C3

“Zaria, don't pretend you weren’t assessing my throat as a target the second we entered this chamber.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Kael. I’m just a girl trying to navigate a marriage I never asked for.”

“A girl doesn't have calluses on her trigger finger as you do. A girl doesn't track the movement of my jugular while I’m taking off my coat. You’re an Okoye. Your bloodline didn't just rule with silver; they ruled with steel. Now, are you going to take off that pathetic wig, or do I have to help you?”

“Touch me, and you’ll find out exactly how much steel is left in my veins.”

“Is that a challenge? Because in the Adebayo Dominion, we don't back down from those.”

“It’s a warning. Stay on your side of the room.”

“The room belongs to me, Zaria. And technically, so do you. Let’s see what’s behind the curtain.”

The air in the Hidden Chamber turned electric. I felt his presence not just as a man, but as an Alpha surging through the space between us. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, but it wasn't fear. It was the thrill of the hunt. My mother’s voice echoed in my head: Twenty years, Zaria. Keep the beast caged. But the cage was rattling.

As his hand reached for the edge of my veil, my body moved before my mind could authorise the strike. I pivoted, my palm cutting through the air in a sharp, stinging arc aimed right for his jaw.

Crack.

He didn't flinch. His hand caught my wrist mid-swing, his grip like iron bands.

“Nice form. A bit slow, though.”

“Let go of me, you arrogant mutt!”

“Not until I see my wife’s face. The real one.”

With a swift, surgical jerk, he didn't just pull the veil—he hooked his fingers into the mesh of the wig I’d worn since I was a child. The pins tore at my scalp, and then, with a flourish, the heavy, matted chestnut hair tumbled down. It cascaded over my shoulders like a dark waterfall, shimmering in the moonlight filtering through the high windows.

I felt exposed. Raw. The mask I’d lived in for fifteen years lay on the floor like a dead animal. I stood there, panting, my eyes locked onto his.

“Well? Is the monster everything you dreamed of?”

“The only monster I see is the person who told you to hide this. You’re not scared, Zaria. You’re… dangerous.”

“I’m a disaster. Ask the Mensah Clan. They’ll tell you I’m a curse.”

“The Mensah Clan are scavengers. They wouldn't know a Queen if she bit their heads off. But I know. I can see the porcelain beneath the dirt. Your skin… It’s flawless.”

“Flawless skin doesn't win wars, Kael.”

“No, but the woman hiding behind it might. Why the charade? Why the ugly makeup and the stuttering act? You’ve been playing the fool while they fed you scraps.”

“Scraps keep you hungry. Hunger keeps you sharp. I was waiting for the right moment to bite back.”

“And you think marrying into the most feared Mafia pack in the Ridge is your opening?”

“It wasn't my choice! The registry—!”

“The registry is a symptom. Someone wants us together. Or someone wants us to kill each other. Either way, it’s a fascinating development. Tell me, Zaria, do you know how to howl?”

“I know how to scream. Is that what you’re looking for?”

“I’m looking for the truth. Earlier, you called me ‘darling.’ You played the doting bride just to watch Amara’s soul leave her body. You enjoyed it.”

“I won’t lie. Watching her face turn that shade of purple was the best birthday gift I’ve ever had.”

“Then keep that energy. Because my grandfather has sentries at the door. He’s old-school. He believes an Alpha needs to seal the bond on the first night to ensure the lineage is secure.”

“He can believe whatever he wants. I’m not touching you.”

“I don't think you understand. If those guards hear silence, they’ll assume I’ve rejected you. In our world, a rejected bride is a dead bride. They’ll dispose of you before dawn to clear the way for a ‘purer’ match.”

“So what? You want me to fake it? To put on a show for the help?”

“I want us to survive the night. And if that means making a little noise, then we make noise.”

“You’re a pig.”

“I’m an Alpha. There’s a difference. Now, give me a reason to stay interested.”

Before I could retort, he lunged. It wasn't a romantic gesture; it was a tactical tackle. He slammed his weight into me, and we tumbled onto the massive bed. The silk sheets felt like ice against my skin. I struggled, my hands finding his chest, pushing against the solid wall of muscle that felt more like stone than flesh.

“Get off!”

“Make me.”

He leaned down, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of my neck. I felt the vibration of his low, rumbling chuckle against my collarbone.

“They’re listening, Zaria. Give them something to report.”

“I’ll give them a funeral! Get. Off!”

I managed to hook a leg behind his and roll, but the weight of the wedding gown—that diamond-encrusted monstrosity—was like a lead weight. He pinned my wrists above my head, his eyes burning with a dark, predatory mirth.

“You have fire, little wolf. I like fire. It makes the cold nights in the Ridge more bearable.”

“I’ll burn your whole Dominion down, Kael. I swear it.”

“I’ll provide the matches. But for now… scream.”

He reached down and gave my waist a sharp, agonising pinch. It caught me completely off guard.

“AH! You bastard!”

I thrashed beneath him, the sound echoing through the heavy oak doors. Outside, I heard the faint shuffle of boots, a muffled whisper, and then the receding rhythm of footsteps heading down the corridor.

Kael didn't move. He stayed hovering over me, his scent—cedar, rain, and something ancient—filling my lungs. The room was silent now, save for our synchronised breathing.

“There. They’re gone. You can stop acting like you want to murder me now.”

“I wasn't acting about the murder part.”

“I know. That’s what made it so convincing. You’re flushed, Zaria. Is that anger, or is the Okoye blood finally waking up?”

“It’s irritation. Now, if you’re finished playing house, I’d like to get out of this dress.”

“By all means. I’ve seen enough of it anyway. It’s loud, gaudy, and it doesn't fit your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

“They’re the colour of a storm before the lightning hits. Very distracting.”

He let go of my wrists and stood up in one fluid motion, the grace of a predator evident in every muscle. I didn't wait. I scrambled off the bed, clutching the bodice of the gown as I made a beeline for the dressing chamber.

“Don't think this changes anything, Kael! We are married in name only!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mrs Adebayo!”

I slammed the door and turned the lock. The dressing chamber was a cavern of black marble and rows of designer tactical gear—not exactly the wardrobe of a standard socialite. I ripped at the zippers of the gown, the diamonds clattering to the floor like hail. I kicked the dress into a corner and grabbed the first thing I saw: a sleek, black compression tracksuit.

It felt like a second skin. I pulled my hair back into a tight knot, wiped the remaining grime from my face, and looked in the mirror. For the first time in fifteen years, I recognised the girl looking back. She looked ready for war.

I grabbed a ceramic blade hidden in the lining of a nearby coat—a habit of a girl who lived in a Shadow Den—and tucked it into my waistband. If Kael thought he was getting an obedient pet, he was in for a very bloody surprise.

I unlocked the door and stepped back into the bedroom, my footsteps silent.

“Alright, Kael. Let’s set the ground rules for this ‘marriage’—"

I stopped. The room was empty. The balcony doors were wide open, the curtains billowing in the frigid night air of Valoria Ridge.

“Kael?”

I moved to the balcony, my hand on the hilt of my blade. The moonlight illuminated the sprawling estate below—the training grounds, the fortified walls, and the dark silhouette of the forest where the wolves ran.

“Looking for me?”

I spun around. He was sitting on the railing of the balcony, three stories up, looking completely unbothered by the drop. He had changed too—into a dark tactical shirt that showed the swirling black tattoos of the Adebayo lineage on his arms.

“You move quietly. I’m impressed.”

“I’ve had practice. Where are the guards?”

“I sent them to the perimeter. I told them my wife was… exhausted. You look much better in black, by the way. It suits the assassin vibe you’ve got going on.”

“I’m not an assassin.”

“Not yet. But you’re an Okoye. It’s in your DNA to be a weapon. Tell me, Zaria, do you know why your mother really died?”

The question hit me like a physical blow. My breath hitched. “She died in a fire. The Mensahs told everyone I started it.”

“The Mensahs lie as easily as they breathe. There was no fire, Zaria. There was a raid. Your mother was protecting a formula—a serum that could force a shift even in a human. The Adebayos wanted it. The Mensahs stole it. And you… You were the collateral damage.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because my father was the one who led the raid. And your father was the one who let him in.”

The world tilted. Tade? My father? Had he betrayed her?

“You’re lying. You’re just trying to get in my head.”

“I don't need to be in your head, Zaria. I need you on my side. There’s a coup brewing in the Dominion. My grandfather is old, and the other clans think I’m too cold to lead. They want a puppet. They wanted Amara because she’s easy to control. But you? You’re a wildcard. You’re a ghost from a bloodline that should be dead.”

“So I’m a weapon for you to use against your enemies?”

“I prefer the term ‘partner.’ We have the same enemies, Zaria. The people who killed your mother are the same people trying to take my throne. We stay married, we find the formula, and we burn the Mensah Clan to ash. What do you say?”

“And what do you get out of it, Kael? Aside from a wife who wants to stab you?”

“I get a Luna who actually knows how to fight. And maybe, if we’re lucky, I get to see what happens when an Okoye finally stops hiding.”

I looked out at the dark woods, the weight of the ceramic blade against my hip a comfort. The life I knew was gone. The girl in the Shadow Den was dead.

“I want Tade Mensah’s head on a silver platter.”

“I’ll give you the whole clan. Do we have a deal?”

“One more thing, Kael.”

“What’s that?”

“You ever pinch me again, I’m taking your hand.”

He laughed—a genuine, dark sound that echoed into the night. “Deal. Now, get some rest. Tomorrow, we start the hunt.”

“Wait. If we’re partners… who really put our names in that registry?”

Kael’s smile faded, his eyes turning toward the moon. “That’s the one thing I don't know. But whoever it was… they’ve just started a war they aren't prepared to finish.”

I watched him leap from the balcony, disappearing into the shadows of the estate with a grace that made my own wolf stir in the depths of my soul. I wasn't Elliana Marsh anymore. I wasn't the ugly orphan of the Mensah Clan.

I was Zaria Okoye. And Valoria Ridge was about to find out exactly why my bloodline was royal.

I retreated into the room, locking the balcony doors. I didn't go to bed. I sat on the floor, the ceramic blade in my hand, and waited for the sun to rise. The Mafia world of the werewolves was a labyrinth of blood and lies, but for the first time in fifteen years, I had a map.

And I was going to follow it all the way to the top.