Chapter 4

Adrian insisted on taking the official bonding portrait.

He brought a photographer to the manor and reminded me that every Blackwood heir had displayed one in the council hall. Tradition, he said, wasn't optional. Claire was supposed to rest off camera, but after mentioning that she hadn't had a formal photograph in years, she changed into an evening dress and stepped in front of the backdrop.

The moonstone ring glittered on her hand. Adrian placed one palm at her waist so she wouldn't lose her balance, and the photographer, who clearly had no idea which woman was supposed to be the bride, told them to move closer.

When the flash went off, they looked more like mates than Adrian and I ever had.

My turn came next. Before the photographer could take a single shot, Claire's breathing grew ragged. Adrian didn't wait for the pack physician to finish examining her. He swept her into his arms and headed for the garage.

“We'll reschedule,” he called over his shoulder.

I stood alone beneath the studio lights and laughed.

There wasn't going to be a reschedule.

I was preparing to leave when an alarm shrieked across the estate. A maintenance worker, driven into a partial shift by accidental exposure to powdered silver, crashed through a side gate. His claws slashed wildly as people scattered across the courtyard.

Adrian reacted on instinct. He shoved Claire behind him and turned to shield her, knocking me directly into the path of an unmanned utility vehicle rolling down the drive. Its heavy door slammed into my ribs and threw me off the steps. For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.

Through the chaos, I watched Adrian lift an uninjured Claire and run toward the nearest clinic building. She rested her head on his shoulder and looked back at me over the crowd. Her eyes were far too clear for a woman in the middle of a cardiac episode.

Estate security eventually found me and called an ambulance.

Two cracked ribs. Twelve stitches in my left arm. Our accelerated healing couldn't spare me the pain, and the trace silver in my wounds slowed recovery. Adrian finally appeared close to midnight, carrying the sharp smell of antiseptic with him.

His first question wasn't about my injuries.

“Did you see Claire's pill case? She can't find it.” He sat beside my bed and reached for my hand. I moved it out of reach. “The attack scared her, and her heart can't handle the pheromone spike. I didn't realize you were hurt too.”

“You realized,” I said. “You just didn't look back.”

His lips parted. For the first time, a crack appeared in the confidence he'd worn like armor all his life.

“She was closer to me. Claire and I grew up together, and I couldn't let anything happen to her.” He leaned forward, as if the logic should comfort me. “You've always been strong, Ivy. You understand, don't you?”

That was how I'd lost myself the first time: one reasonable concession at a time, until I had given away everything, including my life.

I didn't answer. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning. North Ridge Medical Center has a specialist who can treat Claire, so I'm taking her there. I'll be back in three days for our full-moon ceremony.” Adrian showed me the itinerary on his phone. “Stay at the manor and rest. Don't go anywhere.”

The order in his voice was so certain it was almost funny.

At the door, he paused and looked back. “I know today wasn't fair to you. When I get home, I'll give you anything you want.”

“You can't give me what I want anymore.”

He didn't hear me, and he didn't have time to ask. Claire was calling again. He answered before he made it out of my room.

At the same moment, a notification lit my screen.

[INSTITUTE SHUTTLE DEPARTURE: 24 HOURS.]

I locked the phone and let the final scrap of hope inside me go dark with it.