CHAPTER 2

The heavy double doors of the Alpha’s private sanctuary were thrown open before Guard Commander Garrett could even knock.

​"In," Garrett growled, shoving my shoulder so hard I stumbled across the threshold, my boots sliding on the polished dark mahogany floor.

​The door slammed shut behind me, the heavy brass lock clicking into place with a sound like a prison bolt firing home.

​The air in the room was suffocatingly hot, thick with the scent of crushed cedar, iron, and lethal Alpha aura. A crystal decanter lay shattered against the stone fireplace, dark whiskey dripping down the hearth like dried blood. Heavy velvet drapes were ripped half off their iron rods, throwing long, jagged shadows across the room.

​Standing in the center of the wreckage was Alpha Malakai.

​He wore no shirt, only black tactical trousers tucked into heavy leather boots. His back was to me—broad, massive, and crisscrossed with silver combat scars that caught the flickering firelight. Every muscle in his broad shoulders was coiled tight, his ribcage expanding and contracting in shallow, ragged breaths.

​"Alpha Malakai," I whispered, holding my hands over the damp, blistering burn on my chest. "You called for me?"

​Malakai turned slowly.

​My breath caught in my throat. Among the three triplet heirs, Malakai was the eldest—and by far the most terrifying. His eyes were not their usual storm-gray; they were nearly pure obsidian, his inner wolf pressing against his skin, fighting for control. A heavy gold signet ring glimmered on his right hand—the ancient Alpha Crest of the Crimson Moon territory.

​He didn't speak. He simply stepped toward me, his heavy boots making no sound against the rug.

​With every step he took, his oppressive aura expanded, washing over me in suffocating waves that forced my knees to tremble. It was the primal weight of a natural predator, a sovereign force designed to make weak omegas drop to their bellies and submit.

​I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper, forcing my spine to stay straight. I refused to bow. I had lost my rank, my father, and my home, but I would not give him my dignity.

​Malakai stopped less than a foot away. He was so tall his shadow completely swallowed me.

​His dark eyes dropped to the dripping brown stain across my collarbone. The thin linen of my uniform was plastered to my skin, transparent in places, revealing the angry red blisters forming over my collarbone.

​A sharp, dangerous growl rattled deep inside Malakai’s chest—a sound so low and primal it vibrated right through the floorboards and into the soles of my feet.

​"Who did this?" Malakai demanded. His voice was a rasping, icy blade, stripped of all humanity.

​"It was an accident, Alpha," I lied smoothly, keeping my voice dead of emotion. "A spill in the scullery."

​Malakai’s hand shot out like a strike from a viper.

​His large, calloused fingers wrapped around my throat. He didn't choke me, but his grip was unyielding, locking my head in place. His thumb pressed firmly against the sensitive skin right beneath my jawline, tilting my head back until I was forced to look directly into his dark, deadly eyes.

​"Do not lie to me, Omega," he purred, his face dropping to within inches of mine. His hot breath smelled of woodsmoke and fine alcohol. "I can smell the sweet vanilla perfume of the Beta's daughter on your skin. And I can smell Silas's slick on her. She threw it at you, didn't she?"

​I swallowed hard, the movement dragging my skin against his rough thumb. "It doesn't matter. I am an omega. She is the Beta's daughter. It is her right to discipline the staff."

​Malakai’s grip tightened by a fraction, his eyes flaring with a sudden, dark fire. "Nothing in this pack happens without my permission. She does not have the right to mark my servants."

​He lowered his head, his nose dragging along the curve of my neck, right over the raw, blistered skin where the tea had burned me. I gasped at the sudden, electric shock that surged through my nerves where his skin touched mine. It wasn't the fated mate spark—it was something far darker, a dangerous, intoxicating heat that made my heart hammer wildly against my ribs.

​Malakai inhaled deeply, drawing the scent of my burnt skin and my sweet, wild blood into his lungs. His body went dead still.

​"You smell of ash and defiance," he growled low against my ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my lobe. "Every other servant in this house grovels when I enter the room. Why don't you break, Aria?"

​"Because you've already taken everything from me," I whispered, my voice trembling with raw hatred. "There is nothing left to break."

​A slow, terrifying smile curved Malakai’s lips. It wasn't kind; it was the ruthless grin of a monster finding a new prey. He released my throat, but before I could step back, his broad hand dropped to my waist, his long fingers biting into my hip and yanking me hard against his bare, hard chest.

​The impact knocked the air from my lungs. My breasts pressed against his solid chest, the heat radiating off his body searing right through my damp uniform.

​"You think you have lost everything?" Malakai whispered, his fingers digging deeper into my waist, tilting my hips upward so I could feel the rigid, heavy length of his arousal pressing against my stomach. "You haven't even begun to suffer, little bird."

​My eyes went wide, my pulse skyrocketing as the sheer, raw heat of his body invaded every sense I had. He wasn't just a threat; he was an absolute hazard.

​Before I could shove against his chest, the heavy wooden doors of the study burst open with a loud slam.

​"Malakai!"

​Alpha Kieran—the second triplet—strode into the room, flanked by two armed guards. Kieran was the cold tactician of the brothers, his sharp face framed by raven hair, his icy blue eyes sweeping over the wrecked room before locking onto Malakai’s hand gripping my hip.

​Kieran’s eyes narrowed, a cold, lethal tension instantly snapping through the air between the two brothers.

​"Release the maid, Malakai," Kieran said, his voice clipped and devoid of warmth. "The council has convened in the main hall. The Alpha crest heirloom—the family's ancestral diamond key—has been stolen from the vault."

​Malakai didn't let go immediately. He slowly slid his hand off my hip, his thumb dragging across my bare skin above my waistband before he stepped back.

​"Stolen?" Malakai asked, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper. "The vault is sealed with blood magic. Only bloodline lineage or the master key can open it."

​"Exactly," Kieran replied, his cold eyes shifting to me. "And Guard Commander Garrett found the vault's rear passage door unbolted from the inside. Someone who had access to the upper corridors stole it less than an hour ago."

​A sudden, sharp gasp sounded from the hallway outside.

​Sienna stepped into the doorway, clutching a silk robe around her shoulders, her eyes wide with manufactured terror. Behind her stood Silas, his shirt still unbuttoned, his expression dark and dangerous.

​"It was her!" Sienna cried out, pointing a trembling, manicured finger directly at me. "I saw Aria lurking near the Alpha’s private vault corridor right after she brought my tea! She was muttering about revenge for her traitor father!"

​My blood turned to ice. "That is a lie!" I shouted, taking a step forward. "I never went near the vault! I came straight from the kitchen to the East Wing!"

​"Search her," Kieran ordered coldly, not paying the slightest attention to my protest.

​Before I could move, Silas stepped forward, his heavy hands grabbing my arms from behind, pinning them behind my back with brutal force. His chest pressed against my back, his dark, hot breath coating my neck. "Hold still, Omega," Silas growled in my ear, his grip bruising my wrists.

​Garrett stepped up to me, a cruel sneer on his face. He shoved his rough hand into the deep side pocket of my maid’s apron.

​When he pulled his hand out, something caught the morning light streaming through the high windows.

​A massive, uncut diamond embedded in ancient black iron hung from a silver chain in Garrett's fist.

​The ancestral key of the Crimson Moon pack.

​"Look what we have here," Garrett laughed, holding the sparkling heirloom high for everyone to see. "The traitor's daughter was planning to sell our pack's legacy to the highest bidder."

​"No!" I screamed, thrashing against Silas’s iron hold. "It was planted! Sienna planted it when she threw the tea on me! Check her fingers!"

​"Silence!" Kieran’s voice boomed through the room, a wave of pure Alpha command crashing down on me, forcing my throat to lock shut, choking back my words.

​Kieran walked up to me, taking the heirloom from Garrett. He looked down at me with absolute disgust, as if I were a stain on his boot.

​"Marcus betrayed our pack, and now his daughter attempts to rob us," Kieran said, his voice flat, devoid of a single drop of mercy. "Strip her of her uniform. Throw her into the open courtyard post. She will receive thirty lashes before sunset, and then she will be interrogated in the salt pits."

​Silas chuckled low in my ear, his mouth brushing my neck as he tightened his grip. "Looks like you're going to bleed today, little maid."

​I turned my head, looking desperately at Malakai. He stood by the fireplace, his dark eyes watching me intently. For a split second, I saw a flicker of something dark and unreadable in his gaze—not anger, but a lethal, possessive hunger.

​He didn't step in. He didn't stop them.

​"Take her," Malakai commanded quietly, turning his back on me. "It's obvious that what I've been searching for was also stolen by her. Such a pathetic thief. Make sure she doesn't die before she tells us where her father hid the rest of the blood seals."

​Garrett grabbed my hair, yanking my head back as Silas shoved me toward the door.

​As they dragged me out into the cold corridor toward the courtyard, Sienna smiled, a soft, triumphant laugh escaping her lips as she leaned into Silas's side.

​My heart shattered, turning to dust inside my chest. But as the freezing wind of the courtyard hit my face, a strange, burning heat flared deep within the pit of my stomach—a gold pulse of ancient power waking up from a long, forgotten sleep.