CHAPTER 47: _ A NOBODY

The front door bangs open without warning.

"Darien," the newcomer announces, "you owe me big for making me walk all the way from the mansion to this... what do you even call this, a kennel? A doghouse? Certainly not worthy of my heels."

Did she just call this freaking huge bungalow a doghouse? Heidi can’t believe her ears.

Daphne’s voice is smooth, the kind of tone that makes people turn their heads before they even see her face. Heidi’s eyes dart toward the door... and then widen as Daphne comes into view.

Tall, gorgeous, radiating that terrifying effortless aura some women carry like a weapon—yes, that’s Daphne. She steps into the room as though the whole bungalow has been built simply to frame her entrance.

Darien, of course, just has that nonchalant knit of his brows. "Good morning to you too, Daphne."

Heat rushes into Heidi’s cheeks. She feels absolutely shameless sitting there in Daphne’s brother’s shirt, knowing he’s just fucked her their first night together and probably doesn’t even care.

Daphne removes her sunglasses and gives her brother a look that suggests he should kneel in gratitude for her presence. Then, her gaze slides to Heidi.

Oh no.

Heidi’s spine goes stiff. She doesn’t know whether to shrink into the sheets or jump out the window. Darien makes it worse with his next words.

"This is Heidi, Daphne." He nods from Daphne to Heidi. "Daphne, Heidi."

That’s it? No explanation? No buffer? No "please don’t destroy her with your words"? Just Heidi.

Daphne tilts her head, eyes flicking from Heidi’s tangled hair down to the wrinkled shirt she has on. Then, with the most casual flick of her wrist, she sniffs the air.

And smiles.

"Oh, don’t tell me you two fucked," Daphne groans, like she’s asking if someone remembered to water the plants. "Because honestly, I was starting to think my brother was gay."

Heidi’s jaw drops.

Heat scorches her cheeks, spreading all the way to her ears. Words—any words would be helpful right now, but her mouth has turned to dust.

She wants to sink into the floor, disappear into the cracks, maybe let the earth swallow her whole and bury the evidence that she’s ever been here. But before she can even muster a squeak, Darien snaps.

"Don’t be ridiculous. She’s an Omega. You can smell everything, Daphne, but not that? Why on earth would I fuck her?"

W-what the fuck did that... that fucking asshole just say?!

Heidi freezes. The sheet slips a little from her grip, but she’s too numb to notice. The echo of his voice ricochets around her skull until it finds a soft, unprotected part of her heart... and slices right through.

She stares at him, wide-eyed, but he isn’t even looking at her. He’s glaring at Daphne, like she has insulted his honor.

Daphne blinks, taken aback. Then she sniffs the air again, slower this time, and her brows lift.

"That’s strange," she says lightly. "Because I could swear I’m smelling sex. Unless, of course, you’re finally experimenting with scented candles? Brother, do I need to stage an intervention?"

Darien’s jaw clenches. He looks like he wants to tear the entire bungalow apart just to erase whatever scent Daphne has picked up.

Heidi wants to scream. To cry and laugh at the absurdity. To do anything but sit here, hurting silently while the boy who touched her like she was the only girl in the universe just hours ago now stands there denying her existence like she’s filth.

She wants to believe it doesn’t matter, that she’s known all along Darien is a jerk. But knowing it and feeling the sting of it pressed against her heart like salt in an open wound are two very different things.

Daphne, for her part, doesn’t look offended at all. She simply rolls her eyes and says, "Relax, Darien. Don’t eat me alive. So what if you did? Not like I care. What I do care about is this..."

She gestures around the room with a dramatic sweep of her hand. "What is she doing in your precious little bungalow gift from Father? Omegas don’t get this privilege. Did you adopt her as your emotional support wolf?"

Darien exhales through his nose, already impatient. "She’s helping me with an investigation. It’s confidential and I don’t want anyone to know about it."

Heidi wants to curl up and die. Helping him with an investigation? That’s all she is? A project?

Heidi’s stomach twisted painfully at his words; an Omega, so why on earth would he fuck her? Last night had meant nothing then. Nothing but a mistake he is already trying to scrub away.

Daphne arches an unimpressed brow. "Whatever."

She turns to Heidi with a dismissive flick of her hand. "Sit. Let’s get to work."

Heidi blinks. "Work?"

"Obviously." Daphne rolls her eyes, already striding toward the bags she dragged in with her. She begins unpacking them like a magician pulling rabbits out of a hat: sleek dresses, shoes, a box of cosmetics that could probably buy a small car.

"Do you think you’re showing up to the awakening ceremony dressed like a lost puppy? Please. If you’re going to survive this ceremony, you’re going to look like you belong. At least, that’s my little advice to you as a senior because my brother seems to care about you enough to want to doll you up."

"DAPHNE! I told you, she’s nobody... I don’t care about her!" Darien thunders, eyes reddening.

"Relax, Señor Prince," Daphne tutts breezily, snapping open a compact mirror. "I’m not about to broadcast your secrets. You always act like the world will end if anyone learns you actually talk to people below your station."

Darien shot her a sharp glare, but Daphne only smirks and powders Heidi’s nose like she doesn’t notice. "Don’t look at me like that, darling. You know I’m right. If I wanted to ruin you, I’d have done it years ago."

Heidi hates this. She hates Darien... and might begin to hate his sister too. Her? A nobody? To Darien? What happened to; you’re mine now...

She shuts her eyes, takes a deep breath, and reopens them. It’s crazy how a girl only three years older than her is dominating her so completely. Heidi hates the werewolf society’s hierarchy. Here, age doesn’t matter—strength and status do. And Daphne’s commanding presence leaves no room for argument. Heidi slides off the bed and moves toward the chair Daphne points to.

The makeover begins in a whirlwind.

Daphne’s hands are fast and merciless. She tugs and pins, dusts and brushes, muttering under her breath about posture, cheekbones, and how Darien clearly has no idea what he’s doing if he’s letting Heidi run around without mascara.

At some point, Heidi catches sight of herself in the mirror and freezes—because Darien is watching her.

His eyes, reflected in the glass, are locked on her like she’s something he can’t look away from, even though every word out of his mouth earlier was a denial.

Fucking bastard.

Her heart thudded in her throat, each beat screaming questions she couldn’t ask: Was he ashamed of her? Did he regret touching her? Was she just a warm body to him while he was bored?

Her stomach twists. She looks away quickly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her writhe under his scrutiny. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve her.

He’s a bloody jerk, and she’s been a fool for thinking, even for a moment, that there’s something sweet underneath that corny, cold exterior of his.