Chapter 3

Cara POV:

Staring at the six-foot carved stone wall outside the Holden Estate, I sucked in a deep breath of rainy air, sprinted three steps forward, and jammed the toe of my shoe into a narrow gap between the wet bricks.

I hooked both hands over the top ledge. Rough stone gravel sliced into my palms, warm blood mixing with the rainwater, yet I pulled myself up with both arms and vaulted straight over the wall.

My boots slammed onto the manicured lawn inside the compound, sending mud flying across my hem just as two patrolling pack guards drew their steel batons and charged at me.

"Stop right there! Take one more step and we'll break your legs!"

Rising from my crouch, I snapped a thick, dead branch off the decorative bush beside me and bared my teeth at them.

"Get out of my way!"

The lead guard swung his baton straight at my collarbone. I pivoted to the side and whipped the heavy wooden branch across the back of his knee, making him howl in pain as he crashed to the mud on his kneecaps.

The second guard froze in shock. Tossing the broken branch aside, I marched straight up the marble steps to the main mansion and kicked the heavy mahogany double doors wide open.

The deafening bang echoed across the grand hall under the crystal chandelier. In the center of the room, my father Archibald nearly spilled his coffee, while my stepmother Florinda Good dropped the magazine in her lap, both of them whipping their heads toward the entrance.

When Archibald saw my mud-splattered dress, his face turned livid, and he slammed his porcelain cup onto the glass coffee table.

"You miserable wretch! Who gave you permission to break into this house?"

Walking past his murderous glare, I stopped right in front of the table, cold rainwater dripping from my skirt onto Florinda's expensive Persian rug.

"Three hundred thousand dollars. Hand it over."

Florinda covered her painted lips with a mocking laugh, her eyes dripping with scorn as the former mistress who had schemed her way into becoming the lady of the house.

"Oh my, didn't you serve him well enough last night? What, Alpha Burnett didn't even leave you a tip?"

I snapped my head toward her, my fists clenching tightly inside my wet sleeves.

"Shut your filthy mouth. That money is to save my mother's life!"

Archibald shot to his feet, unleashing his full Alpha's Command—a genetic dominance that forces any lower-ranking wolf in the same pack to submit instantly. Crushing spiritual weight slammed down on my shoulders as he projected his roar straight into my head through the pack mind-link.

"Kneel!"

My knees bent an inch under the sudden shockwave, my lungs burning for air. Then, the hidden White Wolf bloodline dormant in my veins surged to life—a rare, direct lineage from the Moon Goddess that outranked any ordinary Alpha. I locked my joints, bit my lip until it bled, and stood ramrod straight.

Shock flashed across Archibald's eyes as he stared at an "inferior Omega" defying his direct command.

Florinda quickly pointed a manicured finger at my face to cover his embarrassment.

"Archibald, why waste breath on this trash? Call the guards to beat her out of here!"

Letting out a sharp laugh, I pulled the hotel keycard from my pocket and slapped it hard onto the glass tabletop.

"Beat me out? Go right ahead!"

I leaned forward, looking straight into Archibald's wide eyes.

"I'll walk right out that gate to the reporters and tell the whole world that the woman who slept in Eben Burnett's bed last night wasn't the noble Emilee—it was a disgraced Omega like me!"

All the blood drained from Archibald's face, and he lunged forward a step, his finger shaking as he pointed at my nose.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me and see if I dare!" I shouted back without flinching. "If my mother dies today, I swear I'll drag this entire family down to hell with her!"

Dead silence fell over the grand hall. Florinda's magazine slipped from her fingers and hit the floor, her mouth hanging open without a single word coming out.

Archibald's chest heaved violently. After five seconds of staring into my cold eyes, he ground his teeth, yanked a checkbook from his inner suit pocket, and scribbled a line of numbers with his fountain pen.

He tore the check out, crumpled it into a tight ball, and threw it straight at my face.

"Take the money, pack up your half-dead mother, and get out of my sight!"

The paper ball bounced off my cheek and fell to the carpet. I bent down calmly, picked it up, smoothed out the creases to verify the three-hundred-thousand-dollar figure, and tucked it safely into my inner pocket.

Straightening my spine, I looked at the two of them with a curl of my lip.

"Don't worry. You couldn't beg me to stay in this disgusting place."

I turned on my heel and walked toward the open front doors. Just as my boot crossed the threshold, Archibald's cold voice rang out behind me.

"Remember your place, Cara. You only exist to be Emilee's shadow."

I paused for half a beat and glanced back over my shoulder.

"Is that so? Then pray her shadow never swallows her whole."

Stepping outside into the biting wind, I walked down the front steps onto the gravel driveway just as a convoy of black bulletproof Maybachs rolled slowly through the main iron gates.

I pulled up my hood to hide my face in the shadows and hurried down the side of the drive. As the lead Maybach glided past me with its rear window rolled halfway down, my heart suddenly skipped a violent beat.