The drawer. The box. The ring.He knew.
Rack stepped closer, something raw and pleading slipping into his expression. “Just wait,” he said quietly. “A few years. Think about what your parents would say.”
The neon sign buzzed behind us, and I didn’t answer because I could already see it.
The pause. The exchanged looks. The way my mother’s mouth would tighten before she spoke, careful and soft like she wasn’t already disappointed. My dads—all five of them—silence would do the rest. Ezra’s stare, measured and unreadable.
Wait,they’d say.Think about this first. See if your person shows up later.
My mom would bring up mates, like she always did. How I shouldn’t complicate my life before destiny had a chance to catch up… like fate worked on a schedule that she somehow knew.
She never liked hearing the numbers. That only about half of supes ever found a mate. That the odds didn’t magically improve just because you believed harder. In her world, everyone found theirs by thirty, babies followed shortly after, and the universe tied everything up with a bow.
She truly believed that her children were meant to have a happy life just like she had.
I had a different outlook.
I’d run the math and calculated the likelihood, but she wouldn't listen. Then there was what I felt. The absence. That hollow, quiet certainty that there wasn’t another half of me wandering around, waiting to collide. No pull. No echo. Just… me.
I didn't want to sit here and wallow in it. If there was no mate for me, then fine.
I’d built something else instead. A marriage with a woman who’d stay loyal to me and the Syndicate. We could live a very happy life without needing to be mates. Being husband and wife could be enough. It wasn't the end of the world if I didn't have a mate.
So when Rack stood there, telling me that Valentina was a mistake, it went straight through me. Clean. Brutal.
Molten heat spilling through my veins, my whole body tight as I let it consume me.How dare he doubt me.
He thought I was throwing my life away. Thought I was a fool for choosing something real over something imaginary.
I crossed the space between us in a blink. Before the thought finished forming, my hand was around his neck, my fingers digging into his neck so hard it would hurt my mage second.
His gasp tore into the night, sharp and ugly, boots scraping as his hands came up, not to fight, just to pry. My fingers tightened, cutting off air, feeling the pulse hammering against my palm.
“I don’t care,” I snarled, leaning in until our foreheads almost touched, “if you don’t like her.”
He choked, eyes watering.
“I don’t care if you fucking hate her,” I went on, my voice low, shaking with between anger and disappointment. “Youwillrespect her as my wife if I say so. I’m the boss here. Not you.”
He didn’t strike back ,and that registered a half second too late.
Rack could’ve burned me alive or torn the air from my lungs, but he did neither. He just hung there, letting me unload every ugly, molten piece into him.
Something twisted hard in my gut, and my grip loosened.
He staggered when his feet landed on the concrete, but he stayed upright, hand going to his neck as he coughed, his legs finding their balance in seconds. That almost pissed me off more. We trained him too damn well.
I stood there breathing hard, hands still curled like they wanted to go back to his throat.
What was I doing? Rack was like a brother to me, and I would never do that to my sisters.
I didn’t want to destroy what the two of us had built over the long years. Didn’t want this to be the thing that broke us. He’d spoken his mind, and I answered like a tyrant.
I’d just proved his point and mine all at once.
Clearing his throat, Rack slowly straightened, smoothing his jacket like muscle memory could reset what just happened.
“Understood,” he rasped.
