CHAPTER 14

"Don't move a muscle, Princess. Seriously. One twitch and you’re a colander."

The voice buzzed through a hidden comms unit, tinny and smug. Madison stood frozen in the center of the damp alleyway. The brick walls bled moisture, smelling of sour trash and old rain. Red light pinpricked the darkness. Thirty of them. Tiny, unblinking eyes of light crawled over her leather jacket, settling on her throat, her chest, and right between her eyes.

"Austin’s cousin?" Madison spat. She didn't look up at the rooftops. "Caleb? That greedy little bottom-feeder? He always did have more money than sense."

"Caleb says hi. He also says thanks for the inheritance."

The red dots jittered. High above, the click of safeties coming off echoed like dry bones snapping. Madison shifted her weight. Her pulse slowed to a heavy, Royal thrum. The world stretched. The drip of water from a rusted pipe slowed until each bead was a glass sphere hanging in the air.

"Wrong answer," Madison whispered.

She didn't run. She exploded.

A blur of white and silver tore through the alley. Her boots hit the brick, claws ripping through the masonry as she scaled the vertical wall. The first volley of gunfire chewed up the asphalt where she’d been standing a millisecond prior. Thwip. Thwip. Thwip. Suppressed rounds hissed through the air, but they were targeting a ghost.

She reached the first rooftop before the snipers could even pivot their barrels.

Madison didn't shift fully. She kept the human form but let the wolf’s speed take the wheel. She slammed into the first shooter, a man in black tactical gear. She didn't snap his neck. She grabbed his rifle, twisted it out of his grip, and used his own zip-ties to bind his wrists to his ankles.

She leaped the gap to the next building. Three men. One pulled a sidearm. Madison kicked the gun out of his hand—the metal clattering into the darkness—and shoved him into his partner. Before they could untangle, she had them looped together with their own rappel lines.

Moving like a shadow, she cleared the perimeter. Methodical. Fast. Brutal. One by one, the red dots vanished from the alley below.

Ten minutes later, the rooftops were decorated with groaning men. They hung from fire escapes and gargoyles, wrapped in their own gear like grotesque laundry swaying in the wind.

Madison dropped back into the alley, landing silently on her feet. She walked toward the black SUV idling at the far end. The driver’s side door was locked. She didn't bother with the handle. She punched through the reinforced glass, the shards spraying like diamonds across the interior.

She reached in, grabbed the collar of the man in the driver’s seat, and hauled him through the shattered window.

Caleb Cain hit the pavement with a wet thud. He scrambled backward, his expensive loafers slipping on the slick brick. "Wait! Madi! It was just a job! I didn't mean—"

Madison stepped on his chest, pinning him down. She reached down and grabbed his right hand.

"You sent thirty men to kill me, Caleb," she said, her voice a low, terrifying purr. "That’s a lot of paperwork."

Crack.

Caleb screamed, his body arching off the ground as she snapped his index finger.

"That’s for the snipers."

Crack.

"That’s for Austin."

Crack. Crack. Crack.

She worked her way through his hand with the clinical precision of a surgeon. Caleb’s face was a mask of snot and tears, his screams muffled by the brick walls.

"Please! Stop! I'll tell you whatever you want!"

Madison leaned down, the silver in her eyes burning through the dark. She grabbed his throat, lifting his head until he had to look at her.

"I don't want information, Caleb. I want a messenger." She leaned in closer, her breath hot against his ear. "Go back to the Council. Go back to whatever's left of the Cains. Tell them the Queen is coming home. And tell them I’m bringing the fire."

She dropped him. He slumped into the shadows, clutching his ruined hand and whimpering like a beaten cur.

Madison walked out of the alley, the adrenaline still a buzzing heat in her gut. She needed to move. She needed the burn to stop. She headed toward the penthouse, her mind already on the next target.

When she entered the suite, Ethan was there. He was standing by the window, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He didn't turn around, but his shoulders went rigid.

"You're late," he said.

"I had a lot of laundry to hang," Madison replied. She shed her torn jacket, her skin still humming. She walked up to him, her eyes fixed on the back of his neck. "You knew Caleb was coming."

Ethan turned, his golden eyes scanning the blood on her knuckles. He didn't look surprised. He looked hungry. "I knew you could handle it. If I interfered, you wouldn't have learned your own strength."

"You're a real piece of work, Harper."

She didn't give him a chance to answer. She lunged at him, her mouth crashing onto his. It wasn't love. it was a collision. She needed to feel the weight of him, the grounding reality of his body against hers to stop the silver from boiling over.

Ethan’s glass hit the floor, the ice skittering across the wood. He grabbed her hair, pulling her head back as he devoured her mouth. He hiked her up, her legs locking around his waist. He carried her to the sofa, slamming her down into the leather.

He didn't waste time. He ripped her leggings down, his breath coming in ragged, heavy hitches. He took her right there, his cock a rigid, pulsing force as it rolled into her pussy. Madison’s head hit the cushions, a sharp, broken scream ripping from her throat.

"Harder!" she commanded, her fingers digging into his back, drawing red tracks down his skin.

He pounded into her, his weight a heavy, three-dimensional heat that filled her world. The leather creaked under the violence of his movements. He moved like a pounce, rhythmic and savage, his hands on her waist holding her steady as he drove into her.

The salt of their sweat mingled. Limbs tangled. It was messy, raw, and desperate. Madison felt the friction peak, a white-hot explosion that sent her vision into a blur of silver sparks. She bucked against him, her internal muscles clutching at him until he let out a guttural roar, his own release flooding her in a hot, thick rush.

Ethan collapsed on top of her, his literal weight pressing the air from her lungs. Madison lay there, her limbs shaking, her skin raw where the leather had rubbed.

The hangover of the sex was a heavy, grounding comfort. But as she looked over his shoulder, her eyes landed on the laptop on the coffee table.

A new message was blinking.

"The Council meeting is set. Midnight. The kill-switch is active."