Challenge

MIRABELLA

Silence.

It’s eerie.

Cassian stands next to me, hands folded behind his back like he’s presenting a new acquisition instead of a living, breathing girl. “Boys,” he finally says, his voice firm but not loud. “Meet the new member of our family.”

They don’t move. Not a twitch. The one on the right shifts only enough to glance sideways at his brother, a look so brief it almost doesn’t exist. But I catch it. A silent question, or maybe an order. My stomach tightens.

A chill skates down my spine, cold and sharp. I know it deep in my bones. He’s the one I need to watch out for. The one whose temper I won’t see coming until it’s too late. And yet, he’s also the only one who tilts his head ever so slightly, just enough to study me in a way that makes my pulse skitter. Our eyes lock, and for a heartbeat, everything else fades. My heart kicks faster, hard enough I wonder if he can see it through my shirt.

Fear. That’s all it is. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. Maybe under any other circumstance, different lives, different pasts, my heart would be racing for another reason entirely. Because he’s gorgeous in a way that feels dangerous, all rough edges and dark intensity. Both of them are. And they’re my mates. The goddess screwed up spectacularly this time.

But I shove it down, bury it under years of practice. I lift my chin and meet his stare, defiance pouring off me like armor. Come down here, Windsor. Bring it on.

His stormy green eyes narrow, just a fraction. He understands my silent challenge, sees it as clearly as if I’d spoken aloud, and he doesn’t like it one bit. Then, just as quickly, he turns away, dismissing me like I’m nothing. The other follows instantly, as if on cue, and they vanish from the railing without a backward glance.

Footsteps echo in the cavernous hall, doors slam somewhere above, and they’re gone.

Next to me, Cassian lets out a sigh, and it’s a long and tired sound. “I’m sorry about that. I thought I’d gotten through to them. They’ve had weeks to prepare for this, but clearly they still need more time to adjust.”

All this. He means me. My presence in their perfect house, my blood tie to a father I never knew. My unwanted claim on their lives.

“I’m sure they’ll be more welcoming in the morning,” he says, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself. It does nothing to convince me.

***

I wake up tangled in soft sheets that smell like honey and lavender, in a bed so big and lush it could swallow me whole. It’s the nicest place I’ve ever slept, maybe the nicest place I’ve ever been. And I hate it.

Not the bed. The bed is amazing—soft yet firm, the blankets plush and warm. No, what I hate is what it all means. In my world, nice things always come with sharp edges. A pretty house didn’t save my mom from bruises. A sweet-talking man didn’t stop the night she dragged me down two blocks with glass still in her hair. Comfort is a lie people like me can’t afford to believe.

I push myself up, groaning. The room is over the top, decorated for some princess half my age. There are pink ruffles everywhere, delicate little chairs, a vanity with a mirror framed in roses. It’s too much, too sweet. The only thing that fits is my battered backpack dumped by the door.

Yesterday hits me like a slap. The car. The letter. The stack of money. I jump out of bed, heart slamming, and yank the bag open. Relief crashes over me when I see the fat stack of bills still right on top. I thumb through them, letting the crisp paper rustle under my fingers. It’s music. Fifteen grand. Enough to keep me breathing for months if I’m smart.

I could leave now. Slip out before anyone notices. But then Cassian’s promise drifts through my head—fifteen thousand more every month, a car, a school, a future. It’s everything I’ve never had, dangled right in front of me for the low price of pretending to belong.

So I tuck the money deep in the hidden pocket and give myself a day. One day. I can run tomorrow, or next week, or next month if it turns sour. I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again.

I dump the rest of my things onto the bed, taking stock. A couple pairs of jeans, some shirts, one bra, a handful of underwear, my mother’s little black dress that makes me look curvier than I am, and the stripper heels I used last night. My makeup case, half my mother’s old stuff, half freebies from dancers we met along the way. And my book, an old, worn collection of Pablo Neruda poems I found on a bus station bench, the same initials inside as on my dad’s watch. Kismet, even if I don’t believe in that crap. Fate is for the powerless. One day, I’ll have enough power to make my own.

I smooth a hand over the book’s battered cover. Maybe I’ll pick up a job waiting tables. Keep myself afloat without dipping into Cassian’s hush money. That money is untouchable. My ticket out.

A sharp knock at the door cuts through my planning. My shoulders tense.

“Cassian?” I call.

“No. It’s Kaius. Open up.”

My gut tightens. I glance down, realizing I’m only in an oversized T-shirt from one of my mom’s old boyfriends. Not exactly armor. I need time, need my makeup, my smirk, all the layers I use to hide. “I’m not decent.”

“Like I give a shit. You’ve got five seconds, then I’m coming in.”

Asshole. With the size of him, he probably could tear the door off its hinges. I stomp over and fling it open. “What do you want?”

He gives me a slow, deliberate onceover, and even though the shirt hangs almost to my knees, I feel naked. My skin tightens, nerves crackling. His lip curls, eyes dark and burning, and something about that look, like he’d rather tear me apart than touch me, sends heat pooling low in my belly. I hate that. Hate him for it.

“I want to know what your game is,” he says, stepping into my space. He uses his size like a weapon, a lure, knowing exactly how it messes with me.

I force a bored shrug. “Talk to your father. He’s the one who kidnapped me.”

Kaius moves even closer, until our bodies brush with every breath. My mouth dries, thighs clench. God, my body is an idiot. A traitor. My mom always said your head needs to run the show, because your body will betray you every time.

He looks down, scornful, eyes landing on the hard peaks under my thin shirt. “You fought real hard, didn’t you?”

“Again—your father.” I turn away, trying to hide the way I’m trembling, and scoop up a pair of clean panties from the bed. I make a show of stepping out of my old ones and pulling the fresh pair on slow, like I don’t give a damn.

Behind me, his breath hitches. Good. Score one.

“You should know whatever game you’re playing, you can’t win. Not against all of us.” His voice is deeper, rougher, and it does things to me I refuse to acknowledge. “And for the part about us being mates, it’d be best if you kept quiet about that, because there’s no way the goddess made such a mistake and saddled us with someone as pathetic as you. So if you leave now, you won’t be hurt. Keep the money. We’ll never bother you. But if you stay, we’ll break you so bad you’ll be crawling away.”

He turns to go. My pulse hammers. Does he think I want this? And such guts he has to try and threaten me. My mouth moves before my brain can catch it.

“Kaius.”

He stops in the doorway, shoulders stiff, but doesn’t turn.

“Challenge accepted.”

For half a second, I swear I feel him smile.

And somehow, deep in my bones, I know he’s going to do everything in his power to destroy me.