The man is tall, with dark, wavy hair streaked with premature gray. His dark eyes are cold, and he wears a bespoke navy suit that fits his imposing frame like a second skin. He is a man who dresses with lethal precision.

In front of him—still wiping his hands—lies a body. A dead, mutilated thing.

I look up at the imposing figure, my heart seizing. I know without a doubt: this is Alpha Warrick.

"Alexis... where have you been?" he asks, his voice smooth and devoid of warmth as he continues to clean his hands.

"Alpha Warrick..." Colt bows his head. He begins to explain his disappearance, but every word is a calculated lie. I’ve been with him through this entire ordeal, and none of his story is true. Once Colt finishes, Warrick’s gaze shifts to me. I feel as though I’ve been nailed to the floor; I cannot move.

"Or so you claim happened," Warrick muses. "Now, what have you brought me?"

Colt gestures toward me. "I believe... this is your daughter."

Another lie.

"I found her in the Blood River Pack, treated as a low-ranking Omega. No one knows who she really is."

"And why do you believe she is my daughter?"

"See for yourself, Alpha," Colt replies.

Victor rolls his eyes. "How many times have we heard this? Someone always 'finds' your long-lost daughter."

"And I have to indulge them," Warrick says, stepping toward me. "Who is your mother, girl?"

"I... I don't know."

"What is your name?"

I hesitate, unsure if I should use a fake name, as Colt hadn't briefed me on this. "C-Cass."

"Cass?" He looks intrigued. "Tell me... what makes Alexis here think you’re my daughter?"

"I don't know who my parents are," I say, my voice steadying despite the terror. "I was found as a child... near a river."

Warrick’s eyes sharpen. "I have had enough suspense. My daughter was born with a mark. Show it to me."

"A birthmark?"

I have no birthmark.

This is over.

I glance at Colt, pleading for a signal, but he stares at me with the same detached intensity as the other men.

Warrick suddenly seizes my hand, pulling me viciously into his space. He grips me from behind and, with a brutal tug, rips my shirt off. I’m left in my bra, trembling. He inspects my skin from behind, then lets me go, circling me slowly like a shark.

"Look at what she did to you," he mutters.

I reflexively cover my chest with my hands. "You brute..." I mutter. I regret the words the moment they escape, but Warrick doesn't seem bothered. Instead, he stares at the burn mark on my torso—a mark I’ve had since I was found by the river.

"She mutilated you... all to hide you from me." His hand snaps to my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Yes... there she is. I see her in you. There is no mistaking it."

Without warning, a brilliant, terrifying smile breaks across his face. He pivots toward the others. "This is Victor Chevalier. One of your brothers."

"Are you serious?" Victor mumbles, looking stunned.

"Now tell me..." Warrick stalks toward me with predatory eagerness. "Do you have it? The gift?"

I’m utterly lost.

Gift? Power?

I look to Colt, but he remains silent.

Warrick smiles and draws a hunting knife from behind his back, pressing the blade to my throat. "Kill Alexis."

"What?!"

His expression turns deadly serious. He steps closer, and I feel paralyzed as his eyes dilate. "Kill... Alexis," he repeats.

Kill Colt?

I look at Colt. He is unnervingly calm. I hate him for this. He told me to do whatever Warrick asked, but I won't do this!

I look Warrick in the eye and take a ragged breath. "No."

The room goes deathly silent. Everyone gasps.

"She... refused..." Victor whispers.

Warrick stares at me for a heartbeat, and then, to my shock, the corners of his mouth tilt upward. "My daughter!"

What is happening?

Does he truly believe this?

"A joyous day!" he roars.

"Maybe a celebration is in order, Alpha?" Beck asks.

"Indeed. But first..." Warrick blurs with impossible speed. A moment later, the man who brought us in—the one who twisted my wrist earlier—falls to his knees, his chest cavity torn open. Warrick holds the man's still-beating heart in his hand.

I stifle a gasp. No one else seems surprised. Warrick drops the heart, takes out a silk handkerchief, and wipes his hand while staring at me.

"He hurt you, sweetheart."

"No one hurts a Chevalier," he declares, "except me, or those under my orders."

"Che...valier?" I whisper.

"Our family name. Is your name Casseopea?"

My eyes widen.

How does he know that?

Colt’s warning echoes in my mind:

Everything I tell him is true. Act like you know it. Act like you are here willingly.

"Your real name is Azalea," Warrick continues. "Casseopea was your mother's real name. I see she passed the necklace down to you."

He reaches out, fingering the pendant at my throat. I am in shock. Could this be true?

"Casseopea Chevalier. That is your full name now. I never liked the name, but you can keep it. It reminds me of her."

"So this is real, Father?" Victor asks.

"Yes. This is Casseopea, my eldest daughter," Warrick announces. "And my successor."

Successor!

"But Father!" Victor tries to protest.

"She has the gift," Warrick cuts him off. "You do not, and neither does your brother. Accept it, or regret it."

Warrick turns to me, his demeanor softening into something akin to pride. "I will teach you to be great."

He walks to Colt and pats his shoulder. "Well done, my boy. Welcome back."

"Thank you, Alpha. I am only grateful that I can serve you further."

Warrick nods, then turns to his men. "This is what loyalty looks like! Take note, boys!"

No one looks happy, especially Beck. Warrick signals to a woman I hadn't noticed—Poppy, with her bobbed hair and tight pink dress. "Take care of my daughter."

She nods. "Of course, my love." She turns to me with a saccharine smile. "Come with me."

As I walk away, I look back at Colt. He doesn't even glance at me. I know it’s a performance, but it cuts me to the bone.

Poppy leads me to a luxurious room and unlocks the door. "This is your room until we leave for the pack. Clean yourself. I’ll be back with fresh clothes." She locks the door from the outside.

I collapse onto the bed.

What have I gotten myself into?

I look down at my burn mark. My mother fled to protect me from this monster, and yet, here I am, right back in his clutches.

"Oh, Colt... what are we going to do?"

I pace the room, feeling trapped. I shower, hoping the water might clear my head, but I’m too frantic to relax. When I step out in a towel, fresh clothes are waiting on the bed: jeans and a white, frilly blouse.

As I dress, I notice a flicker of movement near the door. A note slips through the gap at the floor, and footsteps retreat. I rush to the door, snatch up the paper, and unfold it.