Chapter 2

Coralie Hanson POV:

I pushed the tip of my bloodstained silver dagger half an inch forward, pressing the freezing metal directly against Hank's throat until he was forced to tilt his chin up.

Tears and snot ran down Hank's face as he threw both hands into the air, his whole body convulsing.

"Please! Don't kill me!" he sobbed, his voice shrill. "I'm just a driver! I was only following orders!"

I stared down at him without a trace of warmth, pressing the blade just hard enough to indent his skin.

"Tell me who hired these Rogues to kill me," I said. "Now."

Hank's eyes darted left and right in panic. "It—it was probably one of your rivals from the border! I just took some cash from a middleman, I swear I don't know their name—"

Losing my patience, I lowered my wrist slightly. The razor-sharp silver sliced through the top layer of his neck, and a thin line of bright red blood trickled down into his collar, sizzling faintly against his skin.

Hank let out a pig-like squeal of agony, his hands flying up before stopping inches from my blade.

"It was Miss Danelle!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, completely breaking down. "Danelle Hanson ordered me to do it!"

I raised an eyebrow, the name sounding completely foreign to me.

"Who the hell is Danelle?"

Hank swallowed hard, careful not to move his throat against the knife. "She's the favored young lady of the Hanson Pack! Eighteen years ago at the pack hospital, a nurse switched you two at birth! You're the real pureblood daughter of Alpha Coy, and she's the fake! When the elders found out and ordered me to bring you back tonight, Danelle paid me to feed you to the Rogues so you'd never take her place!"

I listened to his frantic confession, my chest remaining completely still. The whole rich-pack baby-switch drama was beyond ridiculous.

I let out a cold laugh. "The high and mighty alphas of the Hanson Pack couldn't even recognize their own flesh and blood for eighteen years? Pathetic."

Before Hank could reply, the roar of a heavy-duty engine echoed through the canyon. A heavily modified black tactical armored vehicle tore through the dirt and skidded to a stop beside us.

The passenger door flew open, and Zane Kowalski—my top tactical specialist in the underground syndicate—jumped out wearing full combat gear, a heavy assault rifle cradled in his arms.

Zane took one look at the groaning, silver-burned Rogues on the ground and the weeping driver at my feet. He let out a low whistle.

"Holy shit, Boss." Zane grinned, lowering his rifle. "You didn't even leave one for me to warm up with?"

I slid my silver dagger back into my boot sheath and wiped a speck of dust from my sleeve.

"Shut up and tie those Rogues up," I ordered flatly. "Throw them in the trunk. Make it fast."

"You got it, Boss." Zane didn't hesitate, pulling heavy alloy chains from his belt and dragging the wounded Rogues toward the back of the armored truck like dead dogs.

I turned my attention back to Hank, who was still shivering in a puddle of his own filth, and curled my lips into a dangerous smile.

"Take out your phone," I commanded. "Send Danelle a text message. Tell her the job is done."

Hank hesitated, his eyes flickering with fear. In the Hanson Pack, Danelle was treated like a princess, and betraying her meant certain death for a low-ranking worker like him.

I tapped the hilt of the silver dagger in my boot. "She's miles away in a warm mansion, Hank. I'm standing right here. Think carefully about who holds your life in their hands right now."

Hank whimpered and immediately fumbled in his pocket, pulling out his smartphone with trembling fingers and unlocking the screen.

Under my cold gaze, he typed out a message word by word: The Rogues tore her to pieces. Not even a bone is left.

I snatched the phone from his hand and checked the message and the recipient's contact name before hitting send. Once the screen showed the message was delivered, I tossed the phone back into his lap.

"Roll back to the Hanson estate and keep playing dumb," I warned, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "If you leak a single word before I get there, I'll personally twist your head off your shoulders. Understand?"

"Yes! Yes, I understand!" Hank banged his forehead against the gravel repeatedly. "I won't say a word, I swear on my wolf!"

Scrambling to his feet, he stumbled back into the dented SUV, started the engine, and sped away in a cloud of dust as if the devil were chasing him.

Zane slammed the trunk of the armored vehicle shut, dusted off his hands, and walked over to me. "Where to now, Boss? Back to base?"

I smoothed out the creases on my black sweatshirt. "No. The billionaire Alpha of the Romero Pack paid a fortune on the dark web to save his dying grandfather. He's waiting for me."

I pulled open the passenger door of the armored truck and climbed inside. "Drive me to the private airfield."