FAKE MARRIAGE WITH HOT NEIGHBOR ALPHA

My hands wouldn't stop shaking.

I parked in the basement lot of my old apartment building, the one I kept paying rent on even though I hadn't slept here in four years. Four years of living at Nicolás Duarte's packhouse. Four years of waking up next to a man who looked through me like I was furniture.

The elevator ride up felt longer than it should have. My whole body was burning from the inside, that sick, twisting heat of a mate bond breaking apart. Every breath hurt. Every heartbeat felt like it was tearing loose from my ribs. I pressed my thick palm against the wall to steady myself and walked down the hallway to unit 4B.

I punched in the code. Wrong. I tried again. Wrong again.

"Come on. Come on, come on, come on." My voice cracked. My fingers were too swollen and shaky to hit the right numbers. The tears came before I could stop them, fat and hot and rolling down my bruised cheek where Nicolás's hand had connected hours ago.

I slid down against the door, my full thighs hitting the cold tile, and I just sat there crying like some broken thing left on the curb. That's what I was, wasn't I? Left on the curb.

"You're at the wrong door."

I looked up through blurry eyes. A man stood at the end of the hallway, keys in hand, watching me with a calm expression that didn't match the situation at all. He was tall, broad, the kind of build that looked carved out of warm stone. Dark hair pushed back, jaw sharp enough to cut, and brown eyes that caught the hallway light in a way that made my stomach flip even through all the misery.

"What?" I wiped my face with the back of my hand.

"You're at 4A." He tilted his chin toward the next door over. "You want 4B. One more to the right."

I blinked. Looked at the number above me. He was right. I had been sobbing at a stranger's door like a fool.

"Thanks," I mumbled, dragging myself up and grabbing my bag. My curvy frame felt heavier than usual, like all the pain had settled into my bones. I didn't look back at him. I couldn't.

Inside 4B, everything was dusty and cold and exactly the way I left it. I locked the door, dropped my bag on the floor, and went straight to the bedroom. The sheets smelled stale. I didn't care. I pulled them over my head and let the darkness swallow me.

For four years, I gave Nicolás Duarte everything. My time. My energy. My loyalty. I cooked his meals, cleaned his house, showed up to every pack event on his arm with a smile painted on my round face like everything was fine. And what was I to him? A project. A placeholder. A stand in for the daughter my parents actually loved. For Valentina, my perfect, golden, gorgeous older sister who could do no wrong.

He never saw me. Not once. Not the real me.

Solana, my wolf, was barely there. I could feel her curled up tight inside my chest, weak and small, her senses going dull one by one. My hearing felt muffled. My sense of smell faded to almost nothing by the second day. The bond was dying, and it was dragging her down with it.

I slept for two full days. No food. No water. Just sleep and silence and the occasional wave of pain that rolled through me like thunder.

On the third morning, someone pounded on my door.

"Harper Vargas, if you don't open this door in ten seconds, I am calling the fire department and having them break it down."

Isadora. My best friend. The only person on this earth who would show up uninvited with that much rage in her voice and a bag of takeout in her hand.

I unlocked the door and she pushed inside, holding two containers of empanadas and a large horchata. Then she saw my face.

"Oh my God." Her voice dropped. She set the food on the counter without looking and grabbed my chin with both hands, turning my face toward the light. The bruise from Nicolás's slap was deep purple now, spreading from my cheekbone to my jaw. "Who did this to you? Tell me right now."

"Nicolás." I pulled away and sat on the couch, tucking my legs under my thick body. "He slapped me when I found a picture of Valentina in his drawer. Then we rejected each other. Mutual rejection."

"He put his hands on you." Isadora's eyes were blazing. "I'm going to kill him. I'm going to rip his throat out and feed it to his Beta."

"Sit down, Isa."

"No, I will not sit down. Look at your face. Look at what he did to you." Her voice was shaking now, that furious tremble that meant she was seconds from crying. "Four years you gave that man. Four years, Harper."

"I know." I opened the empanada container because I hadn't eaten in two days and the smell alone made my stomach growl loud enough for her to hear. "I know exactly how long it was."

We ate in silence for a few minutes. The food was warm and good and it almost made me feel human again. Almost.

"Have your parents called?" Isadora asked carefully.

"Not once." I chewed slowly, thinking about it. "Not a single call, not a text. Which means they're not angry. They're planning."

"Planning what?"

"Something to save the alliance. That's all I've ever been to them, Isa. A bargaining chip."

She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. We both knew it was true.

After dinner, Isadora called her brother while I washed the containers. I could hear her pacing in the living room, her voice rising and falling as she told him what happened. Then, out of nowhere, my stomach clenched so hard I doubled over.

"Ah!" I grabbed the counter edge, my knees buckling. The pain shot from my belly up through my throat, wrapping around my neck like a burning collar. It was worse than anything I felt during the rejection. This was deeper. Meaner.

"Harper!" Isadora dropped her phone and ran to me. "What's happening? What's wrong?"

I couldn't answer. My vision went white at the edges. Inside me, Solana stirred weakly and pushed a thought into my mind.

"His mark," I gasped. "Nicolás's mark hasn't fully faded yet. He's with someone. Right now. Another woman. And because the bond is still dissolving, I can feel it."

"Are you serious?" Isadora held my arms, steadying me. "He's already sleeping with someone while the bond is still breaking?"

"The betrayal travels through the link." I pressed my forehead against the cool counter. The pain was easing now, slowly, like a wave pulling back. "Solana says the bond was damaged for months. Not just from the rejection. From before. He was unfaithful long before I found that picture."

"That animal." Isadora's grip on my arms tightened. "That disgusting, pathetic animal."

I straightened up, breathing hard, sweat on my forehead and along my thick neck. The taste of metal sat on my tongue. My body felt hollow and beaten, like someone had reached inside me and scraped everything out.

"We're going out," Isadora announced.

"Isa, I can barely stand."

"I don't care. You are not staying in this apartment another night crying over a man who doesn't deserve your tears." She grabbed my shoulders and looked me dead in the eyes. "We're getting dressed. We're going to a club. And we are going to remind you that Harper Vargas is worth more than Nicolás Duarte ever deserved."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to crawl back into bed and disappear for another two days. But somewhere deep down, underneath the pain and the exhaustion, something small and hot flickered to life. It wasn't happiness. It wasn't hope. It was anger. Pure, clean, burning anger.

Nicolás was already moving on. Already touching someone else while our bond bled out in my chest. And I was here, crumpled on a kitchen floor, mourning a man who never mourned me for a single second.

No. Not tonight.

"Fine." I wiped my face and stood up straight, pulling my full body to its height. "Let's go."