LOGINMarlowe's hands were shaking before she'd even taken the letter from Serah's fingers, Priya's name landing in her chest like a struck match, hope and terror tangled too close together to separate."How," she managed. "How does she even know where to send something? How did anyone get this past your walls?""It wasn't delivered past our walls," Serah said carefully. "It was found at the northern gate an hour ago, tucked into the collar of a hawk that dropped dead the moment the guards approached it. We don't know who sent the bird. We only know the handwriting matches a sample Ronan's man collected from your apartment this morning, when he went to look in on her."Ronan's expression had gone tight and unreadable, watching Marlowe unfold the paper with hands that wouldn't quite steady.The handwriting was Priya's, unmistakably hers, looping and hurried in the way it always got when she was scared. *Marlowe — if this reaches you, please, please tell me you're alive. A man came to the apa
"Who is that?" Marlowe asked before Ronan had even fully crossed the room to her, her attention caught by the man standing just inside the doorway, blood drying dark along his forearms, watching her with an intensity that had nothing to do with concern and everything to do with something colder.Ronan's jaw tightened. "Alaric. A member of my council." He didn't look back at the man, though his voice carried an edge meant clearly for him as much as for her. "He wasn't invited into this room.""I came the moment I heard rogues breached the courtyard," Alaric said, stepping further inside despite the obvious lack of welcome, his eyes never leaving Marlowe. "Forgive me for assuming the safety of the king mattered more than protocol. Though I see now the real danger tonight had very little to do with wolves at the gate.""Careful," Ronan said, low, a warning Marlowe felt more than heard."I'm simply observing what the entire pack will be asking by morning." Alaric's gaze flicked over Marlo
The horn sounded before Ronan could say another word, low and urgent, cutting through the tension in the room like a blade dropped from the ceiling.Every line of his body went rigid at once, gold eyes snapping toward the tall windows behind him, and Marlowe felt the temperature of the entire room shift with him, whatever conversation about Priya had been building between them instantly buried under something far more immediate."Stay here," he said. "Do not leave this room.""What is that sound?"He was already moving toward the doors, and the last thing she heard before they slammed shut behind him was one word, thrown back over his shoulder like a warning he hadn't meant to give her."Rogues."The doors had barely shut before Marlowe was pulling on them. Locked. Of course they were locked, because apparently promises about consent and handled problems only extended so far as it was convenient for him. She pressed her palm flat against the carved wood and listened, straining to catc
Marlowe woke to silk sheets and the wrong ceiling.For one long, disoriented breath she thought she was still dreaming, because nothing about the room made sense against the last thing she remembered. Stone walls stretched high above her, threaded with old wood beams that looked older than the country she'd grown up in. A fire cracked low in a hearth big enough to stand in. The bed beneath her was massive, soft in a way that felt obscene compared to the mattress she'd been sleeping on for the last three years, and none of it belonged to her.She sat up so fast her head spun, and the memory slammed back into her all at once. The bar. The man with the gold eyes. His arms closing around her and the world tilting sideways until the darkness took everything else."Ronan," she said out loud, testing the name like it might explain what had happened to her.The room didn't answer. She was alone, still dressed in the same clothes from the club, her robe gone somewhere between then and now. She
Marlowe knew the rules. Don't make eye contact. Don't linger. Smile enough to earn the tip, not enough to earn trouble. The man in the back booth broke every rule she had. He wasn't watching her body. He was watching her like he already owned it.The bar smelled like spilled beer and cheap cologne, same as every Friday night for the last eight months, but something underneath it had changed the second he walked in. She'd felt it before she saw him, a pull low in her stomach she mistook for nerves until she turned and found him already looking at her, unblinking, like he'd been waiting his whole life for exactly this moment.He didn't belong here. That much was obvious from the cut of his coat, the stillness in the way he sat, the way the regulars at the bar seemed to shrink without knowing why. He was tall even sitting down, dark hair pushed back like he hadn't bothered with a mirror, and his eyes were a shade of gold that had no business existing outside a filter. Marlowe had seen ev







