Chapter 1

"Done with your performance?" Darian Blackwood leaned against the counter, unscrewing the cap of a water bottle and looking down at me. "Ella, Oscar owes you an award. What's today's cause of death? Silver poisoning?"

I got up from the floor, my knees aching. "Darian, I'm really not feeling well today."

"When have you ever felt well?" Darian scoffed, slamming the water bottle down on the table. "Your wolf spirit's emotional sensitivity isn't your free pass, and it's definitely not an excuse to torture me.

"If you really want to die, do it somewhere far away. Don't mess up my place."

He turned and walked back to his study, the door slamming shut in front of me. It shook the framed picture of our mating ceremony on the wall.

I stared at the crooked frame and suddenly thought that life really sucked. I made up my mind that this would be the last time I played this game.

*****

The bathroom tiles were icy cold and sent chills down my spine.

I rested my wrist on the edge of the tub, red paint snaking down my arm and dripping onto the white tiles.

The lock turned.

Darian returned. His footsteps paused outside the bathroom door.

I closed my eyes, counting my heartbeats.

"Ella, what kind of drama is this now?" Darian sounded totally fed up. There was no scream or panic. His breathing remained steady.

I opened my eyes.

Darian stood in the doorway, sharp in his suit with a briefcase in hand. His eyes swept over the puddle of "blood" on the floor and then landed on my face with pure disgust.

"Ketchup? Or red ink?" He stepped inside, grinding his leather shoes against that puddle of red liquid. "It must've cost you a pretty penny this time. Looks so real."

I sat up and grabbed a towel to wipe my hands. "It's acrylic paint. It's a pain to get off."

"You know it's hard to clean?" Darian tossed his briefcase onto the shelf and loosened his tie. "You're always stirring up trouble at home day in and day out, while I'm out there busting my backside.

"Then I walk in to find you pulling this messed-up stunt. Ella, can you cut this nonsense?"

"I only want you to notice me," I said.

"Notice what? You losing it? You faking your death at home like your wolf spirit has gone off the rails?" Darian shot back.

"I'm really sick."

"You're only bored." Darian turned on the faucet and let the water run. "If you really want to die, lock the damn door next time. Don't leave it cracked, so I have to play hero.

"I'm not your savior, and I don't have time for your little games."

He turned off the tap and spun around to face me. "Get this place spotless. If there is a single smudge of red left, you're sleeping outside the pack house tonight." With that, he stormed out of the room.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a mess, and my face was ghostly pale. I really looked like I'd totally lost it.

I turned on the shower, letting hot water crash down over me. The red paint mixed with the water, swirling away down the drain. I sank onto the bathroom floor and wrapped my arms around myself.

I thought back to when I walked past the park earlier today and spotted a stray cat.

It was covered in grime, but its eyes shone bright. I held out my hand to pet it, and instead of darting away, it rubbed its head against my palm.

For a moment, I felt like I was really alive.

When I came out of the shower, Darian was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

There was a bottle of orange soda on the coffee table. It was my favorite. The fizzy bubbles could dance on my tongue, giving me a quick buzz. I walked over and picked it up.

"Don't drink that," Darian said without glancing up. "It's loaded with fake colors and sugar. Keep chugging it, and you'll rot your brain even more."

"I like it," I replied.

He finally tore his gaze away from his phone and glanced at me like he was doing me some favor. "Why do you always go for such worthless stuff? Stray mangy cats, fallen leaves, and such cheap soda.

"Ella, when are you going to get mature? You're thirty years old, yet you act like a clueless three-year-old kid."

"Is that really how you see me?" I asked.

"You've dragged yourself down to this point." He stood up and looked down on me. "Fix your messy hair. Walking around with that mess makes it look like I'm mistreating you to anyone who sees."

I instinctively reached up to smooth the messy strands at my temples. "Darian, I went to see the healer today."

"So, what did the healer say? Did he tell you your drama queen skills are leveling up again?"

"The healer said my inner wolf's depression has gotten worse."

"Oh, I see." Darian's tone was flat and cold. "Did you take your meds?"

"Yeah."

"Then go to bed. Stop hanging around here." He walked past me toward the bedroom. "Oh, and there's a mating ball tomorrow night. Clean yourself up. Don't embarrass me."

"I don't want to go."

"Doesn't matter what you want. You're my mate. As long as you're breathing, you have to do your duty."

The bedroom door closed.

I stood in the living room, clutching the unopened bottle of orange soda. My knuckles were bloodless from how hard I was gripping it.

I walked out onto the balcony, staring at the night view below. I squeezed the bottle harder, and the plastic let out a harsh, snapping sound.

It was like the sound of crushing fallen leaves: sharp and destructive.

I liked that sound. It was the sound of life ending. I thought I was about to fall apart, too.