4

¬Avia 

I walk down the hallway toward the dining room, still trying to gather my bearings in this place. 

Through research with the rebellion, we attempted to map out as much of this estate from some personal accounts from ex staff members, but it wasn’t enough for me to feel comfortable walking around by myself. I woke this morning to a note on my side table, summoning to the dining room for breakfast with the Alpha. How it got in my room without me waking isn’t something I want to linger on for too long. 

Rubbing my eyes, I try not to think about how late I stayed up last night, talking to Malin and Kadrick, reluctant to come back here. It may be comfortable living, but seeing Isaiah’s wealth, seeing how silently aware he is of all the tyranny he is inflicting elsewhere in his Pack. 

The sound of soft footsteps coming up from behind me make me flinch, whirling around. It takes everything within me not to call on all my training and lash out at whoever is approaching, knowing that would reveal too much about me. 

I’m shocked that I don’t recognise the man standing before me. 

His hair is thick, a striking flaming red - not a common trait in Passion Pack members. His eyes are pitch black, and for a moment, I see Malin and Kadrick in them, until I see he is dressed as lavishly as anyone else in this estate, although his clothing is dark, looking more like fighting leathers than anything else. 

"Kenna, is it?" he asks, tilting his head to the side as he blatantly drags his gaze over my body, no shame to be seen. Tucking my hands behind my back, I dip my head, not fidgeting, not quivering under his scrutiny. Whoever he is, he isn’t getting any satisfaction in my discomfort. 

My tone is wary. "Yes..."

He holds his hand out to me, covered in dark leather gloves. I withhold an eye roll. Gloves are far too common in individuals not interested in finding their mates. I’ve seen Isaiah wear them in almost every public appearance he has made...He probably doesn’t want a mate, a Luna who can challenge his views. 

"Zire. Isaiah's second-in-command."

"I didn't know Alpha's needed a second-in-command,” I murmur curiously, shaking his hand firmly. 

An uncomfortable lump in my throat gathers. I have no idea who this man is, and whether he is being truthful about being Isaiah’s second-in-command. If he is, how do I not know about him? We put in so much effort to find out as much as possible so I wouldn’t be entering the estate blind, and yet Zire is a wild card I didn’t expect. He must be new, or Isaiah’s best kept secret. 

Isaiah approaches down the hallway, motioning for us to enter the room just up the hall. "They don't.”

"Isaiah is a friend who took pity on me,” Zire explains as we enter the dining room. Isaiah sits at the head of the table, and I sit opposite Zire. 

I’ve become accustomed to how Isaiah looks from all the research I’ve done into his public appearances, and yet everytime I see him in person, I feel extreme amounts of guilt for the way my stomach flutters. He’s an Alpha, and he’s unreasonably attractive, with his perfect bone structure and deep green eyes. It only makes me hate him more, trying to concentrate on how he uses his looks to get what he wants...Right?

"So he just gave you a high position for no reason?" I question, adjusting myself in the seat. Isaiah quirks a brow at Zire, the two clearly sharing an inside story I’m not privy to. The Alpha raises his hands above the table for a moment, and I realise he too is wearing black gloves. My eyes narrow. 

Zire shifts his attention to me, shrugging his shoulders. "Your father gave you this position, despite your lack of expertise about this Pack."

"Zire is very skilled," Isaiah cuts in before I can respond, looking at me. "As are you, I assume."

"Depends in what, you mean,” I murmur, focusing the intensity of my gaze on him. He doesn’t look away at my obviously flirtatious remark, reading between the lines, but refusing to cower. There’s a lingering second where he gazes at me, before Zire cuts in, oblivious. 

"I still don't understand how one girl is meant to quell unrest through the Pack,” he claims. 

Isaiah takes a long drink from his glass. "I've explained this to you.”

"Not well enough, it seems."

"I'm to be used as a mechanism to gain the trust, to reduce slander against the Alpha by proving ill-represented reports wrong,” I tell him, reciting what the real Kenna would have likely been told. The words taste like ash on my tongue, being something that I have to force out. I can hardly believe this is a role that someone, being me at this point, has to play. And unfortunately, I will have to do that for Isaiah, while I am here. It will ultimately be worth it, though. 

"Why you? Why not some girl off the street?” Zire questions, both to Isaiah and I. He starts placing food spread out across the table onto his plate. I’m not liking how he is questioning Isaiah’s judgment, how he is doubting why I’m here. If they decide I should be sent home, then I’m done for. The rebellion won’t get another chance to get back into Isaiah’s life. 

"I am some girl off the street,” I cross my arms over my chest. 

"Her father is a powerful Noble. People like him in the Love Pack, which I hope translates here,” Isaiah explains, sounding irritated he has to explain this again to Zire, who continues to study me with an unnerving amount of scrutiny. Is he suspicious of me?

"I heard you know not much about Isaiah,” Zire notes, sounding both curious, and accusatory. Knowing nothing about Isaiah is a strategy I’m banking everything on. If he thinks he can make me like him before I find out how bad his reputation, then he will be more likely to trust me, and therefore more likely to let me into the vulnerable parts of his life that I can exploit. 

"I was only told what I needed to do," I say with a shrug, spooning some fruit into a bowl in front of me, avoiding Zire’s gaze. I want to seem casual, unbothered. "What goes on here is beyond me."

Zire narrows his eyes. "Right...."

I turn my attention to Isaiah, deciding it’s dangerous ground to continue talking to Zire, letting him reveal more about my back story. Isaiah isn’t eating, staring at his blank plate vacantly. There always seems to be something on his mind that he won’t share with anyone. If only I was a powerful immortal like Thought who could dig into his mind and reveal everything...If only an immortal like that would work with the rebellion. 

"You have a beautiful home, Alpha,” I exclaim animatedly. It is a beautiful home, if I ignore all the suffering that had to go into making it happen. It’s full of rich history and masterful architecture, and is big enough for me to be able to explore for days, and that doesn’t even include the grounds. 

"Call me Isaiah," he offers, his voice smooth. Calling him Alpha makes it easier to see him for the cruel man who has inflicted pain on my family for the past few years. "And thank you. My ancestors built it."

"How lucky you are to inherit such wealth,” I comment, sipping my tea, forcing the bitterness out of my tone. He seems to sense it anyway, a challenge glittering in his eyes. How many beautiful women have been seduced by those eyes? I don’t even want to think about it. 

"I haven't been feeling so lucky recently," Isaiah sighs, running a hand back through his silken black hair, strands raining down his forehead gently. "Wealth only takes one pain and replaces it with another."

Something rises up within me, repressed from the short amount of time I’ve been in here. "Living in poverty is not just one pain. It's fear, pain, embarrassment."

"What do you know about poverty? You were raised by a Noble in one of the wealthiest Pack's there is.” Zire laughs, taking a bite from an apple. It takes all my restraint not to yell at him, not to tell them that they are the ones who have no idea what it is like, when wealth isn’t the only thing you are lacking. 

I swallow, falling back into my seat, quelling my anger, letting it simmer beneath my skin. "I like charity."

Zire looks at Isaiah and grins, even though Isaiah doesn’t return the expression. When the second-in-command looks back at me, his eyes are light, the smile not diminishing. 

"What's with that face?" I ask warily. 

He smothers his smile, looking away. "Nothing."

I summon a calm breath, deciding I can’t stand this man. Whoever he is to Isaiah doesn’t matter. I’m not going to pretend to like him, even for this mission. He is the walking example of how everyone thinks Isaiah is behind closed doors. And although the Alpha isn’t so overtly like this, I know he is just hiding it well, sharing Zire’s sentiments. 

"I hope you're heartless, Kenna," Zire says, hiding his amusement behind his hand. "To do what we do, you're going to need to be."