Chapter 3

Callie Waller POV:

I ripped the broken tubing off my collar and flung it aside. It hit the steel bed rail with a crack that sounded like a gunshot in the silent room.

Cortney's satellite phone slipped from his fingers. The screen shattered against the floor, but he didn't look down. His bloodshot eyes bulged—like he was staring at the Moon Goddess herself coming to judge him.

"You... you were flatlined!" he stammered, back slamming into the wall. "I felt your pulse stop!"

I threw off the sheet and swung my legs over the edge, bare feet hitting the cold marble.

"What's wrong, Mr. Waller?" I tilted my head, a cold smile on my lips. "Disappointed your billion-crystal bride just walked out of her coffin?"

Cortney shook. He tried to summon his Beta wolf aura, but the moment his eyes met mine, his mental walls shattered like glass under a hammer.

"You're wolfless... a genetic failure!" he shrieked, clawing for whatever authority he had left. "You can't have this kind of presence!"

"Wolfless?" I took one calm step forward.

The ancient White Wolf aura surged out and crashed down on him like a mountain of iron.

Crack!

Cortney didn't even see me move. The bloodline suppression buckled his knees and slammed both kneecaps into the marble.

Bone cracked. A high, pathetic howl tore from his throat.

"On your knees when you speak to me," I said quietly, looking down at him.

"Callie! I am your father!" Cortney gasped, cold sweat pouring down his face as he tried to push himself up. "Striking your sire is a capital offense! The Council will execute you!"

"My father?"

I brought my right foot down on his left hand and crushed his fingers against the floor.

Crunch.

The heavy gold signet ring warped and flattened, cutting deep into his flesh. Blood pooled across the marble.

"Does a father watch while his daughter's fiancé drives silver needles into her chest?" I ground my heel down, slow and deliberate. "Does a father pull his daughter's life support so he can sell her warm corpse into a Dark Mate Ritual for a billion crystals?"

Cortney sobbed, forehead pressed to the bloody tiles. "Stop! Please! It hurts! It was Jacoby! Jacoby forced my hand! He threatened to ruin us!"

"Forced you?" I scoffed. "You looked pretty proud of yourself when you were spending that billion on your stepdaughter."

Before he could answer, high heels clicked fast down the hallway, followed by the stench of artificial rose perfume.

"Cortney! Have you finished the job yet?" a shrill voice called. "The transport driver is losing patience at the gate, and Uncle Ken wants confirmation!"

Cortney's eyes lit up with desperate hope. He opened his mouth to scream, "Arlene! Call the—"

I pressed down harder. His shout turned into a choked whimper.

I flicked my left hand. The deadbolt on the heavy door clicked open.

The footsteps stopped outside. A second later, a manicured hand with blood-red nails shoved the double doors wide open.

Arlene Vance strode in, wrapped in an expensive white mink coat, designer bag under her arm.

"Why is it pitch black in here? Did you—"

Her words died in her throat.

The overhead lights surged back to full power, flooding the suite with harsh white light.

Arlene's bag slipped from her grip and hit the floor. Her eyes locked onto me standing over her battered husband. The smug arrogance on her face vanished into pure horror.