Chapter 3

There are worse ways to spend a night than drinking yourself into a headache.

Unfortunately, I was beginning to think that returning to Dakota had introduced me to all of them.

By midnight, I had managed to sneak out of the rather joyful house of the Humphreys. Now, I sat in a bar called "The Hollow," which felt about right.

"Another," I said.

The bartender looked at my empty glass, then at me. "That's your fourth."

"Keep it up, you'll graduate kindergarten with that." I snarked, but he didn't mind—he poured again and I drank. The scotch burned the whole way down, and for about three seconds it was almost enough to drown out the dining room.

Miss Humphrey.

I set the glass down harder than I meant to. He'd said it so smoothly too. That bastard. I hated that even thinking his name made something twist inside me.

I hated that I'd spent the entire dinner watching him touch my sister. I hated that he'd looked directly at me and introduced himself as though we'd never shared a bed.

And perhaps most humiliatingly, I hated that a small, pathetic part of me had still been waiting for him to do something.

Perhaps a glance that lasted a second too long. A flicker of recognition. But he'd given me absolutely nothing. Not even the courtesy of looking uncomfortable.

I would've bought it—the facade, the pretense. I would've bought it if he hadn't had that slight, brief reaction to what I'd unceremoniously said.

"You look like a man I used to fuck."

It had earned me looks, talks, even the same snarky "Behave, Ava!" But it was all worth it for that tiny moment.

My eyes burned with unshed tears, and I downed the two shots the bartender had served.

The alcohol did very little to improve my mood. If anything, it made me more aware of how miserable I was.

I hated this. I hated being back in Dakota. I especially hated that the man who had made a complete fool of me was now going to marry my sister.

What a lovely family reunion.

"Rough night." The voice came from my left.

I didn't look up. "If you're about to tell me to smile, I'll pour this on you."

"I was going to say you've been glaring at that glass for ten minutes, and it hasn't done anything to you."

I turned. The man on the next stool was somewhere in his late twenties—dark hair, rolled shirtsleeves, a face that was handsome in a way that didn't seem to know it. He nursed a glass of water with a lemon in it. Water. In a bar called The Hollow, at midnight.

"Sober?" I asked.

He smiled, revealing dimples. "I'm driving. Someone has to be the responsible one in this town, and it's usually a stranger."

"Dakota's lucky to have you."

"I try." He tilted his head toward my glass. "You're going to regret the next one, you know."

"I regret everything. It's called consistency."

He laughed, and something in my chest loosened by about a millimeter. "Nathan Pierce," he said, offering his hand.

"Ava," I replied, not shaking it in return.

"I know." He said it gently, not taking offense. "Everyone at the bar knows who you are. The Humphrey daughter who left."

"Great. I'm famous."

"Infamous. It's better." He nodded toward the door. "Come on. I'll take you home before you decide to challenge the bartender to a duel."

I should have said no. I'd spent my whole life ignoring the voice that said be careful, and this was the one time I should have been conscious. But my head was swimming, my feet hurt, and the only other option was walking back to a house where I'd have to look at my sister's face on a dozen walls.

"If you're a murderer," I said, sliding off the stool, "I'd like it on record that I'm too tired to care—but I'll return to haunt you."

"Noted. For the record."

His car was clean and smelled like pine and old coffee. I leaned my head against the window while he drove.

"You don't have to talk," he said during one of his numerous glances.

"Good."

I lasted four minutes. Then I pulled out my phone and called Vivi, because she was the only person alive who had ever picked up at 3 a.m. for me. I needed to rant, to tell her what had just happened—how the man I'd fucked over and over again, the man I'd wailed over, was now engaged to my sister.

It rang and rang, then finally clicked to voicemail.

Hi, you've reached Vivian. I'm probably studying or asleep. Leave a message and I'll call you back.

"Vivi," I said, and my voice cracked on the first syllable, which was embarrassing. "It's me. I'm… okay, I'm not okay. I saw him. He was…" Here. With my sister. I swallowed the rest. She was human. She couldn't know about packs and mates and alliances of the century. "He pretended he didn't know me. Like I was nothing. And I just… I can't. Call me back. Please."

I hung up and pressed my fist against my mouth. This was embarrassing, but I didn't care. I was hurt—greatly so.

When we pulled up to the house, every light in the front hall was on.

My parents stood in the doorway like two judges awaiting a verdict. My mother in her robe, hair pinned, mouth already flat. My father in a sweater, arms crossed.

Nathan got out and came around to open my door, and I wanted to tell him to run.

"Alpha Humphrey." He inclined his head. "Luna. I found your daughter at The Hollow. She wasn't in any danger, but she'd had a long night. I thought it best to bring her home."

I cursed internally at what a tattletale he was. Couldn't he have said he found me in a ditch about to die?

My father's expression shifted so smoothly it made me dizzy. He stepped forward to clasp Nathan's hand. "Nathan. Of course. Your father's son. It's good to see you, boy. I'm grateful."

"It was my pleasure."

Pierce. The name sounded familiar, but I was too far gone to care.

"Thank you for bringing her back," Mother added, with a smile she'd never once aimed at me. "Come, you must have tea."

"Another time, I'm afraid. It's late." Nathan glanced at me—the barest flicker of a goodbye. "Get some water, Ava."

Then he was gone, and the front door closed, and the warmth was gone.

"Until when?" Mother said, her voice cold.

"What?"

"Until when, Ava? How long will you keep doing this? Sneaking out. Drinking. Embarrassing us in front of men who matter." She pressed her fingers to her temple. "You're twenty-three years old."

"I went to a bar. It's not a crime."

"It is when your sister's engagement is being announced tomorrow," Father said. "It is when the Grey Alpha is sitting in our dining room and you make jokes about men you've slept with."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. "That's what you're upset about? A joke?"

"Watch your tone, young lady."

"Why? You didn't ask where I was for three years. You didn't call on my birthday. You didn't even keep a picture of me on the wall." My voice shook. "But God forbid I embarrass you in front of your son-in-law."

"Ava—"

"I'm tired. I'll see you in the morning." I walked up the stairs, determined not to look at the pictures on the wall. Their perfect little family—without me.

---

The headache was murderous.

I woke up to sunlight stabbing through the curtains, a drum in my skull, and the knowledge that today was somehow worse than yesterday. My phone showed one text from Vivi, sent at 6 a.m.: Sorry!! Night shift. Calling you tonight. Drink water. I love you.

I drank water, but I did not feel better.

A knock came at the door, and I knew exactly who it was before she spoke.

"Ava."

Aileen stood in the hallway in a cream dress that hugged her figure so well she looked like a mannequin, her hair already perfect. She looked like she'd slept eight hours at a spa.

"Mother says you're coming with me to shop for the gathering."

"Mother says," I grumbled.

"Mother says you'll need something to wear that isn't…" Her eyes slid over my wrinkled shirt. "…that."

I closed my eyes. "Give me ten minutes."

It took fifteen. I made her wait, out of spite.

The drive to the boutique was the most unpleasant drive I've ever had—and I've sat between two exes in a car.

Aileen glided through the racks like she owned them, running her fingertips over silk and lace, while I trailed behind, looking like a ghost in the most treacherous outfit.

"He sent flowers this morning," she said, apropos of nothing. "White ranunculus. I told him once that I preferred them to roses, and he remembered. Can you imagine? A man like Elias, with everything he has to do, and he remembered."

My teeth hurt from how hard I was biting my tongue.

"Wow."

"He's very thoughtful. People don't see it, because he's so serious in public. But in private…" She smiled to herself, a small, secret thing. "He's different with me."

I know exactly how different he is, Aileen. I could draw you a diagram.

"That's great."

"You don't have to sound so enthusiastic." She lifted a green gown off the rail and held it against herself, turning to the mirror.

"Honestly, Ava, I don't expect you to understand. You've never really wanted a relationship, have you? It's always been a series of… flings."

I stared at her reflection. She was exactly like Mother—always so condescending while pretending to care.

"Right," I said. "Flings."

"I just—I worry about you, Ava. All those men, yet none of them staying. It must be lonely."

"Alpha Grey." The shop assistant's voice rang out, a pitch higher than a person's should be. "What an honor."

I froze just as the door chimed. His scent filled the shop, making my wolf whimper.

Aileen lit up. "You came!"

"I said I would." Elias walked toward us. He wore a dark coat, collar turned up, and kissed my sister's cheek—a small, polite, public gesture. Then he turned to me.

"Miss Humphrey."

Again with the name. Where was Miss Humphrey when he had his mouth down my pussy?

I searched his eyes for anything—a spark, a crack—but there wasn't a muscle out of place.

Something in me went very quiet. I'd been furious, and humiliated, and foolish. I'd gone to a bar and cried in a stranger's car. I'd let him turn me into a desperate girl waiting for a glance.

I looked at him—the cold, perfect actor—and I thought: Fine. If he wants a game, I'll play. And I'm going to play it so well that he'll wish he'd never learned the rules.

I smiled, slowly. "Alpha Grey. What a pleasure."