Chapter 1

The rough stone floor of the study bit into my knees through the thin linen of my tunic. My hands, calloused and mapped with fine scars from years of forced labor, pushed the heavy scrub brush across the grand oak floorboards.

In the Ironfang Pack, I was worse than a servant. I was a Null, a wolf without a beast, a nameless shadow tolerated only because Alpha Dracon’s official wife, Lysandra, delighted in having a royal punching bag to contrast against her golden daughter, Cressida.

I paused, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my forearm. Beneath the edge of my brush, a line in the wood looked off. The grain did not align.

My silver eyes narrowed. I had scrubbed this floor every morning for five years. I knew every splinter, every knot in the oak.

Resting my palm flat against the timber, I pressed down. A faint click echoed through the silent room.

The edge of a floorboard popped upward by half an inch.

I glanced toward the heavy mahogany doors of the study. The hallway was quiet, save for the distant laughter of Cressida down in the courtyard.

Working quickly, I hooked my fingers under the raised board and pried it free.

Hidden in the hollow dark beneath lay a bundle wrapped in dark silk.

I lifted it out. The silk fell away to reveal a thick stack of parchment bound with silver thread and stamped with fresh red wax seals.

I broke the first seal.

The handwriting was unmistakably Alaric’s, sharp and arrogant. But these were not military reports or pack ledgers. They were poems. Explicit, desperate, feverish letters addressed to Cressida.

My sweet Luna, let her scrub the floors while I taste your lips in the shadows. She believes she holds my fated mark, but her soft neck belongs only to my blade...

My heart slammed against my ribs like a trapped bird. My fingers trembled, but my face remained dead marble.

I did not cry. Tears were a luxury for girls who had someone to comfort them.

I flipped to the bottom scroll, breaking the final black wax seal. My eyes scanned the archaic script, and the room seemed to lose all air.

It was an ancient blood-pact ritual.

The Null child carries the unawakened core. On the eve of the winter solstice, her blood will be drained upon the altar of the trial. Her life force shall transfer entirely to Lady Cressida, granting her the strength of two wolves and securing Alpha Alaric’s absolute dominance over the territory.

The date at the bottom was tonight.

"You always were too curious for your own good, Vesper."

A cold voice cut through the stillness.

I turned my head slowly. The grand doors of the study were already closed.

Standing by the threshold was Alaric, his tall frame blocking the sunlight, a cruel smile curling his handsome lips.

Beside him stepped Cressida, dripping in velvet and jewels, her arm wrapped possessively around Alaric’s elbow.

Behind them stood Alpha Dracon, his heavy eyes cold and unfeeling, flanked by his wife, Lysandra.

"You weren’t supposed to find those until you were already bound to the altar," Cressida purred, stepping forward with her chin tilted high.

"Though I suppose it doesn't matter now. A servant doesn't get to choose when she serves her masters."

I slowly stood up, tucking the scrolls tightly against my ribs. I calculated the distance between myself and the balcony window behind me.

Ten paces.

A three-story drop into the rose garden.

"You slept with my sister while promising me the fated bond," I said, my voice eerily calm, cutting through the heavy air of the room.

"And you plan to murder me to cover your incompetence."

Alaric sneered, drawing a long, silver-tipped dagger from his belt.

"You have no wolf, Vesper. You are nothing. Your blood is the only valuable thing you possess, and you should be honored that it will serve your sister’s greatness."

"Grab her," Alpha Dracon barked, his voice booming like thunder. "The solstice sun sets in an hour. We perform the ritual now."

Alaric lunged forward, his Alpha pressure washing over the room in a crushing wave designed to force a wolf to their knees.

But I had no wolf to crush.

I dodged sideways, throwing the heavy scrub bucket directly at Alaric’s face. Soapy water splashed across his eyes, blinding him for a split second as he cursed violently.

I bolted toward the balcony, but Lysandra moved with sudden, unnatural speed, cutting off my exit with a silver rod in hand.

Dracon caught me from behind, his giant fist clamping around my throat, cutting off my breath instantly.

"Pathetic to the very end," Dracon growled in my ear, dragging me backwards as Cressida laughed, clapping her hands in delight.

I thrashed, my fingernails digging into Dracon’s wrist, but my weak human body was no match for an Alpha.

As darkness began to creep into the edges of my vision, my silver eyes locked onto Alaric, who was wiping the soapy water from his face, his eyes burning with toxic fury.

I did not beg.

I did not scream.

I simply stared at them, imprinting every single face into my mind as the air left my lungs completely.