I was discharged from the hospital. Dragging my frail body through the doors, I ran straight into the last wolf I wanted to see.
Ethan loomed beside his sleek black Rolls-Royce, arm slung lazily around Vanessa's waist-his fingers drumming her hip like I wasn't even there.
"Get in," he snapped, eyes frosty as he nodded to the back seat. "We're seeing my parents."
My fingers clenched my shirt so hard my knuckles turned white.
The car headed to a cemetery on the outskirts of town.
I watched from the back seat, the leather cold against my palms, as she traced the line of his jaw with a manicured nail, her lips brushing his earlobe.
I sat in the front passenger seat, catching their cozy reflection in the rearview mirror, each glance twisting the knife in my chest.
At the cemetery entrance, Ethan stepped out first.
I started to follow, but the sight before me froze me in place.
From the gate to the heart of the cemetery, a ten-mile path was lined with glowing red coals, shimmering like a nightmare under the sun.
Ethan pulled Vanessa close, his voice frigid. "Claire, your whole pack's guilty. Your parents are gone, so you'll pay for their sins."
He jabbed a finger at the smoldering coals. "Kneel. Crawl to my parents' grave-on your palms, not your knees. Lick the dust off their headstone when you get there. Beg for forgiveness like the filth you are."
My legs shook. I knew refusing would only make it worse.
The moment my knees hit the coals, the stench of burning flesh filled the air.
Pain seared through me, black spots dancing in my vision, but I gritted my teeth and crawled forward.
Behind me, Ethan's car rumbled, creeping along at a snail's pace.
Through the open window, I caught a flash of their hands-Ethan's fingers threaded through Vanessa's, his thumb rubbing slow circles over her knuckles. Then he lifted her hand, brushing his lips against her wrist, his gaze lingering on the pulse fluttering there like he was drunk on the sight. Vanessa giggled, twining a finger through his hair to tug his mouth closer, and he obliged, pressing a soft kiss to the base of her thumb before nipping it playfully.
Each crawl, felt like branding my body on a red-hot iron. My knees were a bloody mess, my palms charred black. Sweat and blood dripped onto the coals, hissing with every drop.
When I finally reached the gravestone, I was on the verge of passing out.
Through blurry eyes, I saw Ethan standing with Vanessa by the tomb.
"Mom, Dad," he said, his voice soft in a way I hadn't heard in years,
"I've found my true mate. I brought her to meet you. The ones who took you from me-they've paid."
Vanessa laid flowers at the grave, her voice sweet.
"Arthur, Catherine, don't worry. I'll take care of Ethan."
"Kneel," Ethan snapped, his eyes locking onto me, cold once more.
I drove my body down, forehead slamming into the gravel with a sickening crack-blood blooming where it hit the stone.
The impact jolted my teeth, and I did it again, harder, the edge of the gravestone slicing a gash above my eyebrow. By the third time, my vision blurred, blood dripping into my eyes as I pressed my cheek to the dirt, tasting iron and shame.
"Get out of here," he said, then turned, arm around Vanessa, and walked away.
Hailstones erupted from the sky on the way back, sharp as shards of ice slamming into my skin.
I dragged my shattered body forward, each step tearing the scabs on my knees, blood mixing with the icy pellets.
By the time I crawled to the villa, night had swallowed the sky, and my clothes were stiff with frozen blood.
Ethan was sprawled on the couch, twirling Vanessa's diamond bracelet between his fingers.
He glanced up, his eyes skimming my blood-crusted form like I was a stain on the rug, then went back to admiring the jewelry.
"Vanessa wants a feast tomorrow," he said, tossing the bracelet onto a pile of her gifts. "You're planning it."
I froze.
"Make it like that dream binding ceremony you always talked about," he added, a cruel smirk curling his lips.
My heart twisted. I'd told him a hundred times about my dream ceremony-champagne towers, white roses blanketing the hall, a band playing my favorite songs. Now, my fantasy was just Vanessa's party.
"Quit dawdling." He flicked a tiny bottle of antiseptic at me, lips curling like the sight of me annoyed him. "Fix yourself. She hates looking at messes."
He turned on his heel, not waiting for a response.
The antiseptic hit the floor. I picked it up and chucked it in the trash. Dragging my scarred, aching body, I started setting up the banquet hall, working through the night.
