Chapter 2

Danika POV:

The cheap wood yielded with a sickening snap. The door flew inward, crashing flat against the dust-caked carpet and kicking up a cloud of chalky debris.

Martha Riggs, the chief Enforcer of the Kensington Pack, marched over the threshold. Behind her stood four hulking male guards, their broad shoulders filling the narrow hallway like armored walls.

I didn't blink. With a subtle flick of my bare foot, I kicked his heavy leather jacket under the bed frame, stepping sideways to block the view of the half-open bathroom door.

Through the narrow crack in the bathroom paneling, I could feel the cold, lethal presence of the man inside. He was quiet, but his aura sat in the shadows like a loaded gun.

"Eager to die this early in the morning, Martha?" I asked, crossing my arms over the front of the black shirt.

Martha pinched her nose in disgust, her small, beady eyes raking over my bare legs and the oversized men's collar framing my neck.

"Wipe that pathetic smirk off your face, you wolfless parasite," she hissed, her voice sharp enough to grate on bone.

The guards behind her let out rough, mocking chuckles. The sour, stale scent of cheap tobacco and low-grade Beta musk rolled off them, polluting the morning air.

I tilted my head, my fingertips tapping lightly against my forearm. Three seconds. That was all I needed to drive a paralytic powder into their nasal passages and leave all five of them choking on their own tongues.

"Luna Eunice has issued her final order," Martha barked, thrusting her chin forward in arrogant satisfaction. "You are coming back to the estate right now to prepare for next week's mating union."

A dry laugh escaped my throat.

"A mating union? What happened to Gwyn, your precious pureblood princess? Since when does the trash of the farm get invited to high society?"

"Lady Gwyn has a glorious future ahead of her," Martha sneered, her lips curling with pure malice. "Why would our Luna waste her pure bloodline on a crippled, bloodthirsty monster like Alpha Garrett? The man is a disfigured beast waiting for the grave!"

She took a heavy step forward, pointing a manicured finger at my chest.

"You have no inner wolf. You have no value. Taking the fall for Lady Gwyn and enduring that beast's psychotic rage is the only reason you were allowed to draw breath this long!"

A faint rustle of fabric came from the bathroom behind me. My heart gave a subtle thud. The Alpha in the shadows had heard every single word of that insult.

I raised my voice slightly, letting the sarcasm drip from every syllable.

"Oh? So the great Kensington family wants to serve me up as a sacrificial lamb to a hideous, deranged Alpha prince just to save their darling daughter's reputation?"

"Shut your mouth!" Martha snarled, losing her patience. "If you refuse to walk, I will gladly snap both of your legs and drag you back by your hair!"

Martha glared at my unmoving stance, her temper snapping entirely. She jerked her head toward the two guards flanking her.

"Restrain her! Bind her hands!"

The two bruisers stepped forward, their thick knuckles popping as dark claws extended from their fingertips. Cruel, violent grins spread across their faces.

I shifted my weight back half an inch, my right fingers sliding into the deep pocket of the oversized shirt, locating three silver needles coated in concentrated nerve toxin.

"Wait!" Martha suddenly froze, her nostrils flaring as she caught the scent lingering in the room.

Her eyes snapped wide, locking onto the rumpled bedsheets and the heavy imprint of two bodies.

"There's a male's scent in here!" she shrieked, pointing an accusing, trembling finger at the tangled blankets. "You shameless, disgusting whore! You laid with an unranked rogue before your wedding day!"

My jaw tightened. A werewolf's sense of smell never lied, and his cedar musk was far too potent to be wiped away by a breeze.

"Search the place!" Martha screamed, her voice reaching a hysterical pitch. "Find the filthy mutt! I'll rip his throat out with my bare hands and make her watch!"

The four guards surged forward, tearing through the small space. Two of them aimed straight for the bathroom, their heavy combat boots slamming into the flimsy door panel.

The wood exploded into splinters.

I didn't move an inch. I stayed right where I was, my arms crossed, a cold, mocking smile playing at the corners of my lips.

Idiots. They had no idea what kind of monster they had just cornered in the dark.

Garrett POV:

I leaned my back against the damp tiles of the bathroom wall. The jagged silver burn scar running down the left side of my face throbbed with a dull, familiar fire.

Through the crack in the door, every venomous word from that screeching female hit my ears, stirring the violent, ancient Lycan blood dormant in my veins.

So that was it.

The woman who had shared my bed, whose touch had sent shocks of raw lightning through my soul, and who had neutralized deadly silver with a simple flick of a needle, was the substitute bride they intended to throw to the slaughter.

I narrowed my eyes, the cold blue within them shifting toward an ominous, predatory gold.

A wolfless discard. A farm-raised outcast who moved with the lethal grace of a trained assassin, understood forbidden medicine, and faced down high-ranking enforcers without an ounce of fear in her stance.

Fascinating.

I flexed my right hand. The liquid silver had retreated from my palm, allowing the monstrous, suffocating strength of my bloodline to flood back into my veins.

The Kensingtons truly believed they could treat me like a dying dog, feeding me scraps from their back door. They were about to learn what happened when you tried to leash a tyrant.

As the bathroom door splintered inward under their boots, I released my aura.

From the shattered doorway of the bathroom, a wave of crushing, suffocating Alpha's Command detonated into the room like an invisible shockwave, bringing the weight of a collapsing mountain down upon their heads.