2

AMIRA

(Three Years Later)

For the third time in the last hour, Victor's hand brushed against my ass.

Accidentally.

At least that was the excuse.

There was no point glaring at him anymore. No point shoving him away either. Every time I did, he flashed a dirty grin and mouthed a fake apology.

Sorry.

The act was only for the customers. Or at least the ones who didn't know who I was.

When nobody was watching, Victor never bothered pretending.

No apology.

No shame.

Nothing.

He didn't think I deserved one.

Most people didn't.

Swallowing my irritation, I bent down and pulled a bottle of wine from the cooler beneath the bar. By the time I stood up, my smile was already in place.

"Our chicken caprese sliders go really well with this wine," I told the customer sitting across from me.

The cork came free with a soft pop.

After filling his glass, I slid the menu closer.

"Caprese, huh?" he muttered.

His eyes moved over me slowly.

The wolf inside him was close enough to the surface that I could almost feel it.

Not that it mattered.

Everyone was stronger than me.

Everyone.

Still, he wasn't foolish enough to put his hands on me.

This wasn't his territory.

He didn't know who I was.

And right now, he was a customer.

I was just the bartender.

"This place used to be a simple cheeseburger joint."

"Yep." I tapped a red nail lightly against the wine glass. "Back then we only served beer."

A small smile touched my lips.

"But now you're drinking wine and looking at our new menu."

I nodded toward the kitchen.

"Our cook can do amazing things with chicken."

Even if he was a complete asshole.

"If that's too fancy for you, we can always throw in a basket of greasy fries."

The customer snorted.

"Fair enough, sweetheart."

His gaze stayed on me.

"Don't think I've seen you around before. What's your name?"

"Amira."

Turning toward the register, I started entering his order.

"I've worked here for three years."

"Three years?" His brows rose. "Guess it's been a while since I've stopped by."

He leaned forward.

"You one of Derrick's wolves?"

My fingers slipped.

The register beeped.

Wrong button.

Under my breath, I cursed and fixed the mistake.

Then I took a slow breath.

"I sure am."

Derrick Nightfang.

Owner of the Silver Fang Inn.

Alpha of the Obsidian Fang Pack.

My Alpha.

Most wolves loved their Alpha.

They followed him.

Protected him.

Believed in him.

The Obsidian Wolves were no different.

To them, Derrick was larger than life.

The men wanted his respect.

Wanted to stand beside him.

The women wanted him in their beds.

Actually, if the stories were true, plenty of them already had.

Now they wanted more.

They wanted the title that mattered.

Mate.

Too bad for them.

Derrick Nightfang already had one.

Me.

A truth neither of us enjoyed.

"Hard to believe he'd keep a pretty thing like you hidden away in a place like this," the customer said.

His nose twitched.

"I barely smell any wolf on you."

The urge to roll my eyes was hard to ignore.

Another male.

Another fool.

One more wolf who thought a female existed for his entertainment.

"I like my little corner of the world."

The lie slipped out easily.

At the same time, I shifted away from Victor's wandering hands.

Truth was, the tavern wasn't terrible.

Compared to the life I'd lived before, it was almost peaceful.

The problem wasn't the building.

The problem was that it used to be run by a good man.

When Gareth Holloway managed the Silver Fang Inn, he had done something most male wolves never bothered doing around a girl like me.

He kept his hands off me.

More importantly, he made sure everyone else did too.

But Gareth was gone.

Two weeks now.

Two weeks since he died.

The loss still sat heavily in my chest.

There hadn't even been time to grieve properly.

Too much time was spent dealing with Victor and the other assholes around here.

Before I could move again, Victor stepped closer.

His arm wrapped around my waist.

He pulled me against him.

Every muscle in my body tightened.

"She's Rowan Kingsley's daughter," Victor said.

The name hit like ice water.

Cold spread through my chest.

Across from me, the customer's eyes widened.

Interest immediately lit his face.

"Is she?"

Of course he knew the name.

Everybody did.

Even after three years, Rowan Kingsley was still remembered as the monster of the Frostpeak Mountains.

The Alpha who ruined his own pack.

The Alpha who kidnapped.

Who killed.

Who failed over and over again.

Until he took three children.

And stole the wrong girl.

People still hated him.

Because of him, they hated me too.

Most of them knew why Derrick hadn't killed me.

I was his mate.

The woman chosen by his wolf.

The woman fate had tied to him.

People acted like that meant something.

As if fate made everything beautiful.

What a joke.

Derrick didn't keep me alive because he cared.

He kept me alive because prisoners were useful.

Three years ago, he brought me here and practically threw me into the tavern.

Back then, the place was a disaster.

Dirty floors.

Sticky tables.

Broken chairs.

Even drunk customers looked nervous sitting down.

That night, Gareth met Derrick outside.

The older wolf already looked tired and worn down by life.

Derrick said a few words.

Then he left.

No goodbye.

No second glance.

Nothing.

For a while, I thought he had given me away.

Handed me over like unwanted property.

Instead, Gareth put me in Amira's Loft upstairs.

Then he left me alone.

Days turned into weeks.

Weeks turned into months.

Six months passed with me wondering what I was supposed to do with my life.

Eventually, work became easier than thinking.

So I focused on the tavern.

Little by little, things changed.

A year later, the place looked completely different.

Traveling shifters stopped here regularly.

Obsidian Wolves came through.

Other wolves came through too.

Some came for the food.

Some came for the drinks.

Many came because they were curious.

And plenty came just to make my life miserable.

"I heard Derrick let her live," the customer said.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"You paying for your father's crimes, little girl?"

Anger flashed through me.

My wolf stirred beneath my skin.

I shoved her down.

Hard.

When his hand reached toward me, I grabbed the knife beside him.

The blade slammed into the wooden counter.

Right beside his finger.

The customer jumped.

His hand disappeared instantly.

"First," I said quietly, "I'm not a little girl."

Fear flickered across his face.

Good.

"If that's your fantasy, tell me now and I'll gladly show you how much of my father I inherited."

The color drained from his cheeks.

"Second, there is absolutely nothing that would make me spread my legs for you."

The room seemed to go still.

"Do you understand?"

"Amira."

Victor's growl cut through the silence.

His grip tightened.

"Is that how you treat customers?"

His hand slid over my hip.

That was enough.

Turning sharply, I drove the heel of my palm straight into his nose.

A sick crack echoed through the room.

Blood poured instantly.

Victor stumbled back.

His growl deepened into something dangerous.

When he looked at me again, his eyes burned gold.

Wolf.

Dominance.

Power.

"On your knees," he roared.

"Now."

The command hit me like a physical blow.

My wolf surged forward.

Fear exploded through her.

Old fear.

Deep fear.

The kind that never truly healed.

Before I could stop it, my knees hit the floor.

My head lowered.

My neck exposed itself.

Submission.

Not mine.

Hers.

Still, I kept her trapped inside.

I always did.

She wasn't free.

Neither was I.

"Bitch."

Victor's voice dripped with cruelty.

"Beg for mercy."

Tears burned my eyes.

I tried pushing my wolf back.

Tried fighting her panic.

But Rowan had broken her years ago.

Broken her until she feared everyone stronger than her.

Broken her until obedience became instinct.

Broken her until she couldn't fight back.

And when she took control, I was dragged down with her.

"Forgive me," I whispered.

The words tasted like poison.

"Please."

The front door opened.

Victor looked up immediately.

The customer did too.

I couldn't see who had entered.

I didn't need to.

My wolf already knew.

She trembled.

A soft ache spread through her.

Need.

Longing.

Want.

Every part of her reached for him.

It took everything inside me not to climb over the counter and throw myself at him.

No other man's touch felt right.

No other man's scent affected her this way.

Only his.

The cruelest part?

Derrick Nightfang hated me.

Every bit as much as I hated being tied to him.

My life really was a joke.

A cruel one.

A chair scraped against the floor.

Then silence settled over the room.

Derrick sat at the bar.

Without hurry, he pulled the knife from the wood.

His thumb brushed over the deep mark it had left behind.

Then his gaze lifted to mine.

Cold.

Sharp.

Impossible to ignore.

"Hello, Amira."

A faint smile touched his lips.

It wasn't warm.

It wasn't kind.

If anything, it felt dangerous.

"I see you've settled in quite nicely."