Chapter 3

I ripped my hand out of his grip.

"Christopher, you make me sick."

I turned to leave, and Emma stumbled forward and dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face.

"Elena, please. Say you'll bond with Christopher. This is all my fault. I'm dying anyway—please don't hold it against him…"

Christopher yanked Emma back to her feet, his expression turning ugly as he stared me down.

"Elena, if you keep making things harder for Emma, I don't mind making her my mate instead."

I met his eyes head-on.

"Whoever you take as your mate has nothing to do with me."

I didn't look at them again. I walked out.

Back at the cabin, I started packing.

I had just zipped the suitcase shut when the door was kicked in.

Several bodyguards in black poured in and dragged me back to the villa without a word.

The moment Belle laid eyes on me, she flew at me and slapped me hard across the face.

"You vicious little she-wolf! If you hadn't come here stirring up trouble, Lucia would never have gotten upset and run out into the street—she was hit by a car, there was so much blood, and now nobody knows if she's going to make it!"

Emma was sobbing so hard she could barely draw breath.

"I know you hate me… I'd deserve to die a hundred times over, but how could you hire someone to hurt Lucia…"

"I didn't!"

I fought against their grip, screaming.

Christopher didn't seem to hear a word. His eyes were nothing but rage.

"Get the doctor in here. Draw her blood."

They forced me into a chair and kept drawing blood until I started to black out.

I don't know how long it went on. Eventually my mind began to slip.

Memories drifted through my mind like smoke.

Fifteen-year-old Christopher throwing his body over mine, taking a silver bullet meant for me. His blood soaking through his shirt, and still he'd forced a smile through gritted teeth.

"Elena, don't be scared… I'll always protect you."

At twenty, when I'd eaten aconite by mistake and been rushed to the hospital, he'd stayed by my bed all night with red, hollow eyes, blaming himself.

"This was my fault. I didn't take care of you. I promise—I promise—I'll never let you get hurt again."

At my grandmother's funeral, holding me close, his voice raw but steady.

"Elena. From now on, I'll be the one you lean on. There's only me."

Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the doctor speaking, terrified.

"Alpha, that's already a thousand milliliters. If we take any more, Miss Elena will—"

"Keep going!"

Christopher's voice was ice. There was nothing left in it of the man I remembered.

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. I closed my eyes and let myself slip into darkness.

When I woke, a phone was ringing shrilly in my ear.

The moment I answered, the panicked voice of the cemetery caretaker came through.

"Miss Elena, your grandmother's grave has been vandalized."

I stumbled into the cemetery to find my grandmother's grave dug open.

My mother stood at the edge of the pit, holding my grandmother's urn in her hands. Her eyes burned with rage.

"This is your fault! If it weren't for you, Emma and Lucia would never have been hurt! Today you're going to learn a lesson."

With that, she wrenched off the lid, scooped out a handful of ashes, and flung them into the air.

"NO—!"

The scream tore out of me. I threw myself forward, only to be caught fast by the pack warrior at her side.

"No? This is exactly what you deserve!"

Teeth clenched, she raised her hand to scatter more.

My knees dug into the gravel. My voice shook.

"Mom—please. Please don't touch Grandma. Do whatever you want to me, just—please leave her alone."

"Is that so? Then you'll go before the pack alliance and admit, in your own words, that you're the interloper. That you stole your sister's mate."

Tear after tear splashed onto the ground.

My throat felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton. It was a long moment before I could force out a single word.

"Fine… I admit it."