"What is that?" Caleb asked, his voice dropping an octave. He pointed straight at the dark gap in the bookshelf.

"Kill him," my wolf, Nyx, snarled in my mind. "Tear his throat out right now."

"Quiet," I told her silently.

I shifted my weight, planting my body directly between Caleb and the hidden wall safe. My hand stayed buried deep in my pocket, fingers wrapped tight around the jagged teeth of the iron key.

"A hidden drawer," I said aloud, keeping my tone flat. "I found it yesterday."

"And why is it open?" He took a step forward. The floorboards groaned under his heavy boots.

"I was looking for my mother's old photo albums." I met his gaze, forcing my eyes to stay wide and innocent. "I thought they might be stored in there."

"Photo albums." Caleb stopped. His jaw unclenched slightly. "At this hour?"

"I told you I couldn't sleep."

"You should be resting. The high priest said your body needs to be at peak condition."

"I know what the high priest said," I countered, keeping my tone submissive. "But the ceremony is in five days. I wanted to see her face. I wanted to feel like she was here with me."

"She is with you," he said smoothly. "In spirit."

Caleb stared at me. The calculating Alpha faded, replaced instantly by the mask of the doting fiancé. He set the steaming glass mug on my nightstand.

"You miss her," he murmured. He reached out, brushing a stray curl from my cheek. "Of course you do. But you shouldn't be digging around in the dark."

"I just wanted a picture of her."

"I'll have the estate staff bring the albums down tomorrow," he promised, his tone smooth and reassuring. "But right now, you need to rest. Drink, Elara."

"I don't want it, Caleb."

"Do it for me," he coaxed. "You look so pale. The honey will help your throat."

"Don't touch it," Nyx growled. "It's laced with wolfsbane. I can smell the root from here."

"I know," I answered her.

I took the warm glass from his hand. The ceramic burned against my cold palms.

"Thank you," I said softly.

"Drink it while I'm here. I want to make sure you're taken care of."

"You don't have to watch me."

"I want to," he insisted. "Drink."

I brought the rim to my lips. The sweet scent of honey masked the bitter poison underneath. I tilted the mug, letting the liquid pool in my mouth without swallowing a single drop.

Caleb smiled. "Good girl."

He leaned in and kissed my forehead. His skin felt like ice against mine.

"I have to check the perimeter," he said, pulling away. "The rogue activity near the borders has been increasing. Lock the door behind me."

"Be safe," I replied around the milk in my mouth.

He turned and walked out. The heavy oak door clicked shut.

I sprinted to the bathroom and spat the white liquid into the sink. I turned on the faucet, washing the wolfsbane down the drain. I coughed, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

Two hours later, the massive iron gates of the packhouse slammed shut. The metallic clang echoed through the silent estate. Caleb was gone.

"He left," Nyx said. "Move."

I grabbed a small flashlight from my nightstand and slipped into the hallway.

The corridor was pitch black. I kept my back pressed against the wallpaper, moving silently toward the guest wing.

Sienna's door sat at the end of the hall.

I turned the brass knob. It clicked open.

I slipped inside and shut the door behind me.

The cloying scent of her vanilla perfume hit my nose, turning my stomach.

"Smells like trash," Nyx scoffed.

"Focus," I whispered to the empty room. "Where would she hide the plans?"

"Check the closet. She's vain."

I opened the double doors of her closet. I rummaged through her designer bags, checking the side pockets. I patted down the pockets of her winter coats. Empty.

I moved to the tall mahogany dresser. I pulled out the top drawer, dumping her expensive jewelry onto the carpet. Gold chains and diamond studs scattered across the floor.

"Nothing," I muttered.

"Check the desk," Nyx pushed.

I crossed the room to the small writing desk. I yanked the drawers open. Blank stationery. A few pens.

I shoved the empty desk drawer shut. Sienna hid the blueprints well.

"Forget the papers," Nyx growled in my head, her voice sharp and impatient. "Get the beast."

I unlatched the guest room window and pushed the glass up. Cold night wind rushed in, biting at my face.

I swung my legs over the sill. My bare feet found the freezing metal of the exterior water pipe. I gripped the thick iron with both hands and slid down into the shadows. The rough surface scraped against my palms, tearing the skin, but I kept my grip tight.

The red light of the security camera swept across the courtyard.

I flattened my spine against the stone wall, pressing myself into the dark ivy. The mechanical whir of the camera lens rotated past my shoulder. Two seconds later, I darted across the damp grass toward the basement storm doors.

The heavy iron key from Caleb's safe burned a hole in my pocket.

I shoved the jagged metal into the rusted padlock securing the underground entrance. It turned with a harsh, grating scrape. I pulled the heavy steel doors open and descended into the pitch black.

The air grew colder with every step down the concrete stairs. The stench of rotting meat and dried blood coated the back of my throat. I ignored the nausea churning in my stomach.

I walked past a dozen empty cages. The iron bars were rusted thick with age.

I reached the final solid steel door at the end of the corridor. The forbidden sector.

I pushed it open.

He hung from the ceiling.

Thick silver chains pierced directly through his collarbones, pinning him to the damp stone wall. Dark blood stained his torn chest, dried black over layered, jagged scars. Filth and grime coated his pale skin. His head hung low, chin resting against his sternum.

He didn't move.

"Is he dead?" I asked aloud.

A low, rumbling chuckle vibrated through the cell. The sound scraped against the stone walls like crushed gravel.

"Disappointed?"

The Lycan raised his head.

Dark gold eyes locked onto mine. The irises were fractured, wild, glowing faintly in the dim light.

"A visitor," he mocked. His lips curled into a vicious smirk, revealing elongated canines. "And a pretty one. Did the Alpha send his little pet down here to gloat?"

"I came on my own." I stepped fully into the cell.

"Bold." He shifted his massive weight. The chains tore at the raw flesh of his collarbones. Fresh crimson traced down his chest. He didn't even blink. "Usually, the guards throw the raw meat from the doorway and run. You walked right into the cage."

"I need a favor," I said.

He let out a sharp bark of laughter. "A favor. From the rogue king."

"From Kaelen." I used the name I had only heard in whispered rumors. "Yes."

"I don't do favors for pack wolves." He spat a glob of dark blood onto the stone floor. "Get out before I decide to bite your pretty face off."

"You can't reach me," I pointed out, keeping my stance rigid. "You're bolted to the wall."

"Step closer and test that theory."

I pulled the heavy hunting dagger from my waistband. The polished steel caught the faint overhead light.

Kaelen's eyes tracked the blade. "Going to skin me? Your Alpha already tried that. The blade broke on my ribs."

"I'm not here to torture you." I closed the distance between us, stopping just out of his reach. "I'm here to let you out."

His smirk vanished. The dark gold eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

"Why?"

"Because in five days, Caleb is going to carve my heart out on an altar," I said, keeping my tone entirely flat. "And I want you to slaughter him first."

Kaelen stared at me. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. He studied my face, searching for a lie.

"You want to hire a feral Lycan for an assassination," he finally said.

"I want to unleash a monster on my enemies."

"Do you even know what you're asking for?" Kaelen leaned forward as far as the silver would allow. "I don't play by pack rules. I don't stop when the target is dead. If I get loose in this house, I will paint the walls red."

"Good," I replied without hesitation. "Start with the Alpha's bedroom."

He laughed again, a dark, dangerous sound. "You're either incredibly brave or completely insane."

"I'm out of options."

"And what do I get?"

"Freedom. The blood of the Alpha who locked you down here. And whatever you want to take from the estate on your way out."

A muscle feathered in his sharp jaw. He glanced down at his bound wrists.

"Cut the left one first," he ordered.

I stepped right up to his massive frame. Up close, the sheer size of him was terrifying. His chest was as wide as a boulder, radiating a blistering heat that fought off the damp chill of the dungeon.

I raised the dagger. I wedged the thick steel blade into the rusted groove of the century-old silver chain wrapped tight around his left wrist.

"Brace yourself," I told him.

"Just cut it."

I gripped the hilt with both hands and shoved downward with all my weight. Metal ground against metal. The silver link snapped with a deafening crack.

The heavy chain hit the floor.

Instantly, a suffocating scent exploded into the air.

Hard liquor and pine.

It wasn't just a smell. It was a physical force. It slammed into my chest, heavy, aggressive, and entirely dominant.

My knees buckled. I stumbled backward, catching myself against the damp stone wall to keep from collapsing.

The liquor and pine scent wrapped around my throat, choking the air from my lungs. My pulse skyrocketed. Every nerve ending in my body ignited with a sudden, burning fever.

"Mate!" Nyx screamed in my mind.

The dormant wolf inside me, silent and suppressed for years, completely lost her mind. She threw herself against my ribs, clawing at my insides, howling with a violent, possessive frenzy.

"No," I gasped out loud.

"Mine!" Nyx roared. "He is ours!"

I pressed a hand to my sternum, trying to steady the frantic pounding of my heart. A fated mate. Here. Now. The rogue Lycan king chained in my pack's dungeon. This couldn't be happening. I needed a weapon, not a mate bond.

"Quiet," I ordered my wolf.

"Claim him!" she snarled back.

"What did you say?" Kaelen's voice dropped. The mocking tone was entirely gone.

I looked up.

His freed left hand shot out.

Thick, calloused fingers clamped down on the back of my neck.

He yanked me forward with terrifying speed. I crashed against his solid chest, my hands flattening against his blood-soaked skin. The heat rolling off his body scorched my palms.

He dragged my face up to his.

His dark gold slitted pupils narrowed into thin, predatory lines. His nose brushed along my jaw, inhaling sharply as he took in my scent.

"Little Luna," Kaelen rasped, his lips brushing right against the shell of my ear. "You smell like a dead person."