Chapter 3

At 11:30 PM, I heard the front door open downstairs.

The scent of expensive champagne and the sound of a happy family’s laughter drifted up the stairs.

They were home.

My face was a mask as I picked up my suitcase. I was about to head down, but I met all four of them at the top of the stairs.

My mother, Freda, saw the suitcase immediately.

The smile vanished from her face. She rushed forward, her hand clamping down on my luggage.

“Harper, where do you think you’re going in the middle of the night?” she demanded, her eyes filled with disapproval. “Are you still angry about this afternoon? I already compensated you, didn’t I?”

I stared at her coldly, not moving.

“Stop this tantrum!” my father, Hector, said, his brow furrowed as he stepped onto the stairs. “Put the suitcase back. You’re too old to be playing this running-away-from-home game.”

“A tantrum?” I lifted my chin, my gaze cutting past my mother to Zane. “Or was it the Moon Goddess who had a tantrum and got our mates wrong?”

The air went still.

The annoyed look on Zane’s face froze, then all the color drained from it.

He stared at me, his lips trembling. “You… you saw my tablet?”

“What, was I supposed to wait?” I sneered, my words dripping poison. “Wait for you to put her on the Luna’s throne and then tell me to get lost?”

“You are being completely unreasonable!” Hector strode up the steps. He unleashed his Alpha power, trying to crush me where I stood.

He pointed a finger at me, his voice thick with disappointment. “You spied on Zane’s privacy! We only made that group so you wouldn’t have to worry. You’re so strong, and Vivienne is so timid. What’s wrong with us giving her a little extra attention? Why can’t you understand our good intentions?”

What a twisted joke.

Stealing my future and hiding it from me was their idea of a “good intention.”

“Sister, please don’t blame Mom, Dad, and Zane…”

Vivienne squeezed past them.

Her eyes were red, tears instantly welling up as she reached for my arm with a fake, pleading gesture. “It’s all my fault. I won’t go to the Alliance. Please don’t leave, okay?”

Her sickeningly sweet act made my stomach churn.

“Don’t touch me!”

I yanked my arm away.

I barely used any force.

But Vivienne shrieked, throwing herself backward like a rag doll. She hit the floor with a dramatic thud.

“Ah—it hurts!”

“Vivienne!”

Zane’s eyes instantly turned red with fury.

Forgetting completely that I was his fated mate, he whirled on me, shoving me with the full, furious force of his Alpha strength.

“Why are you always hurting her!”

Caught off guard, the force sent me flying.

I crashed hard against the marble kitchen island.

A searing pain shot through my arm.

On the edge of the island was a small silver fruit knife, left there for cutting lemons.

The silver blade bit deep. A clean slice through skin and muscle, scraping against bone.

Silver poison flooded my veins, burning through my nerves like fire.

It instantly blocked my advanced werewolf healing.

I crumpled to the floor.

My knee slammed into the hard tile, and the cracking pain made my vision go black.

Blood gushed out, staining the rug beneath me.

Pain.

White-hot. Soul-shredding.

I bit my lip so hard it bled just to keep from screaming. I clutched my bleeding arm, cold sweat soaking my back.

I thought… I thought seeing me bleed, seeing me burn from silver poisoning, would trigger some sliver of compassion.

That they would rush over and hold me like they used to when I got hurt.

I opened my mouth, about to tremble out a plea for help.

“Zane…”

But then Vivienne, still on the floor, clutched her chest. Her face went pale as she gasped for air. “It hurts… my heart… I can’t breathe…”

That one weak murmur instantly stole everyone’s attention.

My mother let out a terrified scream, scrambling to Vivienne’s side. “Oh my god! Her heart condition is acting up again! Hector, quick! Get her emergency medicine!”

My father, frantic, forgot all about scolding me. He ran to help, his shoes stepping through the pool of my own blood on the floor. “Quick! Get her on the sofa!”

And my fated mate, Zane, his face a mask of anguish and heartbreak, scooped Vivienne into his arms.

His voice shook violently. “Vivienne, breathe deep, look at me! Don’t be scared, I’m here, you’ll be okay!”

The three of them surrounded her on the sofa like she was a dying queen, fetching water, feeding her pills, whispering soft reassurances.

As Zane turned to get her warm water, his eyes flickered over to me on the floor.

He glanced at me. He saw the ugly, blackening burn from the silver. He saw the blood pooling on the floor. His face hardened. Then he tossed a heartless warning over his shoulder.

“Harper, you’re strong. A fall won’t kill you. But if anything happens to Vivienne tonight, I will never forgive you.”

My mate.

The man who had sworn to protect me forever.

Lying on the cold floor, watching them tend to someone else, the last bit of warmth in my heart died.

I finally understood.

It wasn't that they didn't love me.

It was that because I was "strong," my wounds and my pain meant nothing to them.

And because Vivienne was "fragile," a single cough from her was enough to make them lose their minds.

I didn’t make another sound.

The silver poison burned, and my blood began to dry and clot.

All night, I lay in a pool of my own blood, listening to Zane’s soft voice from the master bedroom upstairs as he coaxed Vivienne to sleep.

I heard my parents’ tired footsteps as they tended to her.

In the space of one night, my heart turned to stone.

With trembling, blood-stained fingers, I reached for my phone.

I took clear pictures of the black blood on the floor, the bloodied silver fruit knife, and the devastating burn on my arm.

I bundled the photos, the screenshot of their secret group chat, and the transaction history of their pathetic 'hush money' into a secure file.

Then, I forwarded the entire dossier to Maeve's crisis management firm.

The next morning, the first ray of sunlight cut through the darkness.

My phone vibrated.

A text from Maeve: “Early flight is booked. Car is outside.”

I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth against the searing pain of my shattered knee, and used the wall to pull myself up.

I didn't bother with the clothes scattered on the floor.

I wrapped my arm, still oozing black blood, in a tight bandage, grabbed my passport from the table, and limped out the front door.

The air outside was cold, but incredibly fresh.

I didn’t look back.

The moment I closed that door behind me, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

When the time came, I'd be more than happy to give them a little push.

This pack, this so-called family, this mate… I was done with all of it. To hell with them all.