Page 96 of Bookish Girl’s Emergency Contact Is a Lycan King

He turns, and his voice takes on the cadence of recitation.

“And our law provides for the failure of a claim. If a mate is ruled unfit, the claim is dissolved. The human is returned to her human life, and her memories of the pack, of everything she has seen, of everyone she has come to know among us, are adjusted.” His eyes find mine across the firelight. “For her protection. And for ours.”

The world tilts sideways.

Adjusted. I already read the word off his challenge last night, in Orion’s cold hallway, but hearing him say it out loud to a clearing full of people is worse. It makes it real in a way the page didn’t. They’re not just deciding whether I can stay. They’re deciding whether I get to remember any of it, and the fact that I walked up this mountain already knowing that is the only reason I’m still standing.

Beside me, Orion has gone lethally still.

“That provision hasn’t been invoked in longer than anyone here has been alive.” His voice carries no volume and all threat.

“It has never been repealed.” Aaron folds his hands. “My king.”

He stops pacing. Turns to face me directly.

“Can this human do any of those things?”

The question hangs in the air. I’m acutely aware that everyone is waiting for Orion to answer, to defend me, to protect me, to do what kings do.

But this isn’t his moment.

It’s mine.

“No.”

My voice comes out smaller than I intended. I clear my throat and try again.

“No, I can’t.”

Aaron’s eyebrows rise. He clearly wasn’t expecting agreement.

“I can’t shift,” I continue, stepping forward. My heels sink slightly into the snow, stupid shoes, Millie was right about the boots, but I keep moving. “I don’t have claws or fangs or centuries of tradition. I couldn’t run a patrol route if my life depended on it, and I’d probably trip over my own feet trying to keep up with even your slowest runner.”

I feel Orion shift behind me, his worry almost audible. I don’t turn around.

Trust me.

I stop in the center of the clearing, surrounded by firelight and skeptical faces.

“I don’t have the qualifications you’re looking for,” I say, and my voice is stronger now, my ADHD brain finally locking onto a thread and refusing to let go. “You want someone who can hunt with you. Fight with you. Someone who understands your traditions because she grew up living them. I’m not that person. I never will be.”

Aaron’s mouth curls into a smug smile. He thinks he’s won.

He hasn’t.

“But I have him.” I gesture toward Orion without turning around. “And he has me. And I’m not going to stand here and pretend that’s nothing.”

The smile falters.

“I’m chaos,” I continue, the words flowing faster now. “I’m sticky notes everywhere and panic attacks at inconvenient times and a brain that won’t shut up even when I desperately need it to. I lose my keys constantly. I forget what I walked into rooms for. I talk to myself in mirrors and I count locks in threes and I have a laminated checklist for driving because without it I might forget to breathe.”

Someone in the crowd laughs, not meanly, just surprised. I see Mira grinning like this is the best thing she’s ever witnessed.

“I’m a mess,” I say. “A human mess with no supernatural abilities and no idea what I’m doing ninety percent of the time. But here’s what I do know.”

I scan the crowd, finding the faces I recognize. Theo, who bowed his head and called me queen before I’d earned it. Mira, who shipped us before we’d even kissed. Winnie, who started all of this with her well-meaning, punch-fueled revelation.

“I know that I showed up,” I say. “When things got hard and confusing and terrifying, I didn’t run. I stayed. I asked questions. I drove up a mountain road in the dark, alone, for the first time in six years, to have a conversation I was scared to have. Because that’s what you do when you love someone. You show up. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”