Page 54 of The Forbidden Wolf

“Bullshit. Why else would you pick that film when your theme was Grace Kelly?” I motioned toward the doors leading to the poster-lined sidewalk. “You knew, and you thought—I don’t know what! But you knew, and you thought, and you were wrong!”

“No!” Sebastian roared, and a crisp strand of overly gelled hair fell across his forehead. “I only picked it because I knew it meant something to you!”

“How?” I glared at him. “How could you possibly have known that? We’ve known each other for a week, and I was unconscious for most of it.”

“Because Ruby told me what Kiana did to your things! So I told her to figure out what the movies were, and she pieced everything back together, and when I saw that you had lost this book and this movie…” Sebastian sighed and pushed his hair back into place with a soft crunch. “I just wanted to return it to you.”

“This wasn’t even the same movie,” I hissed. “That was the 1994 version with Susan Sarandon and Wynona Rider!”

“Well, I’m guessing it goes about the same!” Sebastian closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “It’s just a movie either way, Elyse.”

“It’s also a book!” I screamed because I wasn’t done screaming.

“It’s just a story either way!”

“There’s no such thing!” My fists twisted the folds of my dress. “Stories, they… they show us who we want to be, or who we don’t want to be, and I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be the kind of person who steals her sister’s mate. I’m not that kind of person. You can’t force me to be.”

“I’m not forcing you to be my mate,” Sebastian said. “You just are.”

“No! Just stop with the fated mates crap, alright? Just stop. I don’t feel it!”

“How can you say that?” Sebastian asked softly, with a pointed glance toward my lips.

“Because it’s true,” I said, self-consciously wiping my mouth. “I don’t feel that away about you. But even if I did, that wouldn’t make this okay.” I shook my head sadly. “There are some things you just don’t do. Like stealing—”

“You didn’t steal me!” Sebastian flung one arm at the theater. “And Amy didn’t steal Laurie either! Were you even paying attention? They fell in love because they were more suited for each other all along.” He reached for me again. “Just as you and I are.”

“No!” I slapped his hand away. “Don’t say that! I’m not Amy! I’m not a thief! I’m not a brat! I don’t throw tantrums when my sister gets attention! I don’t take her things and destroy them! That’s her! She’s the Amy! I’m not the Amy! She’s the Amy!”

Pain ripped through my skull, lighting up the corners of my eyes like Fourth of July on the East River. Gasping, I brought both hands to my temples, pressing inward as if that were the only way to hold in my writhing brain. There was something… something underneath the roar of my pulse… an idea scratching at the back door…

“Then let this be a lesson in why we do things the way we do,” Sebastian said. “If Jo had simply accepted Laurie’s claim, then the movie would end the way you want it too! Unfortunately, females don’t always know what they—”

“Shut up!” I held up one hand, nearly doubling over. “Just… shut up, Sebastian.”

He did. And then he touched my wrists so tenderly. “Elyse? What’s wrong?”

“Hang on,” I choked out as the pain flared again, nearly doubling me over. “Don’t talk.”

I paced away from him, driving my fingers harder into my temples. Once again, I found myself in several places all at once. Back in the theater, watching that nightmare unfold. Back in my room, watching Kiana shred my book. Back in the Grand Ballroom, watching Kiana lose. Back in the battle, hearing my deranged father echo Damian’s demand that Sebastian must sire the Bronx heir. Back in the Tower Room, watching Yara rock an invisible baby with a mysterious mark on her left shoulder. Back in the Last Century Cinema, laughing nervously at Charlie’s joke about me being a Chosen One. Back in Father’s living room, listening to Damian’s story about the night we were born.

You’re not the Amy.

“I’m not the Amy,” I whispered out loud, eyes growing wide.

I didn’t understand how it could have happened, but I knew that it had, and in the instant that I knew, the lights vanished, and the pain subsided, and the truth sat quietly in my mind like treasure washed up after a storm.

“I’m not the Amy,” I repeated, knowing no other way to say it.

“Alright, alright,” Sebastian soothed, fingers lightly stroking my arms.

“No.” I grabbed his wrists and stared into his eyes. “I’m not the Amy. I’m not the thief. I’m not… the youngest.”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed with confusion and then smoothed, his golden-brown eyes doubling in size. “Of course,” he murmured. “How could you know who I am without knowing who you are?”

Well, I didn’t know about that. My feelings for him hadn’t changed any in the last ten seconds, except maybe for the worse after that little speech he’d started in on… But it made a certain kind of sense, as a theory. More than any other part of the disjointed story bouncing around inside my skull, actually. So maybe if I proved to myself that I wasn’t crazy for considering the possibility that Kiana had stolen my birthright …

“I have to question Damian with the truth serum.” I dug my fingers into Sebastian’s forearms. “Now.”

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