Dallas's POV
--

I stare at her, keeping my face void of expression. I can't lie to her and I don't know what to tell her. Yes? I'm sorry? I should have told you but I was scared? Like that'd blow over nicely.

Spencer looks smug in his chair as I turn my gaze to him. He knows he hit a nerve and he knows he's winning.

"Why didn't you tell me? If you knew this entire time, why would you not tell me? Do your parents know? Why wouldn't they tell me if you wouldn't?" I can sense the rage building up inside of her, and I just look at her. She shakes her head angrily, her eyes are shards of ice.

"He was using you, Nicole. He just wanted to be near you to make himself feel better. Because of the Mate Bond, he had to. And when he found out about you being a Seer, he wanted to take you away from your home that has protected you for so long. He wanted to manipulate you into leaving because he knew he could get you to do anything he wanted. He doesn't care about you. He's only helping you to help himself and his pack." Desperation floods me as Spencer speaks. My chair skids as I launch myself out of it.

"That's not true!" Even as the words come out, I have to admit they sound hollow. "I would never in my right mind do anything like that!" I look at Nicole, who only shakes her head with glistening eyes closed. And then I look back at Spencer, his lips tugged up in a smug smile and leaning back in his chair. He knows he's won.

"That may be true. But you're not in your right mind." Spencer tells me.

"I would never...." My voice cracks and breaks off. There's no way Nicole will believe me. Not against her own father and when everything makes sense in a twisted way. She doesn't understand the whole Mate thing fully yet.

I stand helplessly looking at Nicole and I can feel something inside me deteriorate.

"Nicole... I wouldn't - I didn't - I'd never..." I stumble over my words. "You have to believe me..." She opens her eyes then, her lips forming a line and her eyes are hard as a rock and sharp as a glacier.

"Get out of my house." Her voice is so low and quiet, I almost miss it.

"Nicole - "

"GET OUT." And that's the only thing I can do. With a final glance at Spencer's triumphant face and Nicole's angry figure, I retreat through the hallway to the front door, carrying a ghost of her honey smell in my memory. Pain sears through me. The Mate Rejection Process.

Spencer wanted to break me. He tried and he tried and he couldn't. And then he figured it out. There's only one way to break an Alpha. Rejection from the person they care the most about.

And Spencer broke me.

--

Days later, I lie awake in my bed, feeling the void inside me widen and start to consume me. The pain is bearable, but I can feel it worsen with every intake of breath. I know what's going to happen next.

I haven't slept all week and I haven't gone downstairs since. My mum brought my food occasionally, but I wouldn't eat it until she begged me. She kept asking what was wrong, what was happening, why I was acting this way. But I think she figured it out because she eventually just stopped the questions. My dad hasn't been home. When he does, I'll have to act like everything's fine. He's not as lenient as Mum.

A hollowness inside me makes me cringe as I sit up from my spot on my bed. Looking around, I notice the dust collecting under my desk and glazing the screen of the TV that hasn't been used in awhile. I rarely sit in the comfort of the beanbags because they still have a trace of her scent. I can't handle it.

I feel pathetic.

The door of my room cracks open, revealing Mum with her glossy brown hair tied back in a ponytail.

"Dallas, honey. I brought some dinner." I stare at her. "It's pork tamales, your favorite..." She offers, cracking the door open more with her hip. On her hand rests the steaming plate of food. The scent drifts into my nose, and surprisingly, it doesn't stir the hunger I should be feeling. "Do you want some?" She takes a step towards me, her green eyes trained for any reaction. I blink, and that's good enough for her. She takes the last few steps to my bed, smoothing the mattress under her hand before setting the warm plate on it. She clasps her hands together, staring at the plate and then looking back at me. "Dallas... You need to eat." She says.

I continue staring at the tamale.

"Dallas?"

I haven't spoken to her for a few days.

"Dallas, love, you need to eat." But her words sound insincere as she sits on the other side of me. "She would want you to eat, you know." A wave of pain roars through me, only viewable through my eyes. My mother has no idea what happened between us. She has no idea that she rejected me. "Dallas, you need to eat. Think about -"

"She rejected me." I say bluntly, effectively cutting her off. I feel her green eyes staring at me. Her relief and despair wash over me; relief from me speaking and despair from being rejected.

"Oh... Dallas... I'm so s - " I look at her slowly, yet again stopping her from speaking.

"You'll die if you don't eat." She says quietly after a moment, looking down at her hands.

"That's the point." I grumble, picking up the cooling plate and handing it to her. "I'm not hungry."

"Dal.. Please eat... For me? At least half... Please?" She stares at me in the eyes pleadingly. We stay like that for a few minutes.

Without a word, I reluctantly take the plate back and start eating, the flavor of the tamale tasting stale and like dirt. Probably just my mood, but whatever.

I eat exactly half; my mum watching the whole time.

Without a word, she takes the plate back yet again and standing up, she kisses the top of my head before walking out of my bedroom. The door closes with a quiet click.

--

When I hear the groan of the garage below me, I know my father's home. Great.

Minutes later, he appears in my room and watches me as I stare up at the ceiling.

"Dallas?" He asks. "Dallas, what happened?" I don't say anything. So Mum hasn't told him yet.

He stands over me, looking at me looking at him. "Well?"

I use the same answer I told Mum.

"She rejected me." My dad's eyes shoot open with alarm. Rarely do Mates reject one another. Feeling defensive, I continue, "Spencer was there. He manipulated her." My dad swears, saying words I'd rather not repeat.

"Of course." He says.

"Of course." I repeat.

And that's all he needs to hear before he leaves my room.

Both of my parents know I'm hopeless. They both know that I'm going to die. They both know that it's only a matter of time. They both know that I don't care.

--

I know that eventually Spencer'll send Mason and Ian after me again. I know they'll try and kill me again. And I know they'll succeed this time.

When they do come (for the first time, they come to me rather than me go to them. They know I won't leave my room), they tap on my window. Without a second thought, I open it. "Do it fast." I tell them, my face blank. They look at each other, grinning.

"We don't do the dirty work, Dallas. You should know that." Mason rubs a hand over his face.

Ian just shakes his head. "Plus, killing you would be easy. You want to die. No, no. No. Alpha Spencer wants you to suffer. If you suffer, then your dad will. If he suffers, then your pack will." Usually, they wouldn't tell me what they're panning, but they know I could care less what happens now.

"I had a feeling." I mutter, continuing to stare at them with my unnerving, scarred, green eyes.

"We are only here to check on you and make sure you don't ruin the fun." Mason says, clicking his tongue.

"Well. Then get on with it." I grumble, knowing exactly what they were sent to do. As much as they don't like to admit it, they do do some dirty work.

Ian glances at Mason and pulls his hand out from behind his back to reveal a bag. I hop off my bed and walk towards the corner of it, sitting down with a thump. Mason opens the canvas bag while Ian takes a long silver chain from it, tilting his head suggestively. I lean forward so he can place the chains around my arms and hands and the bed post. I don't even flinch.

I know what you're thinking. How are they able to touch it when they're werewolves, too? They have gloves on.

A second chain is applied around my torso, making sure I don't escape. But I'm not even going to try.

And that's how they leave me. On the floor of my room, tied by two silver chains to my bed post, my body leaned forward to pull the chains taunt, my eyes closed, head drooped from exhaustion. But I'm not sleeping. I'm not even resting. Just thinking with my eyes closed because when they're open, I see the whole truth. At least when they're closed, I can pretend it's not as bad.

And that's how my parents find me in the morning.