I fled the hotel room, my heart pounding like a sledgehammer against my ribs. Blood coated my trembling hands—Victor Sinclair's blood. The crystal ashtray that had saved my life was left behind, a damning piece of evidence smeared with both his blood and my fingerprints.
My designer dress was torn beyond repair, my face bruised, and my carefully styled hair a wild mess. I looked nothing like Seraphina Valois, the respected daughter-in-law of the Alpha King. I looked like a victim. A criminal. A hunted woman.
I ducked into a service stairwell, away from the hotel's security cameras. My hands shook violently as I pulled my emergency clothes from my purse—simple jeans and a hoodie I'd packed as part of my escape plan. The plan that had gone so horribly wrong.
It wasn't supposed to happen like this.
