Hey!" I grab it back and growl. "What's your problem?" "My problem," she says, flipping her perfect hair over her shoulder, "is that you keep acting like a freak. You're seventeen, going to eighteen, Astrid. No one cares about your little doodles. Try living in the real world for once. Soon, you will shift, and all these nonsense doodles will go. Dad will simply not allow it." "They're not doodles. They're—" I stop myself because it doesn't matter. She wouldn't get it. She never does. She was very capable of tearing my dreams apart. I wanted to go to Edom University to study art after school and I was working towards a full scholarship because there was no way I was leaving my "precious twin" behind while wasting my time in Edom, they would say. I didn't want to depend on them for anything. I will go to Edom, meet my mate, and be happy with him and my art. Hopefully, my mate wasn't in this pack, so I can be as far away as possible. Ariana sighs like my existence is exhausting and stands, grabbing her designer bag. "Whatever. Don't embarrass me today, okay? People already think it's weird that we're twins." "Trust me," I mutter, closing my sketchbook carefully. "You do enough embarrassing for the both of us." She gasps. "Excuse me?" "Nothing," I say quickly, sliding my sketchbook into my bag. There's no point in arguing. Ariana always wins, especially when Mom and Dad are around. --- Breakfast is a war zone—if wars were fought with passive-aggressive comments and the constant ping of Ariana's phone notifications. Mom sets a plate of pancakes in front of me without looking. "Eat up, Astrid. You're so thin. It's unhealthy." "Good morning to you too," I mumble, stabbing a piece of pancake with my fork. "Don't mumble," Dad says from behind his newspaper. "It's unattractive." Right. Because my biggest goal in life is to be attractive. Ariana breezes in like the queen she believes she is, ki.ssing Mom on the cheek. "Morning, Mom! Love your blouse. Is that new?" Mom beams. "It is! You have such an eye, sweetheart." I sip my orange juice quietly, invisible as usual. Ariana slides into the chair across from me and starts scrolling through her phone, her nails tapping against the screen. "Oh my gosh, Madison just posted about her party tonight. It's going to be huge." She glances at me with a smirk. "Don't worry, Astrid. You're not invited." "I wasn't planning on going," I say flatly. "Good," she chirps. "Wouldn't want you scaring people off with your creepy bookworm vibes." "Ariana," Mom says in that fake-scolding tone that means nothing. "Be nice to your sister." "I am nice," Ariana insists, flipping her hair again. "I'm just honest like you taught me to." Dad chuckles like that's the funniest thing he's ever heard. I push my chair back before they notice the way my hands tremble under the table. If I had had my first shift, I would have just gone for a run. Soon, though. "I'm done," I say quietly, grabbing my bag. "Wait," Mom calls. "Don't forget to smile today, Astrid. You look prettier when you smile." I don't answer. I just walk out the door and let it slam behind me. --- School isn't any better. It never is. I slide into my usual seat in the back of English class, hoping to disappear. My safe zone: books, notebooks, and the quiet hum of my thoughts. But peace is short-lived because Ariana walks in, surrounded by her pack of friends, all laughter and lip gloss. "Oh my Gosh, look at her," one of them whispers loudly. Madison, I think. She's the worst. "Same hoodie, three days in a row?" I clench my jaw and keep my eyes on my notebook. "Leave her," Ariana says, but her voice is dripping with amusement. "She likes being invisible." Laughter erupts around me. I bite down hard on my lip until the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. If I look up, they'll see the tears burning behind my eyes. And I refuse to give them that satisfaction. So I do what I always do—I hide. I shrink into myself, into the pages of my book, into the worlds I create with pencil and paper. Because in those worlds, I'm not the weird twin. I'm not the disappointment. I'm someone. But even as I sketch the outline of how my wolf would look like during my first shift, in the margin of my notes, I can't drown out Ariana's voice echoing in my head. You're going to be eighteen, Astrid. No one cares about your little doodles. Maybe she's right. Maybe no one cares. But that doesn't stop me from drawing anyway. Chapter 2 Astrid's POV. If high school had royalty, Ariana would be queen. No, scratch that—she is queen. Walking down the hallway with her entourage feels like watching a music video: hair that gleams like it belongs in a shampoo commercial, lip gloss so shiny it reflects the fluorescent lights, and that perfect laugh that makes every guy trip over his own shoelaces. And then there's me—her twin. The footnote to her fairy tale. The bell hasn't even rung, and I'm already counting down the hours until I can hide in my room again. I'm at my locker, swapping out my English book for my art sketchpad, when I hear it. The laugh. Hers. Loud, perfect, and cruel. My stomach twists. "Look at this!" Ariana's voice carries down the hall like an announcement on the PA system. I freeze. I know that tone. That tone means trouble—for me. I was always the buns of her jokes and pranks, always the one at the receiving end. Slowly, I turn, and my worst fear is confirmed: Ariana is standing with Madison, Chloe, and Liam—the boy half the school drools over. In Ariana's hand is my sketchbook. My private sketchbook. Oh no. Those are in my portfolio. What I would submit to Edom. My throat closes. "Give that back." Ariana smiles sweetly, which is her signature look before she ruins someone's life. "Relax, Astrid. We're just appreciating your… artwork." Madison leans over Ariana's shoulder, her fake nails clicking against the cover. "Ooh, what's this? An angel with, like, a sword? Cute. Super edgy." "Seriously, Ari, your sister's got a wild imagination." Liam says, laughing as Ariana flips to another page. "Is this supposed to be her wolf? Darn, this wolf is hot." Liam let out a wolf whistle, and heat flooded my cheeks as they all laughed. I shove through them and snatch the sketchbook out of Ariana's hands, clutching it to my chest like it's a life preserver. "What is wrong with you?" Ariana tilts her head, giving me that innocent look that everyone falls for. Everyone except me. "What? We were just looking." "No, you weren't," I snap. My voice shakes, and I hate it. "You were making fun of me." Her smile widens, sharp and sugary. "Astrid, don't be so dramatic. Honestly, you should thank me. At least people are finally noticing you for once." "Noticing me?" I choke out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. "By humiliating me?" Ariana shrugs like it's no big deal. "Oh, come on. It's just a few drawings. Who cares?" "I care," I whisper. She leans closer, lowering her voice so only I can hear. "Then maybe stop hiding behind them and try being… I don't know… normal. Freak." Before I can respond, Madison's voice cuts in. "Hey, Ari, come on. We're gonna be late for wolf history. Liam, you coming?" Liam grins at Ariana. "Obviously." She gives me one last smirk, the kind that twists in my gut like a knife, then saunters off with them like nothing happened. Like she didn't just rip me open and leave me bleeding in front of the whole hallway. The bell rings, but I don't move. I just stand there, clutching my sketchbook so hard my knuckles turn white, wishing I could disappear. --- By lunch, the whole school knows. Of course they do. Ariana doesn't even need social media to spread gossip—she has her smile, her charm, and a fan club that hangs on her every word. I sit at the far corner of the cafeteria, stabbing my salad with a plastic fork like it personally offended me. The whispers float across the room like smoke. "Did you see her drawings?" "Total freak." "Like, does she think she has the third eye?" "She hasn't shifted yet, and she's drawing her wolf." "Her wolf's probably going to be red." "That would be so unattractive, yuck." "She might be like her grandmother." I keep my eyes on my tray, but my ears burn. "Mind if I sit?" a voice asks. I glance up and almost drop my fork. It's Mason—quiet, tall, always reading in the library like me. We've never really talked, but I've noticed him. Mostly because he's the only person in school who looks like he hates being here as much as I do. "Um… sure," I say, scooting over. He sits down, dropping his backpack on the bench. "Ignore them," he says, nodding toward the whispering crowd. "People here are goofballs." A surprised laugh escapes me before I can stop it. "That's… accurate." He smirks, pulling out a book from his bag. "You draw, right? I mean, obviously, since…" He gestures vaguely. I sigh, dropping my head into my hands. "Don't remind me." "Hey," he says softly. "They're just jealous." I snort. "Yeah, sure. Jealous of what? My ability to make a total fool of myself?" "No," he says simply. "Jealous that you're good at something they don't understand. You'd definitely make it at Edom. You should apply." For a second, I forget how to breathe. No one's ever said that to me before. Before I can respond, though, a shadow falls over the table. "Well, isn't this adorable?" Ariana's voice drips like honey, but it's poisonous. She's standing there with her friends, tray in hand, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Go away, Ariana," I say through clenched teeth. "Relax," she coos, sliding into the seat beside me without asking. Madison and Chloe take the other spots, practically boxing me in. Mason tenses across from me, his jaw tightening. "So," Ariana says loudly enough for half the cafeteria to hear. "Astrid's got herself a lunch date! Who knew?" I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole. "Stop." This was extremely embarrassing, with someone who didn't even know me. Way to go, Ari. "Why?" Ariana grins wickedly. "This is cute. Really. You two can bond over… I don't know… books and weird self-sketches. You both are probably mates. Two nerds fated together buried in books." "That's enough," Mason says, his voice calm but firm. Ariana blinks, feigning innocence. "Oh? I'm just looking out for my sister. She doesn't get out much. Don't want her to miss out, or she would be so much alone in her books." Madison giggles. "Or at all." My cheeks burn hotter than ever. I shove back my chair, my legs trembling. "I'm done." I grab my tray and storm out, ignoring Ariana's laughter trailing behind me like chains. --- By the time I make it to the bathroom, the tears I've been holding back finally spill over. I lock myself in a stall and sink to the floor, clutching my sketchbook against my chest. Why does she hate me so much? We're twins. Sisters. Aren't we supposed to have each other's backs? The fact is, Ariana doesn't just want to be the best. She wants me to be less. And I'm so tired of letting her win. I wipe my eyes and flip open the sketchbook. The angel with the sword stares back at me, strong and unbreakable. Everything I'm not. Even the picture of how I imagined my wolf to be looked strong and independent, with a backbone. She is probably going to turn out to be a red wolf like grandmother, but she sure as heck looked fierce. Nothing like me. But maybe… maybe one day I will be. Chapter 3 Damian's POV. Being an Alpha isn't just about strength—it's about control. Control of your pack. Control of your instincts. Control of the beast inside you that wants to rip apart anyone who challenges you. That's what Alpha training is all about. And honestly? Most days, it feels like a test I can never fail. Because one mistake, one slip, and it isn't just me who suffers. It's everyone. So yeah, my life is strict schedules, gruelling combat drills, endless lectures on diplomacy, and leadership. No parties. No freedom. No fun. Ever since my father passed away from a heart attack, my uncle had taken the seat of Alpha until I was the right age to take over my place. All I did was go to Edom for the Alpha training, with many other Alpha heirs from different packs. In a year's time, I will assume my position as Alpha of Argent pack, like my father and his father. But days like today? They remind me why it's worth it. "Damian, the Stormont are here," my uncle calls from the foyer, his deep voice echoing through the mansion. The Stormonts. A wealthy family in the pack, responsible for the gold mines. I know the name, but I've never paid much attention to them or their kids—mainly because I don't have time for drama that doesn't involve keeping rogue wolf smugglers off our borders or reading in Edom. Still, I smooth a hand over my black button-down shirt and make my way downstairs. As Alpha heir, appearances matter. The first thing I notice when I reach the foyer is my mother, all grace and poise, greeting the guests. The second thing I notice? Her. The girl standing next to her mother isn't just pretty—she's devastating. Long, glossy red hair cascading down her back, a figure that curves in all the right places, and a face that looks like it was carved by the gods. She's smiling at something my father says, and darn if that smile doesn't hit me like a punch to the gut. I have never seen such beauty in this pack. Who the heck is she? I stride forward, masking the sudden rush of heat under my skin. "Welcome," I say smoothly, my eyes locking on hers. "I'm Damian." Her eyes—golden-brown and bright—lift to meet mine, and for a second, she just stares. Like she wasn't expecting me. Then, her lips curve in a perfect smile. "Ariana," she says, her voice soft and sweet like honey dripping from a spoon. "It's nice to meet you." Ariana. The name tastes good on my lingua. "And this is our other daughter, Astrid." her mother adds, gesturing to the girl standing a step behind Ariana. I glance at her briefly—plain clothes, oversized glasses, clutching a sketchbook like it's her lifeline. They looked alike, twins definitely, but not at all—and then my gaze slides right back to Ariana. Because honestly, the other one barely registers. "Pleasure," I murmur automatically, though I don't even look long enough to see Astrid's reaction. Ariana, though? She holds my attention like gravity. --- We move into the sitting room, and as my parents chat with the Stormonts about business and alliances, I find myself watching Ariana. The way she crosses her legs, the delicate tilt of her head when she laughs, the soft pink gloss on her lips. Every guy in this pack would slay for a chance with a girl like this. She definitely knew she was pretty and a head turner. And right now, she's sitting on my couch, in my house, smiling at me like she knows exactly what she's doing. I wanted to ask if she was seeing anyone, but I changed my question the second I opened my mouth. "So," I say, leaning back in my chair, letting my gaze settle on her. "Do you come here often?" Dumb question, of course not. I would have seen her if she had come to my house. Her smile widens. "Not really. First time, actually." "Then I'll make sure it's not your last." Her cheeks flush the faintest shade of pink, and darn if it doesn't make me want to pull her closer, see if her lips taste as sweet as they look. Astrid shifts uncomfortably in her seat, and for a split second, I remember she exists. She hasn't said a word this entire time. she just sits there like she wants to disappear into the wallpaper. I almost feel bad—almost—but then Ariana laughs at something I said, and I forget all about her again. --- "So, Damian," Ariana says after a while, her voice lilting like music. "Alpha training school… that sounds intense." "It is," I admit with a smirk. "Only the strongest make it through. You've gotta be smart, fast, and ruthless when you need to be." Her eyes sparkle like I just told her the world's best secret. "Sounds like something you're perfect for." "I try." I let the smirk deepen, holding her gaze just long enough to see her bite her lip. Oh yeah—she's interested. "Must be hard," she says, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "All that training… no time for fun?" I lean forward slightly, lowering my voice so it's just for her. "Who says I don't make time for the things I want?" Her breath hitches—barely, but I notice. She wants me. And I want her. --- "Ariana," her mother says suddenly, breaking the tension. "Why don't you and Astrid go the garden? It's beautiful this time of year. The maid will show you around." Ariana pouts slightly but then nods. "Sure, Mom." She stands, and so does her sister, clutching that sketchbook like a lifeline. For the first time, Astrid glances at me, and I catch something in her eyes—something sharp, something… different. But then it's gone, and she follows Ariana out without a word. I noticed the tension between the twins and how the one named Astrid avoided her sister. The room feels colder without Ariana in it. My uncle clears his throat. "Damian, a word in private." I drag my eyes from the doorway Ariana just walked through. "Yeah, sure." We step into his office, and he closes the door behind us. "You were staring," he says bluntly. I smirk. "She's… interesting." "She's a Stormont." he reminds me. "Good family. Strong bloodline. But remember—you're not just any wolf, Damian. You're the future, Alpha. You can't afford distractions." "Who says she's a distraction?" I counter. "An alliance through marriage would be very good. I heard they owned the gold mines in the pack." His eyes narrow, studying me like he can see every thought in my head. Finally, he sighs. "Just don't do anything reckless." I grin, already thinking of a hundred ways to make Ariana mine. "When have I ever?" --- When the Stormonts leave, Ariana gives me one last smile over her shoulder. It's small, teasing, and promising. And right then, I decided something. Ariana isn't just going to be a pretty face I met once. She's going to be mine. Chapter 4 Astrid's POV. Sometimes at night, when the house is quiet and Ariana is probably texting a dozen boys who worship the ground, she walks on, I close my eyes and wish for one thing: A mate. Someone who will look at me and not see Ariana's less-pretty twin. Someone who will love me for the way I lose myself in art, who will think my messy hair and paint-stained hands are beautiful. Someone who will make me feel like I'm not… nothing. Someone who won't see me as the weird red-haired that deserved to be hidden. Pathetic, right? Almost eighteen years old and still dreaming like a kid. But dreams are the only thing keeping me sane in this house. At least they were—until today. I walk into my room after school, humming softly, only to freeze when I see Ariana sitting on my bed. My bed. With a smug smile stretched across her glossy lips and a stack of papers in her hand. My heart stops. No. She found it. What I have kept hidden since last week. My Edom art school application form. She searched through my room. "Ariana," I whisper. "Give those back." She waves the papers in the air like a victory flag. She was never up to any good. "Edom School of Art? Wow, Astrid. Really aiming high, aren't you?" Heat floods my cheeks. "Give. Them. Back." She smirks. "You really think they'd take someone like you? I mean, come on, Astrid. You can barely look people in the eye, and you think you can live in some big art school? Please. How are you going to afford Edom? Do you think father or mother would pay? Silly Astrid." I lunge for the forms, but she dances out of reach, laughing. "Oh, Mom and Dad are going to love this." "Ariana, don't—" My voice cracks. "Please. Don't tell them." "Oh, sweetheart," she purrs, her eyes glittering with malice. "You should know by now… I love telling them." She sashays out of my room, and panic slams into me like a punch to the gut. "Ariana!" I scream, chasing after her, my feet pounding down the stairs. She was already in the living room, holding up the forms like a trophy. "Mom! Dad! Look what Astrid's been hiding!" My parents look up from their conversation, curiosity flickering into shock as Ariana hands them the papers. "What is this?" Mom snaps. "It's… nothing," I stammer, reaching for the forms, but Dad snatches them away before I can touch them. "Nothing? You were planning to apply to an art school? Without telling us?" "I—I just wanted—" "You just wanted to embarrass this family?" Mom cuts in, her face twisting in fury. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous this is?" "It's not ridiculous!" I shout, surprising even myself. "It's my dream!" Mom laughs—a cold, bitter sound. "Dreams don't put food on the table, Astrid. Dreams don't strengthen alliances. You have a duty." "A duty?" My voice trembles with anger. So I had a duty now. After being ignored and treated like shoot for years, suddenly I have a duty? "What about Ariana? Does she have any duty to this family, or is it just me who has to sacrifice everything?" "Ariana is precious," Mom snaps without hesitation. "She's caught the eye of Damian—the Alpha heir. Do you understand what that means? Ariana is special. You…" Her lip curls in disgust. "You're not beautiful, Astrid. You have nothing. And you probably won't even find your mate, so stop living in a fantasy. Art school? What do you think will come out of it? Who do you expect to pay for that?" The words hit me like bullets, each one tearing through what little armour I have left. Not beautiful. Nothing. Won't find your mate. They never believed I would find my mate, and I won't be worth being mated to. They didn't even believe I could survive without them. They had no plans for me. I can barely breathe. Dad steps forward and rips the forms in half, the sound sharp and final. "You're not going to that art school. In fact, you're not going anywhere. From now on, you stay home. No more nonsense. School is putting useless ideas in your head. Maybe it's time for you to stop schooling." "No!" My scream rips from my throat before I can stop it. "You can't do this!" "We just did," Mom says coldly. "You'll stay here and learn the books. One day, you'll handle the accounts for the gold mine. That's your place." "My place?" I whisper, shaking. "You think my place is in a cage while Ariana gets to live her perfect life?!" Ariana, who's been standing there like the devil in designer jeans, smirks. "Well, someone has to, right?" Something inside me snaps. Before I even realize what I'm doing, I'm storming up the stairs, ready to lock myself in my room, when I notice something. My portfolio—the leather folder that holds every sketch I've ever poured my soul into—is gone. "Ariana," I breathe, ice flooding my veins. When I whirl around, she's standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding my portfolio like a prize. Smiling. When did she even take that? "Give. That. Back." She tilts her head. "Or what?" The rage that explodes inside me is wild and uncontrollable. A growl—an actual growl—rips from my throat, startling even me. And then I'm flying down the stairs. "Astrid!" Mom screams, but it's too late. I slam into Ariana, and we crash to the floor. Her gasp turns into a shriek as my fists pound, my nails claw. I yank her perfect hair, scratching across her flawless face. She screams again, trying to push me off, but I'm stronger. So much stronger than I ever thought I could be. "You ruined everything!" I roar, my voice animalistic, foreign. "Everything!" "Girls! Stop this!" Dad booms, and suddenly strong arms are dragging me back, hauling me off Ariana. I thrash against him, shaking, my chest heaving, a snarl curling my lips. Ariana scrambles to her feet, her face streaked with blood and fury, hair a tangled mess. She glares at me like she wants to slay me. But when I look at Mom, I see something I've never seen before. Fear. She's afraid of me. The realization slams into me like ice water. My breathing slows, but my body still trembles violently. "You…" I point a shaking finger at Ariana. "You're dead to me." Her eyes widen, but I don't wait for a response. I rip free from Dad's grip, storm up the stairs, and slam my door so hard the walls shake. Then I collapse onto the floor, tears burning my eyes as sobs tear out of me. My chest aches, my throat hurts, my hands are raw and bloodstained, but none of it compares to the pain clawing at my heart. I wanted freedom. I wanted art. I wanted… love. And now all I want is my mate. Someone to take me away from this heck because the last thing I'll ever do is stay here and rot behind a desk, watching Ariana live the life I can only dream of. That she will get everything and everyone at her beck and call while I struggle to gain scraps. I didn't want that life. I didn't want my life to be here. Someone, please. Come find me. Before I lose what's left of myself. Chapter 5 Astrid's POV. Three days. That's all that's left before my eighteenth birthday. Our eighteenth birthday. The day that's supposed to change everything. I sit cross-legged on my bed, staring at the calendar on my wall. The red circle around Saturday looks almost like it's glowing. My heart pounds every time I look at it. Not because of the cake or the idiot party Mom's probably planning for Ariana, but because of what it means for me. The first shift. Everyone says turning eighteen is magical for a wolf. That first shift… it's like being reborn. Stronger. Faster. Powerful. No more being the weak one. No more being invisible. For the first time in my life, I might matter. I press my hands together, whispering to the silence of my room. "Please… let this change something." I close my eyes and imagine it: fur as red as flames, eyes glowing like stars. Not because I care about being beautiful like Ariana, but because… maybe if I'm strong, Mom and Dad will stop looking at me like I'm a mistake. Maybe they'll see me. I will find my mate and finally be rid of this family forever. I won't look back. The door creaks open without warning. Of course, she doesn't knock. "What are you doing? Meditating?" Ariana steps in, wearing silk pyjamas that probably cost a fortune. Her hair is in perfect waves even though it's bedtime. After the Edom incident, I had to reluctantly apologise to my parents, and sadly, Ariana. As much as I loved to rip her hair out of her scalp, being sp violent and aggressive wasn't my style. I was so ridden with guilt, and the look of fear in my mother's eyes haunted me. They were still my parents, and I still lived under their roof. They tore up my application, which cost me several sketch money to save up, but it is what it is. When I find my mate, I'm so out of here. I glare at her. "Ever heard of knocking?" She smirks. "Ever heard of getting a life?" "Wow," I mutter, rolling my eyes. "You came all the way in here just to say that? Must've been exhausting." Ariana flops onto my bed like she owns it, scrolling through her phone. "Relax, I'm just here to talk. My big day's coming up." "Our big day," I repeat flatly. "Right." "You're not excited?" she asks, eyes still glued to her screen. "I am," I say carefully. "Just…" nervous, I guess." This was the first time she was ever talking to me like a semi normal person. "Nervous?" Ariana snorts. "Why? It's going to be amazing. Everyone will finally see how powerful I am." She flips her hair and grins at her reflection in my mirror. Sratch that... It's totally not normal. "I'm going to be the prettiest, strongest wolf this pack has ever seen. Damian will lose his mind when he sees me shift. I'm definitely his mate, I can feel it." Of course, this is about Damian. Everything lately is about Damian. Damian, Damian, Damian. That was all Mom and Ari could ever talk about. She barely knew the Alpha heir, but somehow they were 'perfect' together. But that day, he looked at her, and I saw the glint in his eyes. He was just like every other guy in this pack, attracted to her beauty without knowing the evil inside of her. He was definitely her mate. "Must be nice," I mumble. "What?" "Having everyone already think you're perfect before you've even shifted." Ariana looks at me then, her brows arching. "Oh, Astrid. Don't be like that. It's not my fault you—" She stops, smirking. "Never mind." "Finish it," I snap. Her smirk deepens. "It's not my fault you're… average. Sorry, below average" The words sting, but I swallow them down. I've had years of practice. I knew I was below average. They made sure to remind me of that. I was the other twin, the unattractive one who loved nerdy stuff. I was never my own person to them. "Whatever," I say, turning away. "You've got what you want. Damian, attention, everything. So leave me alone." They would probably fit. Two insanely attractive people with stuck-up personalities. It's definitely a match made by the moon goddess. She studies me for a moment, then laughs softly. "You know what? I hope you do get a mate. Maybe then you'll stop being so bitter. Maybe he would even change how you look. Just hope it's not one of the commoners." And with that, she struts out, leaving the faint smell of her expensive perfume behind. I curl into myself, gripping the blanket tight, whispering the same prayer I've whispered a hundred times. "Please… let this change everything." --- Ariana's POV Finally. Finally, after eighteen years of waiting, it's almost here. Our birthday. The night I've dreamed about since I was old enough to understand what being a wolf really means. I stand in front of my full-length mirror, turning side to side as I hold up a silver dress against my body. Perfect. It's absolutely perfect. The way it catches the light? Damian won't be able to look away. It suited my hair so perfectly. Speaking of Damian… I pull out my phone and scroll through our messages. He hasn't texted yet today, but that's fine. He's probably busy with Alpha training. Still, I can't help but imagine his face when he sees me on my birthday—powerful, radiant, everything a Luna should be. He was definitely my mate, and I couldn't wait to be marked and ravished by him again. I toss the dress onto my bed and start brushing my hair, humming softly. I snuck out last night to see Damian, and the way he thrust into me was the best thing I have ever felt in my life. I couldn't wait to be his forever. "Ariana!" Mom calls from downstairs. I grab the brush and head down, finding Mom in the kitchen with a glass of wine in her hand, and that usual sparkle in her eyes whenever she talks about him. "We need to finalize the guest list," she says. "This party has to be perfect. The Argents will be there." I smile, leaning against the counter. "I've already got the perfect dress." "Of course you do." Mom beams at me like I hung the moon. "You're going to take his breath away." "I plan to," I say, my voice light but full of confidence. "What about Astrid?" she asks absently. I shrug. "What about her?" "She's… well, she's Astrid. Make sure she doesn't embarrass us." "Please." I laugh. "She doesn't even talk to anyone. She'll probably hide in a corner with her sketchbook like always." Mom sighs but waves it off. "As long as she doesn't cause trouble." "She won't." I smile sweetly, even though I remember the wild look in her eyes when she attacked me the other time. For a second, the memory sends a shiver down my spine. But no. Astrid is nothing compared to me. And when Damian sees me, when he claims me as his mate, everyone will finally understand. I'll be the Luna. The most powerful female in this pack. And Astrid? She'll still be the girl in the shadows, buried in goldmine records. --- Later that night, I passed by her room and heard faint music playing. I peek in and see her hunched over her sketchbook like usual, lost in her little world. Pathetic. She looks up, catching me in the doorway. "What?" she snaps. She was always smart. I was jealous of that. Her senses were far sharper than mine, and she would have been the perfect daughter if she wasn't so unattractive with a idiot pair of unattractive buns glasses. I smile sweetly. "Just checking to see if you're still breathing." "Unfortunately for you, I am." Her tone is sharp, and for a moment, I see something fierce in her eyes—something that almost makes me pause. Almost. "Goodnight, Astrid," I say lightly, shutting the door. She doesn't answer. --- As I crawl into bed, I scroll through my phone one last time. Still no text from Damian, but that's okay. In three days, he'll see me shift, and then… Then, everything I've ever wanted will be mine.
To keep our relationship passionate forever, starting today, give me one month of absolute freedom every year. We don't interfere with each other." "If one of us finds someone more exciting, we let go gracefully. If not, when the month is up, you are still my Donna." This is the ninth year Dante and I have honored the Month of No Masters. The Corinni family's heir apparent believes this will make our relationship last longer. For one month after our dating anniversary each year, he is free, and we stay out of each other's lives. If either of us finds someone more suitable, we are to wish them well. If not, we go back to the way things were after a month. Around me, the men of the family are spraying champagne with abandon. "To another year of freedom! Congratulations to our Underboss on reclaiming his bachelor status!" "The family betting pool is open! Place your bets on the left if you think they'll still get married, and on the right if you think it's over for good!" Through the hazy cigar smoke, I sat on the corner of a leather sofa, a cold observer, as if this whole farce had nothing to do with me. Dante's hand was curled around Scarlett's waist as he brushed past me, whispering, "Don't get any ideas. You'll always be my only Donna." "I'm a kite. No matter how far I fly, the string is always in your hand." I pressed my cold fingers against the gentle swell of my belly, my expression a blank mask. Dante, this time at the family's betting table, I'm putting my money on "the end." I'm going to vanish from your world completely. That kite string you're so proud of? Tonight, I'm cutting it myself. ... A shaken bottle of champagne exploded overhead as everyone in the private room erupted into a frenzy. They were celebrating the Corinni family's youngest, most untamable wolf finally slipping his girlfriend's leash. One moment I was the revered future Donna of the family, the next I was a ghost in the corner, unnoticed. Dante was rebellious by nature. He usually scoffed at this kind of crass celebration, and his men practically had to beg him to make an appearance. That was precisely what made this annual "Month of No Masters" all the more thrilling. Dante and I met in Colombia. The youngest mafia heir and the most talented designer. Youth is the most combustible kind of danger. The collision of his raw wildness and my quiet composure had been the talk of the town. But over time, even the most potent attraction wears thin. On the anniversary of our fourth year of dating, I had just blown out the candles. Dante's long fingers, holding a cigar, paused. He stared at me through the smoke. "Aurora, after four years of sleeping next to the same face, don't you feel suffocated?" I looked up, stunned, only to see his eyes, as deep and dark as an abyss. They swirled with emotions I couldn't comprehend. He suddenly pinned me against the wall, his searing lips tracing my collarbone as he coaxed in a low, husky voice, "To keep our relationship passionate forever, starting today, give me one month of absolute freedom every year. We don't interfere with each other." "If one of us finds someone more exciting, we let go gracefully. If not, when the month is up, you are still my Donna." I jolted back in shock, knocking over our custom-made cake. The colored frosting splattered across the floor like a chaotic abstract painting. With his arms now empty, Dante's jaw tensed. He rubbed his thumb over his knuckles in annoyance, but his eyes held a fanatical glint. "Promise me, will you?" Perhaps it was the shock, but my limbs felt numb. But I had my own pride. I bit out, "Fine." Seeing me yield, the tension in Dante's shoulders instantly eased, his eyes alight with the thrill of getting his way. The first time we entered the Month of No Masters, I used family contacts to track his every move, almost torturing myself. I obsessively compared every woman he was with to myself. Did they hold hands? Did they hug? Did they sleep together? Every sordid rumor was a new wound. My sanity frayed. I would wake up on our cold bed in the middle of the night, shaking with despair. One night, when I couldn't bear it any longer, I called him. He answered immediately. He didn't complain about the interruption or accuse me of spying. Instead, he told me a childish fairy tale in a gentle voice, lulling me to sleep. "Aurora, is this month too hard on you?" The next day, with three days still left in the month, we reconciled early, ending the game. On our fifth anniversary, I thought he wouldn't bring it up again. I was wrong. And now, this is the ninth year. The same drama, year after year. He insisted on draining every last second from those thirty days. A minute less, and the month wasn't whole, his freedom incomplete. It had become the most sensational gossip in the entire criminal underworld. Every year on this day, enormous sums of money flowed into the betting pool. The odds of us reconciling were one-to-one. The odds of us breaking up for good were one-to-a-hundred. A cloying wave of perfume washed over me as Victoria sat down beside me with a sly laugh. "Aurora, what are you betting on this year?" I gave a faint smile. "I'm just watching." I lied. This time, I was betting against us. Chapter 2 Victoria was the woman from Dante's first 'Month of No Masters.' It had only lasted twenty-seven days. She was a civilian who had stumbled into our twisted game, and the truth had left her bitter. Dante brought her into the fold as compensation. After years in this life, the once-inconspicuous civilian girl had been forged into an elegant and striking woman. I raised the glass of whiskey in front of me and toasted her. "I didn't bet on anything." A capo, slurring "long live freedom," passed by with a wink. "Our future Donna must be praying that Boss doesn't get snatched up by some little vixen out there, so he'll come crawling back to you." "Right, Aurora?" Victoria shooed him away, then turned back to advise me, "He's playing, so you should play too. Why tie yourself down to one man?" "You should go find some fun of your own. There are plenty of men in New York." I swirled the ice in my glass and leaned closer to her ear. "If you want to win big, bet with me. You won't regret it." Victoria's head snapped around, her eyes flashing with astonishment. But before she could ask, a chorus of screams and whistles erupted from the center of the dance floor, drowning out our conversation. "Whoa!" The spotlight focused on one spot, where Dante was dancing a tango, his arm wrapped around a girl with a slim, pale waist. I could feel the raw chemistry crackling between them. "It's only been five minutes and Dante's already picked someone. Looks a little risky for you again, Aurora. Maybe I should change my bet? Is it too late?" "Wait, her face looks familiar." As someone said it, I realized it too. That face was indeed familiar. Scarlett. She was last year's thirty-days lover. Scarlett was a wildfire, the complete opposite of me. She wore an extremely short leather skirt, wild, unrestrained, and full of a primal energy. It was a feeling I could never give him. For me, a month was just thirty ordinary nights. Dante would accompany me to art exhibitions and wine tastings, over and over. But for her, it was a kaleidoscope of color. She took Dante diving and skydiving, doing every adrenaline-pumping, dangerous thing imaginable. For their grand finale, she coaxed Dante into doing something insane. She ran an underground racing club and provoked Dante into crossing the line into Brooklyn, the territory of a rival family, to compete in an illegal midnight street race. When I heard the news, I was sick with worry, unable to sleep. But Dante rejected all my calls. I dropped my work and chased after them, using family resources to forcibly block both ends of the overpass. In the cold night wind, I forced the roaring Aston Martin to a stop. "You have no experience. You can't participate in a street race." Dante toyed with the car keys, unconcerned. "You're crossing a line, Aurora. This is my free time. Besides, Scarlett will protect me." Scarlett, sitting in the passenger seat chewing gum, shot me a provocative look. "Well, if it isn't Dante's killjoy of a babysitter." The words froze in my throat, each one a painful shard of ice. I felt like I'd lost the ability to speak, just staring straight at Dante. He avoided my gaze. I silently stepped aside to let them pass. Scarlett's triumphant laughter pierced the engine's roar, striking my ears. As I drove away, I thought, it's finally over. I'm finally free. But ten minutes later, Dante caught up to me. "Aurora, I'll do whatever you say. I won't race." Later that night, Scarlett went to the race alone and got into an accident. The moment Dante got the news, his expression changed. He shot me a glare, then spun around and rushed to the hospital. Dante himself wheeled Scarlett's stretcher. She'd broken her leg; her calf was twisted at a gruesome angle. She grabbed my hand, her voice a pitiful whimper. "Aurora, I don't blame you, but you two are broken up now. I'm begging you, please stop clinging to him." Scornful, disdainful, and contemptuous glares fell on me. I was so ashamed I wanted to disappear. After nine years of dating, I had become the other woman. After she was hospitalized, Dante cleared out the family's top private medical center for her, neglecting family business and his own health to stay by her bedside day and night. For three whole months, Dante completely shattered the rules of the Month of No Masters. He never once came back. During that time, the stress from the family alliance and his betrayal triggered a severe stomach hemorrhage. I lay in the intensive care unit, surrounded by the cold beeping of machines. He never even called. "Since when did she learn to fake an illness? Besides, she has all of you to take care of her. Scarlett only has me." The entire New York underworld was gossiping that the Corinni family's future Donna was about to be replaced. I believed it myself. But just as everyone was preparing to laugh at my expense, he pushed open the door to my apartment again. Apparently, he and Scarlett had a sudden, sharp breakup. He had insisted on coming back to me, even when Scarlett threatened her own life. Late that night, he held me in his arms, his breath a hot whisper against my ear. "Aurora, that was just me repaying a debt to her." "You are the only Donna of the Corinni family. That will never change." I saw the faint red mark on his collarbone, and the acid in my stomach churned again. The moonlight outside was like liquid silver. I said faintly, "In that case, let's get married immediately." The tender look on Dante's face froze. He let go of me, turned silently, and walked to the bar to pour himself a whiskey. The sharp clink of ice against the glass was deafening. Chapter 3 The tango's rhythm grew faster, shifting from a slow dance to a wild Latin beat. The two of them spun wildly in the center of the room, clinging to each other as Scarlett's short skirt flew higher and higher. She was the only one in nine years to break the rules and get an "encore." If I was cool water, she was straight whiskey, a fire in his veins that tempted him toward the abyss. The music stopped abruptly. They looked at each other and burst into laughter. "Dante, you really didn't lie to me," Scarlett panted, pressing herself against him. "For you, I'd toss the rules out the window," Dante said with a wicked grin. "It's your fault for saying you couldn't live without me. I'm just too soft-hearted." Her slender hand roamed over his chest. He had an old wound there, and though he grunted in faint pain, he didn't stop her. How ridiculous. Even now, I was still worried about his injury. Just as Scarlett's hand was about to venture further under his shirt, he caught it tenderly and dropped to one knee, pulling something from his inner pocket. The room, which had been as loud as a carnival, fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. Scarlett's eyes went wide with disbelief as she clamped a hand over her mouth. A black velvet box opened slowly, revealing a dazzling necklace. At its heart was a rare blue sapphire, set on a platinum chain that cascaded like a meteor's tail. It was breathtaking, the ultimate fusion of power and wealth. Everyone held their breath. Dante looked up, his gaze intense. "You gave me the ultimate thrill of a midnight race. So tonight, I'm giving you the sky from that night." Scarlett nodded frantically, tears streaming down her face, catching the blue light of the sapphire. Dante stood and personally fastened the heavy necklace around her pale neck. I stared at that necklace, speechless for a long time. A sharp pain pierced my heart. The betrayal was a suffocating tide, and it was drowning me. My stomach cramped violently, and my vision began to go dark. Victoria frowned beside me. "Aurora, you look terrible." I didn't even have the strength to speak. I could only push her away and stagger towards the lounge, escaping. The lights in the hallway twisted and blurred. Time seemed to warp, throwing me back to a month ago. As the anniversary approached, Dante had been unusually restless, always seeming on the verge of saying something. When I asked, he requested that I design and craft a brand-new necklace, using a rare, heirloom blue sapphire from the family. Outwardly I was calm, but inside, I erupted with ecstatic joy. Because I remembered a time, in a moment of passion, when he had kissed my fingers and caressed my bare collarbone, promising me solemnly. "Aurora, this necklace will only ever be worn by the true future Donna." I thought he was finally going to marry me. Time was short, and I worked nonstop. From the initial sketches to the polishing and setting, to the final cleaning and maintenance, I did everything myself. My morning sickness was severe then, and I wore loose robes to hide my changing figure. But he was so wrapped up in his coming freedom that he never even noticed my unusual fatigue and nausea. I refused to delegate a single detail, thinking it was a symbol of honor for my own wedding, something I had to create myself. It turned out that while I was eagerly awaiting a proposal on our anniversary, he was excitedly waiting to embrace Scarlett again. He had taken my memories, my heart, and the work of my own hands, and given it all to her. "Miss, are you all right? Should I call an ambulance?" A voice calling my name pulled me back to the present. So I had passed out. A broken heart, it turned out, could literally knock you out. Time seemed to warp. I felt as if an eternity had passed, but it had only been a few heartbeats. A heart can hurt so much it sends you into shock. I coldly brushed away the bodyguard's outstretched hand and used the cold wall to pull myself up. I walked resolutely towards the club's main entrance. I couldn't breathe this air for another second. The New York wind was cold and damp, cutting at my face like a knife. The family car hadn't arrived yet. The revolving door behind me pushed open. Dante came out, carrying Scarlett in his arms. The coat I had picked out for him was draped over her shoulders. He looked up sharply, his eyes meeting my dead, cold stare. He clearly hadn't expected me to still be there. Caught in the act, he at least had the decency to look ashamed. "Aurora, her injury hasn't fully healed. She needs better care, so I..." He trailed off, probably realizing how inappropriate that sounded. Seeing his reaction, my muddled brain slowly, painfully understood. They had never cut ties. No matter what month it was, they had maintained their relationship. His mind was so consumed by Scarlett's so-called injury that he didn't even see me, pale and shivering in the cold. Their car arrived first. Dante said to me, "See you in a bit." "Never again." My voice was a whisper, lost to the wind. He didn't hear. Chapter 4 Dante was a man who lived by rules, but for Scarlett, he broke them again and again during the "Month of No Masters." The night of the party, he never returned to the apartment. I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Manhattan, and in a way, it was peaceful. Time seemed to slow as I methodically erased all traces of us from the penthouse apartment. I called the family's legal advisor on his encrypted line. Within forty-eight hours, I initiated the liquidation process for all our joint assets. On the fifth day, Dante called, the roar of a sports car in the background. He asked, breathless, where I had put the ivory-gripped Browning pistol engraved with the Corinni family crest. At that moment, I was tossing a framed photo of us into the fireplace. I told him where it was in a cold, detached voice. On the tenth day, he sent a man to pick up a few custom suits. I went into the music room, where the limited-edition vinyl records that had once chronicled our shared tastes were stored. I snapped each one over my knee. On the twentieth day, he sent roses from afar to wish me a happy birthday. I was busy watching the auction house take away our pair of custom-made pianos. Those musical legends from Vienna. A famous composer and his wife were said to have played duets on them their entire lives, creating countless moving pieces. On the thirtieth day, I had them dismantle the nursery I had secretly spent two months preparing. The soft cradle, the expensive pacifying toys, even the warm-toned wallpaper was scraped clean from the walls. Just as the last truck was leaving the underground garage, the keypad on the door beeped. Dante was back. He was wearing a black shirt, slightly unbuttoned, the scent of perfume still lingering on him. It was a scent I despised. He opened his arms with a smile, assuming I was still powerless to resist him. "Aurora, the month is up. I'm back. Thanks for waiting." I didn't throw myself into his arms as I usually did, whether to pout or to cry. He laughed again. "So happy you're speechless, Aurora?" "Missed me that much?" I thought for a moment before answering. "No." I wasn't happy, and I hadn't missed him. The smile on his lips faltered. He tugged at his cufflinks in frustration and strode inside. "Why does it feel so empty in here?" His sharp eyes scanned the hallway, then his gaze landed on the recently emptied room. A flicker of curiosity crossed his face as he walked quickly towards it. "Finally decided to unlock it? You always kept it locked, said it was a secret." He chuckled, his tone flippant. "What, did you paint a room full of nudes of me in there?" I couldn't ignore the dull ache in my heart. It was my secret. A hidden shrine to a love that was dead. Now, my love was gone. I had nothing left. He pushed the door open, and his smile froze. "Huh? Why is it empty?" Because you were too late. Just as he was about to ask me what I wanted for dinner, his phone rang. The sound echoed in the now-cavernous apartment. And I heard the voice on the other end clearly, tinged with static, crying weakly. "Dante! Help me! Those bastards from Brooklyn have me cornered at the docks... they have guns!" Dante's expression changed in an instant, a visible panic washing over him. I crossed my arms and watched him, waiting for his choice. He didn't even hesitate. He turned and walked straight to the door. As his hand closed around the doorknob, he looked back at me, his tone casual and entitled. "Aurora, this is life and death. Give me one more day. July has thirty-one days, so it doesn't break the rules." I found it darkly ironic. His rules usually demanded he drain every last second of those thirty days, but now, for her, he was scrambling to claw back just one more. "Aurora, you have to wait for me! You have to wait one more day!" This wasn't about a life being in danger. With the Corinni family's intelligence network, a few soldiers could have handled it. There was no reason for him to go personally. There was only one answer. He wanted to go. For her, he would fight for even a single day. I watched him go, a soft, hollow laugh escaping my lips. "Goodbye." The moment the door slammed shut, I was right behind him, suitcase in hand. I would not wait another day. Not even another second.
Chapter 1 Island Survival [Welcome to the Island Survival Game.] [Treasure chests will appear in the sea every day from 8:00 AM to 12:00 PM. Players can use fishing rods to pull up chests and get supplies.] [Players between the ages of 16 and 55 are selected. Family members will be grouped together when possible.] [The beginner protection period lasts for three days. If you die in the game, you die for real.] [The game begins.] [Today's weather: cloudy, 60 to 80 degrees Fahrenheit.] A robotic voice announced. Jane Quinn looked around, completely confused. One moment, she was celebrating a fresh start and planning a barbecue dinner, and the next, she was standing on a deserted island. [Please enter your username. If you do not pick one in ten seconds, your real name will be used.] A blank line and a countdown appeared in front of her. [Ten, nine, eight...] Jane thought, 'What the hell is this?' [Seven, six, five...] Jane barely had time to think. She typed "J.Ivy" as her username. [Scanning player information.] A holographic data panel suddenly popped up in front of Jane. [Player: J.Ivy] [Gender: Female] [Level: 1 (EXP: 0/50)] [Constitution: 7 (above average, not bad)] [Attack: 5 (pretty pathetic)] [Defense: 5 (pretty weak)] [Intelligence: 9 (super smart)] [Speed: 6 (barely faster than a turtle)] [Luck: 8 (pretty lucky)] [Magic attributes: Ice Magic: 8; Light Magic: 9] [All base stats are capped at 10, except for level, which can go up to 100.] [Health Points (HP): 70] [Magic Points (MP): 90] Jane thought, 'Player info? Am I actually in a game? And is that luck stat for real? I've always had terrible luck. The one time I won the lottery is the only exception.' The holographic status screen came from a watch on her wrist. Besides the stats panel, there were tabs for the chatroom, trading section, and friends list. In the bottom right, a display read 100,000/100,000 for players. It looked like the games she used to play. The chatroom was already blowing up. BigDaddy: [Where the hell am I? I was just eating dinner.] Pitviper: [I was on the toilet.] MorningStar: [Didn't you hear that voice? This is a survival game.] Sunset: [I don't want to be stuck in this hellhole. I want to go home.] Rocky: [I want to go home, too.] Southshore: [Looks like we can't go back.] Sunrise: [The beginner protection only lasts three days. We must hurry up and gather supplies, or we'll be dead soon.] Seeing the chat rolling, Jane started to feel uneasy inside, too. [J.Ivy, your parents have been detected in the game. Would you like to teleport them into your area?] Jane bit her lip and picked "No." Jane was the heiress of a rich family who'd been switched with another baby at the hospital after birth. The Quinn family, the one that adopted her, was poor. With a spoiled younger brother, Jane had to do the housework from a young age. She was constantly yelled at and even hit, and her life was miserable. Later, the truth came out, and Jane learned that the Quinns themselves had arranged the switch. The Quinns had abused her not because they favored boys but because they'd known she wasn't their daughter. They had switched her with Eve Goodwin, their real daughter, so Eve could lead a better life. Jane wanted to call the police, but Elena Goodwin, Jane's real mother, couldn't let go of the girl she'd raised for twenty years. After Eve's tearful pleas, Elena forgave the Quinns regardless of Jane's feelings, kept Eve by her side, and ended up being even closer to her than to Jane. Eve was the girl Elena had raised as her own for twenty years, a perfect lady skilled in all the arts, whereas Jane, her real daughter that she'd just met, had grown up in a small town, doing farm work. Desmond Goodwin, Jane's real father, and Elena chose Eve without hesitation. They doted on Eve, and Jane was ignored and left to survive on her own. But Eve always pretended to be pure and innocent, but she was secretly scheming. She kept framing Jane, and the more it happened, the less Desmond and Elena liked Jane. To them, Jane was some uncouth, petty girl. Then Eve pulled the trick again, blaming Jane for breaking Elena's favorite antique vase, worth millions. This time Jane was ready. She had bought a recorder and caught Eve on tape. When Eve went to complain, Jane pressed play for everyone to hear. Jane expected the truth to change Desmond and Elena, but Eve started to sob and said, "I was scared because I'm not your real daughter." Desmond and Elena softened and wanted to let it go. Jane was disappointed. She called the police. Desmond and Elena were furious. They thought Jane was cruel and that she called the cops over something so trivial and tried to get Eve thrown in jail. Jane did not actually want Eve jailed. She knew that unless Elena pressed charges over the vase, Eve would be perfectly fine. Jane only wanted to make a clean break from both families, and she wanted to do it in front of the police. If she stayed, Jane had no idea how much more she would have to put up with. With the police's help, Jane formally changed her residency and signed the papers to cut ties with Desmond and Elena. She was about to celebrate with a barbecue when she found herself dumped into a strange game world. A system prompt hovered in front of her, asking if she'd like to teleport her parents to her side. Jane scoffed. She had already severed the relationship. 'Let Eve, their perfect daughter, take care of them instead,' she thought. Jane couldn't stop thinking about her luck stat. 'Even someone as unlucky as me got an 8, so Eve, who's spoiled rotten and adored by everyone, must have a perfect 10,' she thought. That really made her unhappy. [Treasure chests are now spawning. Players, start fishing.] Jane was dazed for a moment before she snapped out of it. She had no time to get sentimental. She didn't even know where she was. That robotic voice sounded legit. They were here to survive, and if she died here, she'd be dead for real. The voice said the beginner protection lasted three days. What came after that could be lethal. All she knew was, right now, she had to grab as many resources as she could before the protection ended. Jane had checked her gear. She only had a ten-slot inventory, a fishing rod, and a shabby thatched hut that would be useless in a heavy storm. If she wanted to survive, she had to build a proper shelter. Jane walked to the shore, baited her hook, and cast her line into the sea. She waited quietly for a long time until she finally felt a tug. Her eyes lit up. She reeled it in fast. It was heavy, but since she'd been doing farm work and had grown strong muscles, she pulled it up easily. What she hauled in was a knee-high wooden crate. She didn't open it yet, only tossed it into her inventory to check later. Right now, she wanted to fish up as many crates as she could. Chapter 2 Opening Wooden Crates and Exploring Jane threw more bait into the sea. This time, she waited almost an hour before she got another crate. After storing it, she noticed it still took only one slot of the inventory, but the number on the crate now showed two. Good thing same items could stack; otherwise, her ten slots would fill up very soon. Time slowly passed. Jane checked her watch and frowned. It was 11:55, only five minutes left before crates stopped appearing. She'd only caught three crates in four hours, and she wasn't sure that would be enough. It was almost noon. Jane started to reel in her line when something tugged hard, shaking her rod wildly. She pulled up quickly. This crate felt much heavier than the others. Jane struggled to haul it in, her rod trembling. She worried it might snap. The crate landed hard on the sand. It was still wooden but heavier than the rest. Jane stored it in her inventory. 'Hope this one has more supplies,' she thought. It was noon. Jane packed up her fishing rod and headed toward the thatched hut. The hut sat on higher ground, probably to keep it from flooding when the tide came. As she got closer, Jane's lips twitched in disbelief. This was no hut. It was just a pile of weeds tied together into a tiny shelter. Inside, there was only a heap of weeds on the floor and holes in the roof. There was no place to hide anything. Jane pulled out all four wooden crates, ready to open them. Inside the first crate, she found a windproof lighter, a knife, and five units of wood. In the second, there were three units of refined iron and five units of plastic. Jane's mood sank. Neither had any food or water. The third crate gave her 34 fluid ounces of water in two bottles and 14 ounces of bread. 'Finally, some real food,' she thought. Then she eagerly opened the last, heavier crate. Inside were a stone axe, two apples, and two sandwiches. A prompt popped up on her holo display: [Stone axe: Attack: 10; Durability: 100/100; Good for chopping down trees.] 'No wonder it was so heavy. It's a weapon,' Jane thought. 'The supplies aren't much, but at least I have enough to get through today.' The system asked, [You have four wooden crates. Do you want to dismantle them?] 'Wait, I can dismantle these?' Jane thought. She tapped "Yes." The four crates were dismantled into 24 pieces of wood. 'So each crate gives six units of wood,' she thought. Now Jane had a windproof lighter, a knife, a stone axe, three refined iron pieces, 29 pieces of wood, five pieces of plastic, two bottles of water, 14 ounces of bread, two apples, and two sandwiches. Jane looked at the rundown shelter, sighed, and patted it. 'How am I supposed to live in this?' she thought. Just then, a system message appeared. [J.Ivy's shelter: level-1 shabby shelter, can't keep out wind or rain] [Next level: level-2 sturdy shelter, can keep out wind and rain] [Materials needed: thatch ×30, wood ×10] 'So I can upgrade it,' Jane thought. 'But where do I find thatch?' She took out a piece of bread and an apple, drank some water, and barely filled her stomach. Jane decided to look for resources. She couldn't wait for the system to deliver crates every day. Besides, since it was still the beginner protection period, it was the best time to explore. With her stone axe in hand, Jane made her way toward the forest near the beach. The place was deep and eerily quiet, and Jane felt a weird sense of danger. She only dared to stay near the edge. In a patch of bushes, she spotted something like thatch and pulled it up. It was thatch. Jane gathered all thatch she could find in the area, ending up with 36 units of thatch and 36 EXP. 'Wait, I get EXP for this?' she wondered, still unsure what EXP and levels were for. Then there were things like Magic Points, Ice Magic, and Light Magic. From her gaming experience, Jane guessed she'd learn Ice and Light spells someday. But right now, she didn't know how to unlock them. Nearby stood seven banyan trees. Jane pulled out her stone axe and started chopping. Each tree took a dozen swings, but she ended up with 35 units of wood and 35 EXP. [Congratulations. You've reached Level 2 and gained one attribute point for each attribute except Luck and Magic attributes, plus five free attribute points (excluding Luck and Magic attributes).] Jane checked her stats panel, and it had changed. [Player: J.Ivy] [Gender: Female] [Level: 2 (EXP: 21/80)] [Constitution: 8 (not bad)] [Attack: 6 (still not much of a punch)] [Defense: 6 (still pretty fragile)] [Intelligence: 10 (awesome)] [Speed: 7 (decent)] [Luck: 8 (pretty lucky)] [Magic attributes: Ice Magic: 8; Light Magic: 9] [All base stats are capped at 10, except for level, which can go up to 100.] [Health Points (HP): 80] [Magic Points (MP): 100] Jane noticed that when her Constitution was 7, her HP was 70. Now that it was 8, her HP had risen to 80. And Intelligence and Magic Points seemed to be linked. Magic Points mattered, but Jane still didn't know how to unlock spells. She put three free attribute points into Constitution and two into Attack. Now her Constitution was 11, her HP jumped to 110, and Attack reached 8. 'Finally, I'm not so weak anymore,' she thought. The axe's durability had dropped to 90/100. "This axe wears out so fast," Jane sighed. Jane ventured a bit deeper into the woods and spotted some long, slender vines. Her eyes lit up. She chopped one down and tested its strength with a tug, nodding in satisfaction. 'These are sturdy enough to weave fish traps,' she thought. 'I can set them in the sea and catch dinner.' Back in the small town, Jane had often gone hungry. She'd learned to weave fish traps from her neighbor Wayne, setting them in the river to catch food. She never imagined that skill would be useful in a survival game. Jane's fingers moved quickly, and soon she had several well-made traps. She glanced at the time. It was already 3:30 PM. She was surprised she'd spent three hours chopping trees and gathering materials. 'Time to head out,' she thought, taking one last look into the forest before turning toward the beach. She walked along the shoreline for about 30 minutes and finally found a spot with rocky outcrops. She placed her traps at different points among the rocks. Then, to her delight, she spotted three coconut trees growing on the beach. Jane loved coconut water, but she always thought bottled drinks couldn't compare to fresh coconut water straight from the fruit. She grabbed her stone axe and worked on the coconut trees. After some effort, she got nine coconuts, nine pieces of wood, and 15 EXP. 'Coconut trees give less wood than regular ones,' she thought. 'But having coconuts is already a win.' Jane checked the time. It was 4:30 PM, and the sky was starting to darken. 'Better head back,' she thought. 'The night out here feels dangerous.' Chapter 3 Upgrading the Shelter Jane returned to her shelter by five o'clock. The sky had turned completely dark. She started a fire using two bundles of thatch, one piece of wood, and her lighter. Warm light instantly filled the hut. Then, using thirty bundles of thatch and ten pieces of wood, she spent ten minutes upgrading the dilapidated hut into a sturdy one. It was still a thatched shelter, but now it wouldn't collapse. [Congratulations, J.Ivy. You have upgraded your shelter to Level 2 and gained 20 EXP.] Jane checked the materials needed for the next upgrade. [Wooden Shelter: Level 3 (protects against ordinary monsters). Upgrade requires: wood ×80, stone ×30.] 'Ordinary monsters,' she thought. 'So monsters will attack players.' She'd already guessed this world was dangerous, but the thought still unsettled her. Her stomach growled loudly. She really needed to grab something to eat. All she'd had today was some bread and an apple. Jane grabbed her axe and cracked open a coconut. She downed the coconut water, scooped out the meat, and then punched two small holes in the shell with her knife. She threaded some leftover vines through the holes, poured in half a bottle of water, and hung the shell over the fire using the vines as a handle. She planned to heat up a sandwich, saving the bread and apple for breakfast. The fire in the game burned intensely hot, and the water boiled almost instantly. Jane took out a sandwich and used only half of the flavor packet. She didn't like salty food much, so she saved the rest to use as seasoning later. She knew that without enough salt, over time, her health would decline. The warm sandwich helped settle her stomach. As she ate, she reviewed her supplies. Things seemed okay, but she couldn't shake the feeling that food and water were running low. She remembered she was still in the beginner protection period. Once that ended, gathering resources would become much harder. That meant she had to keep scavenging tomorrow. After finishing the sandwich, she felt bored. The day's exertion and the quiet surroundings made it easy for her to drift off to sleep. Jane woke up at 7:30 in the morning. She rinsed her mouth with bottled water and ate a piece of bread, which was just enough to ease her hunger. She checked the weather. [Today's weather: Sunny, 66°F to 86°F.] The treasure chests hadn't respawned yet, and Jane began to wonder how the other survivors in her zone were doing. She opened the chatroom and saw the region tab had 999+ unread messages, all from last night. IronWill: [How many chests did you guys get? I only got two.] Teddy: [Same. Just two. And all I got was plastic and wood. I'm starving and dying of thirst. Can anyone share some food or water? Please.] SpringDrizzle: [Same.] FlyingBird: [Me too.] SuccessfulMe: [I only found a piece of bread and a bottle of water. Not enough to survive.] LongWay: [Honestly, just having food is pretty lucky already.] LuckyKing: [Huh? You guys got so little? I got five MREs, ten bottles of water, and ten apples. That should last me two days.] Jane was surprised. 'This guy's luck is unreal,' she thought. 'But is it really smart to let everyone know he's got so much food?' Sure enough, the chat went wild as soon as everyone saw LuckyKing's message. FlyingBird: [Damn, you're lucky.] Teddy: [Hey, LuckyKing, can you spare me some food? I didn't get anything at all. Please, I'm starving here.] LongWay: [I've got my parents with me. They're both in their fifties. Can you help us out? We'll definitely pay you back once we get some food.] LuckyKing didn't reply after that. He probably realized it wasn't a good idea to tell everyone he had so much food. Teddy: [@LuckyKing, come on. Say something. You can't let us die out here.] LongWay: [Yeah. With your luck, you'll probably find more tomorrow. Share a bit. It won't hurt you.] PrettyFace: [We're all from Centlandia. We should help each other when things are tough.] HazySurface: [How can you ask for that? Why should he share what he worked for?] HungryBelly: [Exactly. If you want to survive, find food yourselves. Stop relying on others. This is a survival game. Only the strong survive.] LuckyKing: [Sure, I'm lucky, but I'm not playing saint. If you want something, trade for it. Nothing's free.] Teddy: [Guys, don't you care about your fellow countrymen at all?] UsTogether: [Survival matters now, not solidarity. If you had food, would you give it away? Don't expect others to do what you wouldn't.] Seeing more and more people criticize them, the freeloaders quickly stopped talking. Jane agreed with LuckyKing and the others. She was willing to trade resources, but if anyone expected free handouts, they were out of luck. 'Why should anyone give away what they worked hard to get? Who do they think they are?' she thought. ***** At exactly eight o'clock, Jane sat by the shore. She cast her hook into the sea, waiting for the next round of supplies. Today she pulled up four wooden crates. Inside she found a stone pickaxe, 5 units of refined iron, 5 units of plastic, 5 units of glass, and 3 bottles of water, 21 ounces of bread, and two ham sausages. [Stone Pickaxe: Attack: 10; Durability: 100; Can be used to gather stone.] Jane felt a bit down. She'd gotten even less food than yesterday, so she'd have to stretch her supplies. Still, finding a new tool made her feel a little better. She dismantled the wooden crates and collected 24 pieces of wood. At the moment, Jane's inventory included: a windproof lighter, a knife, a stone axe with 85 durability, a stone pickaxe, 8 units of refined iron, 86 pieces of wood, 4 bundles of thatch, 10 units of plastic... 5 pieces of glass, 4 bottles of water, 28 ounces of bread, 1 apple, 1 sandwich, 8 coconuts, and 2 ham sausages. Back at the shelter, Jane ate some bread and opened up a coconut. She didn't eat anything else. Good thing she didn't have much of an appetite. She left anything she didn't need for the day inside the shelter, taking only her stone axe, stone pickaxe, a bottle of water, and a ham sausage, just in case she got hungry later. Today, Jane headed to the forest again, but instead of yesterday's spot, she chose the area next to where she'd left her fish basket, so she wouldn't have to trek back later. Chapter 4 First Deal The forest here was much thicker. Jane chopped down three banyan trees, collecting 15 pieces of wood and 15 EXP. Then she decided to move on. Today, her goal was to gather stones and explore further. She didn't want to waste too much time chopping trees. She pushed aside the vines blocking her path and continued deeper into the forest. The plants grew denser, some sprinkled with tiny yellow and white flowers she couldn't name. She spotted plenty of mushrooms with bright red caps and white stems. They looked beautiful, but she remembered an old warning: Red cap, white stalk. Eat them and you'll be laid out flat. That kept her from picking any. Still, with all this thick greenery and so many mushrooms around, Jane figured there was probably a water source nearby. She checked the time. It was 3. If she hurried, it would take about an hour to get out of the forest. She needed to collect her fishing traps, and it would take another 30 minutes to get back. She had to leave now. On her way out, Jane was hungry. She washed down a sausage with bottled water in two bites. Once she stepped out of the forest, the whole world seemed to brighten up. The forest had been so gloomy. It really wasn't a place for people. She hurried over to the shallows and took a quick look. Jane's mouth twitched. Unfortunately, out of the five fishing traps she'd set, only two remained. The rest must have been swept away by the wind. She hauled up the two remaining traps and dumped them onto the sand. The haul was disappointingly small. Just two sea snails, a palm-sized fish, and a few handfuls of seaweed. That was all she got. [Would you disassemble them?] Naturally, Jane tapped "Yes." It was a convenient way. [Received: snail meat ×2, 3.5 ounces of fish meat, seaweed ×2.] Jane didn't stick around. She tossed the two fishing traps back into the sea and headed for her shelter. On her way, she spotted a few large rocks. She pulled out her stone pickaxe and started chipping away, getting 15 pieces of stones and 15 EXP. Jane couldn't help but complain inwardly, 'Seriously? Those rocks were huge, but I only get 15 units of stones? That's stingy.' [Congratulations. You've reached Level 3. You've gained one attribute point for each stat except Luck and Magic attributes, plus five free attribute points (excluding Luck and Magic attributes).] After two days of running around, Jane realized Speed was as important as Constitution. Moving faster meant she could explore more places and gather more loot. So this time, she put 3 points into Constitution and 2 into Speed. Her status panel now looked like this: [Player: J.Ivy] [Gender: Female] [Level: 3 (EXP: 6/150)] [Constitution: 15 (very strong)] [Attack: 9 (not too shabby on the attack front)] [Defense: 7 (could be worse)] [Intelligence: 11 (pretty sharp)] [Speed: 10 (very quick)] [Luck: 8 (pretty lucky)] [Magic attributes: Ice Magic: 8; Light Magic: 9] [All base stats are capped at 10, except for level, which can go up to 100.] [Health Points (HP): 150] [Magic Points (MP): 110] With her Constitution now at 15, Jane was amazed. Her body had been completely worn out from the afternoon's work, but suddenly, it was as if all her exhaustion vanished. And with Speed bumped up to 10, Jane raced back to the shelter much faster than before. 'This is unreal,' she thought. Even with her new speed, it was nearly five o'clock when she made it back. Just like always, Jane started a fire with 2 bundles of thatch and 1 piece of wood. She decided to cook the seafood she'd caught. It wouldn't keep for long, and even though her inventory stopped food from spoiling, space was limited. She couldn't carry everything forever, so she figured she should deal with it now. Jane poured the rest of her half bottle of water into yesterday's coconut-shell pot, added 2 pieces of snail meat, 3.5 ounces of fish, and the leftover half packet of seasoning from yesterday. She set the coconut shell over the fire to simmer. When the seafood was nearly done, Jane took out her last sandwich. She saved the seasoning packet for later and dropped the sandwich into the coconut shell to cook with the seafood. Soon, the mouthwatering smell of seafood and sandwich filled the air. Jane was drooling. It smelled so good. Too bad it was her last sandwich. She finished the seafood and sandwich and slurped up every drop of soup. Finally, she was full. With nothing else to do that evening, Jane started sorting through her supplies. After checking everything over, she felt anxious. There wasn't enough food to last another day. If tomorrow's haul was bad, she'd be in trouble. Jane decided to check the trading section to see what was available. [Wood ×10: trade for any food] [Thatch ×10: trade for water] [Glass ×5: trade for at least 7 ounces of food] [Refined iron ×5: trade for any food] [Stone ×10: trade for food] The list went on. Most of the listings were people trying to swap their supplies for food or water. No one was offering food for other items. 'Guess food is really scarce,' Jane thought. Seeing the listings for stones, Jane felt tempted. She'd only managed to get 15 stones all afternoon, and it was hard work. As for food, she still had a few coconuts to trade. Coconuts weren't super filling, but they were packed with energy. Jane traded four coconuts for 20 pieces of stone, 5 pieces of glass, and 5 pieces of refined iron. She wasn't sure what glass or refined iron were for, but she figured they'd be useful later. [You're making a trade. Do you want to stay anonymous?] Jane hit "Yes." Four coconuts wasn't a big deal, but if she traded them openly, people would know she had extra food. She didn't want anyone eyeing her supplies or getting any ideas. She checked the chat, and sure enough, people were talking about the trades. LittleBlossom: [Someone traded a coconut for 10 pieces of my stone. I thought the stone would never sell. Thanks, anonymous buyer.] SpringFeast: [Same. I traded five pieces of glass for a coconut.] Funster: [I traded five pieces of refined iron for a coconut. Coconut water is so good!] Conqueror: [An anonymous buyer? More like a profiteer. Use your brains, guys. Stone is for upgrading your hut, and refined iron and glass are important materials. Trading all that for a coconut? How are you supposed to upgrade your shelter?] Then, a bunch of people thought Jane was ruthless. 'A coconut doesn't even fill one up, and that buyer's swapping it for so much stuff. We're all Centlandians, all in the same boat. Shouldn't we help each other out?' they thought. Chapter 5 Axe Blueprint But someone quickly disagreed. Funster: [For the past two days, all I've gotten from crates is stone and refined iron. The only food I found was a sandwich and a bottle of water. If it weren't for this coconut, I'll be dead. I owe the coconut seller big time.] SpringFeast: [Yeah. Making it through the day is hard enough. Who cares about the future? At least I can eat the coconut, but I can't eat materials.] HungryBelly: [Food is precious right now. It's already generous for someone to offer it up for trade. If you think they're ripping people off, why not put up some filling food yourself? I'm sure everyone would thank you for it.] UsTogether: [@Conqueror, how about trading 5 pieces of refined iron for 5.5 pounds of wheat? Since refined iron is so valuable, I bet you'll agree, right?] Conqueror: [No good deed goes unpunished. Whatever, I'm not wasting my breath on you guys.] UsTogether: [Wait. Don't go. I'm serious about the trade.] No matter how many people tagged Conqueror, he stayed silent. Watching all this go down, Jane felt totally satisfied. She made a mental note of Conqueror's name. She'd never trade anything valuable with him. Jane had 100 pieces of wood and 35 pieces of stone. They were enough to upgrade her wood cabin. She spent 80 pieces of wood and 30 pieces of stone and jumped into the upgrade. About half an hour later, her new wooden cabin was finished. It was much larger than her old thatched hut and looked solidly built. No wonder it could hold up against ordinary monster attacks. [Congratulations, player J.Ivy, for upgrading your shelter to level 3. You've got 50 EXP.] Jane checked the requirements for the next upgrade. [Stone cabin: Level 4 (can withstand attacks from level-1 monsters). Upgrade materials required: stone ×500, wood ×300, glass ×60.] 'That's a huge amount of materials for level four,' she thought. 'Everything is doubling now.' After the upgrade, Jane was low on supplies. Tomorrow was the final day of the beginner protection period, and she wasn't sure what would happen after it ended. She set her alarm for 5:30 AM. She wasn't going to sleep until seven again. Time was tight, and she needed to gather more resources. 'I should have gotten up early this morning too,' Jane thought. 'I went to bed early and wasted all that time.' With that, she let her thoughts fade and fell into a deep sleep. ***** The next morning, Jane woke up at 5:30 to the sound of her alarm. [Today's weather: Cloudy. Temperature between 57°F and 77°F.] She ate some bread for breakfast, drank a little water, and tossed a sausage into her inventory before heading out. By 5:30, it was already bright outside. Jane returned to the forest she had visited on her first afternoon. When she noticed a bunch of vines, she remembered her trip to the Shallow Bay yesterday. The wind had left her with only two fish traps. Worried they might be gone today, she grabbed some vines and stuffed them into her inventory. Making fish traps took too much time, so Jane decided she would work on them tonight when she was free. She kept walking until she came across a pine forest. 'Time to gather more wood,' she thought. Jane took out her stone axe and began chopping. After about ten swings, the pine tree fell. She collected 5 pieces of wood, 1 unit of pine resin, 17.5 ounces of pine nuts, and gained 5 EXP. 'Chopping pine trees gives me resin and nuts too?' she thought. Pine resin was a sticky substance that seeped from pine trees. It worked well for starting fires and could be used as medicine. It helped relieve pain and itching, reduce swelling, detoxify, and stop bleeding. Jane had tasted pine nuts at her relatives' house during the holidays. They were rich and fragrant. The ones from the system were already processed, and it saved her strength. Seeing how much the pine trees were dropping, she felt motivated. She picked up her axe and started chopping again. As her inventory filled with pine resin and pine nuts, Jane couldn't hold back her smile. By 7:50, she decided to stop. Crate fishing was about to begin, and that was her top priority. All morning, she had collected 80 pieces of wood, 16 units of pine resin, 16 portions of pine nuts (each 17.5 ounces), and gained 80 EXP. Jane felt satisfied. Last time she was here, she only gathered 35 pieces of wood, but that was because she spent too much time weaving five fish traps. Now she knew how to plan better. Since making fish traps didn't depend on location, she would save that for the evenings, leaving daylight hours free for gathering supplies. Jane walked to her usual crate fishing spot. Sitting quietly on the beach and waiting for the crates to appear, she was absolutely famished. She had been doing physical work all morning and only had a small 7 ounces pack of bread to keep her going. She took a sip of water, pulled out her last sausage and finished it in a few bites. At least now her stomach finally settled. Jane got lucky today. She caught six crates, and one of them was a black iron crate, clearly better than the usual wooden ones. She went back to her shelter and started opening the crates. The first wooden crate held 5 bottles of water, 5 packs of 7 ounces bread, and 5 sandwiches. 'I'm on a roll today. That's a lot of food,' Jane thought. The second wooden crate contained 10 units of stone, 10 pieces of refined iron, and 10 units of plastic. The third held 5 apples, 5 bananas, and 10 strawberries. The fourth crate had an 80 inches ×80 inches cashmere blanket and an 80 inches ×80 inches mattress. 'A mattress and a blanket?' Jane thought. 'Maybe I don't have to sleep on itchy straw anymore. It always got cold once the fire died at night.' The fifth wooden crate contained 3 sets of women's underwear and a set of women's autumn outfit. 'New clothes,' she thought. 'I've felt so grimy these last few days. Now I can finally change out of these dirty rags.' Jane stared at the last black iron crate, her face full of anticipation. 'The wooden ones were packed,' she thought. 'Don't let me down now.' [1 blueprint, 5 Inventory Expansion Cards.] Jane's hands trembled slightly as she opened the blueprint. [Axe blueprint unlocked.] [Stone axe: Requires stone ×6, wood ×3; Attack: 10; Durability: 100/100] [Iron axe: Requires refined iron ×6, stone ×3; Attack: 15; Durability: 150/150] [Copper axe: Requires bronze ×6, refined iron ×3; Attack: 20; Durability: 200/200] [Silver axe: Requires silver ×6, bronze ×3; Attack: 30; Durability: 300/300] [Gold axe: Requires gold ×6, silver ×3; Attack: 50; Durability: 500/500] 'There are so many types of axes?' Jane thought. She used 6 pieces of refined iron and 3 pieces of stone and crafted an iron axe right away. Chapter 6 Slaying a Level-1 Monster While waiting for the iron axe to finish crafting, Jane grabbed a quick lunch: an apple, three strawberries, and a bag of bread. In less than ten minutes, the iron axe was ready. [Iron axe: Attack: 15; Durability: 150/150] 'Not bad. This should make chopping trees faster,' Jane thought. Next, she checked out the Inventory Expansion Cards. [Inventory Expansion Card: Use to add one slot to your inventory.] Jane used all five cards, so now her inventory had fifteen slots. She could bring way more gear when she headed out without worrying about space. [You've got six chests. Would you like to break them down?] Jane tapped "No." She'd gathered so much stuff lately that her inventory was full, and dumping everything on the ground made her shelter look like a junkyard. These chests would be right for sorting out all her gear. Her supplies were mostly food, tools, and daily necessities. She stored all of it in the chests inside her shelter. Jane only brought an iron axe, a stone pickaxe, a half-empty bottle of water, and two bananas before heading out. 'Bananas are more filling,' she thought as she grabbed them. Jane returned to the spot she'd explored yesterday afternoon, planning to keep searching for water. On an island like this, freshwater was essential. If she found any, she could trade it for other supplies in the trading section. The jungle was so dense that sunlight barely reached the ground, making the whole forest feel dark and gloomy. Jane held a stick in her left hand to push aside the undergrowth, while her right hand gripped the iron axe, ready for anything. She passed quickly by the cluster of red-capped, white-stemmed mushrooms she'd seen last time without stopping. After another ten minutes or so, Jane thought she heard the gentle sound of water flowing nearby. Her eyes brightened. 'Could this be the water source?' she thought. After another seven or eight minutes, she finally spotted a long stream ahead, with thicket and agaves stretching far along both banks. Jane's eyes brightened. Agave was incredibly useful. Every part of it could be used, and there might even be groundhogs there. The wood here was thick, perfect for making fishing spears to catch fish. She cut down a tree with her iron axe but didn't receive any EXP. She guessed only collecting certain items, like wood, stone, or thatch, gave her experience points. She sharpened one end of the branch into several prongs and headed to the stream with her new spear. The water was clear, and she could see fish swimming. She waited for the right moment and jabbed down, but she missed. 'What's wrong with me?' she thought. She used to be skilled at spear fishing back in the small town, but today her timing was off. She tried again, waited for the perfect moment, and jabbed her spear down. This time, she finally got lucky and snagged a bluegill that must have weighed about 4 pounds. [Would you disassemble them?] Jane tapped "Yes" and received 2 pounds of bluegill fillets. She stared at the screen, confused. 'That fish was big, and the system only gave me 2 pounds?' she thought. 'How could it discard everything else?' Jane kept grumbling quietly, but her hands never stopped moving. Over the next half hour, she caught two more fish. After processing them, the system gave her 2 pounds of bluegill fillets and 2 pounds of crappie fillets. She decided to stop. Fish wouldn't keep long, and her inventory was already filling up. She could come back another day. Now she planned to chop some river cane and make containers to carry water back to her shelter. Each slot in her inventory could hold up to 99 items. She already used six slots, so she decided to use five more for water. After over an hour of work, Jane ended up with 495 river cane tubes. She was exhausted and hungry. Sitting by the stream, she put river cane containers filled with water into her inventory while eating bananas. Once she finished them, her stomach finally felt settled. It took nearly another hour to fill all five slots with water using the containers. 📖 The story gets hotter—click "Download" to read the uncensored chapters! 👇