"I will come to you soon. You are safe. He won't hurt you—he’s too excited to have you back right now."

To have me back...

then he was telling the truth? Am I really that man's daughter?

I continue to read the note.

'Cass, I will find a way to get us out. Please, trust me.'

"Trust him... of course, I trust him."

I don't think I’ve ever trusted anyone this much, besides Lauren and James. Oh, how I ache to see them right now.

Fear claws at my throat. Everything has changed in the span of a few hours. The door abruptly swings open, and Poppy strides in. I immediately palm the note and tuck it deep into my jeans pocket.

"It's time to go, Princess," she says.

"Why are you calling me that?" I ask, my voice brittle.

"The Alpha ordered it. In his world, he is king, and you are his daughter—his successor to the pack."

"Successor? Female werewolves aren't Alphas, not even those of Alpha blood."

"You will be the first. He refuses to let anyone else take over his legacy."

The weight of it is suffocating. Poppy catches my hesitation and sighs. "Look, I get that everything is spinning. But you need to be on your toes. This pack is... brutal, and we operate by different rules. That is how the Alpha likes it."

"The Alpha... my father... he’s cruel, isn't he?"

"Beyond belief," she says without missing a beat. "But that only applies if you land on his bad side. Never,

ever

be on his bad side."

I nod, swallowing hard.

"A word of advice: don't just follow orders out of fear. Everyone does that. But I saw how he looked at you when you refused his command. He seemed... intrigued. No one ever defies him, and I don't mean just because of his raw power."

"Power—tell me about that. I keep hearing it, but I don't understand it."

"I’m sorry, but the car is already waiting."

She turns and marches out. Three guards stand in the hall, and as we pass, they fall into step behind us. I want to press her for more, but her demeanor has hardened; she’s clearly done talking.

When the elevator doors slide open, Colt is standing there with another man.

Goddess!

Every instinct screams at me to run into his arms, to let him shield me from this nightmare. I force myself to remain still. He averts his gaze, staring straight ahead as I step into the cramped elevator. We are pressed close, the air thick with tension. As the lift descends, my hand brushes against his. It’s a fleeting, hidden touch.

To my shock, he doesn't pull away. He caresses my hand back, a secret tether in the dark. My body relaxes instantly, and I’m terrified he can feel the relief radiating off me.

When the doors open, we are forced to separate. We walk toward the exit, my senses hyper-aware of Colt’s presence behind us. Two black cars idle at the curb. A massive guard—a man who carries himself with the unmistakable aura of Alpha blood—opens the door for me. Poppy slides in beside me, and the door slams shut.

"We’re riding alone?" I ask, watching Colt and Victor climb into the other vehicle.

"Yes," Poppy says. "Every member of the Alpha family rides separately. It’s a security protocol to prevent the entire family from being wiped out in an attack. Alpha Warrick has already departed."

"I see." She points to the guard in the front passenger seat—the one who opened my door. "This is Serge. He will be guarding you."

Serge glances back, offering a stiff nod. "Princess." His voice is a low rumble that vibrates in my chest. He doesn't look cruel, just massive—like a bear in human skin.

"How long until we reach the pack?"

"A few hours. The house has been notified of your arrival. They will be waiting."

The ride is long and agonizingly quiet. I watch Poppy, who stares vacantly at the scenery. She is poised, calm, and hauntingly beautiful.

"How did you end up as one of Warrick’s mates?" The question slips out before I can stop it. I gasp, flushing. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

She smiles, a sad, brittle thing. "It’s alright. My true mate was a brute. He beat me, starved me, raped me. Alpha Warrick may be cruel to the world, but he has never mistreated his brides that way. We may be little more than wall ornaments to him, but it is a thousand times better than the hell I was living."

She speaks with such chilling detachment, as if discussing the weather.

"So you chose this..."

"Yes."

"And the others?"

"Lotus and Jasmin," she says.

"I thought Skye was one of his brides?"

"I know, the flower names," she chuckles. "I don't know why the Alpha has an obsession with renaming us, but I don't mind it. Lotus is the longest-tenured; she’s Victor’s mother."

So Jasmin must be Skye.

"And Jasmin?"

"Young. Eager to please in all the wrong ways." She turns from the window, her gaze locking onto mine. "I’ve heard of your mother. Dahlia... or Casseopea. I never met her. She was Warrick’s true mate. When he felt her die, he finally acted out of character. He retreated to his room for weeks. He thought you had died, too."

"You make him sound almost... thoughtful."

"He is not. But he loved her. And you are her daughter..." She leans in close, her voice a mere whisper. "Use that to your advantage."

She pulls back just as the car comes to a halt. "We’re here."

I look out the window and gasp. A sprawling, modern mansion with Victorian undertones looms before us, backed by rolling fields leading to a distant pack house.

"This is the Alpha family estate," Poppy explains. "The Beta, the brides, and the generals stay here. Not the main pack house."

Outside, a crowd stands waiting. Serge opens the door, and as I step out, the pack members bow, chanting

Princess

in hushed tones. Warrick strides down the steps with a wide, terrifying smile.

"You’ve finally arrived. Come—we dine now. Tomorrow, we hold a celebration to honor your return."

His hand rests on my back, cold and possessive, as he guides me inside. The interior is palatial, an architectural marvel of opulence.

"During dinner, you will meet my brides, your brothers, the Beta, and my generals. Dress accordingly." He turns to Poppy. "Show her to her suite."

As I follow Poppy up the grand staircase, I catch Colt entering the foyer. He glances at me for a split second before looking away, his face a mask of indifference. It stings, but I force myself to look away.

Suddenly, a girl sprints toward Colt, throwing her arms around his neck. "You're back! I was so scared!"

I turn into the hallway, my blood boiling.

I am going to explode like a volcano.

Poppy leads me to a suite in the Alpha wing. The doors are white, etched with intricate, regal carvings. Inside, it’s like a luxury studio apartment, decorated in soft pastels.

Poppy produces a dress—ivory, dripping in rhinestones. "Put this on. I’ll be back with my makeup kit."

She leaves, locking the door behind her. I struggle with the buttons until she returns to help me. When I finally look in the mirror, I’m mesmerized.

"Perfect," Poppy whispers. "The mermaid cut suits you."

My scars are visible, but for once, I don't care. The dress makes me feel untouchable.

"It was your mother’s," Poppy says, her fingers tracing the fabric. "This room, the dress—they were all hers."