Chapter 4

Reva's POV

"What are you doing here?" Pamela hissed, stopping in front of me. "This is my night. Mine. You couldn't let me have one single night, could you? You had to come and turn it into a show about you."

Her mascara had already started to smudge at the corner of one eye, the first crack showing before I'd even said a word. I let it sit there a second, let her feel exactly how small her fury looked next to what she'd actually done to me.

"Hello to you too, Pamela."

"Don't." Her voice shook, but not with sadness. With fury. "You're supposed to be, you're supposed to be resting. And instead you show up on the arm of, of whoever that is, in that dress, just to steal the attention. You've always done this. Always."

"I've always done this?" I asked, stunned. "I've spent three months in a hospital bed, and somehow I stole your attention from there too."

"You know exactly what I mean."

"I do." I let my eyes move slowly over her, over the gown, over the ring that was supposed to be mine. "You couldn't even wait for me to be gone. You wanted my life so badly you started living it while I was still breathing."

Her face went blotchy. She had no answer, because there wasn't one.

That was when Ronald arrived, smooth and unhurried, the way he always moved when he wanted to look like he was in control. He'd perfected that walk over the years of pack politics, the kind that made a room believe nothing was wrong even when everything was.

He set a hand on Pamela's shoulder and eased her back, then he fixed me with that calm, calculating stare I'd known my whole life, the one that used to make me shrink. It didn't anymore.

"Reva," he said. "You look well. Truly. We're all glad to see it." The lie sat easy on his tongue. "But your mother is right. You've picked a delicate night for a homecoming. Do you have any idea what this engagement means for us? The Brickstones don't tolerate drama. One wrong move in this room and everything this family has built comes down. You'd cost us all of it."

"I'd cost you," I said.

"I'm speaking for the family."

"You're speaking for yourself. You always are." I stepped closer, close enough to keep my voice low, but still loud enough for him to hear the venom in it. "You built your whole life on marrying into power you never earned. And the second I got sick, I stopped being useful to you. That's the real reason none of you came. My dying meant nothing to you. I was just an expense you were waiting to write off."

For the first time, something flickered behind Ronald's eyes. Not guilt. Calculation, faster now, because he'd realized I wasn't the soft girl they'd left in that hospital bed to die quietly and without complaint. His jaw tightened. His hand on Pamela's shoulder pressed down just slightly harder than before, the only sign that he was rattled.

I turned and walked away from him before he could say anything else.

And that was when Derick stepped into my path.

My heart gave one traitorous stutter before I could stop it, some old, stubborn part of me still tuned to him out of habit rather than love.

He looked at me the way he used to, back before any of this, his eyes moving over my face like he was seeing something he thought he'd lost. "Reva," he said, low and unsteady. "You're really here. You're really okay. God, I— can we talk? Please."

He reached for my hand and I let him get halfway there before I stepped back, just enough that he understood my answer before I gave it out loud.

"There's nothing to talk about," I said. "You had all the time in the world talk to me, but instead you waited to throw it in my face on national TV. So no. You don't get to talk to me now." I let my mouth curve, slow and cold. "Enjoy the party, Derick. Every single one of you should enjoy tonight while it lasts. It's the last good night this pack is going to have."

I walked past him, back toward Kael and the rest of the guests, and I felt every eye in the room follow me go.

They'd left me for dead.

Now they were going to watch me come back to life, one ruin at a time.