Kiara.

My mother was angry.

Angry and embarrassed. In fact, I knew she would give anything not to experience this very moment.

But there was no reason for her mood and she damn well knew it. If anything, she should be feeling pleased as hell; after three years, her child was back from the forbidden forest, whole and alive. But that wasn't the case, she acted like she wished I had died in that forest and saved them the shame.

She stood across from me with her arms folded, lips pressed into that familiar disappointed line she always wore when I wasn’t behaving “like a proper young lady.” But this time, there was more than just disappointment behind her eyes.

Embarrassment. Anger.

“I’m not sure what’s gotten into you, Kiara,” she said, brushing invisible lint from her blazer. “But this behavior is unacceptable.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, voice like a blade. “Is it the part where I exist that’s upsetting you? Or the fact that I came back alive?"

Her mouth tightened.

She hated it when I talked like this—sharp, ungrateful, wild. Not like the Kiara she used to mold in front of her dinner guests like a trophy on display.

She glanced toward Lyla, as if hoping she could fix the mess I’d made just by breathing.

And Lyla… sweet, strategic Lyla… stepped forward with a picture-perfect expression of calm understanding.

“I think everyone’s just overwhelmed,” she said gently, putting a hand on our mother’s shoulder. “Kiara’s been through a lot. Who wouldn’t be a little… off, after something like that?”

I stiffened.

There it was. The first taste of poison, slipped in with a smile.

Lyla wasn’t attacking me—oh no. She was defending me. Making herself the mature one, the peacemaker. The real daughter.

“I’m not off,” I said flatly.

She turned to me, the corner of her mouth lifting with just the right amount of sympathy. “Of course not. I’m just saying, we should all be patient. Maybe she needs some time to… readjust. The forest couldn’t have been easy on anyone.”

And just like that, she’d planted the seed.

Mentally unstable. Possibly dangerous. Emotionally volatile.

It was masterful, really.

My mother gave her a tight smile. “You’re so understanding, Lyla. Always thinking of others.”

She turned to me, and the warmth dropped from her face like a mask slipping.

“You could take a lesson,” she said coldly.

I smiled back. “Why bother? You already gave my spot to her, you could as well give her all the lessons.”

She gasped, offended on Lyla’s behalf, but I didn’t care. I’d handed them their masks—I had every right to rip them off.

“I’m not doing this,” she snapped. “Here—” She tossed a bundle of clothes onto the coffee table between us. “Shower. Change. You’ll be staying in the nanny’s old room. Temporarily.”

The clothes were soft. Familiar.

Too familiar.

I lifted the top shirt and stared at it. It wasn’t mine.

They were Lyla’s.

I looked up slowly. “Where are my clothes?”

She didn’t even flinch. “We cleared them out during the renovations.”

“You cleared out my entire room,” I repeated. “While I was still missing.”

My voice dropped. “So you really thought I was dead.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” she snapped. “I kept some of your things.”

She turned to Lyla. “Go get them.”

Lyla’s smile didn’t falter. “Of course.”

She disappeared upstairs, heels clicking like a metronome in the silence.

I sat down on the armrest of the couch, staring at the bundle of borrowed clothes in my lap.

I didn’t speak again until Lyla returned, balancing a dusty box in her arms.

“I’ve been taking good care of it,” she said cheerfully. “Didn’t want anything to happen to your memories.”

The box thunked against the coffee table.

I opened it—and the world tilted.

My photo albums were the first things that I saw but they were shredded. Pages torn, corners bent, spines cracked. My wolf figurine, the silver one I’d treasured since I was seven, was stuffed at the bottom, its leg snapped clean off. My hand-carved model from the academy, the one that won first prize—it was crushed beneath a binder labeled Lyla’s Wedding Plans.

I wasn’t in mourning.

I was on fire.

I kept digging.

At the very bottom, nestled like an afterthought, was a small metal box. I opened it with shaking fingers.

A single photograph stared back at me—my family, all of us smiling on the front lawn. Except… my spot had been sliced out. And patched over with Lyla.

They’d taken me out of my own life and replaced me with her.

I was shocked. I held the picture as I cried inwardly and felt something inside of me died. The pain was vast. But I just stood there and stared into space. Not letting them see a single tear drop from my eyes.

I let the anger burn through the grief, forging it into something else but definitely not tears.

I looked straight at Lyla. “These aren’t everything. Something’s missing.”

She tilted her head. “Missing?”

I stood, eyes locked on hers. “One thing. Give it back to me.”

Lyla blinked, innocence painted across her face like highlighter. “What do you mean? Are you saying I stole something?”

She knew.

Of course she knew.

She’d taken it after I disappeared, the gemstone necklace Kaiser had given me before our bond ceremony. It had been one-of-a-kind. Moonstone, carved into a twin-wolf pendant. Symbolic. Priceless.

And now?

She was wearing it.

Right there, around her delicate little neck, nestled in the hollow of her collarbone. Same gem. New setting. Slightly altered—but not enough to fool me.

“I’m just trying to help,” Lyla said, placing a hand to her chest—right over the necklace. “If there’s something you want, you can just ask. No need for… drama.”

Drama? Oh no! She's about to see drama.

I stepped forward.

She didn’t move.

One second.

Two.

And then, without warning, I slammed her back into the wall.

A gasp shot through the room, sharp and panicked. Her hands flailed, but my arm pinned her in place—elbow pressed to her throat, hard enough to make her eyes widen.

“Then I want this one,” I whispered.

Her lips parted in shock.

My gaze dropped to the necklace.

“Will you give it to me?”