CHAPTER 71: THE WRONG PERSON

Kiel

I arrived at the birthday party slightly tired and entirely out of sorts.

I hadn’t wanted to come in the first place. My head was a mess, my wolf wasn’t his usual self, and I felt strangely disconnected from my surroundings. The chatter of the pack, the sound of laughter and music—it all grated on my nerves. I turned toward the car, intending to leave before anyone noticed me.

But I wasn’t fast enough.

"Alpha Kiel!" a woman’s voice called behind me, and I tensed.

I turned, managing a polite smile. It was the celebrant’s mother. She grabbed my arm gently, ushering me toward the house with enthusiasm that made my head pound.

"Oh no, you don’t," she chided cheerfully. "You came all the way here, you’re not turning back now."

I wanted to tell her I really didn’t have the energy for this, but something about her maternal insistence made it hard to argue. I let her drag me in.

The house was full—too full. Pack members of all ranks gathered, and immediately I felt dozens of eyes turn to me. Their gazes weren’t just curious. It was intense. Too intense.

"What the hell..." I muttered under my breath.

"It’s not you," the woman said with a chuckle. "Well, it is you, but it’s not your fault. Everyone just loves when the Alphas show up at these things. Especially you, Alpha Kiel."

I gave a tight smile. "Feels like it’s your son’s party, but I’m stealing the show."

She laughed again. "I know! It’s a little ridiculous. Come on, the birthday boy is right there."

I glanced over to the small group of children. A boy with curly dark hair and big, eager eyes was wearing a party hat way too big for his head. He was trying to blow out trick candles on his cake, puffing repeatedly to no avail, while his friends laughed.

"That’s him?" I asked.

The woman nodded. "That’s my little Zeke. Six today."

I actually smiled then—genuinely. Something warm settled in my chest, unexpected but not unwelcome.

"He reminds me of me," I said. "I wish I could’ve done more of that when I was his age. But—" I gave a tired shrug, "—responsibility catches up fast."

She patted my shoulder. "Still time to live a little."

I wasn’t sure I believed that.

Trying to shake the growing weight in my chest, I moved deeper into the crowd. A waiter passed by, and before I could think twice, I reached out and grabbed a glass from his tray.

The drink was red, fizzy, and cold in my palm.

I sniffed it, then shrugged and downed it in a few gulps.

It was sweet. Too sweet. Almost candy-like. But refreshing. I licked my lips and waved the waiter down again, grabbing another glass.

This one I sipped slower, letting the sugar coat my tongue while I let myself be pulled into small interactions. A few of the kids asked if I could toss them in the air, and I agreed before my brain caught up.

I was playing. Laughing. Tossing one kid, then another, catching them effortlessly, their giggles loud and unfiltered. I hadn’t done something like this in years. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d let myself.

And then, after a while, everything started to spin.

I blinked. My hands trembled. My head was light, then heavy, then light again. My legs felt wrong under me, like they belonged to someone else.

I needed a bathroom. Somewhere to breathe.

I started walking, unsteady, pushing through the crowd. I found a hallway and staggered down it, bracing myself against the wall. The party noise dimmed behind me.

And then I saw her.

Michelle.

Her blonde hair fell over one shoulder in soft waves. She looked at me with this expression—half regret, half desire. A dangerous mix.

My stomach twisted.

I turned sharply. "No," I said quickly. "I can’t— I need to go."

But she stepped toward me and reached out, fingers grazing the length of my forearm. Her touch was warm, delicate. Too familiar.

"You don’t have to leave," she murmured.

I pulled my arm back. "We’ve talked about this. I have a mate now."

"You’re tired," she said. "Worn out. I can see it all over you."

"Michelle—"

"I still love you."

I staggered again, the hallway tilting. I pressed my back against the wall, breathing hard.

The drink. There was something wrong with the drink. My head was foggy, my vision blurring and sharpening like a broken camera lens. I couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t trust what I was seeing.

"Josie..." I whispered.

My heart clenched.

Michelle’s face flickered. For a second, it wasn’t her standing in front of me—it was Josie. Soft brown eyes. Wild curls. That frown she always wore when I messed up.

"Josie?" I reached forward.

Michelle blinked.

Her face shifted again.

Then back.

I groaned, gripping my temples. "What the hell did they put in that drink?"

Michelle stepped closer. Her lips brushed against mine, and I didn’t stop her.

It was Josie.

It had to be Josie.

Her scent—no, it was wrong, wasn’t it? Or maybe I was wrong.

She kissed me deeper. And I kissed back.

"Josie," I whispered between kisses.

She giggled. Not Josie’s giggle. But I ignored it.

When we pulled apart, I blinked again, and suddenly it wasn’t Josie anymore.

Michelle stood before me, lips red, eyes bright.

"I don’t care what you call me," she said, voice low and triumphant. "Call me Josie if that’s what you want. I just want you. I’m dying for you."

"No," I murmured, but it was weak. My resistance had melted with every second the haze consumed me. My body was hot, too hot. I hadn’t had sex in weeks, and Josie—Josie had been avoiding me, pushing me away.

It burned in my veins now, and Michelle was in front of me, kissing me again, harder this time.

I kissed her back.

I sighed.

And then—

"Stop!"

The voice in my head roared so loud it was like a physical slap.

My wolf.

He growled, snarled, furious and desperate.

"That’s not her! That’s not Josie!"

But I shook my head.

"Yes, it is," I argued. "It’s Josie. I’m with Josie."

"No!" he snarled again. "You’re kissing the wrong person!"

My hands tangled in her hair as I kissed her deeper, still arguing with my own damn wolf.

"You’re wrong," I snapped back. "You’re wrong. This is Josie."