Chapter 3

Alden froze.

He never thought she'd say something that cold. Meredith, who always followed his lead, always soft, always gave in.

He remembered how she hated needles—how she'd shake, how long it took her to calm down... And still, she gave Vicky blood. Over and over. For him.

Alden looked up at her, uncertain. "Then... maybe—"

"Meredith..." Vicky cut in, tears already spilling. "What do you mean? Are you wishing me dead?"

Meredith stared her down, ice-cold. The fake tears, the twisted possessiveness, the nonstop drama—Vicky was a pro. And Alden fell for it every single time. Or maybe... he wanted to.

Meredith gave a cold smile. "Whoever wants to donate can. I'm out."

Vicky clung to Alden's arm, voice shaking like she'd just been stabbed. "Alden, look at her. She wants me dead. Does she want me in the ICU next to my mom—would that make her happy?"

Rowena, her mom, had been in a coma five years now—ever since she shoved Alden out of the way of a speeding truck. She'd never woken up.

Alden carried that guilt. And Vicky milked it every chance she got, dragging her mom's name into every meltdown.

And he let her. Every time.

But now... something shifted.

Alden's brows pulled tight when she brought up Rowena.

He could still see it—truck screeching, Rowena throwing herself forward, blood everywhere...

But Meredith...

She saw him go quiet, and for a split second, hope flickered.

Just once. If he'd stand beside her just once.

Maybe everything she gave—every drop of blood, every heartbreak—would feel worth it. Maybe he didn't hate her. Maybe he just didn't know how to love.

"Alden..." she breathed.

"Meredith, just give Vicky blood one more time, okay? I promise it's the last time." His eyes locked on hers, soft, pleading.

That tiny flame of hope? Snuffed out.

Meredith let out a bitter laugh.

God, she was pathetic.

Still hoping.

He always made the same choice.

And she was always the one he left after weighing the options.

Vicky let out a quiet breath, totally smug as she looked at Meredith. "Guess I'll need your blood again. Thanks a bunch!"

Meredith shot her a look. 'He really goes all out for her, huh...'

She used to think he'd finally figure out how to love.

But nope—same old cold, distant Alden. He'd never loved her. Not really.

She turned back to him, voice flat. "Told you. I'm not giving her blood."

Alden's brows pulled together. There was something off in her eyes—distant, ice-cold. It rattled him more than he wanted to admit.

He remembered the first time he saw her. That summer afternoon. The sun was blazing. Her smile even brighter.

When did she stop smiling like that?

"What do we do? If Meredith won't help, I'm gonna die!" Vicky gasped, full panic mode. "Alden, you promised my mom you'd take care of me..."

His voice came out ice-cold. "I'll find someone else. I'm not letting you die."

Vicky's eyes went wide. "And if you can't? Meredith's blood always worked—exact same type, no side effects. Why change that now?"

He said nothing.

Vicky's tears sprang up fast. "Fine! If you don't care anymore, I'll tell your mom!"

She spun around and ran off, sobbing down the hall.

A few moments later, Sharon showed up, leaning on Vicky.

She looked drained, like she'd just rolled out of bed, still half out of it. But whatever Vicky had said worked—her eyes landed on Meredith with full-on judgment.

"Alden, stop giving Vicky such a hard time," she snapped. "Her mom's in a coma because she saved you. Meredith's given her blood tons of times—what's the big deal? It's always been fine. But if she doesn't get it now, she might die!"

Alden's jaw tightened. "Mom, I said I'll find someone else. The blood bank has her type. It doesn't have to be Meredith."

"See?" Vicky jumped in, voice breaking. "He only cares about Meredith! I don't matter to him at all!"

Sharon rubbed her temple, clearly frustrated. But Alden's face stayed blank, eyes sharp and locked in. She knew that look—when he dug in, there was no moving him.

Out of options, Sharon turned to Meredith. "Meredith, sweetheart, just a little blood for Vicky? Please—I'm begging you."

Meredith smiled.

Of course.

Every time Vicky had a meltdown, she was the one who had to bend.

And Sharon? Always picked Vicky's side. Always made it Meredith's burden.

Why wouldn't she? Meredith was the outsider. The girl who forced her way in.

She remembered when she first met Sharon—five years ago, winter break.

She'd just started college. She came back one night and got dragged into an alley by some drunk creep. Right when things got scary, a tall, skinny guy jumped in. He took a knife to the chest for her. She never saw his face, but she saw the scar later—on Alden.

She'd already been crushing on him. That just sealed it.

Even when he kept his distance, she chased harder.

She was the law school's campus belle. Still, she threw all her pride out the window for him—hard enough to make her head spin.

That winter break, she couldn't stand being apart. So she snuck off, bought a train ticket to his hometown behind her parents' backs.

She'd grown up pampered, sheltered. Didn't even know what real hardship looked like.

She asked around until she finally found him—being pinned to the ground by two guys.

"Didn't we tell you? There are wolves in the mountains! Mrs. Scott already got bit!"

"Your mom probably ran into wolves too. We called the cops. Don't do anything dumb."

They talked over each other.

Alden was covered in dirt, grass stuck to him, his face a blank mess—but his eyes were wild, locked on that mountain like a caged animal ready to snap.

"Let him go!" Meredith shoved the guys off him, adrenaline kicking in.

"Where'd this girl come from? Don't make this worse! It's almost dark—he goes now, he's done for!"

Alden sat there, fists clenched, silent.

"There's a whole crowd here!" said Meredith, "It's not dark yet—if we go now, at least we TRY! Standing around doesn't help!"

Everyone went quiet. No one wanted to get mauled.

"Then don't stop him!" Meredith grabbed his hand. "Come on. We'll find your mom."

Alden looked up at her.

"Let's go."

She yanked him to his feet and led the way, still holding tight.

Night had already fallen.

"Alden, don't worry," she said, heart racing. "We'll find her."

She kept walking, forcing herself forward through the dark trees, even though her chest felt ready to explode. She had to stay brave—for both of them.

"When we get back, we're taking self-defense classes together. After that, no one's holding you down again."

Seeing him like that—pinned, helpless—had rattled Meredith.

She'd never thought someone like him could look so defeated.

She never wanted to see it again.

He was supposed to stand tall. Be the one people looked up to.

And maybe luck was on their side.

Right as full darkness set in, they found Sharon—barely conscious, bleeding like crazy.

No wolves. Just a bad fall and a branch straight through her calf.

Alden picked her up and carried her down the mountain.

Meredith still remembered how thankful Sharon had been—hugging her, crying, telling Alden not to let go of a girl like her.

But that was then.

Things change.

People do too.

And now? Sharon was the one begging her—to bleed for someone else.