I used to think being adopted meant I was chosen. Wanted.

Now I know better.

It means I was owned.

It means I was always going to be used for something that would benefit these monsters.

I remember my first night at the Kozlov household. Lucas smiled like he already knew how this would end, but I couldn’t even fathom any of it. I remember the look Riven gave me the first time we sat alone on the porch swing that night. The pinky promise he made. The way he whispered, "I won't let anything bad happen to you. Not ever."

And now he’s gone.

A toast rings out. My father lifts his glass, eyes glittering with straight up arrogance and pride. "To the future of the Kozlov legacy," he declares, his voice deep and rehearsed, like he’s practiced it in the mirror. "To new beginnings and strong alliances." I want to vomit on the table and show him how the sound of his voice makes me feel. I decide against it because I need to stop acting out and figure out how I’m actually going to get out of this mess.

"And to my daughter," my mother cuts in, her smile looks sugary and thin almost as if she wants to be here less than I do. That’s not possible. But almost. "We couldn’t be more thrilled, darling. You look radiant tonight. To the happy couple."

I blink at her, wondering if she actually sees me as a human being.

Lucas leans forward, grinning. "You clean up well, little sister."

"Don’t call me that," I say under my breath.

He chuckles and takes a sip of wine. "What? Not feeling sentimental on your big night? Come on, this is what every girl dreams of. A rich husband. A glass of overpriced champagne. All eyes on you."

"You don’t know what I dream of," I say flatly.

Matthew laughs like he has any clue what’s even going on. He knows nothing about me and never will. None of these people will. "I know what you dream about, baby. You like it rough. I can tell. You’re feisty."

"I’ll cut you if you touch me," I mutter, but he chuckles. I’m serious, but he won’t know that until the time comes.

"You should be smiling," Lucas says, swirling his wine again. I’m starting to think he doesn’t like the taste of it. I hope he chokes on the next sip. "Or are you just sad Riven isn’t here to give you away?"