Chapter 24
Kara
"Of course you didn't." Lillian's laugh is hollow. Empty. "You're just the lucky girl who gets to be mated to three Alphas for the rest of her life while the rest of us get two months max before we're discarded like trash."
Trash.
The word hits like a slap.
Because that's what I've been, isn't it? For ten years. Debt-trash. Carrot. The worthless daughter of addicts.
And now I'm supposed to believe I'm better than that? That I'm worth something just because my smell happens to match theirs?
She's not angry at me. Not really.
She's angry at them.
At the system that gives Alphas the power to choose and discard and move on while the rest of us are left picking up pieces of ourselves we didn't even know were broken.
"They'll do it to you too," Nina says quietly. "Eventually. When the novelty wears off. When you stop being shiny and new."
"Nina," Jade warns.
But Nina shakes her head. "I'm just saying. Being a mate doesn't make you special. It just makes you... stuck."
Stuck.
The word echoes in my head, mixing with my wolf's furious protests.
Not stuck. CHOSEN. Loved. Protected—
But all I can see is three girls with smudged mascara and broken hearts, casualties of the same system that's trying to claim me.
They hurt them. Just like they hurt me. The only difference is I'm stuck with them forever.
"I didn't ask for this," I say, and my voice comes out raw. Desperate. Broken. "I didn't want—"
"It doesn't matter what you want," Lillian says, not unkindly. "It never does. Not when it comes to them."
She hands me her coat. Jade and Nina do the same.
Then they walk past me into the ballroom, leaving me alone with three expensive jackets and the weight of their words crushing my chest until I can barely breathe.
They broke up with their girlfriends. Last night. The same night they marked my room.
They didn't waste any time, I realize, and nausea rolls through me. They found out I was their mate and immediately cleared the way. Like removing obstacles. Like—
Like I'm a prize they won. A territory they claimed.
Not a person.
Never a person.
And suddenly, the silver dress feels too tight. The perfume smells too sweet. The hallway is too small and too crowded and I need to get out, need to breathe, need to—
I abandon the coat check station and run.
Fuck the coats. Fuck the party. Fuck all of this.
---
Cole
6:45 PM — Midnight Estate, Circular Driveway
"Fuck fuck fuck—" Blake mutters as we pull up to the house.
Every window blazes with light. Cars line both sides of the circular drive—gleaming SUVs and luxury sedans, the whole pack gathered for a party that started forty-five minutes ago.
We are so fucking late.
"Mom's going to murder us," Blake says, killing the engine.
"Let her try," Asher replies, but his scent betrays him. Black ebony sharp with stress and something that smells like dread.
I'm reaching for the door handle when three figures emerge from the side entrance of the house.
Oh shit.
Lillian. Jade. Nina.
Our ex-girlfriends move in formation—cocktail dresses and careful makeup that can't quite hide the fact they've been crying. Mascara smudged. Eyes red-rimmed. Moving like they're holding each other up.
When they spot us unloading bags from the trunk, all three freeze.
For a moment, nobody moves. Nobody breathes.
Then Jade's gaze lands on the Apple logo visible through one of the shopping bags.
"So this is why." Her voice cracks on the last word. "You dumped us last night and spent today buying her presents?"
Through the mind link: Fuck. Do we deny it?
No, Asher sends back, cold and certain. No more lies. We're done lying.
He sets down the box he's holding and turns to face them. His expression is that careful neutral mask that means he's about to go into damage control mode—the face he uses during pack negotiations when things are going to shit.
"Lillian, we explained last night—"
"Explained?" Her laugh is sharp enough to draw blood. "You said you found your mate and had to 'end things.' Then tonight we show up and there she is—the fucking debt-slave—serving champagne in a cocktail dress. She's the mate, isn't she?"
Say it, Blake urges through the bond. Just fucking say it.
Asher takes a breath. Meets Lillian's eyes.
"Yes," he says simply. "Kara is our mate."
The words land like stones in still water. Ripples spreading outward, changing everything.
Jade makes a sound—half laugh, half sob. "A debt-slave. You chose a debt-slave for your Luna. That's..." She shakes her head, eyes bright with tears and something that looks like vindication. "That's fucking poetic."
"Jade—" I start, taking a step forward.
"Don't." She holds up a hand, stopping me cold. "Just don't, Cole. You don't get to be the nice one right now. You don't get to pretend you're better than them."
She's right.
We're all monsters in this story. There is no nice one.
Nina's the one who finally moves—turning away, pulling her coat tighter around herself like it can protect her from the cold truth of what we are.
"Come on," she says to the others, voice flat. "We don't need to watch this shit."
But Lillian lingers. Just for a second. Looking at me with eyes that are older than they were six weeks ago.
Harder.
"I really thought—" she starts, then stops. Shakes her head. "Never mind. It doesn't fucking matter what I thought."
She walks past us, and I catch the scent of her pain—salt and bitter disappointment.
The three of them climb into Jade's Mercedes. Gravel sprays as she guns the engine, peeling out of the drive fast enough that her taillights blur red against the snow.
We stand there in the cold, surrounded by shopping bags and the ruins of relationships we never should have started.
They deserved better, I send through the bond.
Everyone deserves better than us, Blake replies darkly.
Movement on the front porch makes us all look up. Two Beta couples and an elderly Gamma peer out from the warmth of the house, clearly having heard every word of the confrontation.
Their gazes slide from us to the pile of gifts and back again.
Calculating. Gossiping. Already spreading the news through their internal pack links.
Fuck.
"Inside," Asher orders, his Alpha voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts. "Now. We move these to storage and then we greet the guests. We act like everything is normal."
"Nothing about this is fucking normal," Blake mutters, but he's already grabbing bags.
We haul everything through the side door, dumping it all in the storage closet—carefully avoiding Kara's old room.
The guests on the porch watch us with barely concealed curiosity as we emerge, plastering on our Alpha smiles.
"Sorry we're late," Asher says smoothly, shaking hands. "Traffic was a nightmare."
They nod. Smile. Offer birthday congratulations that sound hollow.
But I catch the whispers as we pass:
"—broke up with all three girlfriends—"
"—same night, can you believe—"
"—the debt girl, serving drinks—"
"—Luna Victoria must be furious—"
Blake's fists clench in his pockets. Through the bond, I feel his fury building—hot gunpowder and leather, ready to ignite and burn everything down.
Easy, Asher warns. Starting a fight will only make this harder for her.
Everything makes it harder for her, Blake snarls back. That's the whole fucking problem. Everything we do hurts her.
---