stolen

Chapter One

I watched my twin sister try on my wedding dress.

White lace. Delicate beading. The dress I'd dreamed about since I was twelve, back when I still believed in fairy tales and happy endings.

Isabella twirled in front of the mirror, her pale face glowing with something I hadn't seen in years. Health. Happiness. Victory.

"It fits perfectly," Mom said, adjusting the veil. "Like it was made for you."

It was made for me. My measurements. My deposit. My mate.

But nobody cared about that.

"Irabella, stop lurking in the doorway." Dad didn't even look at me. "Come help your sister."

I stepped into the room. My wolf clawed inside my chest, begging me to run. To fight. To do anything except stand here and watch this happen.

"The Alpha arrives in two hours," Mom said, smoothing Isabella's hair. "We need to make sure everything is perfect. Isabella, you remember what to say when he arrives?"

"I'll tell him I'm his mate." Isabella's voice was soft, practiced. Innocent. "That I've been waiting for him."

My wolf howled. The sound echoed in my head, desperate and broken.

He is ours. Ours. You can't let her take him.

I pressed my nails into my palms. Blood would come soon if I pressed harder.

"Irabella." Mom finally turned to me. She held out a small crystal bottle. The perfume gleamed amber in the light. "Wear this. It will mask your scent completely. We can't risk him sensing you."

I stared at the bottle.

This was real. This was happening.

"Take it," Dad said. His voice was flat. Final. "Unless you want your sister to die lonely and mateless. Unless you're that selfish."

Selfish.

That word again.

I'd heard it my whole life. Every time Isabella wanted something of mine. Every time I protested.

I was seven when Isabella first called me selfish.

We had identical dolls. Same curly brown hair. Same blue dress. But Isabella decided hers was ugly. She wanted mine.

"Please, Ira?" She'd used that small, fragile voice even then. "Yours is so much prettier."

"But they're the same," I'd said.

Isabella reached for my doll. I pulled back. She stumbled, fell sideways into our backyard pool.

The splash brought Mom running.

"She pushed me!" Isabella coughed and sputtered in the shallow end. "I just wanted to see her doll and she pushed me!"

I tried to explain. Nobody listened.

They took my doll. Gave it to Isabella. Called me heartless.

I was ten during my first school presentation.

I'd worked for weeks on my science project. A model of the solar system, each planet painted carefully, suspended on fishing line. Mom and Dad promised they'd be there.

That morning, Isabella got sick.

Fever. Chills. The usual.

"Mom, the presentation is at two," I'd said, watching her pack Isabella's medicine bag.

"Your sister needs us, Irabella."

"But you promised."

Dad turned on me. "Are you serious right now? You want your sister to suffer alone at the hospital just so we can watch you talk about planets? Do you hear yourself?"

"It's not just planets, I worked really hard—"

"Enough." Mom's voice was ice. "We're going to the hospital. Your presentation isn't life or death. Your sister's health is."

I gave my presentation to an empty auditorium. My teacher felt sorry for me. That somehow made it worse.

Isabella was fine by dinner.

I was twelve when I started realizing the pattern.

Anything I had, Isabella wanted. And because she was sick, because she was fragile, because she might not have much time left, she got it.

My clothes. My books. My friends. My life.

I learned to stop fighting.

What was the point?

"Irabella." Dad's voice snapped me back to the present. "The perfume. Now."

I took the bottle.

My fingers shook as I unscrewed the cap. The scent hit me immediately. Sharp. Chemical. Wrong.

"All over," Mom instructed. "Wrists, neck, behind your ears. We can't take any chances."

I sprayed my wrists.

The mate bond flared in my chest. My wolf screamed. No. No. NO.

"More," Mom said.

I sprayed my neck.

My wolf whimpered now. Broken. Defeated.

Please, Ira. Please don't do this.

"Good." Dad checked his watch. "Isabella, let's go over the story one more time. When the Alpha asks why you hid your scent until now—"

"I'll say I was scared," Isabella recited. "That I didn't think I was strong enough to be a Luna. But now I'm ready."

Mom beamed. "Perfect."

I felt hollow.

"Irabella, you'll stay in your room during the meeting," Dad said. "Don't come out. Don't make noise. This day is about your sister."

This day was supposed to be about me.

My mate. My Alpha. My future.

But I just nodded.

"Good girl," Mom said absently, already turning back to Isabella.

They didn't even see me leave.

I walked to my room like a ghost. Closed the door. Sat on my bed.

The perfume burned my nose. Choked me. Erased me.

My wolf was silent now. She'd given up.

I looked at my hands. They were shaking.

Mates were sacred. The one thing the Moon Goddess gave you that was truly, completely yours. Your other half. Your soul's match.

And I was giving mine away.

No. They were taking him. Like they'd taken everything else.

I heard cars pulling up outside. Voices. Excitement.

The Alpha was here.

My mate was here.

And he would never know I existed.

I pressed my hand to my chest. The bond was there, buried under chemicals and lies. It pulsed. Ached. Screamed.

He was close.

Downstairs, I heard Isabella's laugh. Light. Musical. Fake.

Then I heard his voice.

Deep. Rough. Authoritative.

My wolf stirred. Mate. MATE.

Every cell in my body pulled toward him. Wanted to run downstairs. To tell him the truth.

But I stayed frozen on my bed.

Because I knew what would happen if I did.

Dad would disown me. Mom would call me a monster. Isabella would cry and say I was trying to kill her by stealing her happiness.

And nobody would believe me anyway.

They never did.

So I sat there, alone in my room, wearing perfume that erased my identity.

And I let my twin sister steal the one thing that was supposed to be mine.

My mate.