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I forced myself to breathe normally. "I'm sorry, but I think you have me confused with someone else."

She laughed—that tinkling sound I'd heard a thousand times growing up, usually right before she said something devastating.

"Oh, darling. Do you really think a different name and playing dress up would fool your own mother?" She reached out as if to touch my face, and I jerked backward. "You have your father's jaw. My nose. And you're biting your lower lip exactly the way you did as a child when you were trying to lie."

Xavier smirked. “See? Told you she’d try to deny it. Gaslighting bitch.”

Shit. I released my lip immediately, but it was too late.

"There's my girl," she said, shooting an irritated look at Xavier. "Though I must say, this whole performance has beenquite impressive. New identity, new job, even new men in your life from what I hear."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't." She gestured to Xavier, who positioned himself at the bench's far end. "Xavier has been beside himself with worry. When you disappeared, we thought the worst."

"Disappeared?" I couldn't keep the incredulity from my voice. "Is that what we're calling it?"

Her smile never wavered. "You left without a word, Hazel. Vanished from your cottage in the middle of the night. We found signs of a struggle, blood, your things scattered everywhere. We thought you'd been kidnapped."

The casual rewriting of history hit me like a slap. They were acting like Xavier hadn't strangled me, like I'd simply run away like a petulant teenager.

"Signs of a struggle," I repeated slowly. "That's an interesting way to put it."

"We've been searching for weeks," Xavier added, his voice rough with what someone who didn't know better might mistake for genuine emotion. "When we heard about a woman matching your description working at a matchmaking agency, using a false name..."

"I had to see for myself," my mother finished. "And here you are, safe and sound. Though this little rebellion has gone on quite long enough."

Who the hell did Xavier think he was fooling? ‘When we heard?’ He was there!

The men who'd surrounded my bench had adjusted their positions, forming a loose circle that looked casual to any passersby but effectively trapped me in place. I admit, Xavier had been smart. I didn't see anyone from his pack—everyone he'd hired was a stranger, so I wouldn't be tipped off too soon.

A few people had glanced our way, but nothing about the scene looked threatening to outside observers. Just a family having a conversation in the park.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," I said quietly.

"Oh, but you are," my mother replied, her voice taking on that steely edge I remembered from childhood. "Do you have any idea what your little stunt has cost us? The terms you've put in jeopardy?"

"What terms?" But even as I asked, I knew.

"The Blackwood-Xavier terms from your contract, of course. The magickal binding that protects our coven. The trade agreements that keep us prosperous." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Thirty-seven families, Hazel. Thirty-seven witch families depending on you to do your duty. That doesn’t even count what the pack will get from Xavier becoming stronger."

The familiar guilt crashed over me like a wave. This was her favorite weapon—making me responsible for everyone else's welfare, making any choice I made for myself seem selfish and cruel.

"That's not my responsibility," I said, but my voice lacked conviction.

"Isn't it?" Her smile was razor-sharp. "You are on that contract. Your potential magickal signature is bound to it. There's no running from what you are, darling."

"I was a child!"

"You were a Blackwood," she corrected. "And Blackwoods honor their commitments."

Xavier straightened from his position at the bench's end.

"I know this has been overwhelming," he said, his voice gentle in that way that had once made me trust him. "But you belong with your family, Hazel. With me. This game you're playing, pretending to be someone else–it needs to stop."

"It's not a game."

"Of course it is." My mother stood, smoothing her skirt with practiced precision. "And while I admire your creativity, it's time to come home. The bonding has been postponed long enough."