Chapter 2

"You and Lyra planned this, didn't you? You agreed to make it sound worse than it is?"

Theodore's expression darkened. He could not stand being challenged by a doctor.

"Lyra, stop pretending. Every time this happens, you sleep it off and wake up fine."

Hearing him say my name took me back to the day they hid my emergency medication in an ice bucket.

When the attack hit, I collapsed and struggled on the floor for more than ten minutes.

Theodore stood over me with Eliana in his arms.

"Answer me, Lyra! Which do you love more: me or your own life?"

I told him we were mates and that I loved him, but I wanted to live, too.

He left the decision to Eliana.

"Ana, sweetheart, you decide."

That day, I knelt at Eliana's feet for five minutes.

She made me swear that whenever she needed Theodore, I would never get in the way.

I clenched my teeth and never gave in.

Only after I was admitted did Theodore take my hand and apologize. "I'm sorry, Lyra! I misjudged how far to take it. I promise there won't be a next time."

He had made the same promise after each of the first ten tests.

Each time, I chose to believe there was still a place for me in his heart.

As they loaded me into the ambulance, Theodore picked up the emergency kit my father had put together for me.

Inside were my medications, heat packs, and a note listing everything my father wanted me to remember.

"Lyra, how many times do I have to tell you! Don't carry this around. People will think their Luna is frailer than an Omega!"

He always found something to criticize. Then he tossed the kit into the trash.

I had carried that bag for twelve years. When its zipper broke, he once stitched it back together himself.

When my father gave him the kit, he asked Theodore to take good care of me.

And now he did not even hesitate before tossing away the one thing that could save my life.

"I'll buy you a better one. Be ready tomorrow."

He knew perfectly well what my father's kit meant to me.

It was all I had left of home after coming to Westridge!

As the ambulance pulled away, I saw through the side window that Eliana had held her hand out to Theodore.

He bent over Eliana's hand, blowing on the scratch, his eyes soft with concern.

What happened to me did not matter.

By the time we reached the hospital, I was drifting in and out of consciousness.

The catheter bag filled with dark brown urine.

Acute hemolysis. Kidney damage. Severe anemia.

Any one of them could kill me.

Yet at one in the morning, messages from the pack kept lighting up my phone.

Eliana's friends had edited footage of me kneeling, begging, and crying into a video.

They had given it a humiliating title: "The Luna's Second-to-Last Test Before the Marking Ceremony."

"That's exactly what she needs. Play it tomorrow, too!"

"She needs to learn her place. Better now than after she starts giving Eliana trouble!"

Right after that, a message came in from Theodore.

"How are you? Don't be late tomorrow. Be good! You embarrassed me in front of everyone today. Behave tomorrow, and I'll let you keep what's left of your dignity. Cooperate with Eliana, keep her happy, and the marking ceremony will go smoothly."