The next two days had been hell for Fia. Since the moment Emiliano had left her apartment, a heavy silence had settled between them, by his choice. He had insisted that she take the time to think about everything—really think—without his presence clouding her judgment.
Fia hated it.
She missed him so much it physically hurt, like an ache deep in her bones. She barely touched her food, she barely slept, and even at work, where she normally thrived, she was unfocused and irritable. Her father had noticed. Her colleagues had noticed. Hell, even the barista at the café near her office had commented on her sullen expression.
But only Mia knew the truth—or at least, some of it.
Late in the evening on the first night of her self-inflicted misery, Mia had shown up at her front door with two bottles of wine and a bag full of takeout from their favorite restaurant in the city. The moment the cork popped, Fia knew she was doomed. Mia was nothing if not persistent, and after just one glass, her best friend had her spilling her guts about Emiliano and the impossible situation she found herself in.
Of course, she couldn't tell Mia everything. She couldn't tell her that Emiliano was a lycan, that she was his blood mate, or that in just over a day, she would be watching him shift into a beast under the full moon. Instead, she gave a vague, stumbling explanation that made her sound like a fool.
Mia, ever the sharp one, had immediately called her out on it. "Fia, you sound insane. None of this makes sense. Just tell me the truth."
"I am!" Fia protested, though even she didn't believe herself. "Look, it's just... complicated. There's a lot he hasn't told me, and I—"
Mia snorted, swirling the wine in her glass before taking a long sip. "Fia, from what I can gather between all the weird dodging, you're in love with him, and he’s in love with you. He told you something about himself—something big, yeah? But he told you. He didn’t lie and wait for you to find out some terrible truth after it was too late. That counts for something."
Fia opened her mouth, then closed it. She hated how right Mia was.
"I just don't know if I can step into his world," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "And once I do, there's no going back."
Mia frowned, setting her glass down. "I can't pretend to understand what you're going through, but I know you. You're not the type to run from something real. And Fia, if you’re miserable now, how much worse will it be if you push him away?"
Before Fia could respond, the doorbell rang.
She frowned, glancing at the clock. "Oh! Our chicken wings!" she declared drunkenly, practically skipping to the door. She flung it open, a hazy grin on her lips. "Thank you so much, you—"
Her words died in her throat.
Standing at her doorstep was not the delivery guy. It was Viktor.
Fia blinked at him, the alcohol making everything feel slightly surreal. "Viktor? What—?"
"We need to go." His voice was urgent, his grip on her arm firm as he pulled her forward.
Her wine-addled brain struggled to keep up. "What? Go where?"
Before she could process it, Mia was at her side, pushing against Viktor. "Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing? Let her go!"
Viktor barely glanced at her before jerking his head toward the hallway. "Get her too."
A second pair of hands grabbed Mia, who screamed and fought against them. "Fia!"
Fia's heart pounded. Everything felt slow and fast at the same time. Panic surged through her as she struggled, but Viktor was too strong. Before she could scream, a cloth was pressed over her nose and mouth.
A sickly-sweet scent invaded her senses, and the world started to blur. Mia’s voice faded. Her limbs felt heavy.
Darkness swallowed her whole.