Chapter 4

Eight that evening. The steakhouse.

I pushed the door open and walked in.

Julian was sitting at the head of the long table, cutting into a plate of venison — hunted after the last patrol.

Celeste sat beside him, sipping from a bowl of broth.

When he saw me come in, Julian didn't even lift his eyes.

"Five minutes late."

He set down his knife and fork and dabbed his mouth with his napkin.

"But seeing as you've finally come to your senses, I'll forgive the rudeness."

He snapped his fingers.

A servant immediately brought out a plate of roast lamb chops — my favorite.

"Eat."

"When you're done, we'll go to the admissions center and you'll hand over the slot. Once that's done, I'll release the lock on your blood seal."

He slid a pre-printed transfer statement across the table.

Next to it, a jewelry box.

"Consider this your compensation."

"Latest moonstone necklace. You've been eyeing it for a while, haven't you?"

He leaned back, hands folded across his stomach.

Pure confidence in every line of his face.

He thought the game was over.

He thought I'd fold in the end, just like last life.

I didn't look at the necklace.

I didn't look at the transfer statement.

I pulled out a chair, sat down, and looked at him steadily.

"Julian. Do you actually think you're some kind of saint?"

"Gutting your future Luna's career to protect a little Omega bitch."

"Is that what you call devotion? You're just a goddamn fool."

Celeste went red around the eyes the moment she heard "Omega bitch."

"Ivy. How can you say that about me?"

"I never wanted to take anything from you. Julian's just being kind —"

"Shut up."

I cut her off, cold.

"Nobody asked you."

Julian's face darkened instantly.

He slammed the table. The wine in the glasses shivered.

"Ivy! Watch yourself!"

"I'm giving you a way out because of what we used to have!"

"You really think I can't live without you?"

He stood up and jabbed a finger at me.

"That slot — you're handing it over tonight, whether you want to or not!"

"Otherwise you'll never set foot in the Royal Academy for the rest of your life!"

I watched him lose it — and then I laughed.

A bitter, mocking smile.

"Julian Thorne. Don't you think a little too highly of yourself?"

I pulled out my phone and opened an email.

Then turned the screen around and slid it across to him.

"Read that."

Julian gave the screen a contemptuous glance.

And then his whole face froze.

It was an admission notice from Royal Academy central.

Crystal clear:

Applicant: Ivy Hale

Admission status: Approved. Track assignment — Tactical Command. Top-ranking candidate.

And just below my name —

Another entry:

Applicant: Damien Thorne

Admission status: Approved. Track assignment — Classified. By direct selection of the Alpha King.

The word "Classified" was printed in gold.

In the entire werewolf world, only one kind of result printed in gold.

The Alpha King's personal pick.

Crack.

Julian's wine glass slammed down on the table. The base cracked. Wine bled out of the fracture across his hand.

His face twisted with fury. His eyes were bloodshot.

"This is impossible!"

He grabbed my phone like a man possessed, staring at the text.

"I used your blood. I completed the authentication before you did!"

"There is no way you got through!"

"And Damien — there is no way he's the Alpha King's pick!"

I stood up and smoothed the wrinkles from my clothes.

I looked down at the state of him.

"Surprised?"

"You thought you had everything under control. You're just a clown."

I leaned in toward his ear.

And I said it slowly, word by word.

"Damien was never the useless nothing you all thought he was."

"That prophecy from years ago was a lie."

"The 'weak' little brother you kept mocking? He's been the Alpha King's personal protégé for years."