Something flashed in Lenora’s expression, briefly, before it shuttered and disappeared so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined it.She took a step away from me, straightened, then dipped into a proper bow. “Prince Elijah,” she said, voice so low I could barely hear it behind the din of the crowd.I didn’t miss the glances people shot her, and immediately stepped forward, catching her arm and pulling her upright so our eyes were level. As usual, sparks flew where we touched—muted, but still there, still enough to rob me of breath for a moment.Lenora tugged her arm free, not gently, and stepped back again, expression guarded.She was still angry then. Unsurprising.“I didn’t expect to see you here, Lenora,” I said, though suspicion threaded through the words.It was clear, at this point, that my father regarded her as much more than just a professor. He wouldn’t have brought her here otherwise. My gaze flickered to the wrestling omegas—the larger one sprawled on the ground, defeated, whi
The council was made up of thirteen members. And right now, all thirteen were staring at me.There was an itch beneath my skin. My fingers wouldn’t stop drumming against where they rested on my thigh, sharp taps betraying the agitation I couldn’t smother. I felt ready to bolt at any second, and I wasn’t sure if it was leftover tremors from nearly overdosing or if it was just nerves.I hated meetings like this—meetings that were really just performances. Another excuse for my father to disgrace me in front of the council. He used them to pick me apart under the guise of “leadership training.” All it really was, was a slow dismantling. A way to make me look incompetent and unfit for the seat of Alpha.Not that I even wanted it. And hadn’t I already succeeded in proving him right?“Go on, Elijah,” Victor said, his voice even, but his blue eyes searing into mine like fire licking the edge of parchment. “Show us what you’ve prepared.”I stared at him. Then I glanced at the table, meeting t
Four days after I asked him to help with Marcus, an envelope arrived in the mail, thick and weighty, sealed in gold foil with Victor’s personal crest. Inside was an invitation with specific instructions—alarmingly specific. It listed the exact time I was to head downstairs to prepare, the exact boutique I’d be driven to, and the exact expectations for my behavior once I arrived at the event.There were no explanations. Just commands dressed up in cursive calligraphy.Much like the night he invited me to dinner, Victor sent a sleek black car to collect me. This time, it took me to a high-end boutique nestled into the heart of the city. The moment I stepped in, I was no longer a person. I was an image to be crafted.The dress they chose for me was pale pink, delicate as crushed rose petals, threaded with soft pearls and thin silk that clung to my skin. My hair was pulled into an elegant updo, a few strands curled and left to frame my face. They dabbed only a little makeup on me, mostly
For a long moment, Victor didn’t say anything. He just stared at me in that unnerving way—like he was peeling back my skin to see what was twitching beneath. I expected him to say no. To laugh in my face. To punish me for making demands.But instead, he reached under his desk and pressed a button. A faint beep answered, followed by Izaak’s flat, ever-present voice crackling through the speaker.“Alpha?”“Prepare the girl,” Victor said simply, then released the button.That was it.I parted my lips, then slammed them shut. I shouldn’t have to say thank you. This wasn’t a favor. This was an exchange—him giving me something I should’ve gotten a long time ago.I just stood there, heart hammering, the edges of my fingers prickling with static. Either way, it was done. He was giving me this—for whatever reason, on whatever twisted impulse—but I would take it. I would take it and hold it tight, because this might be all I’d ever get.Victor rose from behind his desk and smoothed out his suit
I got up eventually, my muscles ached and my bones screamed in protest as I uncurled from the position I’d been bent in for what could have been hours, but it was my heart that began to scream and ache as I stared at the note place tentatively on my coffee table. It looked so normal and felt normal as I picked it up, but for whatever reason, the note seemed to a weigh a million pounds as I picked it up and stared at it. Just ten digits. Curved in soft, hopeful handwriting.I stared at it for a long time, the lines swimming as my vision swam in and out of focus. Then I folded it carefully. Once. Twice. Slid it into the drawer with my old chargers and snapped pen caps—the graveyard of things I didn’t use but couldn’t throw away.It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t.But still, I didn’t tear it.It was more grace than I likely should ever give my mother, but I couldn’t get the image of the heartbreak that flashed across her face at my words. The sincerity in her voice as she left her num
“Tea or coffee?” I asked the woman seated on my couch.She looked up at me, her blue eyes full and sharp at once, and replied, “Coffee.”That was a surprise—my mother never drank coffee—but I made it without a word. Two cubes of sugar, like she used to prefer, a little milk, then I set it on a coaster and brought it to her.She nodded with a muttered, “Thank you,” and took a long sip. I just stood across from her and stared.She looked much older than the last time I saw her. Her hair was longer and more unkempt, though pinned back into one of her typically severe buns. There were more wrinkles on her once-ageless face. Her lips were pulled down in a permanent frown, her posture more slumped. Her hair was grayer. She looked tired—more fragile than I’d ever seen her.Maybe another child would feel their heart ache a little, seeing their parent like this. But I was just trying to figure out how she had found me—and, more importantly, who she might have led here.I kept waiting, tense, c