Chapter 5
Sophia's POV
The eastern wing of Cliff Outpost had been completely rearranged. Ethan moved Karen into the room directly across from mine, her window now facing mine like some twisted mirror.
I watched through my glass as she paced her new quarters, her movements restless and agitated. Every few minutes, she'd press her face against the window, scanning the courtyard below with desperate eyes.
'Looking for him,' I realized with a bitter taste in my mouth. 'Always fucking looking for him.'
Cameron had filled me in on the details during one of his mandatory escort trips to the healing hall. Karen couldn't go a single day without seeing Ethan—not even an hour, really. The moment he disappeared from her sight, she'd refuse her medications, refuse food, refuse everything until her silver arrow wound started bleeding again.
'So she's the one,' I thought, remembering fragments of conversation I'd overheard. 'The unconscious woman from the back courtyard. The one they all whispered about.'
Now she was awake, and apparently, she was Ethan's fucking responsibility.
"Hold still."
Ethan's hands moved with practiced precision as he adjusted the ceremonial collar around my neck. The blood moon ceremony was only days away, and he insisted on personally overseeing every detail of my binding attire.
"Why are you still doing this?" I asked, my voice steady despite the proximity of his body. "Your real mate is across the courtyard. Shouldn't you be fitting her for this shit instead?"
Ethan's fingers paused against my throat. "What are you talking about?"
"Karen." The name tasted like poison. "Your true mate. The one you can't bear to be away from for five fucking minutes."
Something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe confusion. "Karen isn't my mate, Sophia."
"Right. That's why you spend every waking moment tending to her wounds and mixing her medications." I stepped back, putting distance between us. "That's why you carried her in like she was made of glass."
Ethan's silver eyes darkened. "I care for Karen because she's a survivor of the Silver Moon massacre. Because you asked me to, back when—" He stopped himself, jaw clenching. "She needs help. That doesn't make her my mate."
Before I could respond, soft knocking interrupted us. Karen's voice drifted through the door, honey-sweet and helpless.
"Ethan? I'm sorry to bother you, but my wound is bleeding again. Could you...?"
Ethan's expression shifted to immediate concern. "I'll be right there."
And just like that, I was alone again. The ceremonial collar felt like a noose around my neck.
The moment Karen needed anything—medication, food, someone to sit with her during her panic attacks—he'd disappear.
I spent that night listening to her soft crying through the walls, and Ethan's low voice murmuring comfort.
'If she's not his mate,' I thought savagely, 'then why does he drop everything for her? Why does she get his gentleness while I get his duty?'
The questions ate at me like acid. If Karen truly was his destined partner, then why was I still alive?
But I was still here, still breathing, still wearing his fucking collar.
'Maybe he's keeping me as a trophy,' the bitter voice in my head whispered. 'Like a captured wolf pup, tethered to his side for the whole pack to mock.'
Ethan returned to my room near dawn, reeking of alcohol and winter air.
"Sophie," he murmured, reaching for me before I could pull away.
The nickname hit me like a physical blow. Sophie. Intimate, affectionate. Like we were actually lovers instead of captor and prisoner.
His ice-cold hands found my waist, pulling me against his chest despite my resistance.
"You're freezing," I said, trying to push him away. "And drunk."
"Just tired." His arms tightened around me, and I could feel him pressing his face into my hair. "Long fucking night."
"Tending to Karen?"
His body went rigid. "Don't."
"Don't what? Don't ask about your precious—"
"I said don't." His voice dropped to a growl, and I felt the subtle shift as his wolf pressed closer to the surface. "This isn't about her."
"Then what is it about?" I twisted in his arms until I could look at him directly. "Because I'm getting real fucking tired of playing pretend, Ethan. I'm Sophia Sterling, not your mate."
Those silver eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. "I know exactly who you are."
"Do you? Because sometimes I think you're confusing me with someone else. Someone who actually wants to be here."
Instead of answering, he moved behind me, his arms encircling my waist from behind. His touch was careful, deliberately avoiding the scarred word carved into my chest, but firm enough that I couldn't escape.
"I'm not confused about anything," he said quietly against my ear. "Not about who you are, and not about why I can't let you go."
The moonbane vial sat untouched on my nightstand. Ethan noticed it immediately when he followed my gaze.
"How long?" he asked, his voice dangerously calm.
"How long what?"
"How long since you've actually taken the moonbane?" He moved to the window, where a small potted silver tree sapling sat on the sill. The plant was thriving, its leaves unusually bright and healthy. "This thing's been growing like crazy lately."
Shit. I'd been dumping the moonbane into the soil for weeks.
"You know what happens during a full moon if you don't take the medicine," Ethan continued, turning back to face me.
"Funny," I said aloud. "I thought you told me I'd die if I didn't drink it. Looks like that was just another lie."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "The moonbane doesn't keep you alive, Sophia. It keeps you sane."
"Maybe I don't want to be sane anymore."
But when he went to fetch the moonbane and tried to force me to drink it again, Karen suddenly burst into my room.