CH.1

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

A woman stepped into the cage wearing black leather, and the kind of beauty that made men forget self-preservation.

She wasn't tall, but she didn't need height to own the room. Her body was lean and lethal, all coiled muscle beneath smooth moon-pale skin and her long black hair braided tight enough to expose the sharp line of her jaw.

Her mouth was soft but her eyes weren't.

They were ice-blue and empty of mercy, sweeping the warehouse not like prey entering a cage, but like a predator counting how many fools had locked themselves in with her.

Then she smiled.

The crowd quieted.

Aurora Moonridge, (Rory), to the few people still alive who'd earned the right to use the name, stepped farther into the cage as the chain-link door slammed shut behind her.

Her 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 her up and down, then laughed.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he boomed. "They sent me a girl?"

The crowd erupted.

Rory rolled her shoulders and stayed silent.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he taunted, circling her. "Scared?"

Rory tilted her head, studying him with bored precision.

The man stepped closer, mistaking silence for weakness because men like him usually did. "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.

Rory's lips pulled to reveal a dazzling set of white teeth.

Her smile wasn't pleasant. It was the sort of smile a smarter man would've taken as a sign from God to apologize.

"Is that what your mother taught you?" she 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.

Rory began circling, forcing him to turn with her. "All that size, all that noise, and you're still desperate to prove something. Overcompensating, right?"

His eyes burned brighter at the jabs.

Rory's smile widened. "Small dick energy is tragic, but you're really making it your legacy."

That did it. The crowd lost its mind, roaring without mercy.

“Damn bitch!” The opponent was beyond irate and charged with a snarl.

Rory slipped sideways, but he was faster than expected. His backhand caught her across the face, snapping her head to the side.

Blood flooded Rory’s mouth and before she could fully reset, his fist slammed into her ribs.

Something cracked.

Pain burst through her side, sharp enough to steal her breath, but she didn't fall. Falling invited pity, and pity was just weakness wearing perfume.

"Not so mouthy now," he growled, grabbing her by the throat and lifting her off the ground. "I'm gonna teach you where you belong!"

Rory's vision blurred and her feet kicked uselessly. She had maybe ten seconds before oxygen became a serious problem. So she stopped clawing at his hand.

The big man's smile turned triumphant.

Rory rolled her eyes. She almost yelled "Idiot" as she drove her knee between his legs with everything she had.

His eyes bulged.

“I’m gonna end you, whore!” He roared, dropping her savagely.

Rory hit the ground hard, air tearing back into her lungs and out simultaneously. Her ribs screamed, face throbbed, and the crowd was shrieking for blood.

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

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

"You fucking—"

Rory’s 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 Rory swept his legs and sent him crashing flat onto his back.

Then she caught his arm, twisted, and drove her elbow down.

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

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

The big man stared up at her, and beneath the fury, she saw fear.

"Fuck you!" He spat.

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

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

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

The warehouse exploded.

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

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

Exactly what she wanted!

Pain was honest.

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

Rory counted the bundles in front of him.

"Good boy!" She 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, Rory didn't notice the red light blinking on a security camera. Even if she did, she didn't care.

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

Rory didn't slow down.

Kira caught up with her in the alley behind the warehouse, red hair wild and green eyes blazing with worry. "You've got broken ribs again."

"I like consistency," Rory said flatly.

"You need healing," Kira was exasperated.

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

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

"No."

"Rory."

"I said no!"

The alley went quiet except for the distant roar of the crowd.

Kira released her, but her gaze dropped to Rory's trembling hands.

"The suppressants are getting worse, aren't they?"

Rory's jaw flexed. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a slim silver case. Inside were three neat rows of pills.

Pretty tiny poisons for every way her mind tried to kill her.

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

"Enough."

"That's not an answer," Kira's eyes blazed with anger.

"It's the one you're getting." Rory selected one of each.

"That's too many." Kira stepped forward but Rory swallowed them dry before she could do anything.

"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!" Kira's anger cracked into fear.

Rory snapped the case shut. "No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No, Kira, you really fucking don't and I'm not having this discussion!" Rory snapped, releasing her potent Alpha aura.

"Yes, Alpha!" Kira whimpered beside herself. She hated Rory for doing this, for always using her authority to stop anyone from helping her.

Kira exhaled sharply. "Is this about the Council summons?"

The words hit harder than the punch to Rory's ribs.

"Zane told you?" Her expression closed.

"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."

Rory considered it. "That does sound like me."

"It's not funny."

"It's a little funny."

Kira stepped closer. "They're investigating the widow story, aren't they?"

Rory said nothing.

Three years ago, when rival packs had started whispering about the mateless Alpha of Shadow Moon, Rory had done what she always did when cornered.

She'd created a corpse and it had worked.

For three years, they'd called her the Widow Queen instead of the mateless Alpha.

Murderers were easier to survive than defective.

Kira reached for her again, but Rory stepped back.

"Tomorrow's going to be bad," she warned.

"Then I'll wear better shoes." Rory tucked the cash into her jacket and walked toward her black Ferrari.

Kira followed her to the driver's side. "At least let Zane go with you."

Rory slid behind the wheel, swallowing a hiss of pain when her ribs protested, and wordlessly started the engine.