Chapter 3

"Take it. If border patrol stops you, flash this card and drop our name. Don't cause trouble."

Before I climbed into the SUV, my father shoved a black card into my hand.

No hug. Just cold instructions.

"It has high-level clearance. Burn it once you cross the border. No one can ever link you back to this family."

I gripped the card tight and pulled open the passenger door.

The SUV rolled out of the garage, heading straight north.

We hit the Gray Zone market on the outskirts of Seattle. I pressed two fingers against the collar.

"Pull over. The electrodes are misfiring. My wolf is rejecting the metal. I need neutralizing herbs from the corner shop."

Lucas hit the brakes. He gave me a sharp look. "Don't play games, Winslet. The Alpha expects us back at the tower in two hours."

"I am wearing a shock collar, Lucas. Where would I run?" I held up the clearance card. My voice stayed completely dead. "Or do you want me going into shock on the road and ruining your little plan tonight?"

He waited two seconds, then unlocked the doors. "Ten minutes. I will wait at the curb."

I pushed the door open. I walked past the herb shops and slipped down a narrow alley. Mud and trash pooled around my boots. I scanned the card against the rusted back door of an underground clinic.

The dealer behind the counter sat up straight the second he spotted the Winston crest on the black plastic.

"I need a neurotoxin," I whispered over the counter. "Pure aconite. A massive dose. Something that kills an inner wolf the second a mate bond snaps."

The dealer shifted on his feet. The black card kept his mouth shut. He turned around and slid a tiny glass vial across the wood.

I palmed the vial and reached into my coat. With one flick of my thumb, I popped open my field kit. The poison snapped into the empty slot meant for glucose. I clicked the lid shut.

I walked back to the street and climbed into the SUV.

"Get your herbs?" Lucas looked at my empty hands.

"I am a doctor. I work fast."

He nodded, asked nothing else, and hit the gas.

When we stepped out on the penthouse floor, the hallway was lined with cardboard boxes.

The cleaning crew was clearing out my room. My books, my notes, my things—tossed into rolling trash bins like junk.

Chloe leaned against the wet bar with a drink in her hand.

She saw me walk in. She crooked a finger at a guard, pointing at an industrial shredder.

She held a thick stack of handwritten notes. Roderick's handwriting. Three years of deployment notes, left on my pillow every time he led his enforcers into battle.

"Garbage takes up space," Chloe said. She shoved the first handful into the teeth of the shredder. "This is where it belongs."

Blades whined. The familiar cursive turned into confetti.

"Those belong to me." I stood in the doorway, staring right through her.

"Not anymore." Chloe took a sip of liquor. Her eyes dripped with venom. "Did you really think you mattered to him, Winslet? That time you had the high fever and he sat by your bed for days... you thought that was love?"

My chest tightened. I locked eyes with her.

Chloe laughed. She took two slow steps toward me.

"Funny how timing works, right? Enemies had my safehouse surrounded. Roderick leaked fake intel across the border. He told them his Luna was on her deathbed and he was losing his mind. He pulled the perimeter guards to make them lower their guard."

She leaned in close. Her breath smelled like gin.

"He sat by your bed wide awake, planning how to slaughter them and take me back. Your big romantic moment was just his bait."

Heavy boots echoed down the hall.

Roderick walked in.

He wore a dark tailored suit, towering over everyone in the room. He stopped when he saw the mess, his eyes finding mine.

"Is what she said true?" I asked, looking him dead in the eye.

Roderick looked away. He took the glass from Chloe's hand. His voice had no warmth.

"It happened in the past, Winslet. Picking at old wounds changes nothing. I had to get Chloe out alive."

No denial. Not even an apology.

"So every single part of it was fake," I let out a dry, cracked laugh.

Roderick's brow furrowed. Something shifted in his face, an irritated flash in his gray eyes, but he shut it down fast.

"I took care of you, Winslet. I kept your family safe. I gave you whatever lab equipment you asked for. I picked out your house in Florida myself."

He took a step forward, his broad frame blocking the light. His voice dropped low.

"Don't turn this into a scene. It won't do you any good."

"Hear that, sweetheart?" Chloe smiled and wrapped her arm around his bicep. "A stand-in getting three years of Alpha treatment ought to be grateful."

Roderick checked his watch, sliding back into his cold, commanding persona.

"Tomorrow night at nine. Under the full moon. The severance ceremony takes place in the lower vault. Lucas will fly you out on the chopper."

Chloe suddenly pouted. She tugged at his sleeve.

"Nine tomorrow? That won't work, Roderick. My welcome gala starts at nine. Having a severance ritual at the exact same hour... it's bad luck."

Roderick looked down at her. His gaze instantly softened. He paused for half a beat, then spoke without hesitation:

"Move it up two hours. Make it seven."

Roderick turned to his captain of the guard.

"Tell the team to be quick about it. Wrap it up before seven. I don't want anything delaying Chloe's fireworks."

I stood frozen, watching them.

Even the hour of my death had to yield to her celebration.

"You got a problem with that timeline, Winslet?" Roderick narrowed his gray eyes at me. His voice dropped an octave.