Chapter 1I'm standing in the kitchen, hands bleeding and swollen from shrimp I'm allergic to—
All because SHE wanted it. Mira—the "poor orphan" my dad took in three years ago.
My brother's feeding her at the table. My mate is wiping juice off her lip.
And my dad? He just slapped me across the face for "trying to poison" the girl who's been framing me since day one.
Three years of this. Three years of being called cruel, dramatic, jealous—while Mira played innocent and destroyed me piece by piece.
Watching them all rush to her side while I bled on the floor. Alone. Invisible. Like I never existed.
That's when it hit me—I'm done.
I've suffered enough for their precious, innocent little princess.
They love her so much? Great. They can keep her forever.
I grabbed my coat and ran. Then I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and made the call I should've made years ago.
"Mom? I'm coming home. To Silvermoon."
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I crouched under the bus stop shelter, phone pressed to my ear, while my mom's voice practically blew out my eardrum.
"Say that again? You're transferring to Silvermoon? You finally came around!"
"Yeah, Mom."
"I knew it! I knew Marcus couldn't be trusted! When we split, I fought tooth and nail to take you with me. He swore in front of the elders he'd protect you and Ryder no matter what. And now what? Tell me the truth—did he hit you? Or did that girl do something? Give me a name. I'll drive over there tonight—"
My mom loved loud and fierce. Back when she divorced Dad, she dragged in lawyers, elders, anyone who'd listen—all to take Ryder and me with her. Dad promised he could handle us. Ryder was only six then, clinging to my leg, crying so hard he could barely breathe, begging me not to leave. How could I? I couldn't abandon him.
Now? What a joke.
"Mom. I miss you. Want to come home for a bit."
She caught the shake in my voice but didn't push. Probably didn't want to make me cry. "Okay, okay. Come home. This place is always yours. I'll book your flight right now. There's one in three days. Start packing."
Call ended. Message popped up immediately: [Flight's booked. Three days.]
Another one: [Aria, say goodbye to your friends there. I hope we never have to be apart again.]
Friends? I stared at the screen and let out a cold laugh. In this house, I didn't have friends. But there were three people I used to care about with everything I had—Dad. Ryder. Griffin. Now? Not one of them gave a damn about me.
Three days. That was enough time to finish humiliating myself.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket and called Dad first. One ring, then voicemail. Tried again. Phone was off. Fine. Expected that. I dialed Ryder next. It rang about seven or eight times. I was about to give up when he finally answered, lazy and annoyed.
"What?"
"Ryder. It's me."
"I know it's you. Caller ID exists. I'm busy. Make it quick."
I licked my cracked lips, trying to keep my tone casual. "Haven't seen you in forever. Let's grab dinner tonight. Just us two."
Silence for two seconds. Then he scoffed. "Dinner? What are you scheming now? Last time you said dinner, you dragged me and Mira together, gave us dirty looks the whole time, and she cried all night. What's your plan this time?"
My knuckles went white around the phone. Mira—the girl Dad took in a year ago. Her pack got wiped out in a raid. She was the only one left. Dad felt sorry for her, let her move in. Ever since she walked through that door, Ryder stopped seeing me as his sister.
"It's not like that. I just want to see you. That's all."
"Well, I don't."
He was about to hang up when I heard Mira's voice in the background. "Ryder, don't be so mean. You'll make Aria sad." Then her voice got closer—she must've taken the phone. "Aria, it's been forever. Why don't you just come to the house? It's freezing out there. Oh, but the maid's off today, and I've been craving garlic butter shrimp forever. You know how to make it, right? I remember you're, like, really good at cooking."
I was about to say no when Ryder cut in. "She can make it. No problem. Aria, grab the ingredients and come over."
"You're the best, Aria!" Mira chirped.
Ryder grunted. "Whatever. Don't come too early. I've got stuff this afternoon." Then he hung up.
I stared at the dead screen for a long time without moving. Those two bastards. I'm allergic to shrimp. I can't even touch it without my fingers swelling up. One bite could land me in the ER.
Chapter 2
I hauled the groceries back through the freezing rain, my hands burning. By the time I started prepping shrimp in the kitchen, my fingers were already swelling up—red welts popping under my nails. I ran them under cold water. Didn't help. Whatever. Just one more meal.
When I carried out the garlic butter shrimp, the living room sounded like a party.
Dad sat grinning at Mira—his face usually looked like stone, but now? Crow's feet showing. Ryder leaned close to her, talking. She laughed hard. He took the orange she'd peeled and popped a slice in his mouth.
"Our little princess shouldn't be peeling fruit. Piano hands are too precious."
Griffin sat next to her with his parents. His mom's hand rested on Mira's like she was holding treasure. Griffin's whole face turned toward Mira like she was the only person in the room. When juice dripped on her lip, he wiped it with a handkerchief—gentle, like she might break.
I stood in the hallway. No one looked at me. When Mira was around, I was invisible.
Mira turned and smiled. "Aria, why are you standing there? Come sit."
Ryder didn't turn his head. "Why? She'll just kill the vibe. Not every sister's as sweet as you, Mira."
I dug my nails into my palm. "It's fine. I'm good here. Food's ready."
By the time I set down the last dish, they were already seated. Mira in my spot. Dad at the head. Ryder next to her. Griffin on her other side. Six people. No room for me.
I grabbed a bowl and slipped back into the kitchen. There was broth left in the pot—I drank it straight, burned my tongue numb.
I was lost in thought when Ryder appeared in the doorway. I flinched, stumbled back. My elbow knocked a stack of plates.
Crash. Shattered everywhere.
Dad slammed the table. "I knew it! Look what you did! You can't even cook without wrecking the place! Useless mutt!"
A shard sliced my arm. Blood mixed with swollen allergy marks. Griffin's mom grabbed me. "The girl's bleeding. She's skin and bones. Marcus, can't you talk without yelling?" She pulled me to the table. "Aria, sit. Eat something."
Dad finally looked at me. His gaze slid over my collarbone. His mouth moved—
Then Mira screamed.
Her arm was covered in red welts, scratched and bleeding. She cried, "It hurts... it's so itchy..."
Dad, Ryder, Griffin—all three rushed over. Dad grabbed her wrist. "Allergic reaction..." His eyes snapped to me, cold as a blade. He crossed the room and slapped me.
I fell off the chair. Half my face went numb. Ears ringing.
"What did you put in the food?! Did you try to poison Mira?!"
I lay on the floor, vision black. When it cleared, everyone stood in a circle around me. No concern. Just disgust.
"I didn't... I just made shrimp..."
Ryder laughed coldly. "How did I get stuck with you? You cooked just to hurt her?"
Griffin didn't look at me. "Now you see why I could never choose her as my mate? I can't stand her."
Dad scooped Mira up. "Get her to a healer! We'll deal with this later!" They all left—footsteps pounding, door slamming.
I was alone on the floor. Broken porcelain, blood on my sleeve, face swelling. But my chest hurt worst—like something twisted inside till nothing was left.
I rolled over, stared at the ceiling light. A moth circled the glow. Tears slid cold into my hair.
Every time, it was the same. As long as Mira existed, I didn't.
But lying there, I felt something inside me snap.
I was done.
In three days, I'd be gone. I'd never step foot in this house again.
They'd never see me cry again.
Chapter 3
I dragged myself off the floor, porcelain digging into my knees. Half my face was swollen—opening my mouth sent sharp jolts through my jaw. The kitchen light was still on. That plate of garlic butter shrimp sat cold on the table. Untouched.
I went upstairs and locked my door. Pulled out bandages and ointment. The cut on my arm kept bleeding, mixing with the red allergy bumps. Looked nasty. I wrapped it quick, then opened my closet and started packing.
I was supposed to leave in three days. Not anymore. When that slap landed, my head rang—but after, I felt clear. No one here wanted me. Better to leave on my own terms. At least this way, it's my choice.
Halfway through packing, I stopped. Just a few old clothes. One winter coat from two years ago, sleeves pilling at the cuffs. Not a single decent piece of jewelry.
It hit me—after Mira moved in, Dad and Ryder stopped buying me anything. Last year on my birthday, Dad was playing chess with Mira. Ryder was recording a video for her. I waited till ten at night. No one remembered. They even stopped my allowance. I'd been working in the school cafeteria just to get by.
I crouched on the floor and looked up at the old photo on my desk. The plastic frame was yellowed and peeling. Inside—Ryder and me as kids, with Dad. Building a snowman in the backyard. Mom took this photo. A few days later, she left.
Mom broke the mate bond with Dad. Went to Silvermoon Pack and got together with their Alpha. The night the news came, Dad locked himself in his study and cried all night. Later, he called us over, voice hoarse. He said he'd failed as a mate—couldn't keep Mom—but as a father, he swore he'd never let us suffer again.
Ryder was only six or seven. He clenched his fists, eyes red. "Don't worry, sis. I'll protect you. Anyone messes with you, I'll fight them. I'll never make you cry. Never let you leave like Mom did."
I believed him. For a few years, they kept that promise. When I had a fever, Dad left meetings to stay with me. In middle school, rogues locked me in a storage room. Ryder found out, went after them alone, fought all five. He came back bloody but said they apologized to me one by one.
Griffin was good back then too. Brought me walnut cakes every week. Once, I mentioned wanting strawberry ice cream. That night, pouring rain, he drove halfway across the city to find the only shop still open.
On my eighteenth birthday, Dad asked if Griffin's family had mentioned bonding. I said I didn't know, but in my head, I'd already planned out the rest of my life—Griffin by my side, Dad and Ryder behind me.
Then the next day, Mira showed up. Everything changed.
She was good at showing up whenever I was alone with Ryder or Griffin, turning herself into the victim.
The first time, she took my hair clip. She handed it back in front of Ryder, tears streaming, saying, "I didn't know it was yours. Please don't be mad." Ryder pulled me aside. "Over a hair clip? Look how scared she is."
The second time, she had a bruise on her arm. She ran crying into Griffin's arms, saying, "Don't blame Aria. She didn't mean for her friends to push me." I never told anyone to touch her. But Griffin believed her. He comforted her, then turned to me coldly. "What kind of friends are you hanging out with? Stay away from her."
The third time, in front of Dad. I yelled at her. "Can you stop acting?" She went quiet, bit her lip, tears pouring. Then she scraped her wrist against the table till it bled and ran to Dad saying, "Aria didn't mean it." Dad slapped me. "How did I raise such a vicious daughter?"
Ryder was there. Mira hid behind him, crying. He shoved me away and pulled her in. "How did you turn into this? I regret saving you. Stay away from Mira."
Griffin? He grabbed the first aid kit, cleaned her wounds. Then he went out and bought strawberry ice cream—the same place he'd driven through the rain for me. He sat next to Mira and fed her, spoon by spoon.
Later, Griffin told me, "I want a mate with a kind heart. The way you are now scares me."
That night, I sat on the stairs till morning. None of them came looking for me.
From that day on, I knew—this house wasn't mine anymore.
