CH.1

RORY

The underground fighting ring reeked of blood, sweat, cheap whiskey, and bad decisions.

I stepped into the cage wearing black leather and the kind of beauty that made men forget self-preservation. I wasn't tall, but I didn't need height to own the room. My body was lean and lethal, all coiled muscle beneath smooth moon-pale skin, and my long black hair was braided tight enough to expose the sharp line of my jaw.

My mouth was soft. My eyes weren't.

They were ice-blue and empty of mercy, sweeping the warehouse like a predator counting how many fools had locked themselves in with me.

I smiled.

The crowd quieted as the chain-link door slammed shut behind me.

My opponent was grinning.

He was massive, six-foot-five at least, all tattooed muscle and badly managed ego. His wolf flashed behind his eyes as he looked me up and down.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." He laughed. "They sent me a girl?"

The crowd erupted.

I rolled my shoulders and stayed silent.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He circled me. "Scared?"

I tilted my head, studying him with bored precision.

He stepped closer, mistaking silence for weakness. "You know what females like you are good for? On your knees. On your back. That's where you belong, not in a cage with real wolves!"

The crowd howled at his words, like vultures about to devour their prey.

My lips pulled to reveal a dazzling set of white teeth.

"Is that what your mother taught you?" I smirked. "Or did she just teach you how to disappoint women? Because looking at you, I'm guessing you've had a lot of practice!"

The laughter shifted, and his grin died.

I began circling, forcing him to turn with me. "All that size, all that noise, and you're still desperate to prove something. Small dick energy is tragic, but you're really making it your legacy."

The crowd lost its mind, roaring without mercy.

"Damn bitch!" He charged with a snarl.

I slipped sideways, but he was faster than expected. His backhand caught me across the face, snapping my head to the side. Blood flooded my mouth. Before I could reset, his fist slammed into my ribs.

Something cracked. Pain burst through my side, sharp enough to steal my breath, but I didn't fall. Falling invited pity.

"Not so mouthy now." He grabbed me by the throat, lifting me off the ground. "I'm gonna teach you where you belong!"

My vision blurred as my feet kicked uselessly.

I had maybe ten seconds before oxygen became a serious problem. So I stopped clawing at his hand.

The big man's smile turned triumphant.

I almost yelled "Idiot" as I drove my knee between his legs with everything I had.

His eyes bulged.

"I'm gonna end you, whore!" He roared, dropping me savagely.

I hit the ground hard, air tearing back into my lungs and out simultaneously. My ribs screamed, my face throbbed, and the crowd was shrieking for blood.

I shoved myself upright before he could recover, because in the cage, staying down was just a dramatic way of asking to die.

My opponent was on his knees, clutching himself, his face purple with rage and pain.

"You fucking—"

My boot smashed into his face before he finished, shattering his nose with a wet crunch.

Blood sprayed across the ground, dyeing it red.

He tried to lunge up, but I swept his legs and sent him crashing flat onto his back.

Then I caught his arm, twisted, and drove my elbow down.

His shoulder dislocated with a sickening pop, and his howl ripped through the underground warehouse.

"Stay down, Mr. Tiny dick!" I leaned over him, blood dripping from my split lip onto his cheek.

The big man stared up at me, and beneath the fury, I saw fear.

"Fuck you!" He spat.

"Not even if you were the last wolf on Earth, and I've met better-looking corpses!" I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

Then I kicked him in the temple, causing his eyes to roll back.

The referee rushed in, checked his pulse, and grabbed my arm. "Winner! The Iron Ghost!"

The warehouse exploded.

Cheers, boos, curses, and the frantic shuffle of money changing hands crashed against the cage.

I barely heard any of it. The adrenaline was already fading, leaving pain in its place. My cheek throbbed, my ribs burned, and every breath felt like punishment.

Exactly what I wanted!

Pain was honest.

The organizer met me near the back exit with a fat envelope and nervous eyes. "Five hundred thousand. No questions."

I counted the bundles in front of him.

"Good boy!" I flashed him the sweetest smile.

The organizer's jaw tightened, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

Above the main floor, behind blacked-out glass, I didn't notice the red light blinking on a security camera. Even if I did, I didn't care.

I walked out into the alley.

"Rory, wait!" A familiar voice called urgently.

I didn't slow down.

Kira caught up with me, her red hair wild and green eyes blazing with worry. "You've got broken ribs again."

"I like consistency."

"You need healing!" Kira sighed in exasperation.

"I need a vacation, a new liver, and for men over two hundred pounds to stop assuming they're interesting."

Kira grabbed my arm. "Stop being an ass and let me check you!"

"No."

"Rory."

"I said no!"

Kira released me, but her gaze dropped to my trembling hands. "The suppressants are getting worse, aren't they?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a slim silver case. Inside were three neat rows of pills. Pretty tiny poisons for every way my mind tried to kill me.

"How many did you take before the fight?" Kira's face tightened.

"Enough." I selected one of each.

"That's too many." Kira stepped forward, but I swallowed them dry.

"Your blood work's getting worse. Your liver enzymes are climbing, your kidneys are strained, and those pills aren't normal suppressant chemistry. They're engineered. I need to know where you're getting them!"

I snapped the case shut. "No, you don't. And I'm not having this discussion!" I released my potent Alpha aura.

Kira whimpered, stepping back. She hated me for doing this. "Is this about the Council summons?"

The words hit harder than the punch to my ribs. "Zane told you?"

"Zane's terrified you're going to walk into that building alone, insult five Elders, threaten several Alphas, and somehow turn a political hearing into a homicide investigation."

I tucked the cash into my jacket. "That does sound like me."

"They're investigating the widow story, aren't they?"

I walked toward my black Ferrari without answering.

Three years ago, when rival packs started whispering about the mateless Alpha of Shadow Moon, I'd created a corpse.

It worked. Murderers were easier to survive than defective Alphas.

I slid behind the wheel, ignoring my protesting ribs, and started the engine.

--

Sleep that night offered no peace.

Thunder rolled over the city.

My eyes moved frantically beneath my lids, my fingers twitching on the sheets as if searching for something to hold, something to fight, or something to kill.

I dreamed in white.

White walls.

White lights.

White coats.

The smell of bleach, silver, and fear. My wrists were strapped down, and so were my ankles.

Cold metal kissed the base of my skull, and something sharp slid beneath my skin with a wet, surgical pressure that made my wolf slam herself at the inside of my ribs.

"Subject Seventeen is resisting," a man said somewhere above me.

His voice blurred at the edges. Clinical, bored. Like I wasn't a little girl and choking on my own screams.

A woman leaned over me. Red mouth. Pale hair. Eyes too calm to belong to anyone with a soul.

She smiled down at me through the glare of the operating lights.

"Don't fight it, Aurora," her voice sounded so gentle. "Pain means you're still useful."

My wolf howled, trapped beneath layers of chemicals and silver.

A needle sank into my throat and fire tore through my veins.

I woke up choking.

Air tore into my lungs in ragged pieces as I lurched upright, clawing at my throat. Sweat slicked my skin and my ribs screamed.

Then I reached for the chemical fog I kept waiting beside my bed like a loyal little executioner.

My fingers fumbled with the drawer, but the first pull jammed.

"Come on," I rasped.

The second yank sent the drawer flying open. Inside, three slim metal cases gleamed beneath the moonlight.

Blue.

Red.

Purple.

I grabbed the blue one first. My hands were trembling so badly I nearly dropped it.

I popped it open, shook three pills into my palm, then hesitated for half a second.

'Too many, Rory. Your body can't keep processing this.' Kira's voice crawled through my memory.

Still, I shoved the pills into my mouth dry. They scraped down my throat like tiny stones, but it wasn't enough.

My wolf recoiled in agony and the nightmare receded.

When my hands finally stopped shaking, I reached for the embossed black envelope on the nightstand.

The Elder Council's seal glared up at me in silver wax.

I let out a harsh, broken laugh.

Of course I'd survive a nightmare about government-funded torture only to wake up to a government execution.