Chapter 2

Luna's Eclipse sat on the top floor of one of Highrise City's tallest buildings, all black glass and golden light pouring out from its entrance like a dare. Even from the street I could hear the bass thumping through the walls. The line wrapped around the block, but Isadora walked straight past everyone and winked at the bouncer, who unclipped the velvet rope without a word.

"Must be nice being a Reyes," I muttered, pulling my short skirt down over my thick thighs as the cold air bit into my skin.

"Perks of growing up in a pack that actually throws good parties." Isadora linked her arm through mine and pulled me inside. "Now stop fidgeting. You look incredible."

I didn't feel incredible. My bruise was covered under three layers of concealer, my curvy body was squeezed into a dress that Isadora picked out because she insisted it showed off my best angles, and every step I took sent a dull throb through my belly where the bond was still rotting away. But I was here. I was standing. That counted for something.

The club was massive, all velvet booths and low chandeliers and a dance floor packed with bodies moving under shifting purple light. Isadora handed me something tall and pink with a cherry on top.

"Drink this. Don't think about him. Find someone gorgeous and let them remind you what it feels like to be wanted." She clinked her glass against mine.

"I'm not hooking up with anyone tonight, Isa."

"I'm not asking you to hook up. I'm asking you to remember that you exist outside of Nicolás Duarte."

I took a long sip. It was sweet and cold and burned slightly going down. Okay. Maybe she had a point.

We made it about fifteen minutes before everything fell apart.

Isadora grabbed my wrist and her nails dug in hard. Her face had gone pale. "Don't look to your left. Harper, I mean it. Do not look."

Naturally, I looked.

Across the lounge, tucked into a half private booth with dim golden light and silk curtains, was Nicolás. And draped across his lap, her fingers in his hair, her lips locked against his like she was trying to swallow him whole, was Valentina.

My sister. My older, prettier, thinner, perfect sister who had supposedly fled overseas three years ago because she "needed space." She was right here. In this city. In his arms.

My chest caved. I couldn't breathe.

"Harper, let's go." Isadora tugged my arm. "Right now. We can leave."

"No." My voice came out flat and cold, a sound I didn't recognize. "I want to hear what they're saying."

"That's a terrible idea."

"Probably."

I pulled Isadora behind a pillar near the booth and pressed my back against the marble. The music was loud, but my wolf hearing, even damaged, was enough to catch their voices through the thin curtain.

Valentina laughed first. That bright, careless laugh she always had, like the world was a joke written just for her amusement. "You should have seen her face when she found the photo. I left it right in your bedside drawer on purpose. I knew she'd go through your things eventually."

"You're cruel," Nicolás chuckled, running his thumb along her jaw. "She actually cried."

"Of course she cried. That's all she knows how to do. Cry, cook, and follow you around like a lost puppy."

My fingernails cut into my palms. Isadora's hand found mine and squeezed.

"I feel a little bad sometimes," Nicolás continued, his tone lazy and amused. "She tried so hard to make me love her. Every dinner. Every pack event. All that effort, and the whole time I was flying to Europe to be with you."

"Don't feel bad," Valentina murmured against his mouth. "She was a placeholder, baby. A cheap knockoff until the real thing could come home."

Something inside me cracked. Not broke. Cracked. Like the first fracture in a dam before the whole thing comes down.

"So what's the plan?" Nicolás shifted her closer on his lap. "Your parents still don't know?"

"They don't have a clue. And it's simple. She's gone now, so I step in. Same alliance, same arrangement, just the better daughter this time. Papa Rafael won't even blink. He's been wishing it was me all along."

"The perfect swap," Nicolás grinned. "Out with the old, in with the upgrade."

Valentina giggled. "Exactly."

The pain hit me then, but it wasn't the physical kind. It was the kind that lands somewhere behind your lungs and just sits there, heavy and permanent. Every ache I endured over the past months, every random spike of pain I thought was just the bond weakening, it was this. It was them. It was months of cheating and laughing behind my back while the betrayal bled through our mating link and slowly poisoned me from the inside.

Solana growled. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a low, hungry sound that vibrated through my chest like a promise.

They used us. Both of them. And we let them.

"Harper, please." Isadora's voice was a whisper now, tight and desperate. "Let's just go. They're not worth it."

I stepped away from the pillar. The crack in the dam was spreading.

"Where are you going?" Isadora hissed.

I walked to the bar. My legs moved on their own. I placed both palms flat on the polished surface and looked the bartender in the eye.

"Give me the most expensive bottle of champagne you have." My voice was steady. Calm. "Charge it to Nicolás Duarte's tab."

The bartender hesitated. "Ma'am, that's a twelve hundred dollar bottle."

"I know what it costs. His name is on file. Charge it."

He looked at me for a long second, then nodded and placed a chilled bottle of Dom Pérignon on the counter. I picked it up by the neck. It was heavy and cold in my grip. Perfect.

Isadora caught up to me as I crossed the floor, weaving between dancers and cocktail tables. "Harper. Harper, what are you doing?"

"Something I should have done four years ago."

I ripped the curtain of their booth open. The golden light fell across them like a spotlight. Nicolás looked up first, his smile dying the second he recognized me. Valentina blinked, her lipstick smeared, her expression frozen somewhere between shock and irritation.

"Harper?" Nicolás straightened up. "What the hell are you doing here?"

I didn't answer him. I didn't need to. I lifted the bottle high above the table and brought it down with everything I had.

Glass exploded. Champagne sprayed across the silk cushions, across Valentina's white dress, across the table. Nicolás jerked back, but he wasn't fast enough. A jagged edge caught him right between the brows, splitting the skin open. Blood ran down his nose in a thin, clean line.

The entire club went silent. Every head turned. Every conversation stopped.

Nicolás pressed his hand to his forehead, staring at the blood on his fingers like he couldn't understand what just happened.

I dropped the broken neck of the bottle on the table, champagne still dripping from my fingers, my round chest heaving.

The bass kicked back in. The silence cracked. And somewhere behind me, Isadora whispered, "Holy hell."