Chapter 4

Sia's POV

Cain froze.

Before he could speak, Samara walked over and slipped her arm through his.

"Oh, stop it, Cain," Samara said softly. "Don't be so hard on Sia. She's eighteen now. It's normal to want to show off a little. Besides, our engagement party is in three days. She can wear it there. Maybe she'll finally catch a decent warrior's eye and stop being so lonely."

Every word was a calculated slap to my face.

Cain didn't look at her and ordered coldly:

"Go return that dress, Sia. Now."

"No," I said, clutching the paper bag with my old clothes. "And don't worry about your party. I won't be there."

I turned and walked to the jeep, leaving them on the sidewalk.

The ride home was silent. Halfway there, Cain pulled over near the Southern market.

"Samara wants those pastries," he muttered, not looking at me. "Stay in the car. I'll be right back."

He got out. Samara opened her door a second later. "I’m going to look at the flowers, Sia. Don't look so miserable." She walked down an alley.

I leaned against the window, counting the days until my escape.

Suddenly, a sharp scream ripped through the air.

Samara.

I threw the door open and sprinted into the alley. Three rogue wolves had Samara pinned against a brick wall. Her clothes were torn, and she was sobbing.

"Get the hell away from her!" I yelled.

The rogues spun around, baring their teeth. "Well, look at this pretty little thing," the leader sneered, scanning my red dress. "You want to play hero in that outfit?"

I didn't waste breath. I slammed into the first rogue, driving my elbow into his windpipe. He crashed down. But the other two tackled me instantly.

A heavy fist caught my jaw. The taste of blood flooded my mouth as I hit the gravel. Pain shot through my ribs, but my wolf instincts kept me moving. I extended my claws, driving them straight into the second rogue’s chest. He shrieked, collapsing into the mud.

"Damn it!" The last rogue scrambled over the wall to escape, and I leaped right after him.

The moment I dropped down, he lunged. His claws tore deep, painful gouges into my shoulder. The silver-laced agony made my vision blur, but catching him off guard, I forced my hand up and drove my claws deep into his throat.

He choked, his dead weight crashing on top of me.

I pushed him off, coughing blood. My body was shaking. My beautiful red dress was torn, soaked in blood and mud. I hauled myself up and dragged my limping body back to the main street.

When I rounded the corner, I stopped. Cain was already there, kneeling on the pavement, holding a weeping Samara.

"Cain..." I croaked.

Cain's head snapped up, fury blazing in his eyes as he charged toward me.

Crack.

The force of his hand sent me flying into the dirt. My vision went black, my swollen cheek burning in the mud.

"You malicious, selfish bitch!" Cain roared, his Alpha pressure slamming into me. "You saw them coming, didn't you? You ran away and left her to die just to punish me! She was almost ruined because of your pathetic jealousy!"

I lay in the puddle, spitting blood. "No... I fought them... I killed—"

"Shut your mouth!" he snarled.

Behind him, Samara cried out, "Cain, please... don't hurt her. It's not her fault... anyone would be scared..."

"I know, baby, I know," Cain's voice softened instantly as he comforted her. Then he turned those cold eyes back on me. "Listen to me, Sia. If Samara is traumatized by this, I will make you wish you were never born."

He scooped Samara into his arms, slammed the jeep doors, and revved the engine.

The tires spun, spraying a wave of icy mud directly over my face and body as they tore down the street, leaving me far behind.

I lay still in the freezing dirt, staring at the empty road. The pain in my body was nothing compared to the absolute hollow silence in my chest.

I was done crying for him. He was completely dead to me.

Three days passed. The house was loud with preparations for the engagement banquet. Nobody came to my room. Nobody cared about the bruises on my face or the blood soaking through my bandages.

It was the night before my departure.

My suitcase was packed by the door. As I did a final sweep of my empty room, I noticed a small tear on the arm of my stuffed wolf. My father’s last gift.

I grabbed a sewing kit and walked downstairs to the living room for better light. I set the wolf on the coffee table, turning to the kitchen to grab scissors.

It took ten seconds. But when I walked back out, my blood turned to ice.

Samara was standing over the table, a smirk on her face as she tilted a glass of red wine. She poured the dark liquid directly onto my father's toy, watching it soak into the fabric. Then, she dropped it on the floor, using the plush to wipe a splash of wine off her high heels.

"Drop it!!" I screamed.

I lunged forward, ripping the soaked toy from her hands. Samara stumbled back, shrieking as she hit the floor.

"Sia! What the hell are you doing?!"

The front door slammed open, and Cain stormed in. He immediately rushed to Samara, pulling her up and checking her wrists.

"She attacked me, Cain!" Samara sobbed. "I just saw that old, dirty trash on the table. I accidentally spilled my wine and tried to use it to clean up. I didn't know! She just flew at me and shoved me!"

Cain turned on me, his eyes blazing with disgust.

"Have you completely lost your mind, Sia?! Are you seriously putting your hands on my fiancée over a piece of garbage?!"

"It’s not garbage," I whispered. I clutched the wet toy against my chest.

"It’s an old, broken toy! I will buy you ten new ones tomorrow, the best damn ones in the city!" Cain scoffed. "Do you have any decency left? Any damn manners? To assault Samara over a childish piece of rag right before our engagement?"

I looked at him. Really looked at him. The boy who once promised to protect me was completely gone.

"This is the last thing my father left me before he died," I said, each word deliberate.

Cain froze.

The anger vanished from his face, his jaw dropping slightly as the words hit. He knew about my father. He knew how sacred that memory was.

"Sia... I didn't know," he stammered, stepping closer. "I thought it was just—"

I didn't let him finish. I didn't yell. I didn't cry.

I turned my back on him and walked away.

That night, I locked myself in the bathroom. I scrubbed the toy under freezing water until my palms were bleeding, but the wine stain wouldn't budge. It was ruined forever.

Sitting on the cold tiles, I clutched the stained wolf to my chest, tears streaming down my face in the dark.

I'm so sorry, Dad. I couldn't protect it.