Two weeks.

That was how long it had been since I left.

Now I was back, and everything felt heavier. The air. My chest. The way the sun poured in through the kitchen window like it was trying to melt my skin off.

I had barely dropped my bag beside the stairs when Mom looked up from where she was folding laundry on the table and said, "The Alpha of Moonlit Pack wants to see you."

My lips parted like they wanted to say something but didn’t. Then they snapped shut.

"What?" I blinked. "Now? As in now-now?"

She nodded, casual, like she just told me the weather.

"Why? Why me? I just got back. Can't I breathe for like... five seconds?"

She didn’t look up this time. "He said it was important. You have to go."

I threw my hands in the air. "Oh my God. Is death not an option? I feel like this is a good time to just, like, snap my own neck and avoid whatever this is."

"Chiara," she warned, her voice that calm-in-a-storm thing she did. "Get dressed. We leave in twenty."

I groaned. Loudly.

What did Kai's dad want with me? ME?

He didn't even acknowledge me even after Kai and I got married and now he wanted to see me. I didn't like the feeling I was getting.

Worst, what if I ran into Kai?

In my room, I stared at my reflection and muttered, "This is so stupid." I yanked off my hoodie, my arms getting stuck in the sleeves. Great. I was dying by hoodie now.

On the way there, I stared out the car window, pretending the trees were more interesting than the panic building in my chest. "Why does he wanna see me?"

Mom sighed, and I knew that sigh. It was the I’m-not-in-the-mood-but-here-goes sigh.

"The festival was held. Kai didn’t find his mate."

My hand twitched. "Okay...?"

"You're the only girl from the Pack who wasn’t there."

My stomach dropped. Just like that.

"That doesn't mean anything," I snapped. "There are other girls. Other packs. Other... people. I'm not a damn default setting."

She looked at me. "You know how this works."

"Yeah, well, maybe the moon made a mistake," I muttered, dragging my nails across my jeans till I felt the fabric burn.

When we got there, I didn’t even get to sit down or pretend I had time to breathe. It was all rushed. Voices, steps, a hallway with too many turns, and then the priest.

I felt like someone stuffed cotton in my mouth. My palms were sweating. My knees were stupid and shaky. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want this.

The doors opened and he walked in.

Kai.

I swear to God, all the air left my lungs and never came back.

I panicked. I was going to faint. I was definitely going to puke on someone's shoes. Probably mine.

His eyes landed on me like they always did. Like I was a thing he knew but couldn’t touch. But this time, something shifted. His lips twitched. My body heated.

"It is done," the priest said, voice echoing. And then it was said. Declared. Sealed.

The festival had ended just like that. I was Kai's mate.

Mom gasped beside me. My legs forgot how to… leg. I reached out blindly and grabbed her arm.

"Don't faint," I whispered to myself. "Don't faint. Not now. Don't faint like a loser."

Kai smiled. Actually smiled. Like he was pleased. Like this was good. Easy. Happy.

I wanted to scream.

He had told me before—after we got married—that he had liked me before he knew we were fated. A lot. Said it with that little smirk and that look in his eyes that made me believe he meant it. But I guess he didn’t like me enough to tell me he was dating my freaking step sister.

Liars. All of them. The whole damn world.

When they left us alone in that stupid, echoing room, I didn’t know what to do with my hands. Or my feet. Or my face.

I stared at the floor. Then at the wall. Then at a crack on the floor. Then, stupidly, at him.

Why was he so tall? Why was he so beautiful? Why was I shaking?

I hated him. He had killed me. But then…

This was Kai at eighteen, pure and innocent. Shit.

I hated the way my stomach flipped like it was a gymnast every time I looked at him.

I hated the way my heart stuttered like a broken record.

I hated the way I loved him.

And that was what scared me most.

I. Loved. Him.

And I had died thinking he didn't love me enough.

"So," he said, breaking the silence. His voice still sounded the same. Warm. Dangerous. Like the promise of something you shouldn’t touch but always do. "You're Chiara."

I blinked, then gave a small, stupid nod. "Yeah. Last I checked."

He chuckled. Soft. Low. Like something private.

"I've heard a lot about you."

My lips parted, trying to form words. Any words. I think my mouth moved. No sound came out.

He reached forward, his fingers brushing back a stray piece of my hair. Tucked it gently behind my ear.

My whole body turned into static.

"You're funny," he said, smiling.

I wanted to slap him. And kiss him. And maybe run.

"I—" I started, then stopped. My hand trembled.

He leaned in a little, just enough for his breath to touch my cheek.

"If you don't want me to kiss you," he murmured, "I won't."

And I didn’t move.

I didn’t say anything.

I didn’t breathe.

So he kissed me.

Softly. Slowly. Like he was trying to fix something that had already shattered.

My hands clenched around the fabric of my shirt. My knees almost buckled.

I wouldn't kiss him back.

I hated how much I wanted it. How much I wanted him. Still. After everything.

He pulled away, just a little. His eyes searched mine.

"You okay?"

No. I wasn’t okay. You killed our son.

But I nodded anyway.

Because I didn’t trust my voice. Because my heart was screaming and my mind was spinning and nothing made sense.

Because I would still hate him no matter what, I would ruin him.

And that scared me more than anything ever had.