CHAPTER 5: THE PREY AT HIS DOOR

Valen's POV……

The splash echoed off the marble walls, cold water soaking my sleeve to the elbow.

In my right hand, the thin cut across my palm stung like fire. I had squeezed the hidden fruit knife until the steel bit deep into my own flesh, using the sharp, biting pain to force my wolf down. I stared down at the drenched, shivering girl gasping in the tub, my expression cold and unreadable.

Four minutes earlier.

"Alpha. Have you eaten? Slept?" Marcus’s voice came through the line, protective and steady.

"Marcus," I said, pacing the dark floorboards of the suite.

"Did you find anything in the lower hall?" Marcus asked. "Any proof of the coup?"

"No," I replied, staring out the window toward Victor's territory. "I..."

A faint scrape sounded outside my door—a shoe dragging against the carpet.

"Marcus, I'll call you back."

"Watch your back, Alpha," Marcus warned before hanging up.

I shoved the phone into my pocket, my eyes tracking the brass handle as it slowly turned downward.

Only an hour ago, I had spoken to the guard at the perimeter.

"The scout Victor sent," I had asked into the receiver, my voice emotionless.

"Both hands broken, Alpha," the guard had reported smoothly. "He won't be shifting."

"Deliver him to Victor's gate," I had ordered. "Let him explain how he failed."

I intended to handle the intruder at my door the exact same way—a broken neck tossed at Victor's feet as a lesson.

The lock clicked. The door swung open.

I moved before the frame cleared, my hand slamming around the intruder's throat and shoving her hard against the stone. My wolf raged beneath my skin, pushing gold into my eyes and demanding blood.

"HOW DARE YOU," I growled into the dark.

She didn't draw a blade. Her small, freezing hands reached up, grabbing my shirt.

"Move your hands," I ordered, my voice dropping into a lethal growl.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered, her palms pressing flat against my chest instead of backing away. "I don't know why I..."

A harsh growl ripped from my throat. She froze instantly, her breath coming in short, panicked hitches.

"Please..." she breathed, her forehead dropping toward my collarbone. "Help me."

She wasn't trying to entice me. She was begging for her life.

Her skin radiated unnatural heat against my knuckles. Her scent was choked with a sharp, chemical sweetness—spiked wine, laced with a heavy aphrodisiac and wolfsbane.

"Are the she-wolves of the Shadow Flint Pack now throwing themselves at strangers just to get over their heat?" I demanded, my tone merciless.

"It's not..." She struggled to hold her head up. "I'm not..."

"When did it start?" I barked, digging my fingers into her jawline.

"Wine," she rasped. "Victoria forced... the wine was spiked."

"Why this room?"

"The door was unlocked," she slurred, her knees giving out completely. "I hit someone. With a lamp."

I held her up by her throat, my eyes narrowing. "Did you."

Her hands were trembling violently against my chest as she fought the poison in her system.

I should have snapped her neck and thrown her into the corridor. Instead, my blood roared toward her, demanding I pin her down, tear away the wet fabric, and bite her neck. My wolf remained dead silent, leaving me trapped with a she-wolf whose scent was driving me mad.

To keep my hands from taking her, I grabbed a small fruit knife off the side table with my right hand, palming the blade and squeezing until the steel cut deep into my flesh. The sharp spike of pain kept my mind focused.

"Breathe through your mouth," I growled at myself, the blood slicking my fingers.

"Walk," I commanded, hauling her up by her arm.

She stumbled beside me like a corpse, her bare feet dragging on the floor as I marched her into the bathroom. I lifted her by her waist and dumped her into the clawfoot tub.

Water splashed everywhere. I hid the knife behind my back, stepping away as blood dripped onto the tile from my clenched fist.

She surfaced a second later, gasping for air, her hazelnut eyes wide with sudden, freezing clarity.

As she rose, the soaked fabric of her dress clung tightly to her skin, laying bare her voluptuous, chubby frame with its rich, heavy curves that defied every standard I had ever known. Wet strands of chestnut hair plastered across her pale neck, framing a face dominated by full, plush pink lips parted in shock as she gasped for breath. For a fraction of a second, my breath caught in my throat, my gaze traitorously lingering on the soft swell of her hips and the fierce, striking beauty of her hazelnut eyes shining through the dark water. A sharp jolt of raw, foreign heat surged through my blood—an unwanted pull toward a woman I didn't know, whose scent and form threatened to tear through my iron control.

I didn't understand it. I didn't know if it was just the wild desperation of the circumstances or something deeper, darker, and entirely uncontrollable beneath my skin.

Before the thought could take root, the deep, agonizing sting of the cut across my palm flared up, grounding me instantly. I clenched my bleeding fist tighter, letting the self-inflicted pain clear the haze from my mind. I kept my face mask-hard, revealing nothing of the sudden, violent storm churning behind my eyes.

"What did you..." she choked out, shivering violently as she gripped the porcelain edges of the tub. "Why would you do that!"

"Be quiet," I commanded, my voice sounding as cold, aloof, and detached as it always had, completely hiding the tension gripping my chest.

I turned my head away, ignoring the sudden pull in my blood as I listened to the heavy hallway outside.

Fast, heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor, accompanied by the clatter of pack guards.

"Check every room!" Alpha Tristan’s voice barked from the hallway. "Victor's daughter couldn’t have gone far!"

I stood stiffly in the dim light of the bathroom, staring down at the wet, full-figured girl in my tub.

Victor's daughter.

Victor's blood, dripping wet in my tub. It's either a cruel accident, or a trap set by a master.

And I don't believe in accidents.