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A piece inside of me begins to shift. A part of my soul, right behind my sternum, starts tugging and pulling at my very core. I glance down to see two bright gold threads snap out from the center of my chest. They shimmer and pulse, and are so very alive.

They’re beautiful. Ethereal.

Mate Bonds. I’m watching my Mate Bonds form right in front of me.

And it only takes a moment for me to realize that something is very wrong.

There is no joy. No warmth or hope. They should be reaching out to Dax and Vae eagerly. Should be racing across the room—enthusiastic and certain—to wrap around the two males and bind us together the way Fate has always intended.

Instead, they hover, hesitant and scared. Cautiously, they sneak forward, like they’re starting to sense what I already know and understand.

That they’re not wanted.

That I’m not wanted.

The realization is a knife through my heart. It hurts worse than any cruel word from Daxen, or a cold accusation from Vaelenor. My hands fly to my chest, sure I’ll feel hot, sticky blood from an open wound pouring through my fingers.

They are my Mates, and they have no idea.

And worse, they wouldn’t want me even if they knew.

“You have questions we need answered,” Dax snaps. “So get up, and get downstairs.”

The threat is real. I feel it, and so does the thread belonging to Daxen. It recoils, snapping back hard and curling protectively around my upper body.

Vae’s thread keeps moving. With my heart in my throat, I watch as it reaches for him. He takes a single step forward, but Dax flings an arm out to stop him. “Watch it, you’ll step on the wood. You don’t have shoes on.

Then he turns those disgusted eyes to me. “Get up, Omega.”

“She doesn’t have shoes on either, Dax.” Vae murmurs, and that golden, shimmering thread pulses brighter, inching a bit further.

I eye my Mates warily. The pain in my chest transforms into something dark and empty.

The longer I watch them, the more obvious it becomes that none of this is going to end in the fairy tale I’ve dreamt of.

“She’s the one who made this fucking mess to begin with,” Dax snarls.

I swallow another whimper, having no desire to anger him even more than he already is.

Hesitantly, I rise on shaking legs and make my way towards them.

I don’t even notice the wood. All I can see are the threads.

They surge forward like I’ve granted permission, stretching across the space separating us, desperate to make the connection they’re meant for. They shoot forward⁠—

And bounce back.

It’s like they hit a wall. There’s nothing. No connection. Just an absence where there should be an answering thread reaching back for me.

My Mate Bonds recoil and pain explodes through my chest. It’s sharp. A physical burn, like the two males standing in front of me have reached into my chest and wrapped their hands around my heart. Now they’re squeezing, harder and tighter while it cracks under the pressure.

The agony radiates outward in pulsing, painful waves that make my lips tremble. I bite my cheek to keep from crying out, and the taste of blood explodes across my tongue.

The threads pulse once, then once again, before they begin to fade from view.

They’re still there, still reaching, their golden light flickering with the same uncertainty and confusion that mirrors my own emotions. But now they’ve retreated inside of me to bury themselves beneath my skin. Like they’re hiding. Like they’re ashamed.

Like they know—like I do—that it would be easier if they simply didn’t exist, than to face the males who just rejected us.