The Grand Hall was crystal glittered.
Silks whispered, and laughter rang out in perfect, artificial notes.
Behind my silver mask, I was a ghost drifting through a dream I wasn't supposed to have.
The dress Darel had provided was a sheath of liquid mercury, beautiful and cold against my skin.
Darel leaned in, his voice a low murmur beside me. "Nervous?"
My gaze swept the crowd, searching for one face, one crown. "All I can think about is my son."
"I know." His hand found mine, giving it a brief, reassuring squeeze.
"Whatever you need to do in here tonight… I wish you success." He gestured toward a bar overflowing with glittering bottles.
"What can I get you? A little courage?"
"I'm not in the mood for a drink," I said, my voice flat.
"Just one. To blend in. To calm your nerves. I'll be right back."
He melted into the throng, a good man in a den of monsters.
The moment he was gone, the air around me changed.
A presence, thick with malice and cheap whiskey, materialized at my side.
A hand, brutish and familiar, clamped around my upper arm.
"Behave," a voice snarled in my ear. Trevor.
He didn't give me a choice.
He propelled me through the crowd, his grip a brand of ownership.
Guests parted for him, the Alpha's brother, their eyes sliding away from my obvious distress.
He shoved me through a curtain into a secluded alcove lined with forgotten portraits, the music suddenly muffled.
He ripped my mask off, his ruddy, sneering face inches from mine. "I knew you'd slither your way back in here. Thought you could hide behind my baby brother?"
"Let go of me, Trevor."
"Or what?" he spat. "You'll record me? I know what you did, you psychotic bitch. I know you killed Marcus Volkan."
The air left my lungs. He knew. He knew.
He saw the shock in my eyes and grinned, a predator toying with his meal.
"His head of security is awake. He gave a very clear description before I… persuaded him to change his story for the police. But I know. And I own that truth now."
He leaned in, his breath hot and foul on my face.
"You're going to walk out of here with me, right now. You're going to spend the rest of your very short life making up for your little stunt in the dressing room. And if you scream, if you fight, I will pick up that phone and give the police your name. And you'll rot in jail, like you should."
Devastation, cold and absolute, washed over me.
He had checkmated me. The walls of the alcove closed in. This was it. The end of my fight.
"Get your hands off her."
Darel stood at the curtain, his body rigid with fury.
The charming mask was gone, replaced by something primal and deadly.
Trevor laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Walk away, little brother. This doesn't concern you."
"It concerns me," Darel said, his voice dropping to a low, guttural register that vibrated with power.
The air crackled, the scent of ozone and wild storms suddenly thick. "Let. Her. Go."
Trevor's smile vanished. "You'd challenge me? For this slave?"
He never got to finish.
A low, thunderous growl ripped from Darel's chest, a sound that didn't belong to a man.
His form seemed to blur at the edges, the air shimmering around him with the threat of a shift. It was a display of raw, dominant power that made the very floor tremble.
"She is under my protection," Darel snarled, the words barely intelligible.
Before Trevor could react, Darel moved.
It was too fast to see—a blur of motion, a sickening crack, and Trevor was crumpling to the floor, unconscious.
I stared, stunned, at Darel.
His chest was heaving, his eyes still blazing with feral light.
He was more, so much more, than the charming man from the cafe.
"Go," he rasped, his voice returning to normal. "Find my brother. Now. I'll handle this."
I didn't need to be told twice.
I snatched my mask from the floor and fled back into the ballroom, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
The main hall was even more crowded.
At the far end, on a raised dais, was the epicenter of power.
Falon Gray held court from a high-backed throne.
A line of wolves awaited their turn.
Some approached with a lowered head, exposing their throat in a gesture of deep respect.
Others met his gaze for a second too long, a subtle challenge that Falon dismantled with a single, unwavering look that forced their eyes to the floor.
This was a pack, and he was the undisputed apex predator.
I moved to the edge of the circle, my mask firmly back in place.
I kept my shoulders slightly rounded, my head tilted just enough to avoid a direct challenge, the very picture of a subordinate wolf.
But my spine was straight steel. I would kneel to no one, not even him.
When a moment of quiet fell, I stepped forward. I didn't wait for permission.
I walked right up to the foot of the dais, my silver mask glinting in the light.
Falon's stormy eyes settled on me, a flicker of annoyance at the interruption.
"My Alpha," I said, my voice clear and cutting through the murmur of the court. "A word."
His expression was ice. "And why should I grant you a word?"
I held his gaze, pouring every ounce of my will into the look. "It concerns a private matter. A meeting in Room 721."
The effect was instant and devastating.
The ice in his eyes shattered into a flash of pure, undiluted fear.
It was there for only a heartbeat, a crack in the invincible facade, but I saw it.
His eyes darted around the room, ensuring no one else had heard. The Alpha was scared.
He stood abruptly, the movement fluid and charged with lethal grace. "Follow me," he commanded, his voice a low thrum of contained fury.
He led me away from the court, through a discreet door and into the sanctuary of his library.
The moment the door clicked shut, he turned on me.
"You have five minutes," he said, the storm in his eyes gathering.
"Explain why I should not have you executed for the chaos you've brought to my door."
I held up the flash drive. It glinted, a sliver of condensed power. "I believe this is yours."
His expression remained impassive, but the air grew thick, heavy with the promise of violence. "I have no idea what that is."
"Don't you?" I took a step forward. "Room 721. The Volkan Grand. Paul Clinton." I watched the names land, saw the subtle tightening of his jaw.
"This is the X-file. I got it from Marcus but he is dead now."
"A fact which complicates my life immensely," he growled. "You are a problem."
"And you are an Alpha whose power rests on a foundation that is about to crack," I fired back. "We can trade insults, or we can discuss survival."
"What do you want?"
"My son. His name is Billy. I want him back. And I want the power to ensure he is never touched again."
He laughed, a cold, hollow sound. "And you expect me to grant this?"
"No. I expect you to do it because it is the only way to save your own legacy." I closed the final distance between us. I was close enough to feel the heat of him, to see the flecks of silver in his stormy eyes.
"The Volkan family is leaderless. They will tear this city apart to find me. They will dig, and they will unearth the secret you've paid so dearly to keep buried."
I tapped the flash drive against my palm. "I am the only loose end. But I don't have to be a liability. I can be the solution."
"A solution?" he sneered. "How?"
"You need a story. A reason to bring a woman from the Onyx Club into your inner circle, to protect her so fiercely." I took a steadying breath. "You marry me...make me your Luna."
The silence was profound. He stared, his incredulity a physical force.
"You're mad."
"I am the only one thinking clearly," I said, my voice hardening.
"You make me your Luna. It gives you a public shield of tradition and virtue. It explains your protection. It silences the rumors about your lack of a mate.
In return, you get my silence. You get a partner who has a vested, life-or-death interest in maintaining our facade."
I saw the strategist in him warring with the proud Alpha. I had to land the final, devastating blow.
"There's more," I said, my voice dropping. "Your brother, Trevor… he didn't just make me a slave. He raped me. Thirteen years ago. My son, Billy… is his son. Your blood."
This time, I saw the shock register.
A flicker of something dark and furious in his eyes. It wasn't compassion.
It was the rage of a king discovering a betrayal that threatened his line.
I pressed on, driving the advantage home. "So when you find my son, you will not just be saving a child. You will be acknowledging your nephew. Your heir. You will burn the Onyx Club and the Blood-Bond system to the ground, erasing the tool of my humiliation and your brother's perversion. We will be partners in this lie. This... unholy union."
He turned away, striding to the window to look out at his kingdom. The silence stretched, taut and screaming.
I had thrown everything at him—blackmail, scandal, dynastic upheaval.
When he finally turned back, his face was a mask of cold resolve. The decision was made.
"You have a good point, and from the little I've known about you, you aren't a bad person." he stated, his voice devoid of all emotion.
"A ceremony will be held. You will do exactly as I say. In public, you are my beloved Luna. In private, we are two people bound by the same chain. You will speak of this to no one."
The terms were laid out. A clinical contract for a marriage built on mutually assured destruction.
"Do we have an understanding… Riley?"
I met his gaze, the storm in my eyes reflecting the storm in his. The deal was struck. The pact was sealed.
"We have an understanding," I said. "Falon."