My voice filled the theater. Every line was perfect. Every movement precise. I commanded the space, and my scene partners responded, raising their own performances to match mine.
This was mine. My talent. My stage. My future.
And Vivian Strasberg would be watching in two weeks.
When the scene ended, De Scarzis was smiling. Actually smiling.
"Yes," he said simply. "That. More of that. Take five, everyone."
The cast broke, moving to the wings for water. I stayed on stage, letting the victory settle in my bones. I'd done it. Came back after heat and proved I was still the same performer. Still worthy of this role. Still—
"You were incredible."
I turned. Dorian stood in the back of the theater, in the shadows near the last row. How long had he been there?
"I told you to stay in the car," I said.
"I know. I'm sorry." He moved down the aisle slowly. "I had to see you. See that you were okay."
"I'm fine. You can leave now."
"Vespera—" He stopped at the edge of the stage, looking up at me. "I've watched you perform a hundred times. On stage with you, in the audience, during every rehearsal I could sneak into. But I've never seen you like this."
"Like what?"
"Free." His voice was raw. Honest. "Before, even when you were brilliant, you were performing under threat. Under fear. But this—watching you now, when you've chosen to be here, chosen to stay with us—you're transcendent. This is who you really are when nothing's holding you back."
The words should have felt like too little too late. Like pretty apologies that couldn't fix what he'd done.
But they didn't. They felt genuine.
"Thank you," I said quietly. "Now leave. I have two more hours of rehearsal and you're distracting me."
"Okay." He smiled—small, careful, hopeful. "I'll be in the parking lot when you're done. Text me?"
"I will."
He left. And I stood there on my stage, in my theater, feeling the claiming marks on my throat and the residual soreness from heat and the power of knowing I'd survived all of it.
Vivian Strasberg would be watching in two weeks. A casting director who could change everything.
This was the test. Not whether the pack would work. Whether I could have both—the career I'd fought for and the life I was building.
Day one was looking promising.
Stephanieambushedmetheinstant I stepped out of the theater three hours later.
"Explain. Now."
"Can I at least get coffee first?"
"We're getting coffee while you explain." She hooked her arm through mine, Beta determination overriding any protest. "You disappeared for three days, stopped answering texts, and came back wearing claiming marks. So talk."
We walked toward the campus café, my body protesting every step but my mind clearer than it had been in weeks. "Heat. It happened. The pack... they helped. And now I'm here."
"That's the worst summary I've ever heard."
"What do you want me to say, Steph? That it was terrible? That they forced me? They didn't. That it was great? It was complicated." I sighed. "It was good. Better than the first two times. They actually listened. Actually cared what I needed instead of taking."
