I'm curled on the edge of the bed when the door swings open without warning.
"Okay," Cameran announces brightly, "I've decided. We're frying Kieran's balls."
I blink, lifting my head. "What?"
She plants her hands on her hips, eyes wild, jaw set. "Deep-fried. Extra crispy. Maybe dipped in batter first. You know. For texture."
Behind her, Mayla steps in more calmly, though there's a tightness around her mouth I haven't seen before. She shuts the door quietly and leans against it, arms crossed.
"Cam," Mayla sighs. "Maybe let's not threaten regicide today."
"I said what I said," Cameran snaps. Then her gaze softens as it lands on me. "Are you okay?"
The answer sits heavy in my chest.
"No," I say honestly.
Mayla nods like she expected that. "Do you want to talk about it?"
I shake my head immediately. "No. I— I can't. Not yet."
There's no pressure. No disappointment. Just understanding.
Cameran crosses the room in three long strides and wraps her arms around me, crushing me to her chest so tightly it knocks the breath from my lungs.
"Hey," I protest weakly.
"Nope," she mutters into my hair. "You don't get to spiral alone. Ever. That's the rule."
My throat tightens.
I melt into her without meaning to, fingers clutching the back of her shirt like an anchor. The truth hits me all at once—how much I need her, how terrifying it would be to lose this. Cameran has been the one constant in my life since everything burned. Loud, messy, inappropriate… and unwavering.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," I whisper.
She snorts. "You'd be boring, for starters."
A shaky laugh escapes me, and it feels like oxygen.
"That's better," she says, pulling back just enough to look at my face. "Now. You are not allowed to sit in this room all day and emotionally torture yourself."
"I kind of feel like I deserve it," I mutter.
"Nope. Not happening." She straightens and points at me. "We are going shopping."
My eyes widen. "What?"
"You heard me."
"I don't—"
"You can't say no," she cuts in cheerfully.
Mayla's lips twitch. "We'll take Kieran's black card," she adds, wiggling her eyebrows. "The dangerous one."
That does it.
I laugh. Full, surprised, a little hysterical—but real.
Cameran grins triumphantly. "See? Already healing."
The town is alive in a way I didn't expect.
Shops line the wide streets—glass windows gleaming, signs hanging proudly, laughter drifting from cafés. Pups dart between adults, shrieking with joy as they chase one another. It looks… normal. Safe. Like nothing in the world could possibly go wrong here.
Enoch walks a few paces behind us, alert, but not attracting attention, eyes constantly scanning. Cameran pretends not to notice him, but I catch the way she glances back every so often, reassured, it makes me smile a bit.
Time blurs.
Boutiques. Dresses. Shoes. Jewelry.
"So tight," Cameran declares, yanking a dress over my head.
"It's fashion," Mayla counters.
"I can't breathe," I argue.
"You don't need lungs when you look that good," Cameran says firmly.
I'm pretty sure Kieran is going to have a heart attack when he sees the bill.
Mayla waved that concern away hours ago. "He's King. He'll survive."
What they don't see is the way my chest keeps throbbing.
That same burning sensation pulses beneath my skin, slow and rhythmic, like a heartbeat that doesn't belong to me. It's not overwhelming—just… present. Persistent. I still haven't looked. I'm not sure I can.
By the time they drag me into another store, the pressure is driving me insane.
"I need air," I blurt suddenly. "You guys pick something. I'll be right outside."
They hesitate, but Mayla nods. "Don't go far."
The cool summer breeze hits my face the moment I step outside, and I close my eyes, breathing it in. The relief is immediate.
Across the street, an Italian ice cart gleams in the sun.
That might help, I think. Something cold. Something grounding.
I head toward it, passing a narrow alley—
Rough hands slam around my waist.
A palm clamps over my mouth before I can scream, yanking me back hard into the shadows. My spine hits brick painfully, air knocked out of my lungs.
"Don't," a voice snarls in my ear.
I freeze. I that-
Valen.
My heart slams against my ribs. His face is twisted with rage, eyes dark, breath hot against my skin.
Valen looks exactly like the kind of wolf no one ever questions.
Dirty-blond hair falls just to his temples, usually messy in a way that looks intentional, like he never had to try. He's tall—taller than most—but not towering the way Kieran is. Where Kieran fills a room with sheer presence, Valen blends in more easily. Slim, lean, built like an advantage shifter: fast, flexible, dangerous in a quiet way rather than an overpowering one. His muscles are corded instead of bulky, all sharp lines and efficiency.
Before Kieran, I probably would have said Valen was handsome.
Symmetrical face, strong jaw, straight nose, eyes that can look almost gentle if you don't know better. The kind of male other wolves trust without thinking twice. The kind of smile that could convince you he's harmless.
But standing this close to him now, all I see are the things that make my skin crawl.
The way his eyes linger too long.
The way his mouth curls like he's already won something he was never entitled to.
The way his scent presses in on me, possessive and wrong.
And the truth hits me with a bitter, humiliating clarity—
After Kieran, no one compares.
Not in strength.
Not in presence.
Not in the way the bond feels like gravity itself.
Valen might look like the kind of male fate could have chosen once.
But standing here, pinned by his hands, heart pounding with fear and rage, I know with absolute certainty, the disgust I feel at another male's touch.
"Why are you here?" I choke out when his hand loosens just enough. "What are you doing?"
"You shouldn't be here," he whisper-yells. "You don't belong in the Royal Pack."
My shock curdles into anger. "Your father didn't explain it to you?"
"Oh, he explained," Valen growls. "I just don't accept it."
His grip tightens. His body presses closer.
Emma explodes inside me, snarling violently.
"Back off," I snap. "You have to accept it."
He laughs low and ugly. "You don't get it. You were meant for me."
I stare at him, stunned. "You've never even spoken to me. Not once."
"That doesn't matter."
Emma is thrashing now, fury bleeding into my veins. I think about my aura—about letting it out—but fear claws at me. People would see. They'd know.
Valen's voice drops. "I claimed you the moment you walked into that pack house."
Revulsion floods me.
I shove at his chest, but he pins my arms cruelly, bodyweight crushing me.
"Get off me!" I scream.
He grabs my face and kisses me.
I gag, twisting away, disgust burning through me.
Something inside me snaps.
I let go.
Just a little.
Power surges out, wild and sharp.
Valen stumbles back with a startled shout—
—and Enoch crashes into him like a freight train.
They hit the ground hard. Cameran and Mayla sprint toward me, Cameran swearing loud enough to peel paint as she pulls me into her arms.
Valen laughs as Enoch hauls him up. "She was always meant to be mine," he sneers. "You think being fated to the King will stop that? My father's making sure it's Seraphina he marries."
I feel sick.
"You think I'll let any other man touch you?" he yells. "I heard you talking with this bitch years ago—" he jerks his chin at Cameran, "—when you were dating that loser Ryan. I had to send Seraphina to fuck him. Make sure you saw. She was eager too."
My stomach lurches.
"Because even your innocence is mine!"
Cameran's eyes go feral.
She grabs a metal pipe from the ground and swings.
Valen drops mid-sentence.
She exhales, brushing dust from her hands like she just finished an errand.
"I think that's enough excitement for today, girls."
Enoch doesn't say anything. He just watches her for a second longer than necessary, something unreadable passing over his face.
Mayla is at my side immediately, her hand warm and steady at my back as she turns me toward the street, toward the car, toward anywhere but here.
My legs move on their own.
Not once looking back.