Lorali Pov

"Are you okay, Sugar Plum?" Torin’s voice pulls me out of my slumber, heavy and warm, and I peel my eyes open with effort. The guest room ceiling greets me again, familiar yet suffocating, and I bring my hand to my pounding head, pressing against the ache as if I could silence it. "How did I get here?" I mumble, asking no one in particular. The last thing I remember is being in the shed... after Torin.

I sit up abruptly, my head snapping toward him. He’s sitting beside me on the bed, his posture rigid but his face drenched with concern. I can’t tell whether it’s real or fake. Were all those things I heard yesterday just a dream? Did my worries of reality creep into the waking world?

"I found you in the shed. Mind telling me why you were in there, Sugar Plum?" Torin’s voice is filled with warmth as he reaches out, his hand grasping my cheek. The word shed sends a violent shiver down my spine. If I was truly in the shed, then everything that happened—everything I heard—is real. Meaning Torin... he... he...

The words he said ring in my ears again, louder this time, taking control of my body. Pathetic. Easy. Trash. Nothing. They echo endlessly, mercilessly, until I cover my ears, tears pouring down my face. My chest tightens, my breath vanishes. I can’t breathe.

"Look at me," he says firmly, pulling my face toward his. "Breathe. I’m right here."

That’s the problem. It’s that he’s here. It’s that he exists. Why? Why did the stupid moon goddess have to mate me with Torin and his pack? What sin have I committed to deserve this?

"Tell me what happened. What can I do?"

Die.

That’s what would fix this. If they all died. The only way to free yourself from a mate bond is if your mate dies... or if you reject them, but that’s already out the window.

I want to tell him I know the truth, that I’m just a tool to him, that I know what he truly thinks of me. But I can’t. If I do, he’ll stop acting, and my life will return to the hell I know. So it’s better to stay naïve, better to play into his palm.

"I missed you," I whisper, meeting his eyes, "and I think I lost myself missing your scent."

He pulls me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me, his hand patting the back of my head. His touch makes my skin crawl, yet I force myself to remain still. To think this tenderness was all a lie.

"Ohh... Lorali... you can always come to me if you miss me. Remember that," he says, ever so gentle.

"Of course," I mumble, letting myself melt into his embrace even though I detest every second of it. I bite my lip to stop more tears from falling, but it’s futile. The tears slip free, hot and relentless.

The most painful part wasn’t the work I was forced to do, nor the countless nights I went to sleep hungry. It wasn’t the time Oracle marked me, the pain that surges through me every day, or the full weeks the witch whipped me until my skin tore open. None of that compares to this. That was all physical pain. But this... this is different. Torin ripped me open and crushed every single bit of me that I had hidden, my last remaining sanity and hope.

This man, who was supposed to be my salvation, has become my damnation.

Torin Spade, you belong in the deepest pits of hell, and I promise, I will take you there one day.

Keion Pov | One Week Later

"I could fuck you all over again, right now," I groan, stretching lazily before a towel smacks against my face.

"You always want to do that when we’re already so late!" Walter shrieks, rushing as he drags a brush through his hair with frantic strokes. He ties it back, only to rip the band out seconds later. "Nope, that looks terrible. I look terrible," he groans, annoyed, pacing in front of the mirror as if his reflection is mocking him.

This whole event is clearly important to him. Maybe it’s because he’s going to meet—well, meet might be a stretch—maybe just be in the same room as his newly found idol.

Walter is a hardcore fan of First Lady Vanya, like so many other omegas in this world. He says, in his own words, that she is a revolutionary figure, someone who makes him believe his dreams are possible, someone who makes him feel seen. And beyond that, this is the party of the century. Being there will be good for his modeling portfolio, and he knows it.

"Aren’t we late because of you?" I tease, throwing myself onto Walter’s soft nest of blankets. A comb comes flying in my direction, and I barely dodge it as his voice rings out.

"If you’re going to be a negative fly buzzing in my ear, please escort yourself out of my room!" Walter huffs, his cheeks flushed, his movements sharp.

I laugh, because he looks adorable when he’s annoyed, and I know my laughter is sending him over the edge.

"You two have to hurry up before Torin goes ballistic. You know how he feels about being late!" Oracle shouts from the other side of the door.

"We’re coming, just give me a minute!" Walter shouts back, tying his hair again with trembling hands.

I’m shocked it’s Oracle calling for us and not Oril or Augi. Oracle has been so depressed over the past two weeks. Every time he returned from wherever Lorali and Torin were, he wouldn’t speak for hours, sometimes nearly an entire day, let alone eat. His silence was heavy and even suffocating. I know he feels guilty about what happened with Lorali, and he must feel even worse seeing his fated mate grow closer to Torin, barely acknowledging him most of the time.

I mean, I feel sick to my stomach each time I see Lorali and Torin together, smiling and all happy. It hurts me more to know Torin is faking it, that none of it is real. And none of this should hurt me. I shouldn’t feel bad. But I do.

There is nothing I can do except bury what I’m feeling. This will have to pass, like all the other emotions that have haunted me ever since my hand brushed against Lorali’s that night.

"Let’s go already," Walter says impatiently, grabbing my hand and making a laughable attempt to pull me up. I drag myself to my feet, and together we walk out of the room, heading down the hall toward the living room where everyone is waiting.

Including Lorali.

She stands out immediately, commanding the space without even trying. She’s wearing a deep crimson gown with a high neckline, long sleeves, and a flowing skirt that brushes the floor with every subtle movement. Her hair is styled in a simple updo with a delicate butterfly pin glinting in the light. She... she is beautiful. And I’m not the only one who thinks so. Walter comes to a complete stop at the sight of her, his breath caught, his eyes wide.

It’s the first time any of us—besides Torin, maybe—have seen Lorali look so put together. She usually looks like a mess, barely hanging on for dear life, her exhaustion written across her face. But tonight, she looks transformed, radiant. My eyes travel downward, and I freeze. Her stomach is strangely inflated. She looks pregnant. Which is odd, because yesterday she wasn’t.

My gaze flicks from her belly to Torin, who notices me staring and shoots me an annoyed look. "Would you please hurry up? I don’t want us to be late." he says with his tone more gentle than is eyes.

Please. He said please. This fake ass bastard is only being nice so he can keep up the good‑guy image he’s carefully installed in Lorali’s mind.

"Sorry, I couldn’t find my tie," I lie smoothly as I approach the crowd with Walter.

"What’s happening with Lorali?" I whisper as I slide next to Oracle, the only person who might know what’s going on.

"I don’t know," he whispers back, his voice low and heavy, "and it’s best you don’t dwell on the matter."

Before I can press him further, Torin claps his hands, the sharp sound grabbing everyone’s attention. "Alright. Oracle and Augi, you’ll ride with me and Lorali. The rest of you will be in the other car."

We all nod, the decision made, and begin to move toward the door. The setting sun spills through the penthouse windows, illuminating the polished floors and casting long shadows across the room.

This is going to be a long night. I can feel it in my bones.