Ridge’s jaw tightens, a muscle jumping like it wants to snap.
“Our parents refuse treatment because my mother doesn’t believe it’s serious,” I go on, bitterness seeping through the cracks despite my effort to stay composed. “The only cure that exists was developed by our enemies. Medicines can be smuggled in…sometimes. But they’re not enough. And will my parents negotiate with their sworn enemies? Absolutely not.”
Anger flashes in Ridge’s eyes—hot, immediate, incandescent. It rolls off him in waves, a barely leashed thing that has broken bones and spilled blood before.
It almost makes me smile.
“When our parents told him he had to attend Eros,” I say, my voice softening as memories surge forward, sharp and merciless, “he couldn’t even leave the damn bed. He was a shell of my brother.”
I look down at my hands, at the faint scars and calluses that don’t belong on a princess. I remember how they shook as Ipacked my brother’s things. His uniforms. His clothes. His clunky boots.
“So I went instead.”
The words feel inevitable. Like gravity.
Ridge’s brow furrows slightly. “You chose that?”
“I chosehim,” I correct quietly.
I swallow and keep going before fear can wrap its hands around my throat and drag me under.
“I bound my chest until breathing hurt,” I say. “Until every inhale felt like defiance. I wore a suit layered so thick it hid every curve, every softness, every truth. I practiced his walk until my hips forgot how to sway. Lowered my voice until my throat burned. I learned his temper. His silences. I learned how to take hits meant for him.”
The academy crashes over me in brutal flashes—training mats soaked with sweat, classrooms that smelled like testosterone and cruelty, the way alphas slammed me into the ground harder because I was the crowned prince and they hated me for it.
“I wore a wig every day,” I continue. “Sweated through it during drills. And the scent blocker—gods, that awful perfume.” A shaky laugh slips free before I can stop it. “It burned my nose, clung to my skin like poison. But it masked my scent well enough that no one realized I was an omega standing in the middle of a den of predators.”
Ridge stiffens, something dark crossing his face. “We were cruel to you.”
“Yes,” I admit.
There’s no point denying it. The truth doesn’t bruise any worse than the memories already do.
“To him. To Teddie.” I force myself to meet his eyes, even as tears blur my vision. “You didn’t see me. Not then.”
I blink hard, but tears spill anyway, hot and traitorous.
“And then the bond started pulling at me,” I whisper. “Every instinct screaming that you were mine and I was yours, and I was trapped inside a lie so deep I didn’t know how to climb out without burying everyone I loved.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ridge’s voice is rough, scraped raw.
“Because if I did,” I say, “the whole world would come down on us. The academy. The crown. My brother’s safety.” My hand presses to my chest, feeling my heart slam against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. “And because I was scared.”
The confession hurts more than the lies ever did.
“Scared that once you knew the truth, you’d hate me,” I whisper. “That you’d see betrayal instead of survival. A manipulative omega instead of a girl trying to keep her brother alive.”
Silence again.
But this one is different. It doesn’t feel like a blade hovering over my neck. It feels like space.
Ridge reaches for me, slow and deliberate, giving me time to pull away. Giving me a choice.
I don’t take it.
He cups the back of my neck, thumb warm against my pulse, grounding me in the here and now. “You carried all of that alone.”
“Not alone,” I say softly. “I had Harper, and Colter, and?—”
