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I don’t want to be the horrible daughter who stands in the way of her mom’s happiness. Seriously, I don’t.
But when she dropped that bomb on me, I couldn’t keep my cool. “What the fuck do you mean you’re getting married, Mom?” I blurted out before I could even think to filter my words. My voice came out way louder than I intended, and her eyes snapped up, meeting mine with a look that clearly said she didn’t appreciate the tone. But, come on—she had just blindsided me with this whole getting-married news, and she expected me to what? Clap my hands and throw her a party? “No curse words, Camila,” she chided, almost calmly, as if we were talking about the weather and not her dropping an emotional grenade on me. She set down a plate on the dining table, patting it like this was all normal. “He’s a good guy, and I’m sure you’ll like him.” “‘Good guy’? That’s all you’re giving me here?” I scoffed, throwing my hands up in frustration. “Who is he, Mom? Where did he come from? Are you sure about this?” My voice was laced with desperation because this was starting to feel like a bizarre dream—no, scratch that, a nightmare. She sighed, clearly unimpressed by my dramatics, as she continued setting the table. “Yes, Camila, I’m sure. And his name is Greg. We’ve been dating for over a year.” A Year! A whole damn year? My jaw nearly hit the floor. “And you never thought to mention him once?” I demanded, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. “I thought we told each other everything!” “Camila, you’ve been busy with school and your friends,” she explained gently. “I wanted to be sure it was serious before introducing him.” Like that made it okay. I just stared at her, dumbfounded. My mom had been a single mother for as long as I could remember. I never met my dad, and honestly, it never really bothered me. Mom made sure I didn’t lack anything; she was my everything. I got used to it being just us, and somewhere along the line, I had settled into the idea that this was our forever dynamic—just the two of us against the world. And now, out of nowhere, she wanted to bring in some guy named Greg? Mom must’ve seen the look on my face because she reached out, patting my hand. “Sweetheart, you’ll love him. And he has a son, so you’ll finally have a sibling,” she said, her face lighting up like this was the best news in the world. “Isn’t that great?” Wonderful? My brain short-circuited. “Wait — so I’m supposed to just accept this guy as my new dad and his kid as my sibling? Mom, this isn’t one of your romance novels!” She actually laughed, which made me want to scream. “Camila, you’re overreacting. I’m not asking you to call him Dad. Just give him a chance. He makes me happy. Can’t you do that for me?” I wanted to argue, to tell her that this was way too much, way too fast, and that I wasn’t ready for this kind of change. But then I looked at her, really looked at her. She was glowing, actually glowing. I hadn’t seen her this happy in years. And I hated that I couldn’t just be happy for her too. “I don’t know, Mom,” I muttered. “It just feels… wrong. Like we’re supposed to be a team. What if he changes everything? What if it’s not the same anymore?” She smiled softly and pulled me into her side. “It’ll always be you and me, Camila. No one can change that. But maybe it’s time we let other people in, too.” I took a shaky breath, trying to make sense of it. “Does his son even know about all this?” I asked. Mom nodded. “Yes, he knows. He’s around your age, actually. His name is Ethan.” I raised an eyebrow. “Great. So now I’m supposed to get along with some random guy I’ve never met before?” Mom laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’ll be fine, Camila.” “You don’t get to tell me that!” “Camila…” “You know I’m not good with new people!” “CAMILA!” Her voice echoed as I flinched, shook my head, and bolted upstairs. “Camila!” she called again, but I slammed my door shut and pressed my back against it, sliding down until I hit the floor. My whole body was trembling. I knew I was being selfish. I knew. But I just couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to change… and not in a good way.It was crazy how fast everything happened. One moment we were fighting for our lives. The next… we were standing in the ruins of victory and loss. My pack won. But my father died. I kept turning that contradiction over in my head, again and again, like a wound I couldn’t stop picking. The threat was gone. And still, somehow, it felt like we had lost more than any battlefield could ever take. People said winning felt good. No one ever warned me that victory could taste like blood. I didn’t even remember how I was taken inside. I think Ethan carried me, or maybe I walked. Maybe I collapsed and someone dragged me. The details blur every time I try to recall them. All I truly remember is the pain: the burning in my side, the pulsing in my head, the emptiness in my chest. When I woke up next, I was in a bed I didn’t recognize, wrapped in rough blankets, body heavy as stone. My throat was dry, swollen from crying. Every muscle screamed like it had been torn apart and stitched wrong
I tore myself out of Ethan’s arms so fast it hurt, nearly slipping in the blood-smeared dirt as I lunged toward the man who had protected us moments ago.“Dad!” I screamed. My entire body felt electrified, every nerve firing at once. I dropped to my knees beside him, hands reaching out, trying to lift him, trying to stop the fall that had already happened.He hit the ground face-first before I could catch him.“No, please,” I gasped, grabbing his shoulder and turning him over. His head lolled, his lips parting as he tried to force air into lungs that suddenly refused to cooperate.Where was the wound?Was he stabbed?Clawed?Hit in the head?But with the amount of blood on his body, it was likely all of it.“Dad!” My voice was barely intelligible through the shaking. “Look at me. Please. Open your eyes!”His eyelids fluttered, then drifted shut again.It felt like a fist closed around my heart.Ethan staggered toward us, limping, clutching his side as though his ribs were burning. Hi
Ethan forced himself upright again and wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.“I’m just getting started,” he rasped.His father moved again, faster this time but Ethan managed to duck under the sword, barely avoiding the blade by an inch, but he was too slow to fully escape. The sword cut across his back, tearing through skin. He stumbled forward, catching himself on his hands, gasping in pain.“No!” I cried.I ran to him, ignoring everything — fear, the danger, and especially common sense — and grabbed him before he hit the ground completely.He sagged against me, blood warm on my fingers.“Camila… stay back…” he wheezed.“Shut up,” I whispered, voice shaking. “Just— shut up.”Footsteps approached.Ethan’s father stood over us, sword catching the light, eyes flat and emotionless.I spread my arms instinctively, shielding Ethan with my body even though I was shaking so hard I could barely hold still.Ethan tried to pull me behind him, but he was too weak.His father
He tried to stand but Ethan’s father kicked him in the ribs, sending him sprawling onto his back.I stayed frozen, panic ripping through my chest like claws.My father coughed violently, struggling to breathe. Blood dripped down his lip.Ethan’s father didn’t even look winded. He took one slow step forward, sword pointed down at my father like he was preparing to end it.Ethan jerked forward in my arms. “Father! stop!” he rasped.His father didn’t even bother to look at him, his gaze still fixed on the man bleeding beneath him. “If you want to protect her, you should’ve chosen better.”I felt Ethan’s whole body tense with fury. His hand clawed into the dirt. “You… fucking… bastard.”The insult only brought a smirk to his father’s face as he lifted the sword.I couldn’t breathe.My father rolled out of the way at the last second as the sword slammed into the ground, sending debris flying.He staggered to his feet — barely — swaying, clutching his ribs. His movements were slower now. Hi
I shifted slightly behind Ethan instinctively, but my father stepped directly in front of us.“You’ll have to pass through me,” he said, claws flexing, muscles taut, eyes fixed on Ethan’s father like he was daring him to take a single step forward.My heart jumped into my throat.Father?I clutched at Ethan, trying to anchor him, to let him know that I was here, even though I was also in pain and my body trembled, I wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone. I could feel every heartbeat, his and mine, pulsing together.His father stepped closer, measuring my father as if testing him, his sword catching the sunlight, each movement a threat.Ethan shifted, just slightly, but I could feel the strain in him. He was hurt, bleeding, exhausted. Every inch of him screamed in pain. But his eyes — God, his eyes — never left his father’s. The tension hung in the air. The sounds of battle around us faded into a dull hum. It was just the four of them now — Ethan, my father, his father, and me, caug
Ethan…And then, just as I thought all hope was gone, I heard it.A low, feral growl, deep and resonant. My ears picked it up through the chaos, but it was different.I froze.There was movement from a distance. The men surrounding Ethan paused for just a fraction of a second, sensing it too.And then I saw him.My father.He appeared through the smoke, claws flashing as he leapt into the fray, his claws slicing through the air. The men were thrown aside like ragdolls. One tried to lunge at him, and with a flick of his wrist, my father’s claws tore through the man’s chest. My heart raced.Ethan’s head snapped up as he saw my father enter the scene. An expression of relief crossed his bloodied, exhausted face. For the first time in what felt like hours, I saw him pause, even just slightly, catching his breath as he watched my father dismantle the attackers.I couldn’t hold it anymore. I ran.I stumbled over a body, my side burning with every step, my vision swimming, but I didn’t ca







