Chapter 1: The Last Toast

“To five years,” Seraphina toasted, then her glass slipped and poison burned her throat.

The crystal shattered on the marble. Red wine spread across the white rug like blood.

“Damian?” She clutched her neck. “Something’s wrong. Call a doctor.”

Her husband did not move. He sat calmly, swirling his own glass, like a man watching the stock market.

“No,” Damian said. “I don’t think I will.”

Claire stood up. Seraphina’s best friend since the age of eight.

“It will be quick, Sera,” Claire said.

Seraphina’s knees hit the floor. “What did you do?”

Damian pulled a folded paper from his jacket. “You signed this last month. You never read the small print.”

“That was a trust form,” she rasped. “For the company.”

“It gives me everything.”

Claire laced her fingers through his. Husband and best friend, hand in hand over her dying body.

“Why?” Seraphina choked.

“Nobody ever looked at me,” Claire said.

Blood filled Seraphina’s mouth. Damian whispered, almost gently, “It’s only business.”

The room went black.

If I get one more chance, she thought, I will burn you both to the ground.

Then pain exploded across her cheek.

“Get up, you lazy little rat!”

Seraphina gasped. Air rushed into her lungs. Cold, smoky air that smelled of onions and wet wood.

She was lying on a stone floor. A girl stood over her, golden hair, pretty face, hand raised to strike again.

“Are you deaf?” the girl snapped. “The Alpha’s dinner is in one hour and the pots are filthy!”

Alpha? Seraphina pushed herself up. Her hands were small, red, and cracked. They were not her hands.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“Did you hit your head?” The girl laughed. “I’m Celeste Voss. My father is Alpha of this pack. You’re Lyra, the wolfless omega nobody wants. Now move!”

Celeste swept out. A heavy door slammed.

“Psst. Lyra!”

A girl with bright orange hair and freckles dropped beside her. “Did she knock your brain loose? Say something stupid so I know you’re still you.”

Seraphina stared at her. “Something stupid.”

“Perfect. Still you.” The girl grinned and hauled her up. “I’m Mara, remember? Your only friend? The one who steals you honey?”

Seraphina almost smiled. Almost. Her old rule came back fast: trust no one.

“Thanks, Mara,” she said carefully.

Mara leaned back. “Also, your lip is bleeding. Try not to die before dinner, okay? I need someone to complain to.”

Seraphina touched her lip. “No promises. I already tried it once.”

Mara laughed, squeezed her hand, and hurried back to the dishes.

Seraphina sat shaking. She looked around. A huge stone kitchen. Iron pots. Three exhausted women scrubbing dishes who did not even glance at her.

A bucket of water sat nearby. She crawled to it and looked down.

A stranger looked back.

About nineteen. Gray eyes. Long dark hair in a messy knot. A bruise on her jaw. Thin. Hungry.

But the eyes were sharp. They were the eyes of a woman who had just been murdered.

“This is not a dream,” she muttered.

No, said a voice inside her head. It is not.

She froze.

Finally, the voice said. It was warm, and a little bit wild. You woke up. I am Ember. I am your wolf.

“My what?” Seraphina hissed.

Your wolf. You are in a werewolf pack, Lyra. And this body belongs to you now.

“My name is Seraphina Hale.”

Not anymore, said Ember. Seraphina is dead. I felt her die. Her last wish was loud enough to wake me.

Seraphina’s lips curved. It was not a nice smile.

“Good,” she said. “Seraphina was a fool who trusted the small print. Let me tell you her last wish. Damian Pierce and Claire Whitmore will pay.”

They are in another world, Ember said gently. You cannot touch them.

“Then I will take it out on this one.” She looked at the door Celeste had slammed. “I have been slapped once in my life. That girl will not get a second try.”

Ember made a sound like a laugh. You are not weepy at all. I like that.

“I was a CEO. I do not weep. I negotiate.” She wiped her cheek. “Teach me the rules, Ember. Fast.”

Lyra, Ember warned. Pride will get you killed here faster than poison.

“Pride is just confidence with a bank account,” Lyra said. “I will build the account.”

You are very strange.

“I am very awake.”

Rule one. You are an omega. The lowest rank in the pack. Everyone thinks you are weak because you have never shifted.

“Why haven’t I?”

Because you locked me away when you were small. You were scared. Ember’s voice softened. The girl you were is gone. But I am still here.

“Rule two?”

Above omegas are warriors. Above warriors, the Alpha. And above every Alpha in the land sits one wolf. The Alpha King.

“Name?”

Kael Draven. Six foot four. Silver eyes. They say he kills without blinking and has never smiled at anyone. Ember hesitated. He is also the only man in the world whose word could crush this pack.

Lyra’s brain clicked into place, the way it used to before a hostile takeover. Every empire has a throne. Every throne has one man.

“Then that is where I am going,” she said softly.

Where?

“To the top. I was betrayed by the people I loved, and I am alive for one reason. Revenge. To get it, I must survive in a world of wolves.” Her gray eyes glittered. “And I need the most powerful man in it to fall for me.”

Ember went silent for one stunned second.

You want the Cold King to fall in love with a kitchen girl?

“I want him to beg,” said Lyra.

Lyra, he is dangerous.

“So was my husband.” She stood. Her legs wobbled, then steadied. “At least this time I know who the enemy is.”

She grabbed the scrubbing brush. If she was going to play this game, she needed to survive tonight first.

Good, said Ember. Then start by surviving the next five minutes.

“Why?”

Because Celeste just ordered something to be sent to your cot. Ember’s voice dropped. And it smells exactly like the wine that killed you.