Chapter 1

Kiana

My mother died bringing me into this world.

My father never forgave me for that.

Every memory I have of him comes with pain.

His fists.

His boots.

His belt.

His voice telling me the same thing over and over until it became a second skin.

It should have been you.

Not his Luna.

Not his mate.

Not the woman he called the light of his life.

Me.

I was the mistake that lived.

The curse that breathed.

The daughter he should have buried instead.

My father was Alpha Ragor of the Snake River Pack.

To everyone else, he was strong. Powerful. Respected.

To me, he was a storm that had learned how to wear a crown.

For fifteen years, he had looked at me like I was the wolf who killed his soul.

Maybe if he had done it only once, I could have called it grief.

But grief doesn’t beat a child until her ribs bruise.

Grief doesn’t lock her away.

Grief doesn’t erase her.

Hatred does.

After my mother died, he took another woman.

Not a true mate.

A chosen Luna.

Ellara.

Beautiful. ambitious. cruel in that polished way some women are when they know no one will ever hold them accountable.

Together, they turned my life into a sentence.

Tonight, the Wolfspire Pack was coming to visit.

Which meant the packhouse had to shine.

Which meant I had to work until my hands bled.

“Kiana!”

My father’s voice cracked through the lower floors like thunder.

I flinched so hard I dropped the rag in my hand.

Then I ran.

Down one narrow stairwell. Then another. Then into the grand lower level of the packhouse I was never allowed to belong to.

He stood there waiting.

Tall. Broad. Six-foot-five of scarred muscle and controlled rage. A black shirt stretched across his chest. His silver-threaded dark hair was slicked back from a face that should have been handsome if cruelty hadn’t hollowed it out.

“Apologies, Alpha,” I whispered, lowering my eyes immediately.

He liked it better when I looked afraid.

“I told you we have guests arriving tonight,” he barked. “The Wolfspire Pack will be here within the hour. That ballroom had better shine.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

No excuses.

No questions.

Never any delay.

I turned fast and hurried toward the laundry room before he could decide I had moved too slowly and backhand me for it.

Wolfspire.

I had heard the name before, of course.

Every wolf had.

They were known for strength. Discipline. Battle skill. The kind of pack other Alphas respected and lesser wolves feared. If my father was acting this nervous about their visit, then they weren’t just important.

They were dangerous.

I filled a metal bucket with hot soapy water, grabbed rags and a scrub brush, and hurried back toward the ballroom.

Then I ran straight into Ellara.

The bucket jerked.

Water splashed up the front of her gown.

Silence.

My whole body went cold.

Ellara looked down at herself slowly, then back at me.

“Watch where you’re going, you worthless brat.”

“I’m sorry, Luna,” I said instantly.

Too late.

“Ragor!” she shrieked down the hallway. “Your daughter just soaked me!”

He appeared almost immediately, like he’d been waiting for a reason.

His hand struck my face so hard I saw white.

I stumbled backward.

My cheek burned.

Ellara smiled.

Then she looped her arm through his and let him lead her away like I wasn’t worth another second of their attention.

That was the worst part of life here.

Not always the violence.

Sometimes it was how normal it felt to them.

I bent, picked up the brush with shaking fingers, and dropped to my knees.

The ballroom was massive.

Too big for one girl.

Too filthy to finish quickly.

Too important to leave half-done.

I scrubbed and scrubbed until my knees burned and my back ached and my fingers turned raw from soap and stone.

Time blurred.

Pain became rhythm.

At some point, voices drifted from the adjoining room.

Male voices.

Unfamiliar.

I froze and crouched lower, inching toward the kitchen doorway without letting my feet make sound.

“Some omega left a bucket out with half the floor still wet,” one man said.

“Let the Alpha catch her,” another answered with a laugh. “He’ll teach her what carelessness costs.”

I stayed very still until their footsteps faded.

Then I rushed back into the ballroom and shut the doors harder than I meant to.

Outsiders made this house feel even less safe.

The rules had always been simple.

No one was supposed to see me.

No one was supposed to speak to me.

As far as most wolves knew, Alpha Ragor didn’t have a daughter at all.

Maybe that was the story he told after my mother died.

Maybe he said I was dead.

Maybe he just never said my name again.

Either way, the message was clear.

Disappear.

Be useful.

Be silent.

By the time the last tile shone and I returned the supplies, my body felt like it had already worked through the night.

But I wasn’t done.

I never was.

The banquet still needed preparing.

In the kitchen, I threw myself into the work.

Roast in the oven.

Biscuits from scratch.

Vegetables seasoned and set to bake.

Apple sauce. Cranberry sauce. Fruit platters. Dessert trays. Cakes. Cheesecake. Chocolate ganache. Mousse cups crowned with whipped cream.

I moved fast, because speed meant fewer chances for punishment.

Still, hunger gnawed at me.

A single mango slice sat near the edge of the cutting board, golden and bright and sweet-looking enough to make my mouth ache.

I stared at it for one second too long.

Then forced myself away.

If one piece went missing, someone would notice.

And if they didn’t notice, Ellara would make sure they did.

In this house, even hunger had to stay quiet.

When the last dessert was plated, Ellara swept into the kitchen like she was entering a ballroom instead of a workspace.

Emerald sequins clung to her body. Jewels flashed at her ears and throat. She smelled like expensive perfume and victory.

“Why aren’t you done yet?” she snapped.

“I just finished, Luna,” I said, stepping back from the counter. “Everything is ready.”

“Good. Now disappear.”

I nodded once and slipped through the hidden pantry stairs before anyone else could look at me too closely.

Up one floor.

Then another.

Then another.

At the very top of the packhouse was the attic.

My place.

My cage.

My secret.

I unlocked the door, slipped inside, then locked it behind me.

Only then did I breathe.

Dust and old furniture crowded the room. Cobwebs hung in the corners. A narrow cot sat beneath the window, and under the mattress I hid the few things that were mine—two worn books, a blanket, and a life no one downstairs would ever care about.

I curled onto the cot and opened one of the books, but I didn’t read for long.

Engines hummed below.

I went to the window instead.

Limousines pulled into the drive one after another. Well-dressed wolves stepped out like royalty.

Men in dark tailored suits.

Women laughing behind jeweled hands.

Grace. Power. Beauty.

From my hiding place, I watched them and felt the old ache tighten in my chest.

For one weak, stupid moment, I felt like the forgotten girl in a fairy tale.

The one hidden in an attic while everyone else danced below.

Only this wasn’t a fairy tale.

No prince was coming.

No magic was waiting.

Just me, my books, and the life I was supposed to survive quietly.

I closed the curtain and went back to the cot.

The muffled sound of music and laughter floated upward through the floorboards. Eventually, my eyes closed.

I must have slept.

Because the next thing I knew, someone was rattling the attic door.

I shot upright so fast my heart crashed against my ribs.

The door shook again.

Panic hit instantly.

I ran to check the lock.

Still in place.

Still safe.

Then a man’s voice came through the wood.

“Is someone in there?”

Deep. unfamiliar. calm.

I pressed both hands to my mouth.

Silence.

“I know you’re in there,” he said. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

My pulse kicked harder, and of course that only made it worse.

“It’s racing,” he added.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

If my father found out someone had spoken to me tonight, I would pay for it.

“Go back to the party,” I whispered through the door. “Please.”

“Who are you?” the stranger asked.

No one.

That answer came too easily.

Because it was the one I had been living for years.

“No one,” I said softly. “Please just leave.”

“I’m not leaving until you open this door.”

My breath caught.

Then another voice cut down the hallway, colder and far more dangerous.

“What is going on here?”

My father.

And just like that, whatever happened next was no longer dangerous.

It was deadly.

Chapter 2

Kiana

The second I heard Father’s voice outside the attic door, my whole body locked up.

My heart slammed so hard against my ribs I thought the stranger outside would hear it.

Maybe he already had.

“There’s someone in there,” the man said.

His voice was deep. Calm. Certain.

Too certain.

“Oh, her?” Ellara replied smoothly. “She’s nothing to worry about. Just an omega who tidies up around the house.”

Omega.

Not daughter.

Not girl.

Not person.

Just something useful enough to keep alive.

“I’d like to meet her,” he said.

My breath caught.

Father answered at once, sharper than before. “That won’t be possible. She’s unstable. Better kept away from guests.”

Unstable.

I shut my eyes.

I should have been used to it by now. The lies. The disgust. The way they shaped me into something shameful every time someone got too close.

Still, hearing it out loud hurt.

Was that what they told everyone?

That I was mad? Dangerous? Too broken to be seen?

That I wasn’t worth the trouble of knowing?

For one wild second, I wanted to rip the door open and scream the truth.

I am not unstable.

I am not dangerous.

I am not what they made me into.

But fear sat heavier than pride.

Because in this house, truth had never protected me.

“That’s unfortunate,” the man said.

Ellara’s voice turned sweet. “Come now, Alpha Alec. You’re missing the evening in your honor.”

Their footsteps faded.

Only then did I let myself breathe again.

I crawled back to my cot on shaking legs and lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to calm the pounding in my chest.

Alpha Alec.

So that was his name.

At least the party would last for hours. That meant I was safe for now.

For now.

I must have drifted off.

Because the next thing I knew, I was waking to pain.

White-hot.

Blinding.

A scream tore out of me before I knew I’d made a sound.

Father stood beside the bed with a silver whip in his hand.

Another strike came down.

Then another.

Silver bit deep into my skin.

I twisted away instinctively, but there was nowhere to go.

“I warned you,” he snarled. “Never speak to anyone.”

“I didn’t!” I cried. “I told him to leave. I didn’t open the door. I swear—”

The whip cracked again.

My body arched with pain.

“You spoke,” he said. “That is enough.”

I could barely breathe.

“He said he could hear me,” I whispered desperately. “My breathing. My heartbeat—”

Another lash.

That one wrapped partly across my shoulder and back. Fire spread through me instantly. Silver wounds never stayed simple. They burned. They lingered. They reminded your body that healing had limits.

He only stopped when he was breathing almost as hard as I was.

For one terrifying second, I thought he might keep going until I stopped moving.

Instead, he lowered the whip and looked at me with that familiar dead hatred.

“I should have gotten rid of you years ago.”

Then, as if he hadn’t just flayed my skin open, he added coldly, “Get downstairs. Make breakfast before the guests wake.”

And he left.

Just like that.

I curled on the cot, trembling, waiting for the worst of the pain to settle into something survivable.

It didn’t.

Not really.

Silver made sure of that.

Eventually, I sat up with a hiss and peeled off what was left of my torn dress. Blood had stuck it to my skin in places. I reached for the baggy gray dress I kept folded beneath the bed and dragged it over my head.

Then I went downstairs.

Because if I didn’t, he’d come back.

And the next punishment would be worse.

The wall clock in the kitchen read four in the morning.

Of course it did.

That was when girls like me were expected to disappear into work before anyone important woke up.

I made tea first. Then coffee. Carried the trays to the ballroom. Set everything out exactly where it belonged.

Then I went back to the kitchen and started breakfast.

Eggs. Sausage. Muffins. Croissants. Fresh bread warming in the oven.

My hands moved on instinct. Years of being useful had made sure of that.

Voices drifted in from the ballroom while I cooked.

Warm. relaxed. cheerful.

Guests laughing together.

Talking about training, travel, food, women, anything except survival.

For one painful moment, I let myself imagine what it might feel like to sit among them.

Not hidden.

Not ordered around.

Not half-starved and bleeding under a loose dress.

Just… seen.

That foolish little thought died the second Ragor and Ellara entered.

I lowered my head automatically.

Ellara stepped into the kitchen a moment later, sequins glittering, perfume thick, her face arranged into the cool smile she wore for guests and sharpened for me.

She didn’t speak at first.

Just stood there watching while I moved faster.

Waiting.

Judging.

When the servers finally came in to collect the breakfast trays, she leaned close enough to murmur, “They’re training at dawn. Hurry.”

Then she stepped away before anyone could see her speaking to me at all.

I was sent out of sight again.

Of course.

By the time the breakfast rush passed, the guests had moved to the training grounds.

That meant one thing.

I had to clean their rooms.

The first few were simple.

Make the bed.

Replace towels.

Restock soaps and oils.

Vacuum the rugs.

Move quickly.

Stay invisible.

The last room belonged to Alpha Alec.

The man from outside my attic door.

I knew it the second I stepped inside.

His scent was everywhere.

Hazelnut and cinnamon.

Warm. deep. masculine.

It wrapped around me before I could stop it, and for one reckless second I just stood there breathing it in.

Then I forced myself to move.

His room was larger than the others. Cleaner too, as if no mess dared stay where he slept. I changed the sheets, straightened the pillows, then carried fresh towels into the bathroom.

And froze when I heard voices outside in the hall.

“Wait up,” a man said. “I forgot something in my room.”

My heart dropped.

No.

No, no—

I rushed back into the bathroom and locked the door just as footsteps entered the bedroom.

Silence followed.

Then a knock.

“Is someone in there?”

His voice.

Alpha Alec.

I pressed both hands over my mouth and prayed he would leave.

He tried the handle.

Locked.

“You’re the girl from the attic,” he said after a moment.

Not a question.

A pulse of panic went through me.

“Please,” I whispered. “Let me finish cleaning and I’ll go.”

“Open the door.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Because if you see me, I’ll pay for it. Because my father will skin me alive. Because no one is supposed to know I exist.

Instead I said, “I’m not allowed.”

There was a pause.

Then, almost amused, “And if I break the door down?”

I swallowed hard.

“If you do,” I said, forcing the words out one by one, “I swear you’ll never see me again.”

That silence afterward felt endless.

I stood there listening to my own heartbeat hammer against my ribs.

Then I heard him come closer again. Not breaking in. Just leaning against the other side of the door.

“At least tell me your name.”

The question hit somewhere raw.

No one asked me that.

No one asked who I was because no one cared.

I stared at the door like I could see through it.

“I’m no one,” I said at last.

He answered so softly it almost hurt more.

“I don’t believe that.”

My throat tightened.

“I think you’re someone,” he said. “I want to know who.”

Something warm and dangerous moved through my chest.

Hope.

The stupidest feeling in the world.

Because men like him did not knock on hidden doors for girls like me.

Men like him did not ask names.

They did not ask who hurt you. They did not ask why you hide. They certainly did not sound as though the answer mattered.

My mouth opened.

“I…”

He waited.

And for the first time in years, I almost wanted to answer.

Almost wanted to tell someone that I was not crazy, not cursed, not dead.

Then heels clicked sharply in the hallway.

Ellara.

“Alpha Alec, there you are,” she said brightly. “We’ve all been looking for you. You missed the training session.”

Her voice was smooth, polished, false.

I pressed myself back against the bathroom wall and shut my eyes.

Outside the door, Alpha Alec answered with maddening ease.

“I came back to grab something.”

Like there was nothing strange here.

Like he hadn’t spent the last few minutes trying to coax a ghost into speaking.

I stayed silent.

Because now I understood something I had not wanted to admit.

This man was dangerous too.

Not because he was cruel like my father.

Because for one terrifying second—

I had wanted to trust him.

Chapter 3

Kiana

“You know what? Forget it. I need to get back to training.”

Alpha Alec’s voice came through the bathroom door, low and controlled.

I stayed perfectly still on the other side, barely breathing.

Then I realized what he was doing.

He had moved in front of the door.

Blocking it.

Blocking Ellara.

For one stunned second, I could only stare at the wood and listen.

“Well, my husband’s been looking for you everywhere,” Ellara said, annoyance sharpening her voice.

Alec didn’t answer right away.

Then their footsteps moved.

Slower. Farther.

Gone.

Only when the hallway went silent did I let myself sag against the bathroom door.

My pulse was still racing so hard it hurt.

He had covered for me.

Why?

I didn’t have time to think about it.

I finished cleaning his room as fast as I could, hands shaking the whole time. Before leaving, I made the mistake of glancing out the tall window.

Everyone was gathered on the south training field.

Wolfspire warriors. Snake River warriors. Tall bodies moving in disciplined lines across open grass.

And at the center of it all—

Alpha Alec.

Commanding.

Watching.

Correcting stances with sharp gestures and sharper focus.

Even from this distance, he stood out.

Not just because he was handsome.

Because he looked like power made human.

The Wolfspire wolves were all big.

Larger than our males. Harder somehow. More controlled. Looking at them made something ugly curl inside me.

Inferior.

Small.

Weak.

I hated that feeling.

Hated how quickly it came.

What would it feel like to be strong? To run across that field instead of hiding behind doors? To be seen and not punished for it?

The thought hurt more than I wanted to admit.

Footsteps in the hallway snapped me back to myself.

I moved away from the window instantly and listened.

A soft feminine scent drifted under the door.

Ellara.

I went cold and stayed hidden until the sound passed.

Only then did I slip out and head for the kitchen.

Lunch had to be prepared. Of course it did.

Pain followed me down every stair.

The silver lashes from earlier still burned across my back and shoulders under the loose gray dress I’d changed into. Every reach, every turn, every lift of my arms reminded me exactly what disobedience cost in this house.

Still, I cooked.

Because pain was survivable.

Punishment for stopping was usually worse.

Steak. Roasted vegetables. Bread. Sauces. Trays arranged for guests who would never know the food came from the Alpha’s hidden daughter.

Or maybe they would.

Maybe Ragor told them I was some unstable omega servant.

Maybe that was easier for him than admitting I shared his blood.

My father came into the kitchen before I finished.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t need to.

One look at his face told me I was too slow, too weak, too visible, too alive.

I kept my head down and plated the last dish with hands that wanted to tremble.

When the kitchen staff came to carry lunch out, I slipped away before he could decide to hit me again.

Back upstairs.

Back to the attic.

Back to the only place in this entire house that felt remotely like mine, even though it smelled like dust and old wood and loneliness.

I shut the door, locked it, and sat on the cot.

Then I reached for one of my books.

Reading was the only thing that helped.

Not enough to erase anything.

But enough to dull it.

Books let me borrow other lives for a while. Girls in stories got rescued. They fell in love. They mattered. They were seen.

They were not locked away in attics and whipped for speaking through doors.

I envied fictional girls more than real wolves.

How pathetic was that?

I turned a page and tried not to think.

But thoughts came anyway.

About my mother.

About whether she would have protected me if she had lived.

About the truth no one else knew.

Everyone believed her death was a tragedy.

An accident.

Something no one could blame on a child.

But I knew better.

I had caused it.

Maybe not with my hands.

Maybe not in a way I fully understood.

But I knew it was my fault.

That knowledge had lived under my skin for years, rotting there.

And my father never let me forget it.

I was supposed to be his heir.

But I had once overheard him whisper to his Beta that he hoped Ellara would give him a son soon.

A son.

Not me.

Never me.

Maybe that was why he hid me.

Because I wasn’t just a disappointment.

I was an inconvenience.

A daughter he couldn’t kill without scandal and couldn’t acknowledge without disgust.

By the time lunch ended, the house had quieted again.

I waited.

Listened at the attic door.

Nothing.

Slowly, I unlocked it and stepped into the hallway.

“Well,” a male voice said behind me, “so there really is someone living in the attic.”

I spun so fast I nearly fell.

A hand shot out and caught my arm before I hit the wall.

Warmth flashed through me at the contact.

Not normal warmth.

A jolt.

A spark racing up my skin so fast it stole the breath from my lungs.

I looked up.

Alpha Alec.

Up close, he was even worse for my heartbeat than he had been through doors and windows.

Tall.

Broad-shouldered.

Workout shorts hanging low on his hips, chest bare, skin flushed faintly from training.

Messy sandy blond hair.

Strong jaw.

Eyes too sharp to miss anything.

For one humiliating second, I just stared.

Then reality crashed back in.

I dropped my gaze at once.

I was not allowed to talk to him.

Not allowed to stand here.

Not allowed to exist.

“I’m Alpha Alec,” he said, voice quieter now. “And you are?”

My throat tightened.

“I’m… no one.”

His hand loosened but did not leave my arm.

“You keep saying that,” he said. “But you’re clearly someone.”

The words landed somewhere dangerous inside me.

Because no one in this house asked who I was.

No one wanted the answer.

“What’s going on here?”

Father’s voice thundered down the hall.

My body reacted before my mind did.

I went rigid.

Dizzy.

Alec steadied me automatically, his grip tightening just enough to keep me upright.

“Who is this girl?” he demanded.

Father stopped a few steps away, face carved from anger.

“She’s no one.”

There it was again.

No one.

Not daughter.

Not Kiana.

Not mine.

Just no one.

Alec’s expression hardened. “That’s what she told me. I’m asking who she really is.”

Ragor’s eyes sliced through me.

Guilt rose in my throat so suddenly it made me want to choke. I hated that. Hated how easily he could still make me feel like existing was a crime.

“She’s a mistake,” my father said.

The hallway went silent.

Then Alpha Alec’s voice cut through it like steel.

“The only mistake I see here is you”—his gaze flicked once toward Ellara—“and that venomous woman you call a mate.”

Ellara gasped like she’d been slapped.

Father stepped forward, fury surging off him in thick waves.

“Watch your tongue.”

Everything inside me screamed that this was bad. Worse than bad. Alec had no idea what kind of man Ragor was when challenged.

But Alec didn’t back down.

He moved.

One smooth step.

Then another.

And suddenly I was no longer exposed in the hallway.

He had pulled me behind him.

Shielding me.

With his body.

Like protecting me was the most natural thing in the world.

I froze.

My father did not.

“Why do you even care?” Ragor spat. “She’s nothing. She’s no one.”

Alec didn’t even turn to look at me.

He kept his eyes on my father and said the words that split my world clean open.

“She’s my mate.”

Silence.

Complete.

Dead.

Even the air seemed to stop moving.

Behind him, I forgot how to breathe.

Because for years I had been no one.

And now the most powerful man in the hallway had just claimed me in front of the two wolves who had spent my life pretending I was less than dust.

Chapter 4

Elias

Leading a pack was not romantic.

It was blood.

Duty.

Strategy.

Sleepless nights.

And the constant knowledge that if I failed, wolves who trusted me would pay for it.

I was twenty-five years old and already carrying a kingdom on my shoulders.

Wolfspire had not been handed to me.

We built it.

With discipline.

With scars.

With war.

We became the pack others called when their warriors were weak, their borders unstable, or their enemies getting too bold.

I was proud of that.

But pride didn’t warm my bed at night.

It didn’t understand the weight I carried.

It didn’t look at me and say, You’re not alone in this.

That was what I wanted a Luna for.

Not a title.

Not appearances.

Not politics.

A partner.

A true one.

And if the Moon Goddess refused to give me that, I would rather stand alone than let the wrong woman wear my name.

That was why this trip already irritated me.

Snake River had invited Wolfspire to help retrain their warriors. Fine. That was work. That made sense.

But the black-tie welcome banquet?

The limousines?

The glittering formal nonsense?

That part felt ridiculous.

We were warriors, not nobles playing dress-up.

Jenson had insisted it was diplomacy.

Troy had laughed at how many times I nearly tore my tie off in the limo.

I ignored both of them.

Something about this trip already felt off.

And my instincts did not get loud for nothing.

Ragor’s pack had supposedly fallen apart after the death of his first mate fifteen years ago. According to the official story, she died in childbirth, and grief broke something in him. Later he took a chosen Luna, Ellara, and the pack slowly recovered.

Maybe.

Or maybe that was the kind of story wolves told because the truth was uglier.

I stared out the limo window and tried to shake the feeling.

Jenson noticed anyway.

“You want to leave, say the word,” he said. “I’m with you.”

I gave him a short nod.

That was why he was my Beta.

No ego.

No drama.

Just loyalty.

When we arrived, the first thing that hit me was not the giant mansion or the waiting servants or the overpolished front steps.

It was her scent.

Chocolate.

Cherries.

Warm. sweet. devastating.

It hit me so hard I stopped breathing.

Jill, my wolf, surged forward inside me with a violent snarl of need.

Mate.

The word exploded through me.

I clenched every muscle I had to keep my face neutral.

The scent vanished almost as quickly as it came, like whoever it belonged to had been dragged out of reach.

But the damage was done.

My mate was here.

In this house.

In this pack.

And I had no intention of leaving without finding her.

Ragor welcomed us with his chosen Luna at his side. The ballroom was too elaborate. The greetings too polished. The smiles too practiced.

Everything looked expensive.

Nothing felt warm.

That bothered me.

The food came next.

And for one brief, ridiculous second, I forgot about politics because the meal was incredible.

Rich. balanced. perfectly timed. Cooked by someone who understood food instead of merely serving it.

Whoever handled that kitchen had talent.

I ended up seated beside one of Snake River’s senior warriors, Danny, and used the meal to do what I always did best.

Ask questions without looking like I was asking them.

“So,” I said, cutting into my food, “what exactly are we fixing here?”

Danny sighed.

“Training slipped after the tragedy. Alpha Ragor lost his mate and daughter. Things never really recovered.”

Daughter.

I looked at him.

“The child was a girl?”

He nodded. “That’s what we were told.”

Something about the phrasing lodged under my skin.

Were told.

Jenson, sitting across from me, noticed too. I could tell from the flicker in his eyes.

Danny kept talking. “For years, the pack just… shrank in on itself. Barely trained. Barely engaged with anyone. Honestly, I’m surprised no one took advantage.”

That made two of us.

A weak, isolated pack should have drawn predators.

Unless something else had been keeping everyone away.

Or hidden.

After dinner, Ragor walked me through parts of the house while we discussed training rotations.

That was when I caught her scent again.

Stronger this time.

Not a trace.

Not a question.

A trail.

My mate was inside this house.

Jill went wild immediately, pushing harder than before.

I kept my voice level.

My face unreadable.

But inside, everything sharpened.

Ragor showed me to my room personally. Large suite. Private bath. Too luxurious for a temporary stay, which only made me trust the hospitality less.

The moment he left, I waited five seconds.

Then I stepped back into the hallway and followed the scent.

It was all over the house in faint threads.

The kitchen.

The stairs.

The upper corridor.

That meant she moved through the packhouse.

Not as a guest.

Not as someone protected.

As someone who worked.

Or someone watched.

The trail led me to the far end of the third floor, where one lonely door sat half-hidden in the corner like the house itself was trying to forget it existed.

The scent was strongest there.

I tested the handle.

Locked.

I stood still and listened.

Soft steps inside.

Then silence.

Jill paced in my head like a caged beast.

My mate was behind that door.

My mate.

And she wasn’t opening it.

When I spoke, her answer came through the wood barely above a whisper.

Fear.

Her voice shook with it.

That hit me harder than the scent had.

Not because she feared me specifically.

Because she feared being heard.

She feared whoever else might come down that hallway.

No pack member should react to their own home like that.

Jill growled low and vicious inside me.

Something here was rotten.

I tried to keep my tone gentle. Asked who she was. Asked her to open the door. She wouldn’t.

Then the hallway changed.

Heavy steps.

Authority.

Ragor.

The panic on the other side of the door spiked so sharply I felt it like a blade slipping between my ribs.

I went still.

So did Jill.

That kind of fear did not come from a healthy pack.

Not from discipline.

Not from respect.

From abuse.

From survival.

Ellara joined us moments later, all smooth poison and glitter, and dismissed the girl as “unstable” and “better kept away.”

Jill nearly tore through my control.

He did not believe a word of it.

Neither did I.

But I kept my face blank.

Because if there was one thing worse than finding your mate in the wrong place, it was letting the wrong wolves know you had found her.

So I nodded.

Listened.

Stored every lie they offered.

Then I left that hallway with one thing burning in me harder than the mate pull:

certainty.

The girl behind that locked door was not unstable.

She was hidden.

Maybe imprisoned.

Maybe worse.

Back in the ballroom, I found Jenson leaning against a pillar with a drink in his hand and the exact expression he wore whenever he already suspected trouble.

Good.

Saved me time.

I waited until no one was close enough to overhear, then said quietly, “I need you watching Ragor and Ellara.”

His face sharpened instantly.

“How close?”

“As close as necessary.”

He didn’t ask why.

Just: “That bad?”

“Yes.”

I glanced once toward the upper floors, though from here I could see nothing.

“My mate is in this house.”

Jenson went dead still.

Then he exhaled slowly.

“And?”

“She’s hidden,” I said. “And whatever story they’re selling about this pack is rotten.”

Jenson’s jaw tightened.

“You think they’re hurting her?”

I thought of the trembling voice behind the door. The racing heartbeat. The way Ragor’s presence had sent terror through the air itself.

Yes.

But I said, “I think we’re not leaving Snake River until I know exactly what they’ve done.”

Jenson nodded once.

No hesitation.

No questions.

That was why he was mine.

“I’ll start tonight,” he said.

I watched Ragor across the ballroom as he smiled for his guests like a king secure in his house.

Let him smile.

Let Ellara preen.

Let them think Wolfspire had come to train their warriors and toast their success.

Because now I had a different mission.

And if the girl behind that locked door truly was my mate—

then this visit to Snake River had just turned into a hunt.

Not for enemies.

For truth.

And I would tear this beautiful, poisoned pack apart piece by piece before I left without her.

Chapter 5

Elias

I woke up to the smell of my mate.

Not a trace.

Not a memory.

Her.

Warm bread. Sweet fruit. Something soft beneath it all that made Jill surge awake inside me like he had been waiting all night to tear through my ribs.

I was dressed and out of bed in minutes.

Breakfast was already laid out when I reached the ballroom. Full spread. Fresh coffee. Hot food. Too much effort for a simple training visit.

Snake River wanted to impress us.

Too bad all I could think about was the girl behind the locked attic door.

Jenson came up beside me with a mug in hand. One look at my face and he lowered his voice.

“Ragor went to the attic last night,” he said.

Every muscle in my body tightened.

“What?”

“He took a silver chain with him.”

Rage came fast and hot.

Silver.

On a wolf.

On a young she-wolf already hiding behind a locked door.

Jill exploded inside me.

I forced my voice low. “That bastard.”

Jenson’s mouth hardened. “He wore gloves. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was shouting. Whoever was inside stayed silent.”

Silent.

Not because she had nothing to say.

Because she had learned what happened when she used her voice.

I looked across the room toward Ragor.

He was smiling. Playing host. Pouring coffee like he wasn’t rotting something inside his own house.

“She’s in danger,” I said.

Jenson nodded once. “Then we move carefully.”

After breakfast we went to the training fields.

The problem with Snake River became obvious within ten minutes.

Their warriors were sloppy.

Slow.

Poor balance. Worse instincts. Half of them couldn’t hold a line under pressure.

Ragor’s pack had been neglected for years, no matter how polished his floors or fancy his dinners were.

I corrected stances, barked orders, demonstrated combinations, all while fighting the constant pull in my chest.

She was close.

Too close.

By midmorning the scent hit me again.

Stronger.

Richer.

My head turned before I could stop it.

Bathroom door.

Closed.

It had not been closed earlier.

And under the narrow gap beneath it, I could just make out the shadow of small bare feet.

My pulse kicked harder.

I crossed the room and tested the handle.

Locked.

Again.

Of course.

I leaned closer.

“Open the door.”

Silence.

Then her voice, soft and shaken.

“No.”

That word should not have affected me the way it did.

Not because of the refusal.

Because of the fear under it.

“Talk to me,” I said, keeping my tone steady. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Silence.

Then, very quietly, “Please go away.”

Jill clawed at the inside of me, frantic and furious and desperate to get to her.

I almost broke the lock.

I almost tore the whole damn door off its hinges.

Then she said, with no tremble at all this time, “If you break this door, you’ll never see me again.”

That stopped me cold.

Because she meant it.

Every word.

And after finally finding her, there was no chance in hell I was risking that.

A moment later, Ellara entered the room.

She took one look at me by the door and immediately became too interested.

Dangerous woman.

Sharp woman.

The kind who noticed things and weaponized them.

So I gave her an excuse, a distraction, a lie smooth enough to pull her attention off the door and onto me.

It worked.

Barely.

By the time we returned to the training field, my patience was gone.

I called lunch early.

Ragor insisted everyone sit in the ballroom. Fine. Better for me.

He thought he was controlling the day.

He wasn’t.

The moment the food came out, her scent flooded the room again.

Not from the doorway.

Not from the servants.

From the house itself.

Like she had been everywhere and nowhere, working unseen, feeding wolves who did not know her name.

Ragor stepped into my path as I started toward the kitchen.

“Please,” he said. “Sit. Lunch is coming.”

Too smooth.

Too fast.

Jenson caught my eye from across the room and frowned.

He saw it too.

Something was wrong.

I sat.

Ate quickly.

Waited.

Then Jenson moved toward Ragor and Ellara right on schedule, drawing them into conversation while the others drifted back toward the training field.

That was my opening.

I slipped away and headed straight for the attic.

The closer I got, the stronger the scent became until Jill was pacing so hard inside me it hurt.

Then I heard movement.

A creak.

A soft step.

The lock turned from inside.

I flattened myself against the wall just as the door opened.

And there she was.

My mate.

No more scent without a face.

No more shadows.

No more locked doors and unanswered questions.

She was real.

And she looked like she had been starved by the world.

Small. Too thin. Pale. One eye bruised. Bottom lip swollen. A shapeless gray dress hanging off a body that had known far too much hunger. Fresh silver welts cut across her arm, red and angry and not healing.

My vision went white with rage.

I reached for her before she could bolt.

The second my hand closed around her arm, sparks shot up my skin.

Real. Violent. Instant.

Mate.

No doubt left.

She gasped and looked up at me with huge, frightened eyes.

Blue.

So blue it almost hurt.

She looked at me like I was either a miracle or another disaster.

Maybe I was both.

“So there really was someone in the attic,” I said, but my voice came out colder than I intended because rage was already flooding me.

Not at her.

At what had been done to her.

I turned her gently but fast enough that she nearly lost her balance. My other hand caught her, and the same electric jolt slammed through me again.

She flinched.

Then, as if remembering herself, she dropped her gaze straight to the floor.

Instant submission.

Practiced.

That chilled me more than the bruises.

“I’m Alpha Alec,” I said quietly. “What’s your name?”

“No one,” she whispered.

The answer hit me like a fist.

No one.

Who the hell had taught her to call herself that?

Before I could say another word, Ragor’s voice thundered down the hall.

“What the hell is going on?”

Kiana—because somehow I already knew that would not be her real answer—went rigid in my hands.

I stepped in front of her on instinct.

“Who is she?” I demanded.

Ragor’s face hardened.

“No one.”

That did it.

“That’s what she said,” I snapped. “I asked who she is to you.”

His lip curled.

“A mistake.”

The growl that came out of me was pure wolf.

Behind me, I felt her go completely still, like she had heard that word a thousand times and learned not to bleed in front of it anymore.

I took one step forward.

“The only mistake here is you,” I said, “and that venomous woman you call a mate.”

Ellara made a wounded sound, but I didn’t take my eyes off Ragor.

He moved.

So did I.

I pulled the girl behind me fully now, one arm wrapping around her waist to keep her out of his reach.

“Why do you care?” Ragor spat. “She’s nothing. She’s no one.”

He should not have said that.

Not to me.

Not about her.

“She’s my mate,” I said.

The entire hallway went dead silent.

No one moved.

No one breathed.

Behind me, I felt her sway.

I turned just enough to look at her.

Her lips were parted. Her face was pale. Shock had hollowed her expression clean out.

Good.

Let the truth land.

Then I gentled my voice, because she looked one hard sound away from breaking apart.

“I’m an Alpha,” I said. “That means you answer my questions, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered.

Sir.

Another thing I hated.

“What’s your name?”

A pause.

Then: “Kiana.”

Beautiful name. Broken voice.

“And Alpha Ragor,” I asked, “what is he to you?”

She hesitated.

I could feel the war inside her.

Fear against truth.

Obedience against survival.

Then she forced it out.

“He’s my father.”

I turned back slowly.

Every instinct in me went feral.

“You said your mate and daughter died fifteen years ago.”

Ragor’s eyes flashed. “She did die. That thing killed her.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“You blame a newborn for your mate’s death?”

His jaw tightened.

“She took her from me.”

“No,” I said, my voice like ice now. “You took everything from her.”

I looked back at Kiana.

Too thin. Too frightened. Silver-burned. Hidden in an attic like a shameful secret.

Fifteen years.

He had had fifteen years to grieve.

And fifteen years to torture the child who survived it.

I took her hand.

Her fingers trembled in mine.

“Come with me.”

Ragor lunged forward.

“You’re not taking her anywhere.”

I shifted Kiana immediately to my other side, shielding her body fully with mine.

“Yes,” I said, “I am.”

Then I looked him dead in the eye.

“The Council will hear what you’ve done.”

I led her down the stairs and out toward the training field.

She flinched in the sunlight like she hadn’t seen enough of it in years.

My wolves noticed instantly. So did Snake River’s.

Everything stopped.

Jenson jogged over, confusion turning to alarm the second he saw the state she was in.

“This is Kiana,” I said loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Alpha Ragor’s daughter. Not dead. Hidden. Abused.”

A wave of shock moved through the field.

Behind us, Ragor roared.

I turned and saw him already shifting, fur ripping through skin, claws extending, fury making him monstrous.

“Jenson,” I said, never taking my eyes off Ragor, “take Kiana.”

Then I stepped forward, Jill rising hard and fast inside me.

Because if Ragor wanted to come for my mate in front of my pack—

he was about to learn exactly what kind of mistake that was.