CHAPTER 6

“Who died, Marcus? You look like you’re ready to jump off a bridge.”

I leaned back in the oversized leather chair, watching the steam curl from the mug the barista had just set down. Grant didn't wait for an answer; he just smirked, his eyes tracking a group of tourists outside the window.

Marcus let out a ragged breath, his fingers drumming a frantic rhythm against the table. “You remember Adrian? My cousin from the Western Reach? The one with the tribal ink and enough silver piercings to attract lightning?”

I shifted, the memory of a jagged, aggressive scent hitting me. “The rogue-blooded one? Hard to forget.”

“He’s being shipped here,” Marcus spat. “His Alpha can’t handle the body count he’s racking up. My mother thinks she can ‘domesticate’ him.”

Oliver let out a bark of a laugh, his eyes still glazed from the wolfsbane-laced herb he’d been smoking. “Good luck. That guy is batshit nuts. He’ll be hunting the palace staff within a week.”

“Victoria will handle him,” Grant mused, his voice dropping an octave. “That woman can make a Silver-Guard flinch with a look.”

I felt a ghost of a shiver. Senator Victoria Patterson ruled her territory like a tyrant. Even I, as a Cole, knew better than to growl in her presence.

“When does the mutt arrive?” I asked, the heat of the mug seeping into my palms.

“Saturday. And my mother wants me to drag him to your birthday gala. She says he needs ‘social integration.’”

I froze, the cup halfway to my lips. My eyes snapped to Marcus, the gold in my irises flashing. “She’s inviting a feral rogue-blood to my coronation party? Without asking?”

“She’s the Senator,” Grant said, kicking his boots up on the table. “Unless you want to challenge her for the seat, you’re stuck with him.”

I sank deeper into the leather. “If he shifts on my floor, I’m putting him down.”

The sharp, electronic chirp of a phone cut through my threat. Grant pulled his device from his pocket, his face lit by the screen. A second later, he let out a jagged, sharp laugh.

“Oh, this is delicious,” he snickered. He looked up, his smirk widening until it looked like a wound. “You won’t believe who just crossed the border.”

“Not another celebrity ambassador,” Marcus groaned. “I’m sick of the West Coast trash.”

“Better,” Grant said, his fingers flying over the glass. “Guess again.”

Oliver leaned forward, his pupils blown wide. “The Alpha’s daughter from the South? The one who tried to claim Harrison’s bed last summer?”

I flipped him off. “Who is it, Grant?”

“Maddie Cruz.”

The name hit me like a silver bullet. I choked, the hot liquid burning my throat. Marcus slammed a hand against my back, but I barely felt it. I was staring at Grant, my pulse thrumming with a sudden, violent heat.

“Stick Girl?” I managed, the old nickname tasting like copper. “Why the hell is she back?”

Grant’s phone buzzed again. “The grapevine is screaming. Word is she shredded a high-ranking enforcer in California. Nearly took his head off. Her mother kicked her out before the Council could execute her, so she’s back here to hide under Richard’s shadow. It sounds like a lie, but with her temper? I’d believe it.”

Oliver ran a hand through his hair. “That psycho belongs in a cage. Or a lab.”

Marcus grunted. “I second that.”

If I had my way, she’d be in a maximum-security vault under the mountain. Sixth grade was a nightmare of blood and broken bones because of her. The fact that her scent was back in my city made my skin itch. My wolf was pacing, claws scraping the inside of my ribs.

I didn't want to see her. I wanted her gone.

Morning at the Cruz Estate was a war zone.

In LA, Vivienne usually slept until noon, leaving me to the silence of a house that felt like a museum. Here, the air was thick with the scent of burnt eggs, ozone, and family.

“Vanessa! You drank the last of the juice! I’ll shift and bite you, I swear!”

“Richard! Change those pants! You’ve got syrup on your silk!”

“Mom, the milk smells like a dead rogue! Toss it!”

“Elaine! The stove is smoking!”

The sheer volume of the screaming from the kitchen hit me before I even reached the door. My head throbbed. I stepped into the room, dodging a flying spatula, and slid into a chair. The television was blaring the stock market report—the Dow was dropping, and my father was letting out a low, pained groan with every point lost.

A massive mountain of pancakes slammed down in front of me.

“Eat!” Elaine barked, her hair a wild halo of blonde as she herded the twins into their seats.

I didn't argue. I shoved a forkful into my mouth, the sweetness hitting my tongue just as the front door chimes echoed through the house.

The air in the room changed instantly. The temperature seemed to drop.

“Who is that at this hour?” Richard muttered, standing up and smoothing his shirt.

I followed him to the foyer. Through the glass, I saw the sleek, silver nose of a Porsche. My stomach did a slow, sickening roll.

Harrison Cole was leaning against the car, his arms crossed over a chest that looked like it was carved from granite. He was wearing a dark suit that probably cost more than my father’s SUV. Beside him, Grant Lawson was smirking, tossing a set of keys in the air.

“Richard,” Harrison called out as the door opened. His voice was a low, resonant vibration that made the hair on my arms stand up. “My father sent me to collect the tax reports. And to see if the rumors about the trash being returned were true.”

His eyes shifted to me. They were narrowed, cold, and utterly predatory.

“Maddie,” he said, the name sounding like an insult. “You look... different. Did the desert dry up your brain, or just your manners?”

“Harrison,” I spat. I stepped onto the porch, the rain from the night before still clinging to the leaves. “I see you finally grew into that ego. Pity it didn't do anything for your face.”

Grant let out a sharp whistle. “She’s still got the teeth, Harrison. Watch out.”

Harrison took a step closer, invading my space. He smelled of rain-drenched cedar and pure, unfiltered dominance. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

“I’m the one with the collar now, Maddie,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. “And if you bark at me again, I’ll remind you why you were sent away.”

My hand found the heavy diamond ring in my pocket. I wanted to smash it into his jaw.

“Try it,” I breathed.

He pulled back, a dark, jagged grin slashing across his face. He turned back to my father, his professional mask sliding into place. “The reports, Richard. Now. We have a pack meeting at ten.”

As they walked into the study, Grant lingered. He looked me up and down, a slow, appraising gaze. “The gala is Saturday night, Cruz. Don't be late. Harrison has a special welcome planned for you.”

I watched them, my fingers trembling with a mix of rage and a dark, terrifying electricity I couldn't name.

This wasn't a homecoming. It was a declaration of war.