Chapter 2

MARGE 

He walked me to the mirror without letting go.

“Look,” Zach said, positioning me in front of the glass. My reflection stared back, pale, hollow-eyed, bruised in places no one could see.

“Naya,” he called. “Come here.”

My sister strolled over, letting the sheet drop, her skin glowing, her hair falling in perfect waves. She stood beside me, and the mirror did the rest of the work.

“Look at you both,” Zach said, tilting his head like he was studying livestock. “Same blood. Same family. How does one turn out like this,” his eyes dragged down my body, “and the other like that.”

Naya laughed softly. “Genetics skip people sometimes.”

“Clearly.”

I stared at my own reflection, refusing to blink, refusing to give either of them the satisfaction of watching me flinch.

“Stand up straighter,” Zach ordered. “Let’s see it properly.”

I didn’t move.

He gripped my shoulders and forced them back himself, exposing every inch of me the mirror had been hiding. Naya’s gaze slid over me slowly, clinically, like she was appraising a mistake.

“No wonder he waited five years,” she said. “I would too.”

Something cracked further inside my chest, though I hadn’t thought there was anything left to break.

“Enough,” I whispered.

“Enough?” Zach repeated, amused. “You don’t get to decide when this is enough. You decided that four years ago, when you let everyone believe you were her.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I broke. “Naya, I’m glad you’re alive. And I’m glad you’re here. Tell him the truth, please. Tell everyone I had no hand in the death of our family,” 

“No matter what drama you put up, Marge. You cannot be forgiven.” He released my shoulders and stepped back. “Get dressed. The ceremony starts in an hour, and I won’t have you looking like this in front of the pack.”

***************

The ceremony was held in the same courtyard where I’d once stood in Naya’s place, believing I was saving her memory from shame.

Now I sat in the front row, exactly where Trinity promised I would, forced to watch her reclaim it.

Naya wore white, gold threading through the fabric like she was already Luna in everything but name. Zach stood beside her, radiant in the way grooms were supposed to be, nothing like the man who’d growled at me the night before.

The pack elder began the binding words. “Renounce your old bond, automatically binding yourself to your mate,” 

“I renounce Large Margaret Pope as my mate, and today, I take Naya Pope as my mate, my wife, and the Luna of this realm,” 

I stopped listening after the second sentence. I already knew how this story ended. I’d lived my version of it for four years.

Trinity caught my eye from across the courtyard and smiled, slow and satisfied. I looked away. Someone leaned closer to me. 

“I think they’re perfect together,” 

I turned to him. A man I hadn’t noticed for quite a while. His words stole the chance to get a proper look at him. I didn’t realize I was staring until he turned back to me. “Forgive me, I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Ryan. I am…”

“Yeah, Ryan, save your identity for yourself. You and the rest of the crowd can go fuck yourselves,” I cursed and stormed out of my seat. 

Before I could make it out, Trinity bumped into me. She pushed some clothes into my arm and a tray. “You know what to do,”

“I can’t serve here. I took care of the decoration, I made the cake, I arranged the hall, all by myself. I cannot,” 

“You can. And you will. Unless you want the council reopening your murder case,” she threatened. 

The trauma that case alone had left in me was nothing compared to this little act of service. I took the tray, went into the nearest room, got changed and came out to serve just like the rest. 

The party had already gone into full swing by the time I came out. Zach and Naya were moving from one desk to another, greeting well wishers. I moved through the crowd with my head down, serving drinks and answering questions. 

On my third serve, I walked past Zach’s table. I hit a leg, stumbled and fell. The glass cups in my tray shattered on the tiles, drawing an undeserving amount of attention. 

“Everyone, look! It’s Large Marge!”  Someone announced. 

The crowd burst into laughter. Men and women I recognized whom my family helped also laughed. 

“You should be more careful when walking,” Naya tossed me a napkin. “Or is there something wrong with your legs?”

“You heard the crowd,” Zach chirped. “Large Marge. She barely carries herself,”  

Those who heard him laughed. I struggled to stand, but the liquid under my feet made me slip again. I landed in muscular arms, not the hard tiles. 

It was the same man. Ryan. 

For a second, I stayed still in Ryan’s arms, my whole body frozen with shame instead of pain. Then I scrambled up, gripping the tray to my chest like it might shield me from the laughter still ringing across the courtyard.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, though he hadn’t asked. I didn’t wait for a response. I hurried off, weaving through the crowd with my head down, until I found the nearest bathroom and locked myself inside.

The stain on my dress had soaked through, dark and humiliating, right where everyone could see. I scrubbed at it under the tap, my hands shaking, tears falling faster than the water could rinse anything away.

A shadow passed the window above the sink. I looked up. Ryan.

“Marge.” His voice was muffled through the glass. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

He came in anyway, slipping through the side door a moment later. “I’m sorry. For what they did out there. That wasn’t right.”

“Please leave.”

“Your hand,” he said instead, nodding at it. Blood welled from a shard still lodged in my palm. I hadn’t even noticed.

“I said leave.”

He didn’t. He crossed the room, gentle but unbothered by my refusal, and took my hand before I could pull it away. He picked the glass out carefully, piece by piece, his touch far softer than I expected from someone his size.

“Why do you let them do that to you?” he asked quietly.

I laughed, hollow. “Like I have a choice.”

“You could leave.”

“And go where?” The laugh came again, uglier this time. “I have nowhere, Ryan. This is it for me.”

“You could come to my pack.” He said it so simply, like it cost him nothing.

I looked at him properly for the first time. Whatever kindness lived in his face, I didn’t trust it. “I wish I could,” I said, and meant it more than I wanted to.

The door slammed open.

Zach filled the frame, eyes locking onto Ryan’s hand still wrapped around mine.

“Why are you with my wife, Ryan?”

Ryan’s jaw tightened. He scoffed, dropping my hand slowly. “Wife? Didn’t you just marry her sister? I asked around. I was told.”

“Step away from her.” Zach’s eyes cut to me, cold and disgusted. “And you. How low of you, thinking being with my brother would save you.” He jerked his chin toward the door. “Leave.”

My legs were frozen for the first few seconds. 

Brother?

******