Prologue

Grace

“So, where’s the little runt?”

It wasn’t just the words but the smug, cutting tone that made Grace cringe inside. Caspian McCloud didn’t need anyone to tell him where she was; the second he crossed their front door, he already knew.

He was a werewolf, for crying out loud, and not just any werewolf, but the alpha’s son. He probably caught her scent halfway down the driveway.

Why he even cared to acknowledge her existence was beyond her. She still couldn’t wrap her head around why he and her adoptive brother were such good friends. What made it worse was the way Austin acted like Caspian’s every move was pure gold, like the guy could do no wrong.

It drove her absolutely insane. But what power did she have to stop it? In pack rank, she was basically a ghost. She was only counted as part of the pack out of pity because of her so‑called “handicap,” as her adoptive parents politely named it.

They were just being kind. She was broken.

“Where else do you think?” she heard Austin reply.

Perched at the kitchen breakfast bar, Grace forced every scrap of self‑control not to whirl around and snap at the pair of them. She might not have a wolf to shift into, and her hearing wasn’t as sharp as theirs, but it was good enough to catch every word.

 Lately, Austin had started copying Caspian, tossing little jabs her way like it was a game. She got it—Caspian was the future alpha, and Austin was expected to show loyalty. But she still had the overwhelming urge to smack her brother.

“Studying again, Gracie Grace?” Caspian’s voice drifted to her, soaked in that annoying mix of mockery and fake sweetness.

She could practically feel his eyes burning through the open archways, first from the hallway, then the den, and finally into the kitchen where she sat.

Why on earth didn’t I sit at the dining table instead? Grace scolded herself, her whole body tightening. She clamped her mouth shut, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing she heard him. Slowly and carefully, she pushed her headphones deeper into her ears.

The faint, muted world that followed was bliss. Her already weak wolf hearing was even duller now, and for a fleeting few moments, she had peace from Caspian’s relentless teasing. She bent over her math worksheet, trying to force her brain to focus, but numbers were never her strong suit. And right now, her head wasn’t in it at all.

Every few minutes, her eyes flicked to the clock above the back door, dreading the inevitable moment when Austin and Caspian would stomp into the kitchen for some fake reason, a drink, a snack, just to bother her.

When the moment finally arrived, she couldn’t decide which shocked her more: the sudden yank of her earphones or Caspian standing there all by himself.

“Did you seriously not hear me?” he demanded, his dark chocolate eyes narrowing. His wild, raven‑black hair was its usual disheveled mess, and that signature cocky grin curled on his lips.

Nearly every she‑wolf in the pack swooned over Caspian’s looks, the keyword being “nearly.” Grace was the exception. Sure, he was somewhat handsome, but not enough to justify the way girls practically drooled whenever he walked by. To her, he was nothing but an aggravation in human form. Someone she’d prefer never to look at.

And yet, standing there across the breakfast bar, she couldn’t peel her gaze from his. At nineteen, he was only a year older than her, but his constant taunting made him feel like a full‑grown child trapped in a man’s body.

“Oh, right, silly me,” he snickered, tilting his head with feigned innocence. “Your wolf doesn’t even bother to guard you. Are you sure it’s even in there?”

He stretched out a hand and jabbed his finger right into the middle of her forehead.

Grace clenched her jaw tight. Even without her wolf, the urge to growl surged up in her chest. She’d tried before, every attempt ended in some pathetic sound that embarrassed even her.

“Leave me alone, Caspian,” Grace hissed under her breath, glaring up at him. She knew it was foolish, she was supposed to bow her head, submit like every other wolf. But she was done. His teasing had always been constant, but ever since she turned eighteen, it had escalated into something harsher, longer, more pointed.

Why, she couldn’t say. But she knew she was finished tolerating it.

“Aww, Was that a command, your royal runtness?” Caspian burst out laughing, his gaze glimmering with cruel amusement.

Grace’s fingers clamped down on the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening. It was like she could almost feel phantom claws prickling beneath her skin, as if her wolf was just barely out of reach, closer than it had ever been before. But no matter how desperately she tried to summon it, it stayed locked away, silent.

Instead, she shot up from the stool, spinning to face the alpha’s son head‑on. The instant she did, regret slammed into her chest. Caspian towered over her by at least a foot, broad shoulders and lean, solid muscle making him look like pure danger wrapped in a smug grin.

Like a striking viper, he lunged. His hand clamped around her throat, and he drove her backward into the refrigerator with brutal force. The handle jammed against her spine, sharp pain flaring up her back. She bit into her bottom lip, choking down the scream clawing its way up her throat.

The sting faded almost as quickly as it had hit, replaced by the suffocating pressure of Caspian’s body pressing flush against hers, trapping her in place.

Where the hell is Austin? her thoughts spiraled, panic fluttering in her chest. Why is he letting Caspian do this to me?

But that thought evaporated the second Caspian’s thumb brushed along the underside of her jaw, slow and deliberate.

“You know,” he murmured, voice dark and teasing, “for a worthless little wolf, your skin is…unbelievably soft.” His gaze followed the path of his own thumb, and for one dizzying moment, Grace swore she saw a flicker of something, like longing. Maybe even hunger.

A shiver raced down her spine, her whole body quaking under his hold. Still, she forced herself to speak, forcing the words through the tightness in her throat. “Take… your hands… off me,” she snapped, every syllable shaking with defiance.

His fingers loosened just enough. Grace didn’t hesitate. She shoved both palms against his chest with everything she had. Caspian staggered back a step, surprise flashing in his dark eyes.

“You might be the alpha’s son,” she spat, straightening her shoulders, “but that doesn’t give you the right to touch me!” Her head jerked around the room. “Where the hell is Austin?”

“What’s wrong, Gracie?” Caspian’s smirk widened, predator‑like. “Scared to be alone with the big, bad wolf?”

“Ha!” Grace barked out a humorless laugh, masking the tremor in her chest. “You? You’re nothing but a spoiled puppy.”

A hard lump lodged in her throat. Her voice was sharp, but inside, her heart was pounding with terror. She had no idea what Caspian might do next, what he could do and walk away untouched because of his last name.

“Your dad called,” he said casually, stepping in closer again, crowding her space until the air between them was nothing but heat and tension. “He sent Austin to drop something off for him.” His fingers rose to brush a loose strand of her strawberry‑blonde hair behind her ear, slow, intimate. “Which means… we’ve got at least twenty minutes. Plenty of time for a little fun.”

His eyes locked on hers, heavy with something dark and magnetic. Seductive. Dangerous. Grace’s stomach flipped, a storm of disgust, fury, and an emotion she refused to name twisting inside her. Instinct took over, and she shoved him again, harder this time.

“Stay away from me!” she snarled, voice cracking with a mix of fear and rage.

“What’s the matter?” Caspian tilted his head, his tone dripping with mockery. “Afraid you might enjoy it? I bet under all that attitude, you’re a wild little thing in bed. No wonder your wolf doesn’t show, you weren’t meant to be a wolf. You were born a lioness.”

The insult hit like a slap. Acid churned in her gut. Cat shifters were second-rate shifters at best, and wolf shifters loathed them. His calling her a lioness was no compliment at all, no matter how he tried to veil it as one.

“You bastard!” Grace roared, fury finally breaking free. Before she even processed the movement, her hand whipped out and cracked across his face in a stinging slap.

For a heartbeat, she felt victorious. Then his fingers snared her wrist, iron‑tight. A sick realization crawled over her skin. He’d let her hit him. He’d wanted it.

“I’ll give you that one,” he growled, voice a low rumble in his chest as he wrenched her arm across her body and forced her backward again. “But it’s the last one you’ll ever get.”

And then his mouth crushed against hers.

A violent rush of emotions detonated inside her, rage, loathing, frustration, and something far more dangerous: raw, forbidden desire. It clawed its way up from the pit of her stomach, fed by every terrible, tangled feeling she had for him.

Without thinking, driven by heat and hate, she ripped her hand free, grabbed his face in both palms, and kissed him back, hard. She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and bit down until the metallic tang of blood coated her tongue.

“Bitch!” Caspian snarled, shoving her by the throat again, eyes blazing.

Panic and passion swirled into a reckless, intoxicating mix, making her feel lightheaded as he yanked at her clothes, tearing at the barriers between them.

That night carved a jagged scar into Grace’s future. One reckless, vicious, burning encounter would follow her like a shadow for the rest of her life. But she didn’t know it yet.