Chapter 2

Alisa POV:

I stared at Nightshade's two-word message on the glowing screen, my thumb hovering over the keypad before I pressed the mute button without replying.

A heavy wave of exhaustion crashed into my skull. Ever since my original wolf core was violently cut out of my chest years ago, this chronic narcolepsy had been impossible to control.

I pulled a black sleep mask over my eyes, dropped onto the hard mattress, and fell into a deep coma-like sleep.

Hours later, a sharp cramp in my stomach woke me up. Outside the narrow window, the estate was pitch black. I pulled off my sleep mask and checked my red terminal; it was eleven o'clock at night.

I unlocked my door and stepped out. The second-floor hallway was dead silent, lit only by dim wall sconces. Relying on my photographic memory of the building's layout, I walked down the winding back stairs and found the mansion's open-concept kitchen.

I pulled open the massive double-door refrigerator. Cold air spilled out, revealing shelves packed with raw, bloody steaks and high-calorie energy supplements designed for a werewolf's rapid metabolism. There wasn't a single piece of cooked food meant for a normal stomach.

Moving to the corner pantry, I found some discarded regular vegetables, rice, and several pouches of dried medicinal herbs. I rolled up my sleeves, turned on the stove, and began prepping the ingredients with a steel knife-since silver was fatal to werewolves, not a single piece of silverware existed in this house.

As a hidden master of medicinal cuisine, turning plain ingredients into a restorative meal was effortless for me. Fifteen minutes later, a rich, savory herbal aroma filled the kitchen, completely covering the metallic stench of raw meat.

I had just ladled the steaming broth into a ceramic bowl when the kitchen door was shoved open.

Tessa stood in the doorway in her nightgown, her eyes locked onto the bowl in my hands as her throat bobbed with a hard swallow.

"What are you doing? Who gave you permission to use the kitchen stove?" she snapped, marching toward me with a nasty scowl even as her eyes gleamed with greed.

I stepped to the side, dodging her reaching hand.

"I found the ingredients myself."

"What is that smell? Did you put some illegal performance drug in there?" Tessa demanded, stepping closer to snatch the bowl.

I looked at her with ice in my eyes.

"It has nothing to do with you."

Tessa's face twisted with rage, and she swung her arm to knock the bowl out of my hands.

"You wolfless piece of trash, how dare you talk to me like—"

My eyes narrowed as I shifted my weight to strike her wrist, but the sharp clicking of high heels echoed from the corridor outside. A heavy cloud of Chanel perfume drifted into the kitchen first, clearly sprayed on thick to mask an impure, low-grade werewolf scent.

"Tessa, what is all this racket in the middle of the night? I just got back from a Hollywood film set and my head is splitting."

Jayde Gordon walked into the kitchen wearing a pricey silk evening gown, her light brown eyes full of arrogance and irritation. As the pampered starlet of the Gordon Pack who claimed purebred bloodline, she looked at everyone around her like dirt.

Tessa instantly dropped her vicious snarl and put on a fawning smile, bowing her head.

"Miss Jayde, you're back."

Jayde pinched her nose with two manicured fingers and shot me a disgusted glare.

"Why does the kitchen smell like a poor gutter? Who is she?"

"This is the wolfless stray Mr. Antwon brought back today to take your place in the marriage," Tessa reported eagerly.

Jayde's gaze swept over my cheap clothes and my bare, unmade face before she let out a sharp laugh.

"So you're the replacement. Looking this pathetic, you're a perfect match to go serve that wheelchair-bound cripple from the Dawson Pack."

Holding my warm bowl, I didn't give her a single glance and walked straight toward the kitchen exit.

Stung by my silence, Jayde stepped sideways and blocked my path with her arm.

"Stop right there! Did I say you could leave?"

I halted my steps, looked straight into her eyes, and began counting down in a flat, emotionless voice.

"Five. Four. Three..."

Jayde froze. She clearly didn't know what I was going to do, but a cold shiver ran down her spine under my deadpan stare.

"What is wrong with you? Are you crazy?" she muttered, instinctively pulling her arm back.

I brushed past her shoulder with my bowl and walked into the dark hallway without looking back. Behind me, Jayde stood rooted to the tile floor, the rose tattoo on her left collarbone twitching as she clenched her fists.

"You just wait! A pathetic scapegoat dares to act arrogant in my house!"