Chapter 2

Fire spread over my tongue and down my throat. It reached my stomach and chest until the pain folded me over on the floor.

My brothers laughed above me.

"I told you she'd drink it," Owen said.

"Nora said it was good," Caleb crowed. "Hot-pepper water tastes good!"

"Maybe now she won't threaten to tattle."

I needed water, but they blocked every sink they could reach. I ran to the kitchen, climbed onto the counter, and turned on the faucet.

I tipped my head back and gulped cold water straight from the tap.

The boys laughed even harder.

"Look at her," Caleb said. "She drinks like a thirsty toad."

I kept swallowing. My stomach swelled until it felt tight, but my mouth still burned. I climbed down, took two steps, and vomited across the carpet.

The housekeeper hurried in and stared at the mess.

"What is wrong with you?" she muttered. "You're as troublesome as your mother. If you don't learn to behave, I'll have to tell the Alpha."

She lifted me, but I could barely breathe.

I thought about Mom and grabbed the locket around my neck. It was the last thing she'd left me.

Had she gone because I wasn't good enough?

I tried so hard to behave. But how much better did I have to become before she came back?

After the housekeeper washed me, I crawled beneath my blankets. My stomach cramped, and my face felt hot. No matter how I turned, I couldn't get comfortable.

It was almost midnight when I heard Dad in the hall.

I slipped out of bed and cracked open my door, clutching my aching stomach and looking for him. I wanted to tell him my stomach hurt.

But the moment I caught sight of him through the gap, my excuse died in my throat; his face was already set in a hard, tight frown.

"Why are you still awake? Why can't you ever behave?"

I looked down at my bare feet.

Maybe that was why Mom wouldn't come back. I still wasn't good enough.

My lower lip trembled, but Dad picked me up and put me back in bed.

"Don't be difficult."

"I won't, Daddy."

He tucked the blanket around me. I opened my mouth to tell him about my stomach, but his phone rang, and he left before I could speak.

Dad was always busy. Sometimes he didn't even eat with us. I knew I shouldn't bother him.

As fever pulled me toward sleep, I dreamed about Mom.

She had left when I was three. That morning, she told me she wanted to take me to the carousel. I told Dad because I thought he would come too.

Instead, he got angry.

"Claire, using the pup like this—aren't you ashamed?"

They fought until Mom cried. Somehow, we still went to the amusement park.

Mom said she was buying ice cream and told me to wait. Then a butterfly fluttered past. I followed it only a little way.

When I came back, Mom was gone.

Dad arrived with men in black suits who surrounded the park. The look he gave me made him seem like a monster.

"Where is she?"

I cried because I didn't know.

After that, none of us had a mother. My brothers said it was my fault.

So I tried to be good. I listened to Dad. I listened to my brothers.

If I became good enough, Mom would come back.

Wouldn't she?