Chapter 117

Disbelief clawed at me as Marcus delivered the news. Ayra, dead? The infuriating, rebellious she-wolf who had dared to poison her alpha? The woman who'd been replaced so easily in my mind by the fiery defiance of my true mate, Vesta?

"Autopsy," I barked, the word a growl in the sterile silence of my office. Dead was dead, but the cause… suspicion gnawed at me. Marcus, bless his ever-observant soul, suspected foul play.

Ayra, despite her defiance, had been a pawn in this game. A pawn I didn't mourn, but a loose end nonetheless.

With a curt nod of dismissal, I left Marcus to his grim task. My steps were heavier than usual as I headed for the holding cell where Dom remained a captive. The news of Ayra's death wouldn't affect him, not directly. But it might be a useful tool.

The scent of stale sweat and fear hit me as I entered the small, sparsely furnished room. Dom, his back turned to me, was pacing like a caged wolf. A growl rumbled in my chest, a visceral reaction to his defiance.

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