Chapter 2

I tiptoed through the side entrance of the Jameson mansion, heels in hand.

Just make it to my room, and I'll be out of the woods.

As I reached the stairs,

"Halt."

Arthur's frosty voice sliced through the silence of the living room.

I was rooted to the spot.

Busted.

I turned with a feigned innocent grin. "Morning, bro. Just got back from a sleepover at my friend's."

"I'd love to buy that tale." He slammed his wine glass down with a force that echoed my dread, closing in.

I did not even have a chance to bolt before he clamped down on my wrist.

His eyes raked over me, sharp as blades, pausing at the bruise on my collarbone.

Arthur's eyes narrowed to slits.

"What is this?" he quaked, "Rosalie! Who did this to you?!"

His bellow nearly tore the roof off.

My thoughts raced to a screeching halt.

What could I say? Confess to hiring a high-end male model for three grand? Admit it, I had the time of my life last night?

Impossible. Arthur would have his head, and the family's honor would crumble because of me.

I had to feign ignorance.

"I can't remember."

I looked down, summoning tears, "I overdid it with the drinks, felt so dizzy, and woke up in a hotel."

I hoped to pull the wool over his eyes.

However, I sorely underestimated Arthur's knack for jumping to conclusions.

"Drank too much? Can't remember?" His face turned stormy, "You're saying you were drugged!"

He spun around, his foot sending an antique vase flying. "The nerve to drug a Jameson! Utterly lawless!"

He whipped out his cell and hit the speed dial for the chief of police. "Seal off the city! Review every hotel cam! We're hunting down a rapist! Dig deep, leave no stone unturned until we find them!"

I was stunned.

"Bro! No need to get the cops involved!" I dove for the phone, "Look, it's not as bad as it seems, I went along with it willingly!"

"Quiet!" Arthur wrapped me in his arms, his eyes brimming with tears, "Rosalie, don't be scared. I know you're traumatized and scared to face it.

"However, I refuse to let you suffer any disgrace!"

I tried to get a word in, but he was not having any of it.

"Get the car! We're heading to the station! I'm gonna make sure that guy pays dearly!"

The Lincoln tore through the streets on the way to the station.

Arthur was on a calling spree, rallying the troops.

I curled up in the back, my heart racing.

Things escalated quickly. All I wanted was a secret fling, and then it turned into a full-blown manhunt.

My hands shook as I pulled out my phone.

Social media was in an uproar.

Top trending: #CitywideManhuntForRapist#

I tapped on the "Suspect's Blurry Image," a grainy snapshot from the hotel's front door cam.

Only his profile showed a man in a black coat with sharp, menacing features. The chill seemed to seep through the screen.

The comments were blowing up:

[OMG! Doesn't he look just like that guy?!]

[The Alpha King of Bloodmoon Wolf Kingdom, Frederick!]

Frederick.

My head spun.

The guy from last night, the one he called "baby," the one I thought was just a one-night stand.

The Wolf King?

The one from the legends, an Alpha King infamous for his hair-trigger temper and cold-blooded killings, all because he couldn't find his mate?

I was in deep trouble.

This time, seriously deep.

I did not just hook up with the Wolf King; I insulted him with a measly tip!

To top it all off, the whole police force was out there hunting him down for raping me.

I was like a mouse poking a tiger, daring him to bite.

"We've arrived." The car pulled up at the precinct.

Arthur flung the car door open, his face etched with a righteous determination that screamed, "Big bro's got this," and my heart sank.

Reporters were packed at the entrance like sardines in a can.

The chief of police, sweating bullets, came forward: "Mr. Jameson, the guy on the tape, he's not your average Joe, we-"

"Average Joe, my foot!" Arthur shot up from his seat, his voice thunderous, "I don't care if he's the president, if he laid a finger on my sister, he's toast!"

I was pinned to a chair, being grilled for my statement.

"Miss, can you give us a rundown of the suspect?"

I hesitated.

Spill the beans, and we're all toast. Spin a yarn, and maybe, just maybe, he'll slip through the net, I thought.

"He-" I gulped, spinning a tale against my better judgment, "Not too tall, pretty skinny, and, uh, thinning on top."

Arthur's frown was a deep crease beside me.

That's when all hell broke loose.

"Boom!!!"

The station's reinforced door was blasted off its hinges, hitting the ground with a cloud of dust.

"Who's there?!" Guns were drawn in an instant.

A squad of men in black suits marched in, their silence more deafening than thunder.

They were the Werewolf Guard.

Leading the pack was a man in a tailor-made suit, his tie without a single crease.

However, those golden eyes blazed with a fury that could turn the place to cinders.

Frederick.

He was there.

His eyes swept the room, finally zeroing in on me, shrinking in my seat.

I felt like prey in the crosshairs.

He straightened his tie and walked over, each step landing like a punch to the gut.

Arthur stepped in front of me, gun aimed: "Back off! You monster!"

Frederick did not even blink.

He walked past the sea of guns, up to the table, in front of the cops, the reporters, and my brother, who was on the verge of a meltdown.

He slapped down a wad of cash and a wrinkled note with a smack that echoed through the room.

"Miss Rosalie."

He said my name, his voice a mix of gravel and silk, dangerously alluring.

He leaned in, his face a masterpiece of infuriating perfection, his breath warm on my skin.

"Three thousand bucks?"

His laugh was icy, his golden eyes dancing with a deadly tease.

"That's all you think I'm worth?"