Chapter 3

Danika POV:

The invisible force of the Alpha's Command fell upon the room like an iron slab.

The two guards who had kicked the door in froze instantly. Their knees buckled under the sheer, genetic superiority of the command, hitting the floor with a bone-jarring thud. Whimpers of raw, instinctual terror tore from their throats as their heads were forced flat against the stained carpet.

Martha's face drained of every drop of color. She grabbed the doorframe with both hands, her knuckles turning white, but her shins shook so violently they clattered against the wood.

Slow, measured footsteps echoed from the bathroom.

The man walked out of the shadows. He wore only his dark trousers, his bare, scarred torso taut with lethal muscle. The jagged silver burn carving down the left side of his face caught the morning light, making him look less like a man and more like a demon pulled straight from the abyss.

"Rip my throat out?"

His voice was a low, guttural vibration that vibrated through the floorboards. The icy blue of his eyes had turned into a burning, molten gold.

Martha stared at him, her chest heaving in rapid, shallow gasps. Her mid-tier Beta genetics were completely crushed beneath the pure, absolute dominion rolling off him. She couldn't even raise her chin.

"Who... who are you?" she stammered, desperately trying to cling to her pathetic authority. "We are enforcers of the Kensington Pack! If you lay a hand on us—"

The man didn't waste his breath.

He vanished.

To ordinary eyes, he was a black blur. To me, his movement was pure, terrifying efficiency.

A sickening snap cracked through the room.

The guard nearest to his left didn't even have time to scream. The Alpha's bare hand had seized his jaw, twisting his entire head one hundred and eighty degrees in a single, fluid motion. The guard collapsed, lifeless, his neck broken before his brain could register the impact.

Dark blood pooled over the filthy rug, the heavy, metallic stench instantly obliterating the smell of cheap tobacco.

The remaining three guards let out panicked, animalistic howls. Pushed to the brink of death, they attempted to trigger The Shift.

Their spines arched violently. Bone crunched and reformed beneath their skin as coarse gray fur burst through their uniforms. But an incomplete shift offered zero protection against an apex predator.

The Alpha's eyes flared crimson. His fingernails elongated in a flash, shifting into razor-sharp, pitch-black beast claws.

He lunged forward. His hand thrust straight through the second guard's chest plate like paper, his claws wrapping around the man's heart and tearing it free in a spray of scarlet.

I leaned against the peeling wall, my arms crossed over my chest, watching the clinical massacre unfold without blinking. My fingers quietly slipped the three poison needles back into my pocket.

The third guard managed a partial transformation, his muzzle elongating into a snarling wolf's snout as he swung a massive, hairy claw toward the Alpha's blind spot.

The Alpha didn't even turn his head. He drove his elbow backward with brutal, concussive force, striking the half-shifted guard square in the trachea.

The crunch of cartilage was deafening. The creature crashed to the floor, convulsing twice before going completely limp.

Ten seconds. That was all it took.

Four elite Kensington enforcers were reduced to steaming heaps of dead meat.

The room fell dead silent, save for the steady drip of blood hitting the carpet from the Alpha's stained claws.

Martha broke. A high-pitched, ragged scream tore from her throat as she scrambled backward on her hands and knees, clawing desperately toward the hallway.

The Alpha flicked the gore from his hand, his golden eyes locking onto her retreating spine. He took a heavy stride forward, ready to crush her skull under his boot.

"Leave her alive," I said.

My calm, even tone cut through the slaughter like a silver blade.

His movement halted. He slowly turned his head, those wild, blood-soaked eyes fixing onto me. The air grew tight, heavy with the suffocating threat of his dominion.

"Are you commanding me?" he growled, the beast in his throat rumbling dangerously.

I didn't lower my gaze. Though my body lacked an inner beast to answer his call, the ancient, hidden bloodline in my veins flared warm, shielding my mind from the crushing weight of his aura.

"I'm giving you advice," I said, a cold, mocking smile touching my lips. "Dead dogs can't carry messages back to their masters."

He stared at me, his chest rising and falling as the scarlet haze in his eyes slowly receded, replaced once more by deep, icy blue.

The beast stepped back. He retracted his claws, letting Martha cower in the doorway.

I stepped over the puddle of fresh blood, my bare feet silent against the floor, until I stood directly over the trembling enforcer.

She looked up at me, her eyes wide with unadulterated horror, as if seeing an executioner.

"Danika... what... what are you doing?"

I reached down, grabbed a handful of her greasy hair, and yanked her head back until her neck was stretched taut.

"Go back to Eunice," I whispered, my voice cold enough to freeze marrow. "Tell her that if she wants me to take Gwyn's place, she better be ready to pay the price."