# Chapter 3

Kira's POV

"I'll buy it." Those words hung in the air between us, each syllable dripping with smug satisfaction.

My stomach clenched as I stared at my twin. Seeing Kim in person was like looking at some twisted alternate version of myself—like if I hadn't gotten sick, if I hadn't lost everything. Her white cashmere coat probably cost more than my car, the silver fox fur around her neck screamed old money, and those pure moonstone earrings caught the light with every slight movement of her head.

"Kim." Her name felt strange on my tongue after all these years. "What are you doing here?"

"Shopping, obviously." She smiled, her eyes—identical to mine—sweeping over my disheveled appearance. Her nostrils flared slightly as she scented the air. She's smelling my desperation, I realized with a flash of humiliation.

"It seems you're selling your bonding ring," she continued, stepping closer. "Financial troubles? Daddy's medical bills finally too much for little Kira to handle?"

"What happened to us?" I whispered, memories of our childhood flashing through my mind—building blanket forts, whispering secrets after bedtime, holding hands during thunderstorms. "We used to be best friends."

Something flickered in her eyes—maybe regret?—before her expression hardened again.

"Life happened, sister." She practically spat the word. "Mother chose me. Father chose you. We each got what we deserved."

I clenched my fist around the ring, anger temporarily overwhelming my weakness. "Is that why you're sleeping with my mate? Some twisted form of revenge?"

Kim laughed, the sound cutting through me like broken glass. "Oh, you found out! Rocco was never truly yours. You were just... keeping his bed warm until he found his true Luna."

Fucking bitch. My wolf, weakened as she was, still managed a growl inside me.

"That low-purity moonstone would look better on my pet dog than on your finger," Kim continued, reaching for the ring. "I'll give you five thousand for it. Consider it charity."

"I'm not selling it to you." I pulled back, gripping the ring tighter.

"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed. "You clearly need the money, and I'm being generous. You're selling anyway—what does it matter who buys it?"

"I said no." My voice was stronger than I expected. "I've changed my mind."

Kim's perfect features contorted with anger. "Still playing the proud Silverstone, I see. Even as your family crumbles and you're reduced to pawning jewelry. How pathetic."

My chest tightened painfully as the syndrome flared with my emotions. Was this really my sister? My twin? The girl who once cried when I scraped my knee and insisted on bandaging it herself?

"What happened to you?" I asked quietly. "You were never cruel like this."

"I grew up," she snapped. "I learned what really matters in wolf society. Power. Status. Purity." Her eyes swept over me dismissively. "Things you clearly know nothing about."

We were arguing so intensely that I didn't notice my grip loosening until the ring slipped from my fingers, hitting the polished floor with a soft clink and rolling toward the entrance.

I lunged for it, my weakened legs nearly buckling—only to freeze as a pair of black crocodile leather shoes stopped directly in its path.

No. Please, no.

My gaze traveled slowly upward: perfectly tailored black trousers, a long black wool coat, and finally... Rocco.

Time seemed to slow as I took in the sight of him. Rain glistened on his shoulders, and the moonstone pin on his lapel—his family crest—caught the light. His expression was cold, detached, as though I were a stranger he'd bumped into on the street.

A rush of memories hit me with physical force. The first time I'd seen him in the forest during a full moon, his golden eyes gentle in the darkness as he led me to safety. The way he'd laughed when I spilled coffee on his shirt during our third date. How his voice had broken when he whispered "mine" against my skin during our bonding ceremony.

Now he looked at me like I was nothing.

As I reached for the ring, Rocco deliberately stepped forward, the heel of his expensive shoe crushing the moonstone. I heard the soft crack of the stone breaking beneath his weight.

Pain shot through my chest—not just emotional but physical. Every betrayal, every cruelty made the syndrome worse. I pressed my hand against my sternum, struggling to breathe through it.

"Darling!" Kim's voice dripped with affection as she rushed to Rocco's side, linking her arm through his. "This Silverstone woman was just trying to sell her bonding ring. Isn't that pathetic?"

Rocco's gaze swept over me, taking in my pallor, my trembling hands, the way I clutched at my abdomen. For a moment—just a heartbeat—something flickered in his eyes. Concern? Regret? But it vanished so quickly I might have imagined it.

"Items abandoned by the pack hold no value to me," he said coldly.

The pain intensified, radiating from my chest through my entire body. Not here. Not now. I couldn't let them see me weak.

I straightened, forcing my breathing to steady despite the fire in my chest. "Just like you, I once thought it symbolized our bond," I said, my voice surprisingly even. "Now it's just silver to be traded for cash."

Rocco's jaw tightened. "You look unwell," he observed, his tone clinical. "What's wrong with you? A true werewolf never shows weaknesses."

What's wrong with ME? The irony almost made me laugh. He had destroyed everything—my heart, my future, my health—and he was asking what was wrong with me?

"Nothing that concerns you, Mr. Blackwood," I replied, deliberately using his formal title. "Not anymore."

With every ounce of strength I possessed, I walked past them, head high, steps measured. I wouldn't let them see me stumble. Wouldn't let them know how deeply they'd wounded me.

Only when I was safely around the corner, out of sight, did I collapse against a wall, fumbling for the pill bottle in my purse. My hands shook so badly I could barely get the cap off. I swallowed two of Lucas's herbal pain relievers dry, the bitter taste flooding my mouth.

Fuck, it hurts so much. I pressed my palm hard against my sternum, willing the medicine to work faster. Each heartbeat felt like my chest was being torn open from the inside.

As the edge of the pain slowly dulled, I leaned against the brick wall, weighing my options. The ring was destroyed. My savings were gone. Dad's medical bills were mounting. And now the syndrome was progressing faster than I'd feared.

I have no choice. There was one person who might help—my only forlorn hope.

The taxi dropped me at the entrance to Moonlit Heights, an exclusive neighborhood where only the wealthiest wolves lived. The guard recognized my face—or rather, recognized Kim's face in mine—and waved me through without question.

The mansion at the end of the cul-de-sac loomed against the evening sky, all gleaming windows and sharp angles. A female in a crisp uniform answered my knock, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of me.

"Miss Silverstone," she said, obviously surprised. "Please come in. She's in the solarium."

I followed the maid through hallways decorated with priceless art and ancient wolf artifacts, my heart hammering against my ribs. Twenty years since I'd seen her. Twenty years of birthdays and holidays without so much as a card.

The solarium was bathed in the golden light of sunset. A slender woman sat in a wicker chair, a book open on her lap. She looked up as I entered, and for a moment, I saw myself thirty years in the future—if I lived that long.

"Kiki," she said softly, using my childhood nickname. "You've grown up."

I couldn't bring myself to call her Mom. The word stuck in my throat like a bone.

"Hello, Vanessa," I said instead. "It's been a long time."