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.

Seraphina POV:

"Seraphina!" Isabella's voice rang out over the mic. "Come up here, sister."

My stomach churned. I stepped out of the shadows, clutching the velvet pouch.

I walked onto the stage. "I... I have a gift," I stammered.

Isabella snatched it. She pulled out the modest pearl earrings I had saved for months to buy.

"Oh, how... quaint," she laughed, tossing them onto a table like garbage.

The crowd chuckled.

Isabella reached to pat my cheek, but her eyes locked onto my wrist.

I wore a bracelet of rough volcanic stone and a single unpolished moonstone. It was ugly, but it was the anchor I had used to ground Dante during his blindness.

"That!" Isabella gasped. "That bracelet! She stole it! That's the one I lost the night I saved you, Dante!"

It was a lie so bold it took my breath away.

Dante stiffened. He inhaled the scent of the stone.

"Is this true?" he growled.

"No," I said. "It's mine. I used it to help you focus when the pain—"

Dante grabbed my wrist, his grip crushing. He ran a thumb over the stone. A flash of memory crossed his face.

But then he looked at Isabella's fake tears.

"You stole a memento of our survival," he snarled.

"I am the one who saved you!" I screamed. "I am Seven!"

Smack.

My father rushed the stage and backhanded me. I flew backward, crashing into a tower of champagne glasses.

Shards sliced my skin. Alcohol stung like acid.

Isabella walked over, a glass of red wine in hand.

"Thief," she spat.

She poured the wine over my head. It ran down my face like a mark of sin.

Dante turned away, shielding Isabella from the "ugly" sight.

"Get her out of here," he ordered.