I sat on the edge of my bed, dragging my fingers through the tangled mess of my hair, wincing every time they caught on a stubborn knot. It had once been thick, glossy, falling in effortless brown waves down my back. Now, it was a disaster. Wild, unruly, and a clear reflection of the mess my life had become. The deep brown strands, almost black in the dim light, framed my face in a way that only made the shadows under my eyes more pronounced.

My reflection in the mirror was not a sight to behold. My usual sun-kissed complexion looked dull, almost sickly, like every ounce of life had been drained from me and left to float somewhere in the Enchanted River. My high cheekbones, once a point of quiet pride, were more pronounced, sharper because of the hollowness exhaustion had carved into my features. And my deep brown eyes stared back at me, reminding me of how different I was from the rest of my Baudelaire kin.

I had survived. But at what cost?

Before I could sink any deeper into self-reflection, the door to my flat slammed open, rattling the walls with the force of the storm that had just arrived in the form of my brother.

Marrick had never been one for theatrics. He didn’t like to waste time on drawn-out arguments or petty squabbles. When he had something to say, he said it, and he expected you to listen. And right now, I was sure he was here to spout a lot—none of it pleasant.

The door slammed shut behind him, vibrating through the walls with the force of his frustration.

“What the hell were you thinking, Luna?” He said, in a voice that could have cut through stone.

I sighed, pushing myself up from the bed where I had been resting, not that rest had done much for me. My muscles still ached from the river, and the spell. I barely had the energy for this fight, but Marrick wasn’t going to give me a choice.

“I was thinking I didn’t want to die,” I said flatly. “You should try it sometime.”

Those blue eyes flashed dangerously as he clenched his jaw. There was no denying that he was a Beta. Tall, broad, built like a damn war machine. He had our dad’s strong frame and eyes, and a presence that could command an entire battlefield without saying a word. The most frustrating thing about him wasn’t his size or strength. It was that look, that disapproving stare, that made me feel like the reckless little sister trying to keep up with him.

I wasn’t a kid any more, but he didn’t get the memo.

I folded my arms over my chest, keeping my gaze locked on his. Clearly, he didn’t realize who he was dealing with, if he thought I’d cower under criticism. I was a Baudelaire and just as stubborn.

“I did what I had to do,” I said. “I got away. I survived. That should be enough for you.”

“It’s not,” he snapped. “Because now we’re left with a bigger problem. Witches. In our territory. Do you even understand what that means?”

“It’s incredibly insulting that you’d even ask me that,” I shot back. “I understand what discovering witches in wolf territory means, and if I hadn’t run, if I hadn’t escaped’”

“If you hadn’t drawn their attention in the first place, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

With my fingers digging into my palms, I exhaled sharply. “That has to be the dumbest thing you’ve ever said to me, and that’s saying something, Marrick. If I hadn’t been discovered? Let’s indulge that nonsense for a moment, Beta Baudelaire.” I spat his title like a curse. “If I hadn’t “drawn their attention,” as you so eloquently put it, how in the goddess” name would we know witches can cross the river now? Would you rather be blissfully ignorant while they slither into our land unchecked?” I threw up my hands, using air quotes to emphasize just how stupid, “drawn their attention” really was.

He just stared at me, clenching his fists at his sides and breathing heavy. Finally, he just shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you?” he said quietly. “You’re a Baudelaire, Luna. The first woman in a bloodline of men built to resist magic. You think that doesn’t matter? You think the council hasn’t been watching, waiting for the moment you slip? We’ve had to fight to keep them from stripping you of your rank and name before you ever had a chance to prove yourself. And now, after this, they have exactly what they need to call you what they’ve always wanted to—a liability.”

Ah. There it was. The word that burned worse than any wound. Liability.

As if I hadn’t lived with that shadow trailing behind me since the day I was born. If anything, I tried not to think about it, tried to ignore the whispers of doubt clawing at the back of my mind. But that was the thing about ugly truths, you could bury them, but they always had a way of resurfacing when you least wanted them to.

I was a Baudelaire in name, but nothing more. The first female in a bloodline of men shaped for war, carved from legend, built to resist magic like it was nothing more than a passing breeze. My father had it, his brothers did, and his father before him. Marrick had it. But I had inherited nothing of their gifts, nothing of the Baudelaire legacy besides the fine golden skin that marked our lineage. That was where the resemblance ended.

I didn’t have their sleek black curls or their sapphire eyes. I didn’t have their presence, strength, or immunity. And now, after my first real encounter with witches, I had irrefutable proof of what I had always suspected. Magic could tear through me like paper.

Even if Marrick hadn’t put the pieces together before, seeing me come back wrecked from a single encounter with a coven had confirmed it. The Baudelaire name meant strength and resilience. I had neither.

So maybe liability was the right word after all.

I forced myself to stay still, to let the word roll over me like water off my skin. But it still stung. Because no matter how hard I fought, no matter how much I proved myself, I would always be the useless Baudelaire. And that meant I would always be seen as a weakness waiting to be exploited.

“So what now?” I asked, without any emotion. “Are you going to lock me up? Throw me in a cell until the Elders decide if I’m fit to breathe the same air as the rest of the useful pack?”

His silence was more than enough to put my stomach in knots.

“Damien will keep an eye on you,” Marrick said at last. “And when the Alphas convene, you’ll report everything that happened. Everything.”

I nodded, but Marrick’s emphasis on everything made my stomach turn. Because when the Alphas convened, it wouldn’t just be a polite debrief. Alpha Kael would be there, and he wouldn’t ask, I’d be compelled to tell everything. As Alpha, he could use his power to command obedience, pulling the truth straight from the recesses of my mind whether I wanted to give it or not.

Which meant I had to figure out a way to keep my secrets without outright lying. Because once Kael spoke, my body would betray me before my mind ever had the chance to fight back.

Marrick exhaled, some of the fight leaving his shoulders. He took a step toward me, reaching out as if to touch my arm, but I leaned away before he could. His jaw ticked, but he didn’t push it.

Instead, he let out a slow breath, raking a hand through his hair. “At least go see Lyra before this all blows up,” he muttered. “She’s worried about you.”

I hesitated at the mention of her. Lyra was our childhood friend, now Marrick’s mate and the pack’s Beta female. Her family, the Ravennes, were one of the most influential merchant families in Nightclaw and Wolf territory. Their wealth and connections go back generations. But unlike most wolves with power, Lyra didn’t let it get to her head. She had always been soft where Marrick was sharp, understanding where I was reckless, the balance between us.

“I’ll see her when I see her,” I muttered, looking away.

Marrick huffed, clearly annoyed with my answer, but for once, he let it go. “You should rest,” he muttered.

“I’ll rest when this is over.”

Marrick gave me one last look then turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

I let out a slow breath, pressing my fingers against my temples. A slow-building dread curled in my stomach as I felt the magnitude of what was coming for me. Keeping secrets under an Alpha’s command is one thing; defying it is another. And I had no doubt that when Kael demanded answers, my body would betray me, spilling truths I had no intention of sharing.

I could feel it in my bones. Now it wasn’t just about keeping my head down and proving myself. There was something going on in Anarion, and I was caught up in it. The only female Baudelaire. The only wolf to survive the Enchanted River twice. The mate of a witch.

Was this why I existed? Had the Goddess put me here to serve some twisted purpose, to bridge a gap that had been unbreakable for centuries? Or was I just the punchline to some cruel joke?

I pondered the thought for a long time. If I was meant to be more than what I had been born into, I needed to figure it out, before someone else decided for me.