Two days.
The Gala was in two days, and the manor was a storm of preparation.
I watched from a balcony as workers rolled out blood-red carpets and hung strings of lights in the gardens below.
Each decoration felt like another link in the chain around my neck.
But today, the air was cleaner. I could breathe. Just a little.
And that's why I clung to the beach day Cordelia had decreed as part of the Gala week's "festivities." A forced display of family unity. A political tool.
But for me, it was a lifeline.
One last chance to breathe before the storm.
I found Billy in the game room, staring at a large painting of some old Alpha. He was quiet these days.
"You ready for the beach?" I asked.
He shrugged, not looking at me. "I guess. Carly's going to be there."
"I know," I said, my heart aching a little. He used to be excited for things with just me.
An hour later, we arrived at the private cove.
The sky was a perfect blue, and the sea was gentle.
