LOGINChapter 20: The Sovereign of Shadows"I’ll have his skin for this."Abram’s voice wasn't a roar. It was a dead, hollow vibration that made the crystal glasses on the sideboard rattle against each other. He didn't look at me. He was staring at the silver flash drive on his desk as if it were Thorne’s severed head. His hands were flat on the mahogany surface, his knuckles so white they looked like polished bone.I huddled in the oversized leather armchair, pulling my silk robe tighter around my "trembling" frame. I made sure my breathing was hitching, erratic. Messy."He said... he said I was just a tool, Abram," I whispered, letting a fresh tear track through the makeup I’d intentionally smudged. "He told me you were going to be executed. I didn't know what to do. I was so scared he’d kill me right there in the garden.""He won't touch you again." Abram finally turned. His eyes were no longer human. The amber was gone, replaced by a terrifying, blown-out blackness. He crossed the room
Chapter 19: The Serpent’s OfferThe conservatory was a cage of glass and humidity. Ferns as tall as men pressed against the panes, their damp leaves brushing against my skin like wet fingers. It was midnight. The moon hung bloated and white above the estate, casting long, skeletal shadows across the stone path.Elder Thorne stood by a fountain, the water’s trickle the only sound in the suffocating heat. He didn't turn when I approached. He just stood there, leaning on his silver-headed cane, smelling of stale tobacco and old power."You’re late, girl."His voice was a dry rattle. He turned slowly, his eyes raking over me with the kind of disgust one might have for a cockroach in a silk dress. To him, I wasn't a person. I was a common whore Abram had dragged home from a gutter.I pulled my lace shawl tighter around my shoulders, letting my lower lip wobble just enough. "I had to wait for him to fall asleep. He’s... he’s been very demanding tonight."Thorne’s lip curled. "Save the sordi
Chapter 18: Mapping the GraveThe library smelled like old parchment and the expensive cedarwood Abram loved. Dust motes drifted through the shafts of moonlight hitting the floor, making the room look like a graveyard of dead ideas. I sat at the center of it, curled in a velvet armchair with a thick book on Lycan history propped on my knees.To the security cameras, I was a girl trying to learn her place. A "Good Little Alpha's Wife" doing her homework.In my lap, hidden by the heavy book, was my tablet. The screen was a black sea of green text.I typed in the password. Lana.The system didn't just open; it surrendered. Abram’s entire life—every bribe, every heartbeat of his empire—laid itself bare. My pulse didn't even quicken. I felt like a surgeon looking at a tumor. I moved through the folders with a cold, jagged precision.The Black Ledger.There it was. It wasn't just a list of assets. It was a map of every sin the Silas family had committed for a decade. I scrolled through bank
Chapter 17: The Coldest DawnThe sun crawled over the edge of the city, bleeding a pale, sickly gold across the penthouse floor. It was too quiet. Abram’s chest rose and fell against my back, a steady, rhythmic thud that felt like a mockery. He looked peaceful. The lines of tension in his face had smoothed out, making him look younger, almost human. His arm was draped over my waist—not the bruising grip of a captor, but the heavy, relaxed weight of a man who finally felt safe.He thought he had won. He thought that by baring his pathetic, bloody secrets, he had tied me to him forever.I lay there, staring at the dust motes dancing in a beam of light. My heart felt like a dead thing in my ribs. For a second—just a heartbeat—the "Gilded Cage" felt warm. I could stay. I could be the queen to his broken king. I could let him buy me more diamonds and pretend the blood on them was just paint.Then my gaze drifted to my own wrist.The faint, yellowing bruise from his grip last week was still
Chapter 16: The Breaking of the MasterThe elevator ride up to the penthouse was silent, the only sound the faint hum of the cables and the rasp of Abram’s heavy breathing. The graveyard mud still clung to his boots, staining the pristine white floor. He didn't look at me. He didn't look at anything.We stepped out into the living room. The panoramic view of the city lights mocked the darkness still clinging to his skin.Abram walked straight to the bar. His leather gloves were gone, shoved into some pocket. His bare hands trembled as he reached for the crystal decanter. The glass clinked violently against the rim of his tumbler, amber liquid splashing over his knuckles.He didn't drink. He just stared at the glass."Abram?" I said. I stayed near the door, keeping my voice low. Natural. "You're shaking.""I'm a monster, Elara."The words were so quiet I almost missed them. He turned around, leaning his weight against the marble counter. His "Alpha King" mask didn't just crack; it fell
Chapter 15: The Grave of Secrets"Get in the car."Abram didn't look at me when he said it. He was already staring through the windshield of the black SUV, his jaw tight, his gloved hands gripping the steering wheel until the leather creaked. Since Sloane was dragged out of the boardroom three days ago, he’d been a ghost. No shouting. No breaking things. Just a heavy, suffocating silence that made the penthouse feel like a tomb.I didn't ask where we were going. I just slid into the passenger seat.The city lights faded into the rearview mirror, replaced by the jagged silhouettes of pine trees and the dark, rolling hills of the old pack lands. The heater hummed, but I was shivering. Abram drove like a man possessed, his foot heavy on the gas, weaving through the winding mountain roads without tapping the brakes.We slowed down near a rusted iron gate that hung off its hinges. The sign was long gone, buried under decades of weeds and gray moss."Wait here," he barked.He climbed out, t







