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Charlotte had been infatuated when they first met… If she closed her eyes she could feel the ghost of that intoxication.

But those echoes were buried beneath the searing burn of her rage. The truth stood with utter clarity… Victoria was whoever suited herself in the moment. But even so, it baffled as much as it infuriated her that she would suggest she’d done this to Lilah… for them…

“It’s pretty late,” Ali added quietly. “Will you come to bed with me?”

Oh, how Charlotte wished she could.

She wished she was the kind of person who could let her anger burn itself out and leave ash instead of wreckage. She wouldn’t sleep for hours. She knew that with the certainty of gravity.

“No.”

Ali shifted, but nodded once. “Okay.”

She retreated, sliding the door closed. The scrape of metal on metal grated along Charlotte’s nerves.

She swallowed the burn rising in her throat, ignoring the sting behind her eyes.

What a fucking mess this weekend became. What was she supposed to do? What could she do? All of this was her fault. She brought the wolf into her own home… to feast not just on her but her family. On Lilah.

She could stomach the abuse from her own experience. She couldn’t face Lilah’s trauma. She wanted to scream. To rend the world in two. Beautiful, sweet, and joyful Lilah… She delivered her baby right into the devil’s hands, and Charlotte would never forgive herself.

The door slid open again and the balcony light snapped on. Ali reappeared, a small first aid kit in her hand. Her steps were careful, measured, like she was approaching a wounded animal that might bolt or bite. She knelt in front of Charlotte and something like concern flickered through the rage.

Ali pulled out an alcohol swab and took Charlotte’s hand, the one that had fisted the front of Victoria’s shirt.

“What are you doing?” Charlotte asked, fighting the instinct to jerk away.

Ali lifted her own hand into view. Scratches… Some shallow, some gouged deep enough to bleed. Only then did the dull ache register.

“I’m making sure you don’t get infected,” Ali said, voice gentle, steadier than moments ago. “I wouldn’t put it past her to lace her nails with some kind of toxin.”

A sound caught in Charlotte’s throat, half snort, half sob. Ali’s mouth twitched, but her eyes stayed soft, like she was glad to get any kind of reaction out of her.

“This might sting,” Ali warned, dabbing one scratch with such care it stole Charlotte’s breath.

Her emotions churned then shifted like the tide to crash against the wall holding it all back. Charlotte clung to anger like it was the only thing holding her together. But it started slipping through her fingers anyway. Each subtle sting was a balm to her temper. Hairline fractures appeared in the seawall. One tear broke free, cooling as it plummeted down the slope of her cheek.

Ali didn’t notice at first. She was too intent on cleaning every mark.

She didn’t deserve this…

Why was Ali here, taking care of her after she scared her? After she’d been so cold? After she said no like a door slamming shut?

“I’m sorry,” Charlotte rasped, a note of fragile desperation barely detectable, “if I—scared you.”

Ali’s motions slowed to a stop and her gaze lifted, brown eyes tracking the tear’s path. She lifted a thumb, brushing the wetness away.

“Can I be honest with you?”

Charlotte nodded, her fingers tightening around the tumbler until faceted crystal bit into her skin.

“I am scared—” The words hit Charlotte like a punch to the gut— “but not of you.”

Charlotte went utterly still.

Ali peered down at Charlotte’s hand in hers, then back up again, the wind catching loose strands of her hair and lifting them like the night craved to touch her warmth too.

“You always know how to help me,” Ali said quietly. “When my world gets loud, you make it all go quiet. When I’m in the dark room… you bring candles and snacks and company. You ground me. You encourage me. You’re patient with me when anyone else would be frustrated.”