Chapter 2

I'd always been a sickly child. The pack's witch had foretold that I would never shift—never have a wolf of my own. Unlike other werewolves, I had no ability to heal. I was, for all intents and purposes, human. A simple flu, a bad fall, a broken bone, any of it could kill me.

Worst part I had a clotting disorder. Almost bled out once during surgery.

My body couldn't handle the strength of the werewolf bloodline. No one in the pack could save me.

My brother completely lost control. Searched everywhere until he found the one Omega who could donate—Lydia.

Her blood saved my life.

That was how she went from being the lowest Omega in the pack to the adopted daughter of our father, Noah, Alpha of Silverclaw.

But after that, my brother changed.

He stopped caring about me. Lydia became his whole world.

If we both got hurt He wouldn't even look my way. He'd leave me there and rush her to the hospital, even if her injuries were minor.

It made me jealous. Made me hate her. So I lashed out.

A sweet, innocent foster sister versus a bitter, crazy real one You do the math.

I was so naive. I thought he still loved me most. That he only doted on her because she saved my life.

Turns out, I couldn't have been more wrong.

Last time around, they found out I had Lycan Heart-Core Failure—my heart was slowly shutting down. And Lydia died on the operating table, donating blood to save me.

I lived. Miraculously.

But from that day on, my brother hated me with everything he had.

He hurled the cruelest words at me, like we weren't even siblings. Like we were enemies with blood between us.

This time I didn't want that.

I'd rather be the one who didn't make it.

Winter was brutal. Freezing wind and snow whipped at my face like razor blades.

The ache in my soul mixed with the burn on my arm until even breathing hurt.

I hunched over, pulled my coat tighter, and kept walking.

Guess I got greedy earlier.

I came back to give my brother what he wanted, a life with only one sister.

I should just leave.

That thought was still fresh when a car honked beside me.

The window rolled down. There he was, stone-faced.

Get in.

Before I could say no, his men pulled me inside.

The heat was cranked, but I still felt cold.

I pressed myself against the window, staring at the blur of streetlights flying past.

You didn't even get your arm treated. What are you trying to pull this time

His voice cut through the silence like ice.

Hurting yourself for attention wasn't enough Now you're running away

I was quiet for a second. Then I turned and met his eyes.

I mean it. You won't have to deal with me anymore. I'll move out. Stay far away.

He laughed, bitter, mocking.

Move out You With your weak body You leave home, you're useless. How long do you think you'd last

Not long anyway.

I dropped my gaze.

That's not your concern.

I know I used to fight for your attention. Scream. Throw fits. But I get it now. Some things just aren't mine. Lydia saved me. You should love her. I... I shouldn't get in the way.

His eyes narrowed, searching my face for lies. For some scheme.

All he found was ash. Whatever fire had burned there—jealousy, longing, even love—was gone. Dead.

That stillness unsettled him more than anything.

You think this act will make me soften Make me proud Delilah, I'm sick of your games.

I'm not playing games.

My voice came out soft, tired.

I'm just... done. I don't want to fight anymore.

I don't want to go meet Mom and Dad with you hating me. I thought.