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.

Seraphina POV:

The door hissed open. Light blinded me.

I was stiff, frost coating my eyelashes. Dante stood in the doorway in a tuxedo, looking like an executioner prince.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, seeing my blue lips.

"Get up," he commanded.

I used the wall to drag myself upright.

"Have you learned your lesson?"

I looked at him. He was a stranger.

"Yes," I rasped.

"Admit you tried to hurt her."

I could have fought. But I was tired.

"I admit," I said slowly, "that I made a mistake. I admit that I saved the wrong person."

Dante frowned. "What?"

"I'm sorry I pushed her," I lied. It was the key to the cage.

He nodded. "Go back to the estate. Clean yourself up. Tonight is the Engagement Party."

Back in the attic, I showered, the hot water stinging like needles.

I pulled a box from under my bed. My pathetic treasure chest. Dried flowers. A stolen photo of Dante. My diary.

I dumped it all into a black trash bag. I dragged it to the kitchen dumpsters.

The bag ripped. The photo of Dante slid out onto a pile of coffee grounds.

"Seraphina?"

Dante and Isabella were taking a shortcut through the garden.

Dante stopped. He stared at his own face in the garbage.

He rubbed his chest, wincing. His wolf whined—a pinch of inexplicable loss.

"Just taking out the trash, Alpha," I said. My tone was dead.

"Come on, darling," Isabella pulled him away.

Dante looked at me, confusion warring with arrogance, before letting her lead him away.

The ballroom was suffocating.

I stood in the shadows. Dante took the stage.

"Tonight," he announced, "I claim my destiny."

He placed the Heart of the Luna diamond on Isabella's finger.

The crowd howled.

I looked down at my hands. My fingernails dug into my palms until blood welled up.

Red. Real.

I wasn't a ghost. I was alive.

Looking at them, I felt... nothing. The jealousy was gone. Replaced by a vast, arctic silence.

I licked the blood from my palm.

Let them have their fairy tale, I thought. I'm writing a tragedy.