Chapter 2

Betty’s POV

"You are going to frighten the locals if you keep projecting your scent like a weapon," I said.

The stranger did not flinch. He stood by the rusted flank of the pack jeep, his frame blocking the driver-side door. His eyes were the sharp, smoked-gray of a non-royal Lycan, completely devoid of the violet tint that belonged to the ruling bloodline.

"My mistake," he said. He did not back down, though he raised his hands in a mocking show of peace. "I am looking for a female named Betty. The two omegas in the front seat looked ready to vomit the moment I caught their wind."

"Move away from the vehicle." I stepped between him and the front wing of the jeep, my hand resting flat against the hot metal. "I am Betty. The two you are currently suffocating are Audrey and August. They are under my protection. Clear the path so they can leave."

The Lycan tilted his head. A slow, infuriating grin pulled at the corner of his mouth, but he retreated four paces into the gravel. The heavy, suffocating pressure of his aura thinned just enough for the jeep springs to groan. Inside, Audrey scrambled to turn the ignition key. The engine sputtered, caught, and the jeep tore down the dirt track, kicking up a wall of choking red dust between us.

I watched the tail-lights vanish past the tree-line before I turned my back on the road.

"I did not intend to provoke a scene," the man said.

"You are standing on territory that does not belong to you, mister?" I left the question hanging in the air, cold and demanding.

"Ian," he said.

"A pleasure, Beta Ian." I dropped my chin by an inch, a calculated gesture of minimum pack courtesy.

Ian stopped smiling. His gray eyes narrowed, tracking the movement of my throat. "I have not shifted in front of you. I am not wearing a pack crest. How do you know my rank?"

I reached into my tunic pocket and pulled out the folded parchment ledger the Lunar Council had sent ahead of the delegation. I did not hand it to him. I simply held it open, my thumb resting over his name and title at the top of the column.

Ian looked at the ink, then back at my face. "There is an error in your paperwork."

"The Council does not make errors," I said.

"They do when the hierarchy changes mid-transit," Ian said, his voice dropping an octave. "One of the princes altered his itinerary this morning. He is arriving with the second wave."

My fingers tightened against the parchment, wrinkling the edges. "Which one?"

"The eldest," Ian said. His eyes flashed with a sudden, vicious spark of amusement. "Prince Adriel. He wants to see what kind of border pack produces a female warrior who refuses to bow to a Lycan."

The leather of my boots crunched against the stone steps as I turned toward the manor doors. "The northern wing is not prepared for royal security protocols. Your message said nothing about a royal escort."

"We can adjust inside," Ian said, following close enough that I could hear the heavy thud of his boots against the floorboards.

I pushed the heavy oak doors open, leading him through the main gallery. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, but I kept my spine rigid. A prince. The Lycan kingdom did not send royalty to small border stations unless they intended to absorb them or burn them out.

"The ground floor contains the common rooms," I said, pointing toward the wide archway. "The kitchen is stocked with raw game and red meat. Your warriors can handle their own rations."

"And the pack boundaries?" Ian asked, his voice echoing in the high-ceilinged corridor.

"Marked with red linen flags through the eastern thicket," I said, stopping outside the bathhouse. "Do not cross the northern ridge. The Glass Lake pack holds that valley, and they kill trespassers on sight. The southern pack is more accommodating, provided you do not hunt their deer."

Ian didn't look at the rooms. He was watching the way I breathed, his head tilted as if listening for something that wasn't there. "Your wolf is silent."

I kept my hand on the brass doorknob. "She is resting."

"No," Ian said, stepping into my path so abruptly I almost collided with his chest. "She isn't resting. A normal pack wolf would be flat on their belly trying to appease my rank. You haven't dropped your eyes once. Have you even shifted, Betty?"

The skin across my knuckles went white. "My wolf came late. Two years after the standard awakening. I am a warrior of this pack because I out-hike and out-fight every male who thinks a delayed shift makes me weak."

"A late bloomer," Ian muttered. He reached out, his thick fingers locking around my wrists before I could pull back. "Let me see."

My skin burned where his palms met mine. His gray irises bled instantly into a pitch-black void, releasing the raw, dominant pressure of his inner Lycan. The air in the hallway turned heavy enough to crush my lungs. Deep inside my chest, my wolf woke up, her golden eyes snapping open within my mind, furious and stubborn. She pushed against my ribs, refusing to bend.

Ian gasped, his grip breaking as he staggered back a full step. "What is that?"

"Get your hands off me," I whispered.

"You are not a beta," Ian said, staring at his own palms as if they had burned him. "My Lycan should have brought your wolf to her knees. Instead, she bit back. Who is your father?"

Before I could answer, a sharp spark of static flared behind my eyes. The pack mindlink snapped open, cold and intrusive.

Betty. It is Imelda. The Luna’s voice was dry, devoid of any maternal warmth. The Alpha has granted your petition for the tournament tomorrow. You will have your chance to prove your rank before the exile order is signed.

Tell him I will be on the field, I linked back.

Do not fail, child. If you do not shift under the full moon tomorrow night, you leave this territory as a rogue. We will not harbor a useless mouth.

The link severed, leaving a dull ache in my temples.

"Your face went pale," Ian said, his gray eyes searching mine. "Your pack is communicating with you."

"The Alpha is executing an exile order on my twentieth birthday tomorrow," I said, the truth tasting like iron in my mouth. "He does not tolerate a wolf that stays locked beneath human skin. If I do not force the shift during the tournament, I am cast out."

A low, vibrating rumble shook the floorboards. It didn't come from Ian.

From the open terrace behind us, six massive figures stepped out of the shadow of the forest. The Lycan warriors had arrived without a sound, their heavy frames casting long shadows across the stone floor.

"An alpha who discards a trained warrior over a delayed shift is an idiot," the largest one said, his jaw set in a hard, dangerous line.

"Completely backward," another muttered, crossing arms that were thick as tree trunks.

"Enough," Ian snapped, raising a hand to silence his men. "You are crowding the host. Betty, this is Luka, my primary lieutenant. The rest are warriors under my command."

Luka stepped forward, his gray eyes sliding down my leather jerkin to the scarred skin visible at my collarbone. "You do not look like a rogue, Betty. You look like someone who knows how to hold a blade."

"I hold it well enough to clear this mansion," I said, pulling the ledger back out. "Your quarters are on the second level. The tournament begins at dusk tomorrow. Until then, you remain on this side of the boundary flags."

"And if we require assistance before the matches?" Luka asked, a sharp, white smile flashing against his tan skin. "We do not share your pack’s mental link."

"You will find me in the armory," I said.

"We have no way to summon you if the prince arrives early," Ian pointed out, his brow furrowed. "Unless you intend to stand watch at the gates for the next twenty-four hours."

I looked at Ian, then at Luka. The secret was dangerous, but the alternative was a royal prince waiting at a locked gate. "I can hear anyone I have touched. If there is an emergency, think my name. I will hear it."

Luka’s smile widened, his eyes dropping to the hand I had used to steady myself against the wall. "A rare gift for a girl who cannot shift."

"Do not test it," I said, turning down the long corridor toward the exit. "The prince arrives at sunset. Make sure your men are dressed for court."

"We will be ready," Luka called out behind me. "But will your Alpha be ready when the prince sees what he is throwing away?"