Chapter 38

Cora

The hospital’s sterile halls and beeping monitors had worn me down, but at least they were full of life and movement. I still had yet to pick up Riley from Rock’s place, and so when I returned home to my empty house, the halls around me were eerily silent. I shut the door behind me and sighed deeply into the empty space.

Then I saw them: roses.

Not just any roses, but dusky pink ones, carefully arranged in a crystal vase sitting on my kitchen table, sunlight spilling through the window and catching on their pretty petals. I froze.

There was a card, elegant and tucked in among the bursts of pink. I walked over, caught somewhere between suspicion and something softer. I pulled the card free and read the handwriting inside.

“For your strength, for your heart. Rest well and recover quickly. —Kingston.”

My throat tightened. Kingston. Of course it was him.

I pressed the card to my chest for a beat too long before setting it gently down. I didn’t know what this meant, not really.

Kingston was never just one thing. One moment, he was my hardass boss. The next, he was the man watching over my hospital bed like I was the most important thing in the world.

I inhaled deeply, letting the floral scent fill my lungs. It didn’t fix the aching of my healing wound or the heaviness in my limbs, but it helped.

I thought, for a moment, I could sit down. Just breathe. I could allow this quiet to coddle me for a beat, to try and enjoy these moments of hush before Riley returned and I had to check emails.

But the knocks came too fast, too sharp.

Three aggressive pounds. I flinched.

I opened the door, already uneasy, and there he was.

Zach.

He looked terrible. Bloodshot eyes, collar askew, and that twitch in his jaw I’d seen a hundred times when he was about to blow.

“You’re home,” he said, pushing past me before I could say anything. “Finally.”

I blinked, stunned, and turned to follow him into the living room. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just paced. I saw the sheen of sweat on his brow, the wild gleam in his eyes. Something was wrong.

“I need your help,” he finally spat out.

I folded my arms. “You always do.”

Zach sneered. “Don’t start. This is serious. And you haven’t exactly been here to help recently.”

“I was just shot, Zach. I just got out of the hospital. Whatever drama you’ve created can wait.”

He laughed bitterly. “Drama? You think this is drama?”

“If not, then why are you here?” I asked, my patience already thin.

“I lost it,” he said, voice cracking. “My wolf.”

I stared at him. “What do you mean, you lost your wolf?”

“In a bet. A black market bet and ritual. I didn’t think—”

“You never do,” I whispered.

Zach’s face twisted. “Don’t act like you’re better than me. You always did, but look at you. Getting shot and playing house with the Alpha King. You think you’re above all of this, Cora?”

I kept my voice even. “I think I’ve changed, Zach. I’m becoming someone I’m proud of. You should try it.”

He ignored that, storming forward. “You’re going to help me get it back.”

I backed away. “Absolutely not.”

He advanced again, eyes wild. “You owe me. I lost everything because of you!”

“You lost everything because of you,” I snapped. “Your gambling, your lying, your inability to take responsibility for anything. That’s not on me.”

“I had a wolf, a job, a life before you,” he hissed. “Then you got knocked up with that bastard human child—”

“Don’t you dare say that,” I said, my voice cutting sharp.

Zach didn’t flinch. He doubled down. “That kid was not mine and yet you lied to me about it. You’re a liar. You’re no better than me, so don’t even act like it!

“You ruined me,” he continued. “With your little human brat and your pathetic sense of morality. You were supposed to be my mate, and you gave me a kid who doesn’t even shift. A kid who isn’t even mine.”

I shook. Not with fear, but rage. “Get out.”

Zach blinked. “What?”

“You heard me,” I said, stepping between him and the hallway so he could not try to walk deeper into my home. “Get the hell out of my house.”

Zach scoffed as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“You think Kingston’s going to save you?” he laughed cruelly. “He’s just playing with you. You’re nothing but a human charity case.”

“Maybe I am,” I said, holding my ground. “But at least he sees me and Riley. Loves him like he matters. You never even tried.”

I took a step closer to him.”It’s not like you have any real blackmail anymore, too. Your lover sold that picture you were hanging over my head to Brad. And guess what? It did nothing.”

Before I could blink, Zach’s fist lashed out. He punched the wall beside my head, so close the impact made me jump.

But without his wolf, his fist didn’t even puncture the drywall. He had made me flinch, but it was him who was wincing now, holding his busted hand.

“I still have dirt on you,” Zach snarled, cradling his bruised knuckles.

“I’m not scared of you, Zach,” I said. “You can’t hurt me. I won’t let you.”

He stared at me like he didn’t recognize me, like I was speaking a language he couldn't understand.

Maybe I was. I'd outgrown him.

“You’re making a mistake,” he said finally.

“Wouldn’t be the first time. I certainly made one when I married you.”

Zach took a step back toward the door. “You better figure something out, Cora. I don’t have anything else to lose. You say you aren’t scared, but damnit, Cora, you should be!”

He looked like he might say something else, but he didn’t. He slammed the door behind him hard enough to rattle the walls.

I stood there, breathing heavily, willing the shake in my hands to still.

Then I turned toward the hallway, the silence heavy with what-ifs and what-nows.

Despite myself, I was unnerved by Zach’s anger. It was the first time I hadn’t truly bent under his fury, but I was still jarred by his threats all the same.

Back in the kitchen, the flowers from Kingston were still there. I walked over to them again and touched a soft petal.

He hadn’t needed to send them.

He hadn’t needed to stay with me in the hospital.

He hadn’t needed to protect Riley like he was his own.

But he had.

I thought about Zach’s words. About his suggestion that Kingston was playing with me. Using me. But it didn’t feel that way. It hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

And if I was being honest with myself—brutally, painfully honest—Kingston had done more to protect Riley in a few weeks than Zach had in years.

I sat down slowly, curling into the kitchen chair, still staring at the flowers.

Zach’s poisonous words still burned in my chest, but beneath it, something else bloomed.

Gratitude.

I touched one of the flowers’ soft petals.

And maybe—just maybe—hope.