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Truth Or Dare? I Chose To Go

Whenever they played Truth or Dare, my boyfriend's childhood sweetheart, Clara would deliberately dare him to pull the same prank on me, and Ronan would always willingly play along: he would pretend to propose to me. The last time, I fell for it. I joyfully held out my hand, but a mechanism inside the ring snapped shut, and I cried out in pain. Ronan and Clara doubled over with laughter, ignoring my finger, which had been pinched purple. Afterward, Ronan pinned me against the wall and swore that this year, he would give me a real proposal. So when his bodyguards brought me to the private club where we first met, I changed into an expensive white silk gown, styled my hair, and applied my most exquisite makeup. I even played the touching scene out in my head, imagining myself nodding and saying yes. But as I pushed open the door to the VIP room, my heart pounding, someone threw a full glass of deep red wine in my face. It streamed down my chin and onto my gown. A woman's laughter erupted from the crowd. "I told you Aurora would show up, didn't I? Ronan, you lose!" Ronan walked over, looking resigned. He gently dabbed at my face with a napkin, his tone as soft as ever. "Dressed up just for me? A shame to ruin a good dress." "Clara dared me to bet on whether you would have the guts to come to our turf tonight. I bet that you would. The wager was this: if you didn't, I'd propose tomorrow. If you came, we'd have to wait another year." "Sorry, baby. Since you showed up, I guess we can't get married this year." The wine trickled down my collarbone, cold and sticky. I shivered. Suddenly, the whole thing felt utterly pointless. Our anniversary meant nothing compared to one of their pranks. Just like me. I could never win against Clara, his childhood sweetheart. I unclasped the simple silver bracelet, the one I'd worn for six years, from my wrist. "This is over. We're breaking up." Chapter 1 Whenever they played Truth or Dare, my boyfriend's childhood sweetheart, Clara would deliberately dare him to pull the same prank on me, and Ronan would always willingly play along: he would pretend to propose to me. The last time, I fell for it. I joyfully held out my hand, but a mechanism inside the ring snapped shut, and I cried out in pain. Ronan and Clara doubled over with laughter, ignoring my finger, which had been pinched purple. Afterward, Ronan pinned me against the wall and swore that this year, he would give me a real proposal. So when his bodyguards brought me to the private club where we first met, I changed into an expensive white silk gown, styled my hair, and applied my most exquisite makeup. I even played the touching scene out in my head, imagining myself nodding and saying yes. But as I pushed open the door to the VIP room, my heart pounding, someone threw a full glass of deep red wine in my face. It streamed down my chin and onto my gown. A woman's laughter erupted from the crowd. "I told you Aurora would show up, didn't I? Ronan, you lose!" Ronan walked over, looking resigned. He gently dabbed at my face with a napkin, his tone as soft as ever. "Dressed up just for me? A shame to ruin a good dress." "Clara dared me to bet on whether you would have the guts to come to our turf tonight. I bet that you would. The wager was this: if you didn't, I'd propose tomorrow. If you came, we'd have to wait another year." "Sorry, baby. Since you showed up, I guess we can't get married this year." I looked into his eyes. After a long moment, I asked him, "Then, do you remember what tomorrow is?" He shrugged nonchalantly and smiled. "Of course. Our sixth anniversary. I couldn't forget that." The wine trickled down my collarbone, cold and sticky. I shivered. Suddenly, the whole thing felt utterly pointless. Our anniversary meant nothing compared to one of their pranks. Just like me. I could never win against Clara, his childhood sweetheart. I unclasped the simple silver bracelet, the one I'd worn for six years, from my wrist. "This is over. We're breaking up." ... The silver bracelet clattered on the cold marble floor. With that single clink, the whole room fell silent. Ronan's smile vanished, his brow furrowing. "Stop throwing a tantrum. It's just a dirty dress. I will help you out of it and wash it for you when we get back to the room." "You know how Clara is. She's been like this since we were kids, and her games used to be much wilder. She was actually going easy on you today." "You usually don't have the nerve to set foot on our turf. Now that you're finally here, don't make my men think my woman doesn't know her place." Clara leaned against the card table, pouting. "Aurora, it was just a simple game. If you can't take a joke, I just won't tease you anymore. What's the point of threatening Ronan with a breakup over every little thing?" "I told you she was too sensitive, but you insisted she come. Now look at the mess you've made." She crossed her arms and dropped into the sofa. All eyes in the room turned to me, unfriendly. It was as if they blamed me for ruining their fun. Clara was the only girl in their circle, the apple of everyone's eye. If she so much as frowned, they all had to fall all over themselves to appease her. Ronan, of course, was no exception. I still remember the first time I met her. She loved Truth or Dare, and each dare was more outrageous than the last. Other people's punishments were to go pick a fight with some punk on the street; when it was my turn, she ordered me to act out our favorite sexual position with Ronan in front of everyone. I only whispered that the dare was crass, and Clara immediately stormed out, red-eyed, slamming the door behind her. The mood in the room soured instantly, and they all rushed out after her, with Ronan leading the pack. That dinner, which was supposed to be my formal introduction to the family, ended with me sitting all alone at the long table. Ronan never mentioned it when he came back, but from then on, if Clara didn't approve, he would never bring me into his circle for any gathering. Even now, though we've been together for six years, very few of his brothers even know me. Now, Ronan was frowning at me. "Aurora, go apologize to Clara." In the past, to stay by his side, to fit into his circle, and to protect his pride in front of his men, I would have swallowed my own pride. I wouldn't have even waited for him to ask; I would have been the first to bow my head. But now, my declaration of a breakup was still less important than Clara simply saying she was "unhappy." It finally clicked. From the very beginning, in Ronan's heart, our relationship had never outweighed his bond with his childhood sweetheart. I picked up the handbag and trench coat I had so carefully chosen to meet his family. Facing the roomful of scrutinizing gazes, I said, word by word, "Ronan, we are completely over. I mean it." I turned around. My heels were unsteady on the slippery floor, but I walked out without a single glance back. Chapter 2 The moment the door closed, Clara's triumphant taunt drifted through the crack: "Aren't you going to chase after that little pet you keep?" Ronan let out a contemptuous scoff. "She's just looking for attention. If I stoop to her level and chase after her, how would that reflect on you?" "She has nothing in this city but me. She's a lot easier to handle than a princess like you." My once-fervent heart was torn to shreds. His words were like salt in a wound, each one cutting deeper than the last. ... The wind on the street was cold. The wine on my gown had turned into a frigid, sticky patch against my skin. I hailed a cab and huddled in the back seat, my mind uncontrollably drifting back six years. Six years ago, on the steps of this very private club, Ronan told me that I was the only one for him in this life. It had actually taken him considerable effort to win me over. I was barely eighteen then, trying to escape my broken home and survive on my own in a strange city. I was extremely insecure and wary of any man who got too close. He pursued me, and I rejected him five times. The sixth time was different. I had just moved into a cheap apartment in the south part of the city. The neighborhood had a notoriously bad reputation for crime. A few local thugs started targeting me, blocking me on the stairwell to demand money, then my phone. Soon, they started leering at me. That's when Ronan appeared. The thugs pulled knives. He took a knife for me, getting a long gash that ran from his elbow to his wrist. Blood dripped from his fingertips to the ground. Later, in the emergency room, as a nurse tended to his wound, he looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. "Can you just stop being so stubborn and let someone protect you?" "Like me, for instance?" I admit, my heart completely melted. In that moment, I thought I had finally found a harbor where I could anchor my drifting life. He asked me to be his girlfriend that very night, simple and direct, just the way I liked it. After I nodded, this notoriously ruthless man swept me into his arms, so excited he nearly dropped us both. But back then, because I was in his arms, I wasn't afraid at all. The moon was full that night. His promise of love and companionship gave me all the courage I needed and became the sum of all my hopes. But now... I laughed at my own foolishness. The car stopped in front of my apartment building. The warmth of the memory collided with the cold of reality, and I began to tremble. I went upstairs, opened my laptop, and clicked on the resignation letter draft I'd left untouched for days. The cursor hovered over "Send." I took a deep breath and clicked. Cutting ties with the past, it turned out, was as simple as a few keystrokes. You see, Ronan? I'm not so easy to handle after all. But from now on, you won't have to bother. My flight out was scheduled for next week, which didn't leave me much time. Back at the apartment, I took a quick shower, washing away the stench of red wine, and began to pack. I never had much to begin with, and everything I owned fit into two suitcases. At two in the morning, just as I zipped up the last bag and was about to head to a hotel, the front door swung open. Ronan walked in, half-carrying a dead-drunk Clara. She was draped over his shoulder, muttering about wanting fruit. "Ronan, I want one of those fruit platters, the kind cut into little rabbit shapes." Ronan helped her onto the sofa, then turned to me, his tone matter-of-fact. "Aurora, go cut one for her." I froze. He had forgotten. When we had just gotten together, he came home from a party and was violently ill in the bathroom. Worried, I got up in the middle of the night to peel an apple for him, and the blade sliced a shallow cut across my finger. He rushed out of the bathroom and saw what happened. The color drained from his face, his drunkenness vanishing instantly. He pressed on the cut to stop the bleeding, his voice trembling as he apologized over and over. The next day, he locked every knife, peeler, and pair of scissors in the kitchen inside a safe. He had kissed my fingertips and sworn that from then on, he would be the one to cut fruit in our home, that I was never to touch a knife again. For all these years, I really hadn't touched a knife. Even now, next to my dinner plate, there was a custom-made sterling silver butter knife he had ordered just for me. The most laughable part was the small wooden plaque he had made himself, still hanging on the kitchen door. It read: "Kitchen Off-Limits to Aurora." I ripped the plaque off the door and threw it in the trash. And now, he was asking me to go cut a fruit platter for another woman. Vows are the most ridiculous things in this world. "If you want some, cut it yourself," I said, my face a blank mask. I snapped my suitcase shut, pulled up the handle, and headed for the door. "I'm leaving." Only then did he notice the two suitcases. His face darkened, and in a few strides, he blocked the doorway. "Alright, Aurora, that's enough. You have made your point. Are you really packing? I already told you, it was just a game." He reached out to grab my wrist, his grip tight, and pressed me against the door. His breath, smelling of alcohol, fell on my ear, carrying with it the familiar, possessive control he was so used to exerting over me. "Aurora, don't play these childish games." He was convinced I was still throwing a fit about what happened tonight. "I know you want to settle down. I do too. Next year. We'll get married next year for sure, alright?" I stared at him, and in his eyes, which still expected me to soften, I saw the reflection of my last six years. I raised my hand and slapped him across the face. "Ronan, haven't I made myself clear? We're broken up, and I will never, ever marry you!" Chapter 3 The slap echoed in the room. Hearing the noise, Clara shot up from the sofa. She stumbled over and backhanded me across the face, the force of it whipping my head to the side. "Who the hell do you think you are? You think you can just hit Ronan whenever you want?" "You should take a good look at yourself and see what you're worth." My cheek was instantly on fire. I instinctively raised my hand to strike back, but Ronan grabbed my wrist and shoved me violently aside. My lower back slammed into the doorknob. A sharp pain shot up my spine to the top of my head, and I sucked in a sharp breath. And he, the first thing he did was pull Clara into his arms. "She's drunk. Why are you picking a fight with her?" "Aurora, just go outside and cool off." He did not even look at me, his hand patting Clara's back in a steady rhythm. "Even this drunk, you're still trying to play the hero." I stared at him, stunned. I watched his nonchalant expression, as if I were just an insignificant outsider, not even worthy of a second glance after being slapped. Clara sobbed into his chest, her shoulders shaking with perfectly timed tremors. Ronan whispered to her, his voice soft, as if coaxing a frightened kitten. All his gentleness was reserved for her. From beginning to end, he never once asked if I was hurt. I used the doorknob to pull myself upright, the spot on my lower back numb with pain. I didn't say another word. I just grabbed my suitcase and walked out alone. In the few dozen seconds it took for the elevator to descend, I started leaving the group chats from Ronan's circle, deleting them one by one. Aside from the pointless prank messages, most were from colleagues asking why I hadn't clocked in for work, or gossiping and teasing me about whether I was already wearing an engagement ring. My heart felt like it was being squeezed tight, a wave of sorrow washing over me. I sent a single, blanket reply: "We broke up." A profound exhaustion immediately washed over me. The notification sounds kept ringing. Some in the group treated it as a post-party joke. Others exclaimed in disbelief, even telling me not to be difficult just because I didn't get a proposal ring. After all, to outsiders, Ronan always presented a calm and elegant facade, a man who could control any situation. A seemingly flawless lover. But what they couldn't see was this: this same man would charter a yacht to stage a fake romantic proposal, all so Clara could have the fun of pressing a loaded Browning to my temple. For our fifth anniversary, he knelt before me with a trick ring given to him by Clara, a ring with a hidden blade that sent me to the clinic for emergency treatment that night, nearly severing the nerves in my right index finger. He did indeed have the power to handle anything, but the person he protected and shielded was never me. In the past, I always deceived myself, filtering out these moments, desperately telling myself that as long as Clara was not involved, he was passionate and generous with me in our private life. Only now, with a clear head, did I see the truth: a relationship like this, even if it led to marriage, would never last. I pulled my lips into a bitter smile, but my fingers, out of habit, swiped open my social media feed. Clara had posted a new update. A nine-photo grid: at an underground shooting range, she was in a black bodysuit holding a gun, with Ronan standing behind her, his hand over hers, helping her adjust her stance. The next photo was from a private poker game, chips piled high, with her sitting by Ronan's leg, smiling without a care in the world. The caption read: "Best day ever." Those were places I had once mentioned wanting to go. Each time, he would smile and stroke my hair, saying those places were too chaotic, not suitable for a girl like me. He said he didn't want me to be tainted by that kind of atmosphere. At the time, I thought he was protecting me, that it was a unique part of his gentleness, so I suppressed all my little fantasies about adventure and excitement from my first love. It was only now, seeing the wild, relaxed smile on his face as he held a cigar between his lips, that I realized it was not that I was unsuitable. It was that he already had someone more suitable to accompany him. The comments below were a flood of "A match made in heaven." Everyone in that circle had liked the post, the number of likes several times higher than when we had first announced our relationship. I was about to lock my screen when a new message popped up. It was from Ronan. "Don't overthink it. I was just taking her out to clear her head. Come back when you've cooled off. She said she wants to apologize to you in person." My brow furrowed. I was just about to type "No need." A package delivery notification popped up at the top of my screen. The delivery address was our apartment. I stared at the line of text for a moment, deciding that some things were better said in person. And the key. I should return it to him as well. It had been six years. A clean break was more dignified for everyone. I changed my clothes, fixed my hair, and took a cab over. The door was unlocked. But as I pushed it open, a pungent, chemical-smelling liquid sprayed into my face, so acrid that tears immediately welled in my eyes. "Surprise! The party's not over! I've been dying to wash that cheap perfume smell off you!" Before I could even open my eyes, Clara lunged at me. She was holding a spray bottle, aiming it right at my face, her smile utterly vicious. A burning pain began to spread across my skin, growing more intense by the second. It was mixed with a searing, agonizing itch, as if a million venomous ants were gnawing at my bones. The pain was so violent it felt like my skin was being peeled from my face. Chapter 4 I shoved her away with all my strength. My hand instinctively went to scratch my face, but the slightest touch sent a wave of skin-crawling pain through me. "Cough... cough... my face, what was that..." Ronan rushed out from the bedroom and froze the moment he saw me. He grabbed Clara's wrist, his voice sharp with fury. "You said you were just going to switch her perfume! How could her face react like this?!" "What the hell are you trying to do?" Clara wrenched her hand free, her face flushed and her lips trembling. "I... I don't know! I just grabbed a random bottle!" "How was I supposed to know she was so delicate? Besides, you were the one complaining a few days ago about how you hated her boring perfume. You basically gave me permission to do it!" The volatile chemical made my body tremble, my skin going numb. My windpipe was swelling rapidly, making each breath feel like swallowing razor blades. "So you were willing to let her apologize to me... Ronan, you don't deserve the dignity of a clean break." I leaned against the wall, trying to make my way to the bathroom to wash my face. But after just two steps, my vision went black. The last thing I heard before losing consciousness was his panicked voice, calling my name, just like he had six years ago when I'd cut my finger. "Aurora—Aurora, don't scare me!" When I opened my eyes again, it was evening. The air was thick with the heavy smell of medical alcohol. The pain on my face and neck was still intense enough to make me wish for death. I vaguely remembered hearing the doctor say, as I was being carried in, that I had suffered a severe allergic reaction to the chemical. The skin on my jaw and right cheek was badly blistered and inflamed, and it would take considerable time and treatment to fully recover. My faint gasp alerted Ronan, who was sitting in the shadows. "Aurora, you're finally awake... you scared me to death. The doctor said you were exposed to a highly acidic chemical and went into anaphylactic shock." He leaned closer, his voice low. "Clara really did want to apologize. You know she has been spoiled since she was a kid. She's arrogant, but she absolutely did not do it on purpose. Stop being difficult. Whatever you want, jewelry, a sports car, just name it." I looked at him. As he eagerly defended her, he never once asked if I was in pain, never mentioned how much I would suffer during the recovery process. It did not even occur to him how agonizing it was for me to endure this burning sensation, or how hard it would be to deal with my swollen face. Everything he said was to absolve his precious childhood sweetheart. His mouth, his heart, they were all full of her. The tears just started falling then, making the inflamed skin on my face burn with an unbearable pain. But in that moment, I couldn't tell which hurt more, my body or my heart. "I'm not angry," I heard myself say. "I just regret it. I should never have said yes to you back then." His body went rigid. He opened his mouth to say something, but his phone lit up on the side table. He glanced down. From the corner of my eye, I saw it was a call from his family's Don. The emotion on his face vanished, replaced by the calm, controlled expression I knew so well. "I'm going to take this outside. You rest. I'll be right back." He walked briskly out of the room. I watched his retreating back and, with a courage I didn't know I possessed, threw off the covers, pulled out my IV, and followed him out on bare feet. In a dim corner of the hallway, I saw him standing with Clara, who was leaning against the wall, smoking. "Alright, cut the act. She's awake. Once she's done with her little drama, it'll be fine." "She's always like this." Clara blew a smoke ring, her expression showing not a shred of guilt. "She can't even handle a little excitement? What if she finds out that you chasing her wasn't some 'love at first sight' bullshit? That it was just because you lost a game of Truth or Dare to me that year." "And that anniversary she's so obsessed with? It was just the deadline for our bet." "She'd go completely insane if she knew all that, wouldn't she?" Ronan's expression hardened, and he snatched the cigarette from her hand. "Shut up! You'd better bury that story and take it to your grave!" In that instant, a roar filled my ears. I couldn't hear anything but a constant, high-pitched ringing. I leaned against the wall, my legs weak, as if my bones were being pulled out one by one. I could barely stand. All the things that had been stuck in my heart for years, things I could never figure out, now had an answer. Why he always chose her over me. Why he said he loved me so much, yet let her hurt me every single time. I had thought he was a man of loyalty and honor, deeply devoted to his family, maybe just lacking a sense of boundaries. I had never dared to imagine that from the very first second we met, everything he had given me was a lie. Even that night I thought was my salvation, his words "you're the only one for me," were just a chip in a bet. It turned out that in their eyes, I was never Ronan's lover. I was just a clown in their game, there for their amusement. In that moment, the self-respect and dignity I had spent six years trying to maintain were torn to shreds. I bit down hard on the back of my hand, forcing back the sob that was about to escape my throat. I had to get out of here. Leave this place, leave this suffocatingly fake world, leave everything that had ever borne his name or been touched by his influence. While no one was looking, I slipped out the back door of the clinic, went back to the hotel, grabbed my luggage, and headed straight for the airport. I paid a hefty fee to change my ticket to the next flight to San Loro City. Just before going through security, my phone screen lit up with a text from Ronan. "The doctor said you need to be under observation. Don't run off. Where are you? I'll come get you." I stared at the urgent message, a bitter laugh escaping me as tears rolled down my cheeks. I didn't reply. One by one, I blocked and deleted his number and the contact information of everyone in his circle. I finally stopped at his contact name. love Ronan. I hit delete. The screen flickered, and the name that had defined my life for the last six years vanished completely. The final boarding call echoed through the terminal. I picked up my bag and walked into the jet bridge without looking back. Now you and Clara can play your games of Truth or Dare all you want.

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ARIA The key turns the lock with a soft click that sounds too loud in the quiet hallway. I'm practically vibrating with excitement as I push open the door to Marcus's apartment, my heels clicking against the hardwood floor. The promotion letter is still warm in my purse—Senior Director of Marketing at twenty-six. After years of caffeine-fueled nights, endless presentations, and fighting twice as hard to be taken seriously, I finally made it. And I can't wait to celebrate with Marcus. He’ll be proud. I know he will. He’ll kiss me, spin me around, and whisper that he always knew I could do it. The apartment is dark when I step inside, the faint scent of cedar and cologne wrapping around me. A single sliver of light leaks from beneath the bedroom door. My smile deepens. He’s home. I slip off my heels, tiptoeing across the hardwood floor. The diamond on my finger catches a ghost of light. two carats of carefully selected princess-cut diamonds. We chose it together three months ago. Our wedding is in eight weeks. Eight weeks until everything I’ve ever dreamed of becomes real. I reach for the bedroom door, with my heart full, and my mind already painting the moment I tell him. The feeling of his arms around me. His deep, throaty chuckle that does wonders in my body. The champagne we’ll open... A sound cuts through my thoughts. Low, rhythmic, and sexy. I stop breathing. It takes a second for my mind to catch up to my body to process what my ears already know but refuse to accept. No. No, it can’t be... My hand trembles as I reach for the doorknob. A voice inside me begs to turn around, to leave before everything changes. But my fingers keep moving, like they belong to someone else, pushing the door open. The scene before me moves in slow motion and all at once. Marcus... My Marcus is behind a woman bent over the edge of our bed. His hands grip her hips, hard and possessive, dragging her back against him with brutal rhythm. The air fills with the sound of skin meeting skin, obscene and unmistakable. My vision blurs, and my mind refuses to believe what my eyes see. The woman’s hair falls in long, dark waves, and it's a familiar wave, for a fact. No. Please, God—no. She turns her head. And I see my own face. Or rather...my twin sister’s. Vivienne. Her green eyes lock on mine. And then she smiles. Slow, deliberate, cruel smiles, that vicious curve of lips I've seen a thousand times when she's won something, taken something, or destroyed something that belongs to me. “Fuck me harder, baby,” she moans, voice dripping with mockery, not even bothering to look away from me or trying to act shocked. She's performing for me now. The sound pierces through me, and my lungs seize. I can’t move, think, or speak. Marcus doesn't stop. Not immediately. It takes him several more thrusts before he follows her gaze and sees me standing in the doorway. "Aria." His voice is flat. Not shocked or apologetic. Just... flat. Like I was a curious child who walked in on her parents going at it, and now they are disappointed in me for not playing elsewhere. The engagement ring suddenly feels like a chain that weighs a thousand pounds on my finger. "How long?" The words scrape out of my throat like broken glass. Vivienne laughs as she pushes herself up, completely shameless in her nakedness. Marcus pulls out of her and reaches for his pants, but there's no urgency or panic in his movements. Because this isn't a mistake. This isn't a moment of weakness. This is something else entirely. "How long?" I repeat, my voice breaking. "Does it matter?" Marcus asks, buttoning his pants with steady hands. Yes. Yes, it fucking matters. But I can't seem to make my mouth form the words. Vivienne wraps herself in Marcus's robe, the one I bought him for his birthday, and walks toward me. Every step is deliberate and calculated. She's always been like this. Always knew exactly how to wound me in the places that hurt most. "Want the truth, sister?" Her voice drips with false sweetness. I should leave, run. But I'm rooted to the spot, watching my life implode in real-time. Vivienne leans against the doorframe, so close I can smell her perfume. The same one I wear. The same one our mother bought us for our sixteenth birthday. "He was mine first." The words hit me like a physical blow. "What?" "Marcus." She gestures lazily toward him. "He was my boyfriend for eight months before you ever met him." No. That's not possible. We met at a networking event two years ago. He pursued me. He said... "The conference in Boston," Marcus says, and his voice is far gone from the sexy, throaty voice that pulled me to him. He sounds like he's presenting at a board meeting. "Where we 'met'? Vivienne told me you'd be there. Told me exactly where to stand so I'd 'accidentally' bump into you." The room tilts. I grab the doorframe for support. "She gave me everything," he continues. "Your favorite flowers. Your coffee order. The way you twist your hair when you're nervous. How you always wanted to wait for marriage because you thought it would mean something." The virgin comment lands like he knew it would. Heat floods my cheeks. Vivienne's smile sharpens. "You're so predictable, Aria. You always have been. The good daughter. The responsible one. The one who does everything right." "Why?" My voice breaks completely now. "Why would you..." "Because I'm sick of watching you have everything I deserve!" The words explode out of her. "You got the job I wanted. The respect I should have. Everyone loves perfect Aria, so smart, so accomplished, so genuine." She spits the last word like it's poison. "I'm your sister," I whisper. "Exactly." Her eyes flash. "My twin. We're supposed to be equal. But you've always had more. Not prettier...we're identical. Not smarter...I'm not stupid. But somehow, you always win." "So you decided to destroy me." "So I decided to bring you down from your high horse for once." She straightens, crossing her arms. "And it was so easy. God, Aria, you fell for every line. Every carefully crafted text message. Every manufactured 'spontaneous' date. Marcus played you perfectly." I look at Marcus, searching for any sign of the man I thought I knew. The man I thought I loved. "You were a job," he says simply. "A very lucrative job. You had the connections I needed. The respect in the industry. Dating you, getting engaged to you...it opened doors." "And destroying me?" I force the words out. "What did that open?" Vivienne answers instead. "My satisfaction. Finally, watching perfect Aria lose something. Watching you hurt the way I've hurt every time Mom and Dad praised your accomplishments while barely noticing mine." This isn't happening. This can't be happening. "The sex would have been decent," Marcus adds, and I want to vomit. "But you were always so hesitant. So worried about being perfect. Your sister, on the other hand..." Vivienne preens under his attention. Three years. Three years of my life with a man who was my sister's puppet. Who never loved me. Who was actively plotting my destruction while I was picking out wedding invitations and dreaming about our future? The promotion letter in my purse feels meaningless now. Everything feels meaningless. "Get out," Vivienne says, like this is her apartment. Like she has any right. I should say something cutting. Something that puts them both in their place. But my throat is closed and my eyes are burning, and all I can think is that I need to leave before I completely fall apart in front of them. So I do. I turn and walk out of the apartment on numb legs. Behind me, I hear Vivienne's laughter follow me down the hall.

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Prologue Broken promises ache as badly as hunger. Humiliation stings like getting lemon juice in a paper cut. This goes beyond that. This betrayal goes beyond the lies and expectations of what we are and what we've been raised to believe. It goes against everything that makes us what we are. No matter our rank. I watch from the terrace of the apartment I got for my mate and me when he returned from his alpha training last year. I had been so excited to see him after we spent our senior year apart. I gave up going to my dream school to stay here with him. Santiago Romano held me in his arms, sold me pretty lies, and loved me the way he had promised before leaving. A part of me knew that I would be discarded after the full moon fell on my sixteenth birthday, and I didn't shift. I spent days avoiding him, trying to deny that someone from a Beta bloodline as strong as mine would be reduced to nothing but a lowly omega. Everything had been perfect before that. We had met the day we both started at Artume Academy—two years after one of the cruellest rogue attacks in werewolf history. There were six hundred and eighty-seven casualties that night. I barely survived. I shouldn't have, but I did. I've never wished to have died there more than I wish it now. My goddess-given mate has chosen his Luna. It's being televised for the world to see that I wasn't anywhere near enough to stand beside him. His parents hand-picked his Luna to carry his name, his legacy, and his heirs. Poppy Turner is wearing my dream dress with a huge smile plastered on her face. Her arm is looped through my mate's, and the two of them look like the perfect match as they walk into the moon goddess temple for their official mating ceremony. I turn the TV off and look down at my phone to see the message he sent me just before arriving at the temple. Three little words that don't mean shit to me anymore. This is for the pack, he said. You'll be better protected. You can now study to be a surgeon without the responsibilities of a Luna. I'll never leave you. You're the one I love—my true mate. Lies. The sick part is that there's a part of me that would accept this. I'd be his mistress, watching him build that life that should be ours with her. There's a darker side that looks back to the night of the attack. The night I saved her from the rogues, while my family was fighting. While they were dying. I should have left her there to be torn apart. I want to leave here. Run away and never look back. I have the means for it. All I'd have to do is call my grandmother to tell her I've had enough. She'd come for me in an instant. I know she would. But it wouldn't solve anything, and I'd be leaving everything I've worked so hard to obtain behind. There are three months left until the end of the semester. I'd lose all my credits, and my GPA would drop if I left now. It's all I have left. This career is the only thing that is going to keep me going for a while because this wound, like the loss of my family, it's going to take some time to heal. I spend the rest of my night reviewing my notes for my upcoming exam. It's almost eight when my phone rings. I reach for it to see my Grandmother's name and a picture of the two of us at my graduation last year. "Hey, GG," I answer. "Don't hey, GG, me young lady," she says in her thick Swedish accent. "What is the meaning of this, Sophia?" "I don't know," I answer honestly. "Did he reject you properly?" she demands. "No, he doesn't want to. He said that she'd be his Luna only in name." "I want you to come live with me, Sophia. You need not be where you are not welcome. Why haven't you called to let me know what's happening? I would have sent for you immediately," her tone is urgent. "Because you were on business for the King. I didn't want to bother you with something so trivial," I shut my laptop and close my notebook. "Trivial? My love, this is not something to be taken lightly. You are in pain. It will get worse once you reject him. It'll feel like a part of your soul is being torn away." "Please, don't make me feel worse than I already do," I sigh. "I can't just gather my things to leave. I have school and work. I'm not just his discarded mate. I'm more than just a floormat. This is why I didn't call you: I knew you'd want to come here immediately, and I don't want to lose myself over this. Leaving is a last resort." "Leaving?" I look up to see Santiago standing in the doorway of my home office, still dressed in his ceremonial suit. "GG, I have to go." I look away. "I love you." "Sophia-" I hang up before she can say anything else. "What do you mean you're leaving as a last resort?" he storms into the room and pulls my chair away from the desk to make me look up at him. I don't meet his gaze. "I told you that she means nothing to me. You're my mate. You're not going anywhere." I don't answer him. I push him away when her scent hits me. It's all over him. "I don't want you here right now. You're tainting my space with her scent. I can barely stand to look at you," I say calmly. "You're being so fucking dramatic, right now. I didn't have a choice, Soph. I'm not doing this to hurt you. I came home to you. You're my mate. You're the one I'm in love with. This is for our pack. You're turning your back on me to hurt me. You're acting as if I were the one at fault here," he growls. I cry out when he grabs my arm and spins me around to face him. "You're not leaving me. There is not a single fucking place in this world you can go where I won't find you. "You run, and you're only going to be making things worse for me," he grips both my arms with too much force. "You're hurting me," I try to pull away. He shoves me hard. Stumble back, hitting my head on the doorknob. The sting blinds me for a moment, but I don't have enough time to process it. "Look what you made me do," he says, dropping to the floor beside me. His hand presses on the spot I just banged against the doorknob. "Soph, I didn't mean to. I panicked." "Get away from me," I manage to cry out. His hand tightens around my throat. "You're not leaving me," he pulls me into him. His eyes are bright red, and his canines are out. "Say it. Say you're going to stay, Sophia." He leans into me, and for a second, my heart races when his teeth graze the curve where my neck and shoulder meet. The place he's told me wants to mark me. But he pulls away to cup my face to make sure I'm looking back at him. I've been in love with this boy since the first time I set eyes on him when I was fourteen years old. I thought I knew him. All of him. But the person in front of me is not the man I thought he was becoming. I don't recognise him at all. All I can do is stare back at him, fear and disbelief in my eyes. "Say it!" he shouts at the top of his lungs, making me jump. "I'm going to stay," I choke out. The lie tastes rancid on my tongue. "You can't leave," his wolf retreats, and I stare at his baby blue eyes as they fill with tears. "You can't leave me. I need you. I need you, Sophia. And you need me. Only I can protect you. You're mine." 1 Everyone is staring at me when I walk into my office after my classes are done. I can feel their gazes on my skin as I hurry over to the elevator. When I get to the maternity floor, I rush into the locker room to get ready for my shift. "Soph?" I look back at my best friend, Poppy's half sister. She's the last person I want to see right now, but there's not much I can do about it since we have the same shift. "Hey, Lieza," I greet her. The pitiful expression on her face hurts. "Don't." "This is awkward," she says, scratching the back of her ear nervously. "But the alpha sent roses." "What?" I ask, confused. I locked myself in the home office and slept on my giant bean bag last night. When I woke up, he was gone. He slept in the apartment. The bed had been undone, and his suit was on the floor, where he took it off, expecting me to clean it up. I would have left it there if I didn't hate having a messy room. I threw it away on my way out of the building. I finish putting my things away and follow her out. On the reception desk are five massive bouquets of roses and sunflowers. The nurses are all cooing over them. "Here, they came with this," Lieza says, holding up a hot-pink envelope. He wrote my name on it by hand. "These are so beautiful," Layla, one of the ultrasound techs, smiles at me. "You guys can have them," I say, going over to my computer. "I don't care for flowers." "They were a gift from your mate," Kennedy reminds me. "I don't have a mate," I say. Putting it out there hits me hard like getting mauled by a rogue after having watched it tear my brother to pieces seconds before. They don't say anything, but they understand, and the flowers disappear. I go about my day as usual, then head home after my shift. His car is here when I arrive. I don't park; I head back out right away. I need some time away from him—time to piece together my thoughts. Artume General Hospital is located near the main strip, where tourists frequently gather. The restaurants and stores are all open late. I have dinner at my favorite Korean BBQ spot and keep to myself, not wanting to draw any attention. As I have my dinner, I can't help but think about the night I found out I wasn't worthy of having a wolf. It was a night a lot like this one. My grandmother was sitting behind me in our backyard as the sun came up. It marked the night of the full moon in my birth month, and nothing happened. I didn't feel any different, and I didn't hear the sound of my wolf's spirit. "It could be late because of the trauma from the attack," she said, crouching down in front of me. I couldn't bring myself to look up at her. "Go back to school on Monday, and we'll meet again next month. I'll book an appointment for you later today. Go to bed." There's never been an omega in my bloodline. Ever. It was why the Helvigs were accepted into the city ranking system. My father had made a name for himself before he met my mother, who is from here. My grandmother encouraged him to relocate so he would have better opportunities. My body was shaking. All I could think was, what am I going to say to Santiago? How will his family react to me being what I am? They don't have to say it for me to know what was happening. I knew what was happening. I have been deemed an unworthy vessel. My phone pinged as if my thoughts summoned him. His name and our picture pop up on the screen with the voice memo. "I'm looking forward to seeing you on Monday. I love you." There is a tiny chance that my wolf is late because of the surgeries I had after the attack. I was twelve. That was almost seven years ago. I couldn't bring myself to open the following message, let alone reply. I dry my hair and curl up under the blankets. Sleep didn't come, but after a few hours, my grandmother came in to tell me that I have an appointment to get checked out. I got dressed, and we headed over to the clinic. I'm sure she's paid the doctor and the staff to keep all of this quiet. "Hey, Sophie," Dr. Valkrie greeted me the way she used to when I first met her. We all thought I was going to die then, and being an omega in my family has felt just like that. "Hey," I greeted her quietly. "Okay," she took a deep breath and smiled. She glanced over at my Grandmother, and it's all it took for her to leave the two of us alone. "There are a lot of reasons why your wolf is a little late. Have you been stressed lately? Anything you want to tell me before I start probing?" "A little," I nodded. "I found my mate, or rather, he found me." "Congratulations," she smiled. "Why would this be stressful for you? This is a good thing." "He's the next alpha of the city," I whisper. She tensed up, and I knew exactly what she was thinking. I had been thinking about it all night. Alpha and Luna Romano are not going to like that. Luna Romano is Alpha Romano's chosen mate. No one really knows what happened to their true mates or if they ever had one at all. Dr. Valkrie leans forward to hug me. She sniffs me and then sits back. "You've mated with him," she states knowingly. I nod. "We can start there, but I have to be honest with you. If being with your mate doesn't bring her out, the possibility that you are an omega is high. It can be due to all the damage that was done in the attack-" "That's not what I want to hear," I cried. "I know. I know, Soph. The only way that this can move forward is probably if he marks you, but even then, the chances of the wolf you turn into being a higher rank are low. You have to drop combat training. "You have to tell him because if you lie, it's going to look very bad on you. I'm going to take some blood samples to ensure everything is okay. But I don't want you to get your hopes up. Okay?" I couldn't answer her. I swallow the knot in my throat and let her take the blood sample. I spent the rest of my weekend alone in my room. "Come down," my grandmother ordered on Sunday afternoon. She has her luggage ready, which means she'll be going back to Blackstone—lycan domain. "Thank you for coming, Grandma," I said. She let out a heavy sigh and tilted my head up. "You survived one of the most gruesome attacks in our history, little one. You gave up a part of you to ensure that justice was served to avenge your family. Don't let anyone take that from you. Do you understand?" "Yes," I choked out, but I didn't believe it. "Come," she opened the door that led into the garage. I walk in with her. Inside is a cobalt blue Volkswagen Beetle convertible. "You mother had this arranged from the moment she found out she was having a girl. "Helvig women are rare. Unfortunately, it has always been the men who have taken the glory in our bloodline. So, we were very excited when you were born. Finally, a little girl we can all dote on. Take care of it. Yes?" "Thank you," I nodded and wrapped my arms around her. Grandma has always had an icy aura about her. I was under the impression that she hated my mother and me. Perhaps it's not hate, but the lingering coldness of having to serve under the Lycan King. Grandma Zaraphine is about four or five inches shorter than I am. Her hair is black, highlighted by the grays and whites growing out. She doesn't look old, but her eyes give away her age. She's always been very elegant and refined. I wanted to be just like her. It was why I gave up on the medical program and joined the combat team at the start of my training. I started to cry again, and for the first time, she tightened her hold on me. I don't know how long we stayed this way, but when she finally pulled away, she wiped away my tears. She stared at me for a bit before letting me go. "Things will change for you, Little one. Drastically. If you need me to pick you up, call me. Do not hesitate. Do you understand? You are still a Helvig, and I will not allow you to be disrespected in any way. If I am unable to come personally, I will send someone on my behalf. Okay?" "Okay," I nodded. "I must be going. Try to keep this to yourself for as long as you can." "I can't," I inform her. "Why not?" "Santiago is my mate," I confessed. She inhaled deeply and pulled me into her again. "You call me immediately if you need me, Sophia. Do you understand?" "Yes," "I must go. I promised my general I'd be back before sundown. My heart stays here with you, Granddaughter. As always." "Be safe," I nod. I unlocked the car and climbed inside. It smelled brand new. Like that night, I sit here not knowing what to do. I can feel my phone buzzing in my pocket, but I don't have the energy to reach for it. I shut my eyes, needing a moment of peace. Anything to get my head out of the thoughts attacking the very essence of my soul. I am unworthy. There was no wolf spirit for me and no mate. 2 The smell of freshly made food greets me when I arrive at my apartment. I walk in to find Luna Romano in my kitchen and Santiago setting up the table. I look between the two of them, knowing that they're going to ambush me over what happened last night. I didn't think that my mate was a little bitch boy that needed his mommy to fix his life for him, but then again, he ended up marrying the woman she picked for him. "Sophia," she beams with way too much enthusiasm for my liking. "It's a little late for you to be out and about on your own, isn't it?" I stare at her, not knowing how to answer that. How dare she come into my home and say anything against me? She has no right, not even as the Luna of the City. I hold my tongue this once because, despite the shit show she's turned my life into, I once respected this woman almost the same way I respected my own mother. I kick my shoes off, and I head to my room. "Dinner will be ready in a bit," Santiago blocks me. "I already had dinner, thank you," I say, rolling my eyes and trying to get past him. He grips my arm in the same spot he had last night, pressing his fingers into the bruises I already have. I try to pull my arm out of his grip, but he only tightens it. I look up at him, wishing I had the strength to hurt him back with my entire existence. "Get cleaned up for dinner, Baby. My mom made us dinner. Take this off," he says sternly, motioning my scrubs. The two of us stare at one another for a long time before he releases me. I glance back at his mother to see her smiling proudly at his actions. She doesn't meet my gaze, and I don't argue. I rush into my bathroom as my heart beats faster than it ever has. I reach for my phone immediately and turn on the water. "I've been so worried about you," my Grandmother answers right away. "GG, Luna Romano is here," I try my best not to cry. "I don't feel safe." "All right," she says calmly. "Just do as you're told, I'm on my way." "Hurry," I try to calm myself. "Sophie," I almost jump out of my skin when Santiago bangs on the door. "I can at least have a moment to shower, can't I?" I call back and stuff my phone between the towels beside me. The door swings open, and I back away as he storms towards me. He's pissed. His eyes are dark, and the veins on his forehead are visible. "What did you just say to me?" he demands. "I just got off work. I want to take a shower. You don't need to be here for that," I hold his gaze. I know that he'll get suspicious if I become complacent. I've never been one to keep my thoughts to myself. His expression softens, and he reaches for a strand of my hair. "Shit, I'm sorry," he says, placing his hands on my waist and lifting me to sit on the sink. This isn't the first time he's done this, but it is the first time I feel repulsed by it. It's killing me, but I'm repulsed by the man I thought was everything to me. He reaches for the hem of my scrubs and pulls the top over my head. I'm trapped, and he doesn't see that this is wrong or that I don't want him touching me. I stay still, not knowing what to do. "I'm sorry," he leans into me. He buries his hand in my hair to pull my head back enough, so I'm looking up at him. "I keep fucking this up," He brushes his lips to mine, weaponizing our bond against me. My body reacts to his because of it. Tears slip from my eyes as he kisses me. He catches one on his tongue and lifts me enough to reach between us to get my scrubs off. "Please," I cry, not wanting to do this. "I don't-" "It's okay," he wraps my legs around his waist and covers my mouth to keep me from making a sound. "Stop," I mumble into his hand, trying to push him off me. His lips crash against mine, and he reaches between us. My omega traits are alive and well. He takes my reaction to our bond as an opening. Panic starts to set in because no matter what I do or say, he's not going to stop. It's in this moment that I realize too late that maybe I was never a person to him. Just an object no better than the shiny car his parents got him for his birthday this year. "It's only you, Soph," he mumbles into my mouth. "You're the only one I want." My mind blanks when he enters me. My body screams in protest, but he doesn't stop, and he's taking my struggling as fuel to get rougher. He presses his hand over my mouth again to keep him silent. "You're mine, Sophia," he repeats over and over until he's finished. I sit here for a while once he's done processing what just happened. When he knocks again, it's gently this time as if everything that's happened is now behind us. I didn't answer, but I ended up taking a quick shower mindlessly. He's not going to leave me alone. This woman is only going to make this a whole lot harder. She's standing in front of the dining table, her hands folded neatly over her belly. The smile on her face is one I'm all too familiar with. Before now, I used to take solace in it. Luna Romano has been like a mother to me since my mother passed. She would tell anyone who would listen that I, Sophia Helvig, was her only son's fated mate. Things changed when Santiago told them that I was an omega. They sent him away, and I was no longer invited to Sunday dinners in the main house. I was no longer a part of their family. If I'm such a disgrace on her family's bloodline, then why the hell does she want me here? I could just leave when the semester is over. I wouldn't make a fuss, and I wouldn't ask for a single thing in return. No one in their right mind would allow this humiliation, even if I am simply a lowly omega. "Why don't you come take a seat, Sophia?" She takes a step to her right and pulls out the chair to Santiago's left. She looks down at the chair and then at me. The action is almost threatening. "I think we need to have a serious talk." 3 Santiago is sitting there without meeting my gaze. I cautiously go around the table to sit where Luna Romano wants me to sit. I stay still as she reaches over me for the bread knife. I sit back as she cuts the freshly made loaf of bread in front of me. She places a slice on my plate and then another on his. I watch her hands as she moves to put other things on our plates, never setting the knife down. She walks around the table and sets it down beside her plate. "I understand that you are having some trouble with the new arrangement," she says as she takes a fork off the table. "I don't have to remind you that you are Santiago's mate." "No, you don't, and I don't think it's any of your business," I answer honestly—the two of us jump when Santiago slams his hand on the table. "Don't talk to my mother like that, Sophia," he growls. "It's alright, son," she says and continues to eat as if nothing were out of place. "Sophia, you shouldn't be making this harder than it has to be. You are Santiago's mate, and that comes with certain responsibilities." "No, it doesn't. You legally found a replacement for these so-called responsibilities-" "Of course, I did," she stops me. "Do you think you, an omega. A wolfless girl who is practically mortal could ever hold a candle to what a beta-ranked female can?" "I can do everything the beta-ranked female you chose and better. I have proven that over and over. In training and my studies. She wouldn't be able to hold the highest credentials in medicine, the way I can run circles around her studies in pack economics. The comparison isn't fair if you're basing this on genetics." "Is that what this is?" she laughs humorlessly. "You're jealous of Poppy?" "Poppy has nothing I need to be jealous about," I sneer. "Except you do. She is the new Luna of the City, whether you like it or not," she says flatly. "Do you know how many Lunas die a year because other alphas or rogues target them. You know, the very same rogues who took your family from us. You will never be in any danger with Luna Romano taking the lead." I stare at her, letting what she just said sink in. She just called Poppy Luna Romano. My hand twitches over the fork beside my plate. It would be so easy for me to get over this table with it to show her exactly what this little omega can do. I may be the lowest rank of my kind, but I was raised like one of them. My grandmother would rather kill me than let me walk around unable to protect myself. As one of the Lycan King's most trusted Major Generals, my training started long before theirs did. I was raised to be a soldier, and it was only by fate that I am now a healer. "Mom," Santiago says gently. "I think you should leave." "Excuse me?" she laughs, looking over at him. "I think you should go so that I can talk to Sophia alone," he adds. "You brought me here," she reminds him. "I know, and she knows how serious this is now. Get out," he growls. The two of them face off for a moment before she nods and stands up to leave. Neither of us moves as she gathers her belongings. She kisses the side of his head. He knows exactly what I would do to his mother, even though she outranks me. I'd spend the rest of my life in a prison cell here, and I wouldn't regret it. "I suggest you understand your position and soon, Sophia," she says, pausing at the end of the table. "We want to move forward doing things pleasantly. You can be a part of this family the easy way, or you can be a part of this family the hard way. The choice is up to you, but leaving is not an option." "Go," Santiago growls at her again. I sit here waiting for the weight of her words to break the silence between us. He expects me to stay here while he parades his chosen around for all to see simply because I'm an omega. Tears fill my eyes as the realization hits me like a slap across the face. They're all going to make my life a living hell, and he expects me to take it. "You swore you'd never let anything hurt me when I told you I didn't shift," I whisper. "I would never let anything hurt you, Sophia. You know that I would do anything for you." "Except this, right? You'd never stand up to your mother for us even if it killed me," I stand up. "She made us dinner, Sophia. The least you can do is try it," he says calmly. I suck in the mucus in my nose from crying and hack it up into my mouth before spitting it on the food she made for us. He stares at me in disbelief. I've never done anything so ill-mannered before. My grandmother would have never let me hear the end of it, but I think this is an exception she might be willing to overlook. "That's what I think about your mother's food, Santiago." I kiss him on the opposite side of his head. "It's going to take some time for us to get used to this. Sophie," he continues. "I'd reject you now if I thought you'd accept it. But I'm looking forward to doing everything in my power to make you do it. By the time this is over, you're going to hate me with every ounce of your soul the way I do you now." He reacts this time. His hand lashes out and grabs my wrist. He spins me around, pulling me into him hard. My chest smacks against his, hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs. "You hate me?" he laughs and pushes against me until my back hits the wall. My body is trembling, and I can't bring myself to look up at him because if he looks into my eyes, he'll know I'm lying. I want to hate him. I should. But our world is on fire. The flames are closing in around us, with nowhere to run. He did this. He did this to us, and instead of letting me go so that he may do his so-called duty, he wants me to stick around to watch him destroy everything we could have built together. "Reject me. Please," I beg him. "I don't want this. I don't want you like this." "Not a chance, Sophia. You said you'd help me make sure the City prospers," he says, burying his face in the crook of my neck. "This is it, Baby. As soon as we have an heir, it's over. It'll be just you and me. You'll bear my mark, and we can put it all behind us." 4 It's been a long time since I've been plagued with nightmares of the attack. I lay here beside my so-called mate, reliving the moment in silence. It's the final quarter. There are forty seconds on the board and six yards to a touchdown. My arms are tightly around the iron bars as I watch my oldest brother, Gavin, toss the ball to our brother Oliver. The two of them position themselves as the next play begins. All I can hear is the roar of my blood racing as I watch the final moments of the game. My brothers have been working so hard to get here, and winning this game will make them champions of this year's Packlands Championship league. "Let's go, Helvig!" someone shouts, and the crowd starts chanting our last name. The timer restarts, and the team delays the throw. The other teams are unaware of what's happening. Their eyes are locked on Oliver. Ten seconds. Oliver pushes off the ground, and the other team moves with him. Gavin rushes forward, pushing off the ground with all his might. The crowd erupts with joy as he jumps over the other quarterback, clearing the last yards. The stadium goes crazy. I scream, gripping the metal divider, and jump down along with a whole lot of other people. They did it. I cross the field and jump into my brother's arms. Oliver swings me around laughing, and then tosses me up, only for Gavin to catch me. The team and the others in the pack surround us. The older wolves howl while we, the juveniles, can only scream with joy. I have never been more proud of my brothers. I've watched them day in and day out train until they could barely stand to get here. I know it's one of the happiest days in their lives, and I get to be a part of it. "Where's Dad?" Oliver asks. I stare back at him, not knowing how to answer without ruining the win. I think he sees it in my eyes because he nods. "It's cool." "I'm here," I take his hand, and his smile returns. I jump on him again. "You did it!" "We did it," Gavin comes over with some of the other older boys and his mate. Joclyn. Joclyn is the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my life, and she complements my brother perfectly. The ideal beta couple is coming into power. I hear all the whispers about them, how they're going to make the pack stronger. The best thing that could have happened to the Artume Pack was the alpha bringing in my father when he was seventeen years old. No one has anything bad to say about any of us. "Hey," I point at Dad. We all turn to see him running to us. "He came!" I beam, patting Oliver's arm. "He's here." Ollie has always tried his best to please our dad. To walk in Gavin's footsteps to show him that he's worthy of being an official Beta. I know our father is as proud as the rest of our family, but he works a lot. Being the Pack's acting Beta is a full-time job, and sometimes he misses things. Gavin tries to explain, but it's hard to listen when there's a vacant spot in every event or ceremony. "Something's wrong." Gavin takes my hand and pushes me towards Joclyn. She immediately pulls me to her. Dad waves his hands. "Run," Oliver shouts at us. "Sophie," Joclyn pulls me, and I lose my grip on my brother's arm. A loud howl echoes in the darkness in the treeline. Joclyn's hold on my hand tightens as a massive wolves come out of the darkness like demonic shadows—one after the other in every direction. "Gavin!" I cry out, but he's nowhere in sight. "Sophie, stay with me," Joclyn shouts. I follow. The two of us run towards the crowd. She's smart, she's ducking under the crowd with me in tow, not trying to go through them. I scream when someone hits the floor beside me. It's Ms. Harper, my Algebra one teacher. Her eyes are looking back at me, but there's nothing in them. I scramble away from her to get closer to Joclyn. The two of us managed to get under the bleachers with a couple of other girls from my class. "Stay behind me," Joclyn growls. Two big wolves appear up ahead. We turn around to find two more at the other end. "The tunnel," I cry out. "Go," Joclyn shoves me, and she shifts. I take the hands of two of the other girls, and we make a run for it as some of the other pack wolves back Joclyn out. I push the girls to the left, keeping us tight against the wall. Two rogues run past us. I glance back at the others, knowing that they have no idea what to do. Not any more than I do. Think. Think, Soph. What would Ollie do? I poke my head out to see that people are dying everywhere. I see an opening to the parking lot. "Okay," I look over at the girl behind me. She's in my PE class. "Okay, do you remember when we did all four exercises?" "Yes," she nods, along with some of the other girls. "Don't stop until you get out of the gate. Head towards the main building," I order. "What about you?" she cries. "I'm right behind you," I promise. She steps forward. "The gate and then the main building. Hide anywhere." The four of them take off running the way we practiced. I look back and see no one. I don't want to leave Joclyn behind, but there's really nothing I can do. I turn around and run after them. I repeat it in my head over and over. The gate. The main building. The gate. The main building. The gate. The main building. My body screams when my hands reach the gate. I try to catch my breath, and as I prepare to break for the parking lot, I hear a howl, and my body freezes. I turn around to see my father's wolf trying to fight off the wolves, but I lock on to the dark brown wolf behind him. Gavin. My blood runs cold. Another howl echoes in the distance. I see the pretty sand colored wolf sprint across the field and clash against the group of rogues my father is trying to fend off. I step back, unable to believe what I'm seeing. My eyes scan the crowd, trying to find Oliver. I don't see him anywhere. He wouldn't want me to get in the way. If I run out there, I can risk getting hurt or distracting them more. I turn around only to come face-to-face with two wolves. Everything happens so fast. The pain blurs a lot of what's happening. I scream as I'm dragged towards the treeline. I kick and claw, calling out for help. I hear it then, Oliver's howl. The teeth embedded in my shoulder are pulled away, and I cry out as my brother's black wolf runs past me. "Oliver!" I cry out. But it's no use. I can't move. Everything feels hot, and all I can do is watch as those monsters rip my sixteen-year-old, newly shifted brother apart. I can't breathe. All I can taste is the metal in my mouth. I turn slowly, searching the chaos for my Dad. "Daddy!" I call out. I repeat it over and over as I pull myself towards the light of the parking lot. I reach the border and pull myself closer to the light. Two growls come from behind me. I look back to see the two rogues stalking towards me. The bigger one barks, and I cry out. It pounces forward, biting at my leg. With what little strength I have, I kick him. He whines, and the other one pounces on me. Its paw lands on the wound on my shoulder, and all I can do is scream. There's a howl, and the wolves pause. The look in the direction it came from. One of them runs off, but the other one keeps its eyes on me. The howl turns into a roar just as he's about to bite me again. He freezes mid-attack and turns his attention to the darkness behind him. More wolves rush out of the darkness. One in particular stands out. A massive silverback jumps out of the darkness of the clearing. His silver fur was almost luminescent in the full moon's light. He tears those other wolves apart without mercy. The one hovering over me lowers his body and turns around to escape. I scream and reach for it. The wolf is startled, and it bites me. I cry out again and again, refusing to let go. I can feel it tearing at my stomach, but if I'm dying, he's coming with me. Silver comes in my direction, and the wolf latched onto me let's go. I keep my arms around its leg the same way I had when my brothers won tonight. I feel the hit of the young King taking the wolf off me. I fall onto my back. Water or maybe blood fills my lungs, and I can't breathe at all. I try to gasp for air, but relief never comes. All I can see are the stadium lights that illuminate the football field I've grown to love. I lay here thinking that was probably the worst thing that could have ever happened to me. The man at my back, who swore his love and devotion, sleeps peacefully, not caring that he's tearing me apart. 5 I sit up when my alarm goes off and turn it off before it can wake him. I shower, trying my best to get his scent off my skin. To erase what he did to me until he was satisfied. My skin is raw by the time I'm ready for my first class today. I make a quick breakfast for us. I take my coffee and try to escape before he wakes up. I almost jump out of my skin when I turn around to see him standing behind me. He's never hidden his presence from me before. His smile is one I'm very familiar with. I have woken up to it every morning since his return. It was a testament to the happy life I thought we were building. It comes off sinister now that I've seen the beast he'd been hiding from me after all these years. I look at him, and I only see a stranger now. A stranger in my mate's skin. "You were going to leave without saying goodbye?" he asks, stepping closer. "I didn't want to wake you, and I'm already running late," I lie, taking my cup off the counter. He steps with me and takes the cup. "Okay," he says, putting it back on the counter. "I made a reservation for us at-" "Do you really think going out in public would sit well with the pack days after your wedding?" I ask, stopping him. He tenses up. He's never been one for rejection, and up until now, I've never had a reason to say no. I'm questioning everything, and all I feel is emptiness. "I'm trying to make it up to you," he sighs. "I didn't want this either, Sophia." "I understand, which is why I'm telling you now that going out in public wouldn't be right. It would reflect poorly on the two of us. It'll be disrespectful to your wife," I see him visibly tense up as I take my cup from the counter again. "I'll see you tonight. Here, where no one can see." "I'm sorry," he blocks my path again. "Tell me how to make this right again." I stare at him to see if he looks genuine. He seems to think this is a tiny little obstacle in our path, but he doesn't understand the rules of choosing a mate. He's not going to get anything he wants without marking Poppy. What we had was over the moment he allowed his parents to dictate what would happen as he moved forward as the alpha of Artume City. Hell will freeze over before I ever forgive him. Not just for the wedding or not being able to stand up for us, but because of his actions. I don't want him anywhere near me, and he doesn't seem to care. He doesn't see that he's hurting me and making things worse. "I just need some space," I step back. "You didn't even warn me, Santiago. I knew your parents stopped caring for me the moment you told them I was an omega. I didn't think you would ever buy into it. You accepting this only proves to me that you think the same thing they do." "I don't. Sophie, you mean everything to me. You are the love of my life. From the moment I laid eyes on you," he grabs my wrist. "You have to know that." "I did," I pull my arm out of his grip. "But I find it very hard to believe it's the truth anymore." He stares at me, and I can see the war he's in with his wolf. His expression blanks, and I look away to go for the door. "Do you still love me, Soph?" he asks as I step out of the apartment. I take a deep breath and leave without saying a word because that's a stupid question. I hurry into my car and leave before he decides that he wants me to stay with him for the day. Sitting in class is not something I want to be doing right now. I'm in agony, and I have nowhere to go to let it out. Everyone is staring at me. I may not have a wolf, but I can still hear them whispering about me. Those who have hated me from the moment Santiago made our relationship known think I have finally been put in my place. As if being Santiago's mate was the only thing I was ever good at. It's such a shallow notion, and it's an odd feeling when I think that I was no better until the day I didn't shift. I complete the pop quiz and take it to the front. I'm still the first one done. I'm probably the only one in this class who's going to ace it. None of them is going to see that simply because my misery is more exciting. They want something to make me smaller. Envy is ugly when power is involved. I never wanted any of it. I fell in love with the idea of mates, especially after I lost my family. Before I went to Artume Academy, my grandmother had to stay here with me. We were both miserable. She was stuck here babysitting a twelve-year-old who couldn't even move after the attack—two years of surgeries and physical training. It was lonely, so when I met the boy with the pretty sea glass colored eyes and sly smirk, I didn't even question it. It was comforting to be vulnerable around him. To have someone to share my small world with. He was my best friend, but he was gone for a whole year, and things can change during a big stretch of time. I was stupid to think I'd get the same person back. "Ms Helvig," Professor Harrington greets me. She takes my test and sets it down on her desk. "If you need some time to-" "I don't. I'm fine," I reassure her. Her pity stings. I gather my things, wanting nothing more than to go back to my apartment and sleep for the rest of the day. "Omega bitch," someone growls as I make my way over to the exit. I pause and see an eraser on the desk beside me. Using my knee, I knock the table up and round-house kick the eraser at her. She turns back to look at me right on time, and I get her right in the center of her forehead. The class laughs at her when she stands up and screams. "I may be some omega bitch, but I can still end you. Then you'd be the stupid bitch that some omega nobody killed," I remind her. Her eyes are glowing amber with rage. I stand my ground, waiting for her to give me an excuse to beat the shit out of her. She stares at me long enough for it to be embarrassing for her. She takes a seat without saying another word. Some of the others laugh at her. I walk out satisfied. I slam against a brick wall, dropping all of my things. I look up to see a smirk aimed back at me. "Bullying the little girls, Little Omega?" he grins. "Some things never change, huh?" 6 It's been about three years since the last time I've been around the second crown prince of the Lycans. My grandmother used to bring him and his older brother here when the Lycan King and Queen were away on business. Ivar Axel is five years older than me and was best friends with my eldest brother, Gavin. Growing up, he and Gavin made it their life's purpose to infuriate me and my brother Oliver. "My prince," I step back and bow. "Don't even do that," he laughs. I smile at him and crouch down to pick up my things. "Are you okay?" Professor Harrington comes out of the classroom to check on me. I stand up, looking between the two of them. Ivar hands me my belongings. "I'm sorry for the interruption, Professor. I ran into an old friend. This is Ivar Axel. The second crown prince," I introduce him so that she can just go back inside and leave me the hell alone. Is everyone going to ask me if I'm okay? That's the last thing I need. Maybe leaving school early and having to work twice as hard in the upcoming term, so I'm not set back, isn't as bad as I think it might be. Then again, the perfectionist in me would riot. "My prince," she bows to him. She looks up at me. For a moment, she considers reaching for me, but she hesitates, then nods. "Be careful." "What was that?" Ivar laughs when she goes back into her classroom. "Don't ask," I shake my head. "It's been a long time, your highness." "I know. I'm sorry, but it's been a long two-" "Three years," I correct him. I was sixteen the last time I saw him. Not long after, I found out I was an omega. I chalked it up to the exact reason why everyone else pulled away. When others heard I didn't shift, they recoiled as if I had suddenly become contagious. "Shit, it's really been that long?" he laughs. "I'm going to the cafeteria for breakfast. Want to come?" "Lead the way. You know I love to eat." "What brings you to Artume City?" I ask. He takes a deep breath and lets out the heaviest sigh ever. I laugh at how dramatic he still is. That hasn't changed at all. "I got in trouble," he admits. "The night before a huge summit, I went out with some of the alphas in the North, and we got plastered. I didn't show, and Ragnar benched me for the rest of the year." "Ivar," I say his name, disappointedly. The alphas of the North are known for their wild parties. They're all a bunch of cowboys. "I know. I know," he shrugs. "But honestly, I don't even care. I'm tired. I hate politics, and my dad wants me to be beta. That means I'd have to walk beside Ragnar for the rest of my life, and I can't think of anything worse." "I thought you guys were close. Did something happen?" I ask. "Nah, I just hate how planned out his life is. He doesn't know how to have fun. He's devoted to sucking up to our dad and training to be the new Lycan King. I don't have that responsibility, and we have an amazing up-and-coming Beta. I don't see why he's pushing this so hard." "I can think of one thing. You'd be the King's most trusted. There would be no one better to watch his back than his own brother," I shrug. He takes two trays off the belt and hands me one. "Okay, when you put it like that, it makes me sound like I'm entitled," he smirks. "Just a little," I laugh. "So, what? You decided to come slum it with us civilians?" "Actually, I'm here on guard duty." "Oh yeah? Who?" I ask, interested. "You," he says. "Me?" I ask, glancing back at him as I reach for a slice of pizza. I snort as I take a few other items. "Why would I need guarding?" "You tell me. Major General Helvig set the order. My orders are to stay with you until your move to Blackstone. She didn't specify any details," he says, glancing at me as if I were hiding some grand secret. I grab a couple of drinks and get in line for the cash register. My stomach tightens as I play what he said over and over in my head. She couldn't make it, so she sent Ivar to make sure I made it back in one piece. Santiago is not going to like it one bit. Shit. "Ms Helvig," the girl at the register greets me kindly. "Hey, Steph," I say. "The two lunches, please." "Of course," she says and rings us up. We take a seat somewhere away from the big crowds. "Is there something you want to tell me?" he asks. I reach for my lemonade. The sleeve of my hoodie pulls up. I try not to make it evident that I'm hiding it, but I know he saw it. His playful demeanor instantly fades. He stares at me as I reach for my breakfast pizza slice and take a bite. What am I supposed to do in this situation? Lie? To the crown prince? And then what? I tell him the truth, and he confronts Santiago. This is not going to end well. "Some shit happened," I shrug it off. "Who did that to you?" he asks. "I mostly did it to myself," ugh. I just said that. "Did Santiago hurt you?" he asks, his voice low, and leans forward to hear my answer. I don't know how to answer him. I don't know how to explain what is happening to me. I'm scared. Anything I do or say will be evaluated. Santiago made a choice, and I wasn't it. Yet things aren't as black-and-white as that. He sits back without pushing it, and I feel like an idiot for feeling this relieved. "Can we talk about this later? Where are you staying?" I ask him. "At the Helvig Estate. There are instructions for you," he says, reaching into his jacket pocket. He places the envelope with the royal seal wax stamp on it. I wipe my hands and my mouth before reaching for it. There are envelopes—one for me and one for Santiago. I shut my eyes, already exhausted with where this is headed. I open my letter to see it written on the page. By order of Major General Zaraphine Helvig, Sophia Marie Anne Helvig is to return to the Helvig estate for the remainder of her school term to liquidate all Helvig properties and ensure the safety of all valuables so they may be returned to her in Blackstone. It's specified that no outsiders are to enter the house during this time to protect said valuables. It goes on to say that Ivar is here to ensure that everything listed is completed in accordance with the provided schedule. It's not only signed by my grandmother, but the Lycan King himself. If anyone were to question it, they would have to ask the two of them directly. "Fuck my life," I toss the envelope onto the other one. He'll know exactly what's going to happen when the term ends in three months. There will be no hiding it, even if I'm able to convince him for a while. We'll both know. I wonder if we're going to make it out of this. If anything will ever be okay again. "You promise to tell me what's going on when we get home?" he asks. "I'm going to have to keep him off you, aren't I?" "I'd like to think he's above that, but it's a probability," I whisper. "Okay," he nods, his expression softening. "I'll try not to kill him. Although I doubt my brother would hate it when I tell him I mistakenly started a war because someone is hurting you."

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The queen bee of our school watched *Terrifier* and got this brilliant idea. She wanted to know what it felt like to be hunted by a real killer. Connor grew up on my block. He didn't hesitate. He grabbed a few guys from the locker room and knocked me out cold. They used fake blood and Halloween props. Turned me into a monster. Their little gift for Harper. "Relax. It's just a prank. She's tough. She'll be fine." "Besides, she does whatever I say. She'll play along." I woke up with my face painted into something unrecognizable. Industrial zip ties cut into my wrists and ankles. Silver duct tape sealed my mouth shut. Then they shoved me in front of Harper. She screamed. Then she grabbed a steel folding chair. The kind they stack in the auditorium for school assemblies. She swung it into me. Once. Twice. Three times. More than a dozen. My bones shattered. My face caved in. The last thing I heard through the fog was Connor's panicked voice. "It was a joke! Maya, stop faking it. Get up!" I didn't get up. I spent three months in the Memorial Hospital ICU. Machines kept me breathing. But I wasn't the same girl anymore. And Connor? He lost his mind completely. *** That afternoon, the AP Physics classroom buzzed with something electric. Harper, the most popular girl in school, had just finished watching the latest *Terrifier* reboot. She leaned against Connor's desk, all soft edges and calculated sweetness. She wore an expensive Ralph Lauren sweater. Her fingers twisted through blonde hair. Her voice dripped with that fake-helpless tone. Part pout. Part invitation. "Connor, I really want to know what it feels like. Being that scared. In real life." She paused. Something sharp flickered behind her eyes. "Those CGI effects are so boring. Zero adrenaline." Connor sat up. His quarterback's shoulders squared. The corner of his mouth curved into that familiar smirk. His I've-got-a-genius-idea look. "Easy. I got you." His eyes swept the room. They passed over every corner, every face. They landed on me without surprise. I was hunched over my physics problem set. The one for MIT early admission prep. My pen scratched across scratch paper. "Maya!" His voice cut through the room. "Get over here." I looked up. My fingers were numb from gripping the pen too long. I shook them out and stood. I always went when Connor called. Since we were kids. When he broke someone's bike and blamed me in grade school. When I wrote his history papers in high school. It was reflex now. Burned into my bones. "What's up?" I asked. I tightened my ponytail without thinking. Connor leaned back in his chair. His arm draped over Harper's seat. Casual. Possessive. It stung more than I wanted to admit. "Prank idea. You'll help us out. Super simple. Just dress up like a monster and scare someone." I frowned. I glanced at the binder on my desk. "I need to study. AP Physics mock exam tomorrow." "Jesus. Just a minute." He cut me off. His voice carried that entitled edge. Star athlete. Untouchable. "You've always had my back." The football guys in their varsity jackets piled on. Tyler banged the desk, laughing. "Come on, Maya. Don't be a buzzkill." "Connor asked you himself." Jackson chimed in. "It's a Halloween-level gag. What's it gonna cost you, ten minutes?" Harper's voice came next. Soft. Sugary. "Nerd girl, just help us out. I really want to experience it." She leaned into Connor's shoulder as she said it. I looked at Connor's face. That expectant look. Blue eyes I'd known since we played in the dirt together as kids. Eyes that didn't allow refusal. I nodded. Like I always did. I didn't know that nod would destroy every last hope I had of escaping this neighborhood.They told me they needed Hollywood-level special effects makeup. Told me to wait in the drama club prop room. "Go ahead. We'll grab the fake blood." Connor said it like it was no......

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I caught my fiancé b*lls-deep in my younger sister at the family banquet… so I smiled, hit record. They had no idea I was about to burn their entire empire down. _________________________________ "Brother-in-law, kiss me more..." The heavy velvet curtains of the private salon barely muffled the sounds—low, guttural mo@ns and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. I pressed my back to the wall just outside the half-open door, the silk of my mother's heirloom gown whispering against my th!ghs. The annual spring banquet of the North Harbor families swirled on in the main hall, crystal chandeliers casting golden light over power brokers and their glittering wives, but here, in this shadowed wing of the Rossetti estate, my world fractured. Matteo Rossetti—my fiancé, the man who had once tucked wildflowers into my hair and sworn I was the only woman he would ever marry—had Valentina bent over the antique mahogany desk. Her dress, a provocative red that screamed for attention, was bunched around her waist. His trousers were shoved down just enough, h!ps snapping forward with raw hunger. Valentina's younger face, flushed and triumphant, turned slightly as she gasped his name, her nails digging into the polished wood. She was the daughter of my father's old friend, the one he had taken in out of guilt. Now she was the "sister" who had stolen everything. I should have screamed. Instead, my hand moved with clinical precision. The phone slipped from my clutch, camera already recording. The lens captured it all: Matteo's slightly disheveled tie, the fresh hickey blooming on Valentina's neck that her makeup failed to fully hide, the way she arched back into him with practiced ecstasy. Audio caught every filthy word—"Fk, Val, you feel so much t!ghter than her"—and her breathy laugh in reply. How long has this been going on? My inner voice was ice. Months? Or since the first time Father brought her home? My shoulders trembled, tears pricking my eyes as any betrayed princess would. I let a soft, broken sound escape my lips. But inside, cold resolve settled like steel in my spine. Record it. Every second. Their smugness will be their undoing. I stepped back silently before they finished, melting into the corridor's shadows. The recording saved automatically to a encrypted cloud folder only I could access. Evidence. Leverage. The first thread in the web I would weave. By the time I re-entered the main hall, my face was the perfect mask of poised grief. The Morettis had always been the suits of the mafia on North Harbor—sharp, powerful, untouchable. I had been their beloved little princess: my father's warm gaze my shelter, my brother Dante carrying me on his shoulders through the gardens, Matteo whispering promises under blooming trees. Then Valentina arrived, and everything shifted. She became the favored one, the one who "deserved the Moretti name." Father stood at the head table, raising his glass. The hall fell silent. Hundreds of eyes turned. "I have an announcement," he declared, voice booming with authority. "The Moretti family heir will no longer be Alessia." Gasps rippled. I clutched my champagne flute tighter, knuckles whitening, letting my lower lip quiver visibly. Tears welled—real ones, born of the raw wound, but controlled. Play the part. Let them see the shattered girl. "From today, Valentina Vale will take her place. She has earned the Moretti name through loyalty and grace. Alessia… has not." Valentina lowered her eyes modestly beside him, but I caught the corner of her mouth curving in triumph. Her neck still bore the faint shadow of that hickey. Matteo rose next, his glass raised toward her, tie now perfectly straightened. He didn't glance at me once. "The engagement between the Rossettis and the Morettis will continue," he said calmly, voice carrying across the silent room. "But not with Alessia. Valentina is the future of both families." Smugness radiated from them. Dante smirked into his drink, Father's chest puffed with pride, Matteo's parents nodding approval. Valentina's hand brushed Dante's under the table—another "sisterly" touch that wasn't. The whispers started: "What did Alessia do?" "Jealous little thing." Outwardly, I swayed as if struck, a hand flying to my mouth, eyes wide with heartbreak. Inside, mockery bloomed. Look at you all, so pleased with your little coup. You have no idea I hold the proof of your rot. I tightened my grip on the glass until it nearly cracked, the cool liquid steadying me. No screams. No scene. Just the outward performance of a devastated daughter while my mind raced through contingencies. The rest of the dinner blurred into knives of humiliation. No one spoke to me. I sat like a ghost in my mother's dress, the silk now heavy with the scent of betrayal. When it ended, I walked home alone, heels clicking on cold streets, tears falling hot and silent. But they weren't only for the loss. They were fuel. Back in my room, I replayed the recording once. Then I made a call—

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