Chapter 10
Kara
Blake flinches like I've slapped him. "Yeah. That." He releases my wrist, his hand dropping to his side. "I wasn't thinking. It was a habit, and—"
"A habit." I laugh, but there's no humor in it.
"Kara—"
"And now, because I put on a skirt and some makeup, suddenly you remember my real name?" My voice rises despite myself. "Suddenly I'm Princess? Suddenly I'm worth being nice to?"
The silence that follows is deafening.
Asher's jaw tightens. Blake looks like I've gutted him. Cole's face is unreadable.
Good. Twist the knife.
"You want to know the worst part?" My voice shakes, but I keep going. "Tomorrow, I'll shift for the first time. And no one—no one—has told me what to expect. No one's given me a book, or a guide, or even a single piece of advice beyond 'it's going to hurt.'"
Asher opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. "Kara, I—"
"You had a whole ceremony when you turned twelve," I continue. My eyes burn, but I refuse to cry. Don't you dare fucking cry. "Your parents threw you a party. The whole pack celebrated. There were gifts and speeches and probably a hundred people making sure you were safe and prepared."
Cole's face goes pale. "Kara—"
"And me?" I laugh again, bitter and broken. "I get nothing. Not even basic information. Because even now—even after ten years—I'm still just the debt collector's kid. Still just Carrot. Still not really part of this pack."
"That's not—" Blake starts.
"Isn't it?" I meet his gaze head-on. "If it's not true, then why didn't anyone prepare me? Why didn't anyone sit me down and explain what's going to happen? Why am I going into tomorrow night blind and terrified because none of you thought I was worth the effort?"
The silence stretches.
Finally, Asher speaks. His voice is quiet. Careful. "You're right."
I blink. What?
"You're absolutely right," he continues. "We should have prepared you. Should have made sure you had everything you needed. That was..." He swallows hard. "That was fucked up. And I'm sorry."
Sorry. He's sorry.
Ten years too late.
But his apology cracks something inside me. Something I've been holding together with sheer willpower and spite.
"I don't want your apology," I whisper. "I want information. I want to know what's going to happen tomorrow so I don't die of shock when my bones start breaking."
Blake steps forward. "Okay. Okay, we can do that. We can tell you everything—"
"And I want you to stop calling me Carrot." My voice is steady now. Clear. "My name is Kara. Use it."
"Done," Cole says immediately. "Never again. I swear."
Asher nods. "You have my word."
Blake looks like he wants to say something else, but he just nods silently.
They're agreeing. They're actually agreeing.
But for how long? How long before they slip back into old habits?
Then I run.
Down the hallway, past the portraits of Sterling ancestors staring down with their cold blue eyes, past the expensive vases I've dusted a thousand fucking times, past the life I'm about to leave behind.
My feet barely touch the floor. My lungs burn. My wrist throbs where Blake grabbed me—not hard enough to bruise, but enough to leave a red imprint of his fingers wrapped around my skin like a brand.
Just get to your room. Hold it together. Don't you dare fall apart in front of them.
I reach the storage closet and slam the door behind me. The sound echoes through the narrow space like a gunshot.
My legs give out. I slide down against the door, back hitting the wood hard enough to rattle my spine. I pull my knees to my chest, trying to breathe.
In. Out. In. Out.
But my hands won't stop shaking. My whole body won't stop shaking.
They believed me. They actually fucking believed that I dressed up for them. That I wanted to make them look good in front of their precious guests.
Idiots. Fucking idiots.
A laugh bubbles up in my throat—bitter, half-hysterical. I clamp my hand over my mouth to stifle it.
Jesus Christ, Kara, get a grip.
But the relief is sharp and dizzying. I came so close to breaking. So close to admitting that Sophia and Emma helped me, that I wanted to feel pretty for once in my goddamn life, that maybe—just maybe—I wanted them to see me as something other than the debt collector's unwanted daughter.
No. Fuck that. Fuck them.
I wipe my eyes roughly with the back of my hand. No tears. I made that promise to myself when I was ten years old, and I've kept it for eight years.
Not in front of them. Never in front of them.
Footsteps echo in the hallway. Heavy. Measured. Not the quick, predatory stride of the triplets.
Marcus.
My stomach drops.
A knock at the door. Three sharp raps that make me flinch.
"Kara. Open the door."
His voice is low. Commanding. The voice of an Alpha who's never been disobeyed in his entire fucking life.
I scramble to my feet, legs shaking. Wipe my face one more time. Take a breath.
Compliant. Be compliant.
I open the door.
Alpha Marcus stands in the hallway, Luna Victoria beside him. Their faces are blank—not angry, not concerned, not anything. Just... present. Like they're here to check off a box on their to-do list before bed.
'Handle the debt girl's first shift'—check.
Marcus scratches the back of his neck—the same unconscious gesture Asher does when he's uncomfortable. "We almost forgot," he says, tone businesslike. Like he's reminding me to take out the trash. "You'll shift for the first time tonight. At midnight. Same birthday as the triplets."
I nod slowly. A tiny, pathetic spark of hope flickers in my chest.
Maybe they'll help. Maybe they'll tell me what to do. Maybe they'll—
"Make sure you're out of the main house by 11:45." Victoria's voice cuts through my thoughts like a blade of ice. "Go to the ice river bay. It's open space. You won't damage the furniture or mess up the carpets when you shift."
The hope dies.
Of course. Of course that's all you care about. The fucking carpets.
My throat tightens. "I... what should I do? Is there anything I need to know?"
Marcus frowns like I've just asked the stupidest question he's ever heard. "The shift is a natural process. Your wolf will know what to do instinctively. Don't overthink it."
Don't overthink it. Right. Because my body spontaneously tearing itself apart is totally fucking normal.
Victoria adds, "Take off your clothes before you shift, or they'll tear. Tomorrow morning when you come back, go to the laundry room for clean clothes. Don't walk around the house naked."
That's it? That's your advice? Don't be naked in the hallway?
I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood. "Will it... will it hurt?"
Marcus waves a dismissive hand, already turning away. "The first time always hurts. Just endure it."
Just endure it. Like I've endured everything else in this goddamn house.
"But what if—" My voice cracks. Shit. Don't sound weak. "What if I pass out? Or lose control?"
Victoria pauses. For half a second, something flickers in her eyes—guilt, maybe? Regret?—but it's gone so fast I might have imagined it.
"You won't," she says flatly. "The pack genes will protect you."
Marcus is already several steps down the hallway. "Get some sleep. You have the triplets' birthday party tomorrow. Don't let the guests see you looking haggard."
Right. Because God forbid the hired help looks tired.
The door closes.
The hallway falls silent.
I stand alone in the darkness of my storage closet, staring at the crack in the wall I've memorized over ten years, and tears slide down my face without permission.
Fuck. Fuck them. Fuck this whole goddamn family.