You know when you get what you want but it doesn’t feel the way you thought it would? That was me, sitting there in the corner of the room, arms folded tight against my chest like they were the only thing holding me together. Mom had just told me I was going away for the summer. To my real dad’s. Just like that. Like it was the most casual thing in the world.

"Since you're so eager to leave, you’ll be spending the summer with your father," she said, standing with her arms crossed like she expected me to throw a fit. But I didn’t. She'd left dad after he had cheated on her, he is an Alpha but a cheat.

He is a good father mostly…though.

I just sat there staring at the wall, my throat feeling like it had been stuffed with cotton. I should’ve felt angry or panicked or betrayed. But mostly? I felt relief. Sharp and unexpected.

My voice came out softer than I meant, almost too soft. "Can I stay with him... longer? I mean, what if I just stayed there? Maybe it's better that way."

Mom blinked at me. She was still pretty, still had that tired beauty around the eyes, but I could see her defenses rising.

"Don’t be ridiculous, Chiara. It’s just for a few weeks," she said, like she hadn’t heard the tiny bit of hope leaking into my voice. "Just the summer. You’ll be back before the second festival.”

Before the second festival. Like that was something I should be looking forward to.

At least I would miss the first. Something had started to change.

I looked away, picked at the edge of the cushion I was sitting on. My hand trembled just a little and I clenched it into a fist. I didn't want her to see.

So in under an hour I had my thing ready.

My mother stood there for a second like she was waiting for me to argue. I didn’t. I just nodded. That seemed to annoy her even more, but before she could say anything else, a piercing scream echoed through the house.

Bridget. My step sister.

Of course.

I winced, then rolled my eyes so hard it almost hurt. Her voice had this shrill pitch that always made me want to rip off my own ears. Mom looked towards the hallway and then back at me, like she didn’t want to deal with it either. But the screeching only got louder.

I stayed in the room. I wasn't going to chase after her tantrums. Not this time. But then Mom and I both heard the pounding footsteps rushing toward us. The diner was just downstairs, and soon enough, Bridget came flying in like a storm in heels.

"She’s his mate!" she screamed, face red and eyes full of rage. Her whole body trembled like she was on the verge of combusting.

Michael was right behind her, brows raised and clearly irritated. He looked more confused than anything. "What’s this about now?"

Bridget pointed a shaky, accusatory finger straight at me. "Chiara! She’s Kai’s mate! It was supposed to be me!"

I blinked. My lips parted like I wanted to say something but the words didn’t come. My hand twitched at my side.

Then she lunged at me.

I didn’t even think. My body moved on its own. Just a flick of my wrist and she went flying backward, like some invisible force had yanked her off the ground. She hit the floor with a loud thud and a yelp, legs tangled under her. I didn’t flinch. Not even a little.

Michael looked like he wanted to scream. "What the hell was that?!"

Mom stepped forward, calm but firm. "She attacked Chiara first."

He looked between us, clearly fuming. "So you’re defending her now?"

"She’s not the one throwing tantrums in public," Mom said, folding her arms. I glanced at her, surprised. That was probably the closest she’d come to defending me since... well, ever.

"Where are you going?" Michael snapped, glaring at the bag slung over my shoulder.

"She’s going to stay with her father," Mom answered, voice like a knife.

I straightened my shoulders and looked right at Bridget, who was still crumpled on the floor, trying to look pitiful. "And while I'm gone, my room stays locked. Last time, you stole my stuff."

Bridget shot up, eyes blazing. "I only borrowed them because he likes your scent!"

Everyone froze. Even the air in the room went still.

Michael turned slowly toward her. "What did you say?"

Bridget didn’t even blink. She was shaking, red in the face, eyes glossy with rage. "Kai. He likes her scent. Whenever I wore her clothes, he paid attention to me. But when I didn’t... he just ignored me."

Mom's mouth opened slightly like she wanted to speak but didn’t know how. Michael looked like he’d swallowed a stone. I just stood there, my face carefully blank even though my stomach had twisted into knots.

Bridget kept going like she couldn’t stop. "That day at the bonfire, he kept looking at her like she was glowing. And she was wearing that stupid green sweater. I knew it then."

I laughed. A small, dry sound that didn’t quite feel like mine. "Liking someone’s scent doesn’t mean you’re mates, Bridget. Wolves like all kinds of things. Doesn’t mean anything."

"Yes, it does!" she snapped.

I shook my head, stepping toward the door. "Then I guess I’d rather die an old spinster."

Michael grabbed the back of a chair and stared at the floor like the world didn’t make sense anymore. Mom was still frozen in place.

Bridget's mouth opened and closed like she was searching for one last insult. One last attack. But the sound of a car horn outside cut her off.

"That’ll be my ride," I said, already turning the knob.

"Chiara—" Mom called after me, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t want to hear her try and patch things over. There was nothing left to fix.

I stepped out into the fresh air. My heart thudded like a war drum in my chest. My fingers still tingled with leftover power. I pulled the duffel tighter over my shoulder and climbed into the car.

As we pulled away from the house, I didn’t look back.

Let them choke on the truth.

Let them wonder what I’d do next.

Because if there was one thing I knew now—

I wasn’t going down.

I was just getting started.