Chapter 1

I should have known something was wrong the moment Derek suggested we go out to sea. He hated boats. Three years of marriage, and the man had never once set foot on a dock without complaining about the salt air ruining his shoes.

But it was our anniversary. Our third. And I wanted to believe he'd changed.

I wore a white sundress with thin straps and flat sandals, the kind of outfit you put on when you're trying to look effortless for a man who stopped noticing you a long time ago. My hair was loose around my shoulders. Derek had said he liked it that way, once.

The yacht was smaller than I expected, rented, with peeling paint along the railing. Derek stood at the bow with two glasses of champagne, and when he turned to face me, his smile was perfect. Warm. Easy.

That was his gift. Making you believe.

We'd been sailing for an hour when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned, and the champagne glass nearly slipped from my fingers.

Vera.

My stepsister was standing on the deck in a red bikini top and denim shorts, her dark hair pulled up in a messy bun. She had a towel draped over one arm like she'd been there all along.

"What are you doing here?" The words came out sharper than I intended.

Vera glanced at Derek. Derek looked at Vera. And something in the way their eyes met made my stomach drop straight to the bottom of the ocean.

"Selene," Derek said. He set down his glass. "There's something we need to tell you."

I didn't speak. I couldn't.

"Vera and I are fated mates," he said. Like he was reading off a grocery list. "We've been together for over a year."

Vera finally looked at me. "It's true, Selene. I'm sorry."

She didn't sound sorry.

The boat rocked. Or maybe that was me.

I looked at Vera. She had the decency to avoid my eyes, at least. Her fingers twisted the edge of her towel.

"You're lying," I said.

"I'm not." Derek's voice was still calm. Still warm. "We didn't plan for it to happen. But the bond between fated mates—you know how it is. You can't fight it."

A laugh tore out of me. Ugly and raw. "I can't fight it? I gave up my fated mate for you. I rejected Jaxon—in front of everyone—because you told me he was dangerous, because you said he'd force a mark on me, because you—"

I stopped. My throat closed.

I had rejected Jaxon — the Alpha who commanded the largest army in all five territories. Publicly. At a banquet where every pack of consequence was watching. I'd stood in front of him and told him I didn't want him, and the silence that followed had been so thick I could taste it. The whispers that followed for months.

And I'd done all of it because Derek held my hand under the table and told me he'd keep me safe. Because I'd chosen him — my chosen mate — over a man the Moon Goddess herself had picked for me.

"You planned this," I whispered. "From the beginning."

Derek tilted his head. The warmth left his face like someone had flipped a switch. "Planned is a strong word. Let's say I saw an opportunity."

My wolf stirred inside me. She was pacing, agitated, pressing against the edges of my mind. Something is wrong, she kept saying. Something is very wrong.

"My mother's will," I said. The realization hit me so hard my knees buckled. I grabbed the railing to keep from falling. "The pack. The inheritance. It only passes to me and Mia through our mates."

Derek didn't deny it. He just watched me with those same brown eyes I'd trusted for three years.

"You married me for my pack."

"I married you because my pack was falling apart and yours had everything we needed," he said. "Your mother's will made it complicated. But once you're gone, everything transfers to your surviving mate. Me."

Gone. The word hung there. Neither of us moved.

"And Mia?" My voice cracked. "She's fifteen."

Derek shrugged. "We'll deal with Mia when the time comes."

That shrug. So casual. So small. My sister's life, and he couldn't even be bothered to think about it yet.

My wolf snarled. I lunged for him.

He was faster. Two men I hadn't noticed emerged from below deck. They seized my arms and wrenched them behind my back. Rope bit into my wrists before I could shift or scream.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be," Derek said.

I thrashed. One of the men yanked my head back by my hair. I could smell cigarette smoke on his fingers.

"Derek, please." I hated the way my voice broke. "Whatever you want—the pack, the money—take it. Just let me go."

He crouched in front of me. For a moment, just a moment, his expression softened. The old Derek. The one who used to bring me wildflowers from the meadow behind his father's house.

"I wish I could," he said. "But dead wives don't file for divorce."

They lashed my ankles together. Vera watched from across the deck, her arms wrapped around herself, but she didn't look away. She didn't flinch.

Fated mates. They deserved each other.

The men dragged me to the edge. Below, the water was black and deep. Late afternoon sun turned the surface into something that looked almost beautiful.

I thought of Mia. Her laugh. The way she'd curl up on my bed and read her mystery novels out loud, doing different voices for each character. She was too young to face this alone. If they could kill me, they could kill her too.

The wind whipped my hair across my face. Salt spray stung my lips.

If we survive this, I swore to my wolf, I will tear them apart. Every last one of them.

Then they pushed me over.

The water swallowed me whole. Cold shocked every nerve in my body. I tried to kick but my ankles were lashed together, and the weight of the rope around my wrists was pulling me down. Salt burned my eyes. My lungs screamed.

I sank.

The sunlight above me shrank to a pinprick.

Mia. I'm sorry.

Darkness closed in at the edges. My wolf's howl faded to a whisper. And then—

Light.

Not the surface. Not the sun through water.

Something warm and golden behind my eyelids.

I opened my eyes.

A cracked ceiling. A water stain I'd traced with my eyes a thousand times. The scent of cedar from the old wardrobe in the corner. My childhood bedroom.

I sat up so fast the room spun.

My wrists were bare. No rope. No salt. No water in my lungs. I was wearing an oversized t-shirt and cotton shorts. My hair was dry.

On the nightstand, my phone glowed with the date.

The date from before my wedding.

I was alive. And I was home.