"Don't be nervous. Just breathe."

I whispered the words like a spell, but they did nothing to steady the tremble in my fingers.

The silver necklace slipped between my hands, its cool weight grounding me—barely. The wolf emblem, delicate yet proud, shimmered in the morning sun that slanted through my bedroom window. I turned it over once, then again, like it might whisper answers if I held it long enough.

This is who I am, I reminded myself. Not just Isla from Silvercrest High. Isla Fitzgerald. Daughter of Liam Fitzgerald, Alpha of the Silver Hollow Pack.

For months, I’d hidden behind an ordinary name and a borrowed life—choosing silence over status, distance over legacy. Just to avoid being another shadow of my father’s fame. Just to feel normal.

He didn’t look at me like the world did—through the lens of bloodlines and rumors. He saw me. Not the name. Not the power. Just the girl beneath it all.

So. Here I was.

Hidden no longer.

Lyra, my wolf spirit, stirred in the back of my mind. Show him. Trust him. He has to know.

I met my own gaze in the mirror—dark eyes wide, almost too vulnerable—and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. My reflection didn’t look like the daughter of an Alpha. It looked like a girl hoping too hard.

“Today,” I whispered. “Today he’ll understand.”

I fastened the necklace. The crest settled just beneath my collarbone, gleaming faintly against my skin. A whisper of who I really was—but only for Rupert. I wasn’t ready to announce myself to the world. Not yet.

My phone buzzed.

Rupert: See you at lunch. Can’t wait :)

My heart did a somersault. This was it. I'd tell him everything. I'd invite him to prom. And maybe, just maybe, we'd start something real.

The halls of Silvercrest buzzed with the usual midday chaos: lockers banging open, sneakers squeaking on linoleum, voices overlapping in a noisy, careless blur. Normally, my enhanced hearing hated this time of day. But not today.

They say that mood affects the way you perceive the world. Maybe it was true, because today, the world felt distant. Like I was walking through it but not of it.

I spotted Rupert near the east stairwell, casually leaning against his locker, flipping through his phone. His sun-kissed hair caught the light, and he laughed at something on the screen. My heart clenched—he really was beautiful. Not just outside, but the way he looked at me like I mattered. Like I was seen.

"Rupert?" I called softly as I approached.

He looked up, smile immediate. "Hey, gorgeous. I was starting to think you'd chickened out."

I laughed—nervous, breathy. "Never."

He tucked his phone away and gave me his full attention, the way he always did.

I held out the small velvet pouch.

“I made something for you,” I said, placing it in his palm. “Well, had it made. Just… open it.”

He untied the pouch and tipped the contents into his hand. The miniature silver wolf crest caught the light, a perfect tie pin, its details lovingly mirrored from my family’s emblem.

His fingers closed around it slowly. “Is this…?”

“It’s a symbol,” I said, brushing my fingers across the necklace at my throat. “Of where I come from. Who I really am. I wanted you to know the truth.”

For a beat, he said nothing. Then—too loud, too clear—he asked, “Wait. Is this supposed to be the Fitzgerald crest?”

My smile faltered. “Yes, it’s—”

"Wow." He chuckled. But it wasn’t kind. “Okay, hold on. Where’d you get this?”

Something in his tone twisted the air around us.

“What do you mean? I… It’s mine,” I said, voice unsteady. “I’m—”

“Did you steal it?” Rupert asked, louder this time.

The hallway seemed to freeze. A few students turned. Others paused mid-conversation.

“What? No. Rupert—”

“I mean, come on, Isla,” he said, scoffing now. “The Fitzgerald crest? You expect people to believe you have that kind of bloodline? What, are you suddenly royalty now?”

A low ripple of laughter stirred nearby. I blinked, confused. Why was he doing this?

"You said I could trust you," I whispered, barely audible.

"Oh, sweetheart." He smirked, and I no longer recognized the boy who'd once traced constellations on my palm. “You actually thought this was real? Us?”

I took a step back. My heart stuttered.

"You asked me to open up," I said. "You said I was different."

"Yeah. Different." He dangled the crest-tie pin like a dead thing. "This whole act you’ve been putting on—‘mysterious girl with a secret noble past.’ Please. You’re just some wannabe with a necklace and a fantasy.”

The crowd had grown. Phones were out. Smirks, whispers, hungry eyes.

“Rupert, stop.” My throat burned. “This isn’t you.”

“I know exactly who I am,” he said coolly. “You’re the one living in a delusion.”

Someone laughed. It sounded sharp. Ugly.

And then a figure stepped forward.

Seraphina Vale. All glossy blonde hair and designer confidence, slinking to Rupert’s side like she'd always belonged there. She didn’t look at me—she looked through me.

“Oh, is this the girl who’s been pretending to be Fitzgerald nobility?” she asked sweetly, mockingly. “Darling, that’s adorable.”

Before I could speak, Seraphina rose onto her toes and kissed Rupert—slow and possessive. The crowd erupted in cheers and catcalls.

I stood there, frozen.

When they finally pulled apart, Rupert didn’t even glance my way. Seraphina, however, turned with venom in her eyes and reached out, brushing her fingers over my necklace.

"This?" Seraphina sneered, her voice laced with cruel amusement. “This isn’t even a good fake. My family knows the Fitzgeralds. Trust me. They don’t produce... this.”

Her fingers closed around the silver chain at my neck—and yanked.

Pain lanced across my skin as the metal dug in, dragging hard against the hollow of my throat. I gasped, stumbling back, my hand flying to the spot where the chain had bitten in. Heat rushed to my cheeks—part pain, part humiliation.

I heard the crowd laugh. I saw a phone flash.

But all I could feel was the way my chest squeezed tight, like my heart was trying to fold in on itself.

Lyra howled in my mind, furious, wild. Let me out. Let me defend us.

But I couldn’t. Not here. Not with all of them watching.

Not with him.

“You’re making a mistake,” I whispered, barely able to breathe. My voice shook with the effort of holding everything in.

Rupert tilted his head, smiling like he was bored. “The only mistake was thinking you were ever worth my time.”

Laughter again—louder this time, sharper, like it had been waiting for permission to erupt.

My vision blurred.

I blinked hard. I couldn’t allow my tears to drop.

Don’t let them see.

My throat ached from swallowing it all down. I could feel the tears threatening to fall—but not here. Not in front of them. Not when they'd already taken everything else.

I turned and pushed through the crowd, their jeers and whispers peeling off me like needles. My feet moved faster than my thoughts—just get away, just go—

And then—

I slammed into a wall of muscle.

Strong arms steadied me. I looked up. A tall figure, dark-haired, broad-shouldered.

The crowd stilled.

Archibald Summerby.

The boy I'd been promised to. The Alpha heir I’d avoided for months. Arrogant, impossible, unavoidable.

His eyes landed on my tear-streaked face, then flicked over the crowd, narrowing sharply.

“Is—Fitzgerald?” His voice cut through the hallway like a blade.

I lost my words, unable to answer.

Just seconds ago, everything I’d hidden—everything I’d protected—was gone.

I should have looked away. Should have pretended not to know him, walked past, disappeared.

But somehow, my chest was burning. Out of humiliation. Or rage.

It made me stand still.

"Isl-Fitzgerald?" Archibald said, as he grabbed me by my shoulders.

The humiliation burned too hot, choking me. Behind us, I could hear Rupert and Seraphina's laughter growing louder as they approached, no doubt eager to witness more of my public mortification.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped animal seeking escape.

“What happened?” Archibald asked. His voice getting serious.

In that moment, something inside me snapped.

Pride—the one thing I had left—surged through my veins like wildfire.

Without thinking, I pivoted on my heel, grabbed Archibald's sleeve with desperate fingers, and almost shouted.

"Be my prom date!"

The hallway must have heard my words clearly.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

Archibald Summerby didn't date. Everyone knew that. The Alpha heir had turned down countless offers from the most beautiful, most connected girls in school.

And here I was—tear-stained and disheveled—demanding what no one had ever received.

For a moment that stretched into eternity, Archibald simply stared at me.

His face remained impassive, but something shifted in his eyes—a calculation, perhaps, or a decision being weighed.

Behind us, I heard Rupert's derisive snort. "Seriously, Isla? You think Summerby would waste his time with someone like you?"

Seraphina's tinkling laugh followed. "How desperate can you get? First trying to pass off stolen jewelry as family heirlooms, now throwing yourself at the one boy in school even more out of your league than Rupert?"

Their words were daggers, but I refused to flinch. I kept my eyes locked on Archibald's, silently daring him to reject me, to complete my humiliation. At least then it would be over.

What I didn't expect was the slight narrowing of his eyes as they flicked over my shoulder to where Rupert and Seraphina stood. I didn't expect the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw, or the way his gaze returned to mine with something that looked almost like... resolve.

And I certainly didn't expect him to nod.

One simple, decisive movement of his head.

A yes.

The hallway erupted into chaos.

Exclamations of disbelief, hurried whispers, the frantic tapping of fingers on phone screens as the news spread like wildfire through the school's social channels.

Archibald Summerby had agreed to take Isla Fitzgerald to prom.

Rupert's face contorted with shock, his mouth opening and closing like a fish thrown onto dry land. Seraphina's perfectly composed facade cracked, her eyes widening with something that looked remarkably like fear.

Before anyone could recover enough to speak, Archibald reached out and took my elbow in a gentle but firm grip. "We're done here," he said, his voice carrying effortlessly over the commotion. Without waiting for a response, he guided me away from the crowd, his tall frame effectively shielding me from the stares and whispers.

I let him lead me, too stunned by what had just happened to resist. We walked in silence until we reached a quiet alcove near the library, far from prying eyes.

"You're crying," he observed when we stopped, his tone matter-of-fact rather than sympathetic.

I hastily wiped at my cheeks, embarrassment flooding back. "I'm fine."

"Clearly." The sarcasm in his voice was mild but unmistakable. He studied me for a moment longer, then sighed. "What exactly was that about, Fitzgerald?"

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "You saw what happened. I was being... I needed to..." The words wouldn't come.

"Save face?" he supplied. "Make Thornfield jealous? Or was it just a convenient way to humiliate me along with yourself?"

That stung enough to make me look at him again. "I wasn't trying to humiliate you."

"No?" His eyebrow arched again. "Then what were you trying to do?"

The truth was, I didn't know. I'd acted on pure impulse, driven by hurt and rage and the desperate need to reclaim some shred of dignity. But I couldn't admit that to him.

"Does it matter?" I asked instead. "You agreed."

Something flickered across his face—annoyance, perhaps, or resignation. "Yes, I did." He straightened his already perfect blazer. "I'll pick you up at seven on Saturday. Wear something appropriate."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing alone in the alcove, clutching my family's pendant and wondering what I'd just gotten myself into.

The rest of the school day passed in a blur of whispers and stares. By final period, it seemed everyone had heard both about my humiliation at Rupert's hands and my shocking prom date with Archibald Summerby. I kept my head high, my face expressionless, though inside I was still raw and bleeding.

I didn't wait for my usual ride home. Instead, I called for a private car, slipping out a side entrance to avoid further confrontation. The driver knew better than to attempt conversation with a Fitzgerald, so the ride passed in blessed silence, giving me time to process the day's events.

By the time we pulled through the wrought iron gates of my family's estate, I had managed to lock away the worst of my pain behind a wall of numbness.

I dismissed the driver with a nod and made my way not to the main house but to the garden beyond, a sanctuary I'd claimed as my own years ago.

The spring air was cool against my skin as I settled onto a stone bench nestled among blooming roses.

I opened my palm, finally releasing the silver pendant I'd been clutching since Rupert had thrown it back at me. The wolf emblem gleamed in the fading light, a symbol of everything I'd tried to escape and everything I truly was.

I don't know how long I sat there, still in my rumpled school uniform, staring at the necklace and replaying the day's humiliations on an endless loop. The garden grew darker around me as twilight descended, but I made no move to return to the house.

"You'll catch cold sitting out here."

The voice startled me so badly I nearly dropped the pendant. I looked up to find Archibald Summerby standing a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his expensive coat, watching me with that same inscrutable expression he'd worn in the hallway.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, hastily wiping away tears I hadn't realized I'd been shedding.

He took a step closer, his tall figure silhouetted against the darkening sky.

"I think we need to talk about what happened today." His eyes dropped to the necklace in my hand, then back to my face. "And about what happens next."

The finality in his tone sent a chill through me that had nothing to do with the evening air.

Whatever game I'd started by demanding he take me to prom, I guessed it was clear that Archibald Summerby intended to play by his own rules.

The garden had always been my refuge, but tonight it felt like a battlefield as Archibald Summerby stood before me, his tall figure cutting a sharp silhouette against the twilight sky. His unexpected presence in my sanctuary sent a wave of indignation through me, momentarily overriding the humiliation that had been my constant companion since Rupert's betrayal hours earlier.

"What are you doing here?" I repeated when he didn't immediately answer, my voice sharper than I intended.

Archibald took another step forward, moonlight catching the angles of his face. "Your father let me in," he said simply, as if that explained everything.

Of course he did. The Summerbys were always welcome at the Fitzgerald estate. Our families had been allies for generations, culminating in the arrangement that would one day make me Archibald's Luna—a future I'd spent years resenting and avoiding.

"That doesn't answer my question," I said, closing my fingers around the silver pendant, hiding the wolf emblem from his penetrating gaze.

He sighed, a sound that seemed to contain years of frustration. "I think you know why I'm here, Isla. What happened today at school—"

"Was nothing," I cut him off, my pride flaring defensively. I would not appear weak before Archibald Summerby of all people. "Just typical high school drama."

He raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched in every line of his face. "Nothing? That's what you call having Thornfield publicly humiliate you, then demanding I take you to prom?"

Hearing him say it out loud made the wound fresh again. I stood abruptly, needing to be on equal footing—or as equal as possible given his towering height.

"It doesn't matter," I insisted, chin raised defiantly. "And I don't need you checking up on me like I'm some fragile little Beta who can't handle rejection."

"Is that what happened?" Archibald asked, his voice deceptively soft. "Rejection?"

Something in his tone made me look at him more closely. There was knowledge in his eyes—he'd seen more than I realized.

"What exactly did you witness?" I asked cautiously.

"Enough." The word hung between us, heavy with implication. "I saw Thornfield throw something back at you. I saw you crying. And I heard what they were saying about you pretending to be nobility."

My stomach twisted. "And you came here to what? Gloat? Tell me 'I told you so' for trying to hide who I am?"

"I came to understand what happened," he said, frustration edging into his voice. "And to make sure you're alright."

"I'm fine," I snapped, the lie bitter on my tongue. "And nothing significant happened. Rupert turned out to be a jerk. End of story."

Archibald's eyes narrowed slightly. "If that's all it was, why are you out here alone in the dark, clutching your family crest and crying?"

I turned away, unable to meet his gaze. "That's none of your business."

"It became my business when you publicly declared me your prom date," he countered, moving to stand in front of me again. "I think I deserve some explanation."

He was right, and that only made me angrier. "Fine. You want to know what happened? I misjudged someone. I thought Rupert actually liked me for me, not for my name or status. I was wrong. Lesson learned. Satisfied?"

"No," he said quietly. "Because you're still not telling me everything."

Something in his persistent questioning broke through my defenses. "What do you want me to say, Archibald? That I humiliated myself by giving him a family heirloom? That he laughed in my face and accused me of stealing it? That apparently he's been dating Seraphina Vale behind my back? Is that what you want to hear?"

The words tumbled out in a rush, each one like glass in my throat. I hated that he was witnessing this breakdown, hated that he of all people was seeing me at my weakest.

"Don't tell my parents," I added quickly, suddenly terrified of my father finding out how foolishly I'd behaved. "Please, Archibald. They can't know about this."

He studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable in the growing darkness. "Why hide it from them?"

"Because they'll say exactly what you're thinking right now—that this is what happens when I try to pretend I'm not who I am. That I brought this on myself." My voice cracked on the last words.

Archibald's jaw tightened. "Is that what you think I'm thinking?"

"Isn't it?" I challenged. "You've never approved of me 'playing commoner' at school. You parade around with your Alpha status on full display, never hiding who you are. You probably think I deserved what happened today."

Something flashed in his eyes—anger, perhaps, or offense. "You don't know what I think, Isla."

"Then enlighten me," I shot back.

He took a step closer, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. "I think you were naive," he said, his voice low and intense. "I think you believed you could escape who you are by pretending to be someone else. And yes, I think that decision made you vulnerable to people like Thornfield."

Each word was like a slap. "So you do think I deserved it."

"No," he said firmly. "No one deserves to be humiliated like that. What Thornfield did was cruel and cowardly. But that doesn't change the fact that your attempt to hide your identity was misguided from the start."

"Easy for you to say," I retorted, anger building again. "You've never wanted to be anything other than the perfect Alpha heir. You've never felt suffocated by expectations or wanted to know if people could like you for yourself, not your name."

"And you think pretending to be someone else is the way to find that out?" he asked, skepticism heavy in his voice.

"At least I tried!" I exclaimed. "At least I wanted something real, not just the political arrangement our parents decided on before we were even born!"

The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Our arranged marriage was a subject we'd tacitly agreed never to discuss at school, part of our mutual pretense of being strangers.

Archibald's expression hardened. "You know nothing about what I want, Isla."

"And whose fault is that?" I countered. "You've never bothered to tell me. You're too busy being the arrogant, perfect Alpha heir that everyone admires and fears."

"And you're too busy running from who you are," he shot back. "How's that working out for you?"

The barb hit its mark, reopening the wound of Rupert's betrayal. I turned away, unwilling to let him see the fresh tears that threatened to fall.

"Are you still taking me to prom?" I asked after a moment, my voice smaller than I intended.

There was a pause, long enough that I thought he might refuse. Finally, he sighed. "Yes. I gave my word."

I turned back to face him, surprised. "Even after all this?"

"It's a matter of honor," he said stiffly. "But Isla—" His voice softened slightly. "This pretense you're maintaining... it won't protect you. It will only lead to more pain."

"You don't know that," I insisted, though doubt had already taken root.

"I know more than you think." He stepped back, creating distance between us. "I'll pick you up at seven on Saturday. We can discuss the details later."

He turned to leave, then paused. "And Isla? Whatever game you're playing by asking me to be your date, remember that I'm not Thornfield. I won't be manipulated."

With that warning hanging in the air, he walked away, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the garden path. I watched him go, a strange mixture of relief and apprehension settling in my chest.

I looked down at the silver pendant still clutched in my hand, the wolf emblem catching the moonlight. Archibald's words echoed in my mind: *This pretense you're maintaining... it won't protect you.*

I couldn’t help but wondering… Was I wrong all this time long?