Seraphina POV:

The elevator ride was a claustrophobic nightmare. My body obeyed the Alpha Command, betraying my will.

The doors slid open. The scent hit me like a physical wall: Rain, ozone, and dark chocolate. Dante. But it was tainted by something cloying—rotting flowers masked by expensive perfume. Isabella.

The living room offered a panoramic view of Chicago, but the real show was on the leather sofa. Isabella was draped over Dante, purring like a satisfied cat.

Dante looked up. His eyes, no longer clouded but piercing blue, narrowed. He looked at me, but he didn't see me.

"You took your time," Dante rumbled. He kept a possessive hand on Isabella's thigh.

"I was packing," I said flatly.

Isabella giggled. "Daddy said you're finally leaving. Going to London to hide your shame?"

Dante's gaze was contemptuous. "You're leaving because you can't stand to see her happy. Because you're a jealous, bitter little thing."

He tossed a cream-colored envelope at my feet. "Pick it up. Open it."

My fingers brushed the heavy cardstock. The Marking Ceremony of Alpha Dante Moretti and Isabella Vitiello.

"You aren't leaving tonight," Dante declared. "You will stay. You will watch me claim her. And once you witness true loyalty, you can crawl back to your hole."

He wanted to break me. He sensed the old love I held for him and wanted to weaponize it.

"Congratulations," I said. The word was hollow.

Dante flinched. My indifference grated on his wolf. "Get out," he growled, confused by his own irritation. "We're going to the Blue Note. You're coming. You can carry Isabella's purse."

The wind outside the jazz club bit through my thin coat. I walked three paces behind them, clutching Isabella's sequined bag like a servant.

Above us, the club's massive neon sign buzzed ominously. I heard the metallic snap of a rusted bolt giving way before I saw it.

"Isabella!" Dante roared. His reflexes were supernatural. He tackled her, shielding her body with his own, rolling them to safety.

He didn't look back.

I looked up. Blue neon death was plummeting toward me.

I tried to dodge, but my reflexes were dull.

Crash.

Agony exploded. The heavy metal frame slammed me into the concrete, pinning my legs and torso. Glass rained down like shrapnel.

"Ahhh!" The scream tore from my throat.

The frame was silver-plated. Smoke rose from my skin as the metal seared into me, sizzling like meat on a grill. The poison entered my bloodstream instantly.

Through the haze, I saw Dante standing up. He was frantically checking Isabella.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, panic lacing his voice.

"I... I think I scraped my elbow," Isabella whimpered, holding up a pristine arm.

Dante kissed the phantom wound.

He didn't look at the wreckage. He didn't look at the girl crushed beneath the burning silver.

Darkness encroached. So this is it, I thought. I die again, watching him save the wrong girl.

Seraphina POV:

I woke to the sterile beep of monitors and the smell of antiseptic.

My back felt like a map of fire. The silver poisoning slowed my healing to a crawl. I tried to sit up, hissing as the movement tugged at the burns.

A nurse walked in, avoiding my gaze. "You're awake. The Alpha paid the bill. Discharge is pending your ability to stand."

"Where are they?" I croaked.

"VIP suite. Lady Isabella is in shock."

Shock. She had a scraped elbow. I had silver toxicity.

I gritted my teeth, grabbed the IV pole, and forced myself upright. I needed to see this. I needed the fuel.

I dragged myself to the VIP floor. Inside, it was a tableau of domestic bliss. My parents eating pastries, Isabella propped up on pillows, and Dante... Dante sat on the edge of the bed, flooding the room with soothing Alpha pheromones.

"Oh, look," Isabella said, voice dripping with syrup. "The clumsy one is awake."

Dante turned, his face hardening. "You look terrible."

"The silver..." I started.

"Isabella was traumatized," my mother interrupted, mouth full of croissant.

Isabella offered a bowl of soup. "Here. I can't finish this. You can have the leftovers."

I caught the scent immediately. Rich broth masking the faint, acrid smell of Nightshade. Just enough to make me sick.

"I'm not hungry," I said.

"Ungrateful brat!" Father barked.

"Eat it, Seraphina," Dante commanded. He didn't smell the poison. He only saw my defiance.

"No."

I turned and walked out. I needed air.

I found the hospital courtyard. A stone fountain sat in the center. I sat on the edge, the cold water soothing the fire in my veins.

"You're tougher than you look."

Isabella stood behind me.

"Leave me alone," I said.

She stepped closer, dropping her voice to a telepathic whisper so Dante wouldn't hear. You are nothing but a spare blood bag. A spare kidney. A spare life.

"Dante will find out," I said, standing.

"Dante is a blind fool," she smirked. "He loves the hero who saved him. He thinks that's me."

She saw Dante emerging through the glass doors. Her face instantly morphed into a mask of terror.

She grabbed my shoulders and shoved me backward.

Weak from the silver, I slipped. I fell into the fountain, the icy water engulfing me.

"Help! Help!" Isabella screamed, clawing her own face to leave marks. "Dante! She's trying to drown me!"

I surfaced, gasping.

Dante was there in a blur. He roared—a sound of primal fury—and gathered Isabella into his arms.

"She tried to kill me!" Isabella sobbed.

Dante looked at me, eyes glowing red.

"Get out," he snarled.

"Dante, I didn't—"

"Silence!" His Alpha Voice slammed into my chest like a physical blow. I coughed up blood.

"You will regret this, Seraphina. No one touches my Mate."

Seraphina POV:

I stood shivering in the lobby, water dripping from my gown onto the marble.

"You are a disgrace!" Father shouted, slapping me across the face. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

Dante watched, cold as a glacier.

"She attacked the future Luna," Dante said. "That is treason."

"She's sick in the head," Mother added.

"I didn't touch her," I whispered.

"Enough lies!" Dante's voice boomed. The pressure dropped me to my knees.

"She needs to cool off," Dante said to a cowering administrator. "Open the morgue."

"No..." I gasped.

"Wolf shifters heal fast," Dante dismissed. "A night in the cold won't kill her. It will teach her submission."

He ignored the bandages on my back soaking with fresh blood.

Two enforcers dragged me to the basement. The air grew frigid.

They opened a walk-in freezer. "Sorry, kid," the guard muttered, throwing me inside.

I landed on the metal grate. The heavy door slammed. The lock clicked.

Darkness. Cold. Void.

I curled into a ball next to a body bag.

Flashback.

Four years ago. The blizzard.

Dante was blue with cold.

"Cold..." he mumbled.

I stripped, pressing my skin to his, sharing every ounce of heat.

"I've got you," I whispered. "I won't let you freeze."

End Flashback.

I laughed, a broken sound. I had warmed him when he was dying. Now, he froze me.

Something snapped in my chest. Not a bone. The last thread of hope.

"Goodbye, Dante," I whispered. I stopped feeling the cold. I stopped feeling anything.