26. Carter
Carter
I don’t know how the old Witch pulled it off, but Uncle Uzzi and his merry band of chaos-causing minions managed to turn part of my garage into a goddamn party palace.
Seriously.
We’re talking twinkle lights strung across the rafters, tables covered in crisp white linens, platters of food that smell way too good for this to be real life, and a live band tucked into the corner like this is some kind of wedding reception.
Glitter even sparkles in the air, hanging there like it’s suspended in time.
I make a mental note that I’ll be finding that glitter in my upholstery for the next decade— but honestly ?
I don’t care.
I’ll sweep glitter till the end of time if it means MJ forgives me.
Because she’s here.
I scent her before I see her, warm brown sugar wrapped in fire and sunshine. The matebond pulses like a drumbeat, sending awareness racing across my skin, making my Lion snarl and stretch inside me.
And then—fuck.
There she is.
MJ.
My little Kitten.
Beautiful. Radiant. Wearing a dress that looks like it was stitched from autumn itself, all fiery ombre and soft movement, hugging her curves like it was tailored by the gods just to torment me.
She steals my breath. My sanity. Every ounce of composure I’ve been clinging to for the last miserable week.
She’s here.
She came.
Which means—maybe—she’s willing to listen.
Maybe willing to give me a chance.
Hell, maybe willing to be mine.
I barely get enough air in my lungs to whisper a thank-you to Uzzi— who I now owe limo service for life —before trouble struts in through the side door.
My mother.
And, worse, she’s dragging someone with her. April-fucking-something. Skinny, sharp-eyed, the kind of Lioness who always smelled like disdain and desperation rolled into one.
My gut twists. Shit.
I move before I can think, instincts snapping into place like claws unsheathed.
MJ is my only thought.
My mate.
My everything.
And of course my mother scents me on her. Of course she makes a beeline, her lined face twisted into that hard, disapproving glare she’s perfected over the years.
She’s saying something to MJ— her mouth moving sharp and fast —but all I hear are the warning bells in my head screaming danger .
MJ blinks, her eyes darting between us.
So close. Just a step away.
But still too far from me.
When I reach her, her wide gaze locks on mine.
Confusion. Hurt. That shimmer of betrayal that slices me in half.
But there’s something else, something small, fragile, flickering.
Comfort. Relief. Like me showing up at her side matters.
And that? That gives me hope.
I plant myself in front of her, shoulders squared, every muscle in my body making one clear statement.
You don’t get to touch what’s mine.
“Carter,” MJ breathes, my name trembling on her lips.
The sound wrecks me.
But I cling to that tremor, because beneath it is the truth—I am her shield. Her comfort. Her man.
Whether she’s ready to admit it or not.
“Please don’t leave,” I say, raw and desperate, the words ripped straight from my chest. “Just give me a chance.”
“Carter!” My mother’s voice cuts sharp as a whip. “This is April. The female you have an appointment with to do your duty.”
And just like that— my blood boils.
Not this shit again.
Not in front of MJ.
“Mom. Stop!” I snap, my voice echoing through the glitter-strung garage like thunder. “I told you the other day, and I’m saying it again—for the last damn time. My answer is no.”
April crosses her arms, chin high, face pinched like she smells something rotten.
“Excuse me? I was told you accepted my application for the Autumn lottery?—”
“Whatever you were told is a fucking lie,” I snarl, glaring at both her and my mother. “I am not performing any so-called duty for you, or anyone. Not now. Not ever.”
“Carter, think about what you’re doing! The future of the Pride?—”
“I am thinking.” My voice drops, low and lethal. My Lion snarls beneath it, golden eyes burning as I cut her off. “And the only thing I’m thinking about is my mate.”
I glance back, just for a heartbeat.
MJ.
Her lips part. Her eyes shimmer. She’s here. She’s listening.
Gods, please let her believe me.
Because I’ll fight the entire damn Pride— hell, I’ll fight the world —if it means keeping her.
Gasps ripple through the garage, sharp and echoing off the concrete walls like ricochets.
But I don’t care.
Let them gasp.
Every single person here is either a supe or mated to one. They know what the word mate means. They know the weight of it.
I didn’t just out myself— I claimed what’s mine.
Uncle Uzzi’s glitter-soaked parade of minions part as he makes his way toward us, velvet smoking jacket swishing dramatically, blue eyes lit with fury and— hell, satisfaction.
“Well, Mrs. Leone,” Uzzi purrs, his voice carrying across the room like a damn Broadway performance. “It seems your little Lioness club is still playing god with bloodlines. Pairings. Matings. A little illegal lottery breeding system, wasn’t it?”
The room goes quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
And fuck me—that’s when the truth hits like a freight train.
My mother’s little lottery wasn’t sanctioned. Not now, probably not ever.
Not by King Donovan. Not by Queen Patricia.
Which means this whole mess ?
It’s on her.
My chest goes tight, rage boiling beneath my skin.
“You didn’t,” I whisper, staring at her.
But she won’t meet my eyes .
“What are you saying?” she hisses, clutching her pearls like the villain in a bad soap opera. “You have no idea what the Blue Valley Pride?—”
“I happen,” Uzzi cuts her off, his smile sharp as glass, “to be very good friends with King Donovan. And I’ve already sent word about your little mechanisms .”
He twirls his fingers, and glitter floats down like condemning stardust. “I suggest you go home swiftly and present yourself to the King and Queen, because there is an audience waiting for you. ”
My mother blanches. “What? You can’t?—”
“Look,” April blurts, her voice high and panicked. “I don’t know what the heck she’s done, but I am out of here. ”
And she bolts, heels clicking a frantic staccato across the floor before the door bangs shut behind her.
“Carter!” My mother grabs my arm, nails biting into my skin. “You can’t let him do this!”
My Lion surges, golden heat blazing in my eyes as I shake her off.
“Mom, you made your bed,” I snarl, the betrayal ripping my voice raw. “I suggest you go beg the King for leniency.”
Her lips tremble. For a second, she looks small. Fragile. Like the mother who once tucked me into bed and kissed my forehead.
But the second passes.
Because I know the truth now. She didn’t just disappoint me. She tried to sell me— even worse —she tried to manipulate me into giving myself away!
And if I lose MJ because of this shit?
I’ll never forgive her.
I turn back to MJ, and the only thing that matters is the way her big, beautiful eyes search mine, full of pain but also something else.
Hope.
“So,” she whispers, voice trembling, “I’m your fated mate?”
“Yes,” I say, every ounce of truth in me pouring into those words. “You’re it, MJ. The only woman I want. The only one I’ll ever want.”