Chapter 111
Kara
I watched Crystal's face cycle through shock to hurt to barely-contained rage. Watched her forced smile crack like ice under pressure. Watched her eyes go shiny with tears she was too proud to shed in front of the pack.
That's right. Cry about it. I spent ten years crying. Your turn.
When Blake finished—"And she said yes, can you believe it?"—Crystal's heels clicked twice on stone. Sharp. Angry. Defeated.
Then she turned and fled toward the house, stumbling once on the ice.
Oops.
The pack erupted in applause and cheers.
"Congratulations, Luna!"
"About time!"
"Those Sterling boys finally got their heads straight!"
Luna. They called me Luna. Not Carrot. Not the debt girl. Luna.
Through the bond, I felt three things simultaneously:
Asher: Brilliant. Absolutely fucking brilliant. Remind me never to underestimate you.
Cole: Remind me never to piss you off in public. Holy shit.
Blake: That was the hottest thing I've ever seen and we're having a serious conversation later about you calling me 'baby' because holy shit I almost came in my pants—
I cut off the connection before his thoughts could spiral into territory that would make me blush.
Victory. This is what victory tastes like.
The crowd parted as Victoria descended the front steps.
And just like that, my triumph turned to ice in my veins.
---
The former Luna moved like winter given human form, like some kind of ice queen from a fairy tale where the moral is "everyone dies cold and alone." Her dark blue velvet gown whispered against stone, and her lily-of-the-valley and cedarwood scent preceded her like a warning siren.
Danger. Danger. Abort mission.
Those pale green eyes—so cold, so calculating, so much like a snake deciding whether you were prey or just not worth the venom—swept the scene and missed nothing. Not Crystal's hasty retreat. Not my hand still on Blake's chest. Not the crowd's reaction.
Especially not the sapphire ring.
Fuck. Here we go.
Blake bounded toward her like an overgrown puppy who'd somehow forgotten she'd let his mate sleep in a closet. "Mom! The party is amazing!"
He kissed her cheek. She allowed it the way a statue allows pigeons to land—with cold tolerance and zero affection. One hand briefly touched his shoulder before returning to her side like even that much contact might contaminate her.
Her smile never reached her eyes. It never did.
"I'm so glad you're happy, darling." Her gaze slid past him to me. Lingered on the sapphire ring like it was a tumor. "Though I thought you boys wanted to wait until after Kara graduated high school. She's only eighteen. Still in school. This seems rather... rushed."
The pause before rushed carried a thousand implications.
Knocked up. She thinks I'm knocked up. Of course she does.
My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack.
Marcus materialized at his mate's side, his oak scent rolling over her frost like he was trying to smother a fire. His hand settled on her lower back—not affection. Control. I'd seen it a thousand times growing up. The way he touched her when she was about to say something that would cause problems.
"They've found their mate," Marcus said quietly. "There's no reason to wait once the bond is confirmed."
Thank you? I think? Did Marcus Sterling just defend me? What fucking dimension am I in?
"Of course." Victoria's smile turned brittle enough to shatter. "Welcome home, Kara."
Not niece. Not dear. Not even Luna. Just my name, delivered like a diagnosis.
"Thank you, Victoria," I replied. Deliberately didn't add aunt or Luna or any title that implied we were family.
Because we weren't. We never had been.
Cole stepped forward, wrapping his arms around his mother. She stiffened—just for a second—before returning the embrace. But I saw it. The way Victoria's eyes squeezed shut. The sheen of tears she blinked away.
Grief. For Connor. For the brother she'd lost to drugs and bad decisions and a blizzard night ten years ago.
For the brother who'd left her with me.
And you never forgave him for that, did you? You never forgave him, so you punished me instead.
"Thank you for doing this, Mom," Cole murmured against her hair. "For welcoming her home."
Liar, I thought. But I kept my face neutral, kept my smile pleasant, kept every hateful thought locked behind my teeth.
"Well!" Blake clapped his hands, oblivious to the undercurrents—or maybe just desperate to cut through them. "We should probably get inside, right? And Mom, you and Crystal can totally help Kara plan the wedding! It'll be—"
"No."
The word exploded through the mate bond before I could stop it, before I could filter it, before I could pretend to be the sweet grateful mate who went along with everything. I didn't even realize I'd sent it until all three brothers flinched like I'd slapped them.
Are you FUCKING INSANE?! I continued, my mental voice shaking with fury. Crystal HATES me. Your mother HATES me. You want them planning my wedding?! Might as well just ask them to poison the fucking cake and be done with it!
Blake's face went blank with confusion. "But you just called Crystal your friend and—"
That was STRATEGY, you beautiful fucking idiot! Social warfare! Calling her 'friend' while publicly humiliating her makes it worse because she can't retaliate without looking bitter! It's mean girl politics 101!
Oh, came Blake's sheepish reply through the bond. I... didn't know that was a thing.
Of course you didn't. You're a man. You probably think women actually go to the bathroom in groups because we like bathrooms.
"Actually," Cole interjected smoothly, his mint scent soothing over Blake's sputtering confusion like aloe on a burn, "we haven't discussed the wedding timeline yet. Kara might want to plan it with her school friends. Sophia and Emma offered to help, didn't they, baby?"
I could have kissed him for the save.
Thank you, Cole. At least ONE of you has a working brain.
"Yes," I said aloud, turning my sweetest smile on Victoria. The one that said "I'm being polite but we both know I'd rather set myself on fire than let you near my wedding." "I'm sure you're far too busy with pack duties to worry about color schemes and flower arrangements. But thank you so much for offering."
Victoria's eyes narrowed. She knew an insult when she heard one, wrapped in sugar or not.
Good. Let her stew on it.
Marcus cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should move this celebration indoors. It's fifteen below."