Cass’s POV

Colt slams me against the tiled shower wall, my face pressed into the cool surface. The friction, the heat, and the sheer desperation of his grip send me spiraling. He holds my hips, his thrusts powerful and rhythmic, demanding every ounce of my focus.

"Mh!" I moan, my voice echoing in the small space.

He hitches in a ragged breath, his teeth bared. "You like that, baby?"

"Yes… more."

He lifts one of my legs, his grip firm and possessive. When he suddenly turns me around and lifts me against him, my legs wrapping instinctively around his waist, the world narrows down to the sensation of him. I cling to his shoulders, burying my face in his neck to muffle my cries.

"Harder," I plead. He doesn't hesitate. He grips my cheeks, pulling me down to meet his rhythm, driving into me until I’m trembling on the edge of oblivion.

"Colt! I’m… I’m about to—"

"Good. Do it, baby!"

I dig my nails into his shoulders, a sharp, guttural moan breaking from my throat as pleasure ripples through me. When I finally collapse, he doesn't stop. He presses me back against the cold wall, relentless and steady, until his own release hits him with a tremor that vibrates through both of us.

He lowers his head, kissing the curve of my shoulder. "I love you so much."

"I love you too."

"You’re mine, Cass," he whispers, his lips trailing up to the nape of my neck. I lean into him, silently offering the spot for his mark, but he pulls back.

He sighs, his forehead resting against mine. "I'll make you mine soon. I promise. That Alpha won't have you."

"I hate this," I mutter, pulling away to dress. "Pray you can control yourself when he's around, because if he tries to touch me, I don’t think either of us will survive the fallout."

By the time we reach the front hall, the atmosphere is brittle. Serge looks tense, glancing at his watch.

"Cutting it close," he mutters.

Poppy appears out of nowhere, her eyes scanning my simple jeans and button-up shirt with disapproval. "Your father is waiting. The Alpha is almost here, and you look like you’ve been… occupied. Come."

She links her arm through mine, her gaze shifting to Colt. "You stay here. The Alpha specifically requested you remain separate from Cassiopeia today."

Colt’s low, feral growl vibrates in the air. I throw him a lingering kiss before I’m ushered away, his dark eyes burning as he watches me go.

Outside, a fleet of black cars lines the driveway. Warrick stands at the front, his posture rigid. "Smile," he commands, his voice like flint. "This alliance is our lifeline."

As Alpha Oliver steps out of the lead car, he’s as charming as I remember, but the effect on me is deadened by the cold reality of my bond with Colt.

"Lady Cassiopeia," Oliver says, taking my hand and pressing a lingering kiss to my knuckles.

I’m certain I hear a distant, low growl from the direction of the house. I keep my expression neutral. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Alpha Oliver."

The breakfast that follows is a charade. Oliver sits opposite me, his eyes tracking my every movement while Warrick maneuvers the conversation toward the Blood River Pack.

"The situation is dire," Warrick says, ignoring the tension at the table. "They sent us their former Alpha's head in a box."

Oliver’s eyes widen. "Why?"

Warrick gestures toward Colt with his fork. "Because of him. His brother, Ezra, has usurped the pack and demands Colt’s head."

Colt sits motionless, his silence more dangerous than any outburst.

"Then why keep him?" Oliver asks.

Colt lets out a sharp, mocking laugh, but Warrick cuts him off. "Because he’s mine. And I don’t concede to threats. I’ll gouge Ezra’s eyes out myself."

"No," I interject, my voice cold as I stab my egg, picturing Ezra’s face. "I will."

Oliver looks amused, but before he can respond, the server—a man who appeared out of nowhere—pauses behind Warrick.

The air shifts.

I see the glint of steel before Warrick does. The server lunges, knife flashing. Warrick slides his chair back with superhuman speed, but the room erupts into chaos. Two more men draw blades from behind Oliver.

I scramble back, but a man is already on me, his movements precise and lethal. I dodge a slash, but he’s fast—terrifyingly fast. Victor moves to intervene, but the assassin kicks him aside like a ragdoll.

My heart hammers. These aren't just local thugs. These are Ezra’s killers.