CHAPTER 6

"Grab her," Mason barked.

Nikolai, his Enforcer, didn't hesitate. He stepped into the strobe lights, snatched me by the waist, and heaved me over his shoulder like a kill from a hunt.

"Let go! What the hell? Mason!" I thrashed, my fists drumming against Nikolai’s back. My silver silk dress rode up, exposing the pale skin of my thighs to the crowded club. "Please! My sister!"

Mason didn't even look back. He carved a path through the sea of shifters, his presence so suffocating the crowd parted like a wounded beast. Nikolai gave me a sharp, bone-rattling shake. The air left my lungs in a pathetic whimper. I went still, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his shoulder blades.

Not a single soul moved to stop the King of the West Coast from dragging a female out into the salt-thick night.

His black SUV sat idling at the curb. Nikolai tossed me into the leather interior—hard—and slammed the door. The locks engaged with a heavy, metallic snick. Mason rounded the hood, his movements fluid and lethal, and slid into the driver's seat.

He peeled away from the curb, the tires screaming against the asphalt. He didn't look at me. His jaw was set, a hard line of granite in the dim dashboard glow.

"Where..." My voice was a wrecked whisper.

Mason’s eyes flicked to me—cold, forest-green fire. I recoiled into the door, my pulse jumping at the sheer weight of his stare. I forced my spine straight. "Where are you taking me?"

He stayed silent, weaving through the midnight traffic of the Territories.

"Let me out," I rasped. "Dean still has Harper. I don't know what that pig is doing to her!"

Nothing. Just the low hum of the engine.

"Please," I tried again, my hands shaking in my lap. "I didn't mean to cut you. I didn't mean anything at the Unit. Just let me go."

"You didn't do anything," he growled, swinging the wheel into a dark side street.

"Is this for a den?" The thought hit me like a physical blow, making my stomach roll. "Are you throwing me to a brothel to pay Harper’s debt? To work off the moon-gold she owes?"

Mason slammed his palm against the steering wheel, a dark, jagged laugh escaping his throat. "Why would I waste you on a den, Rowan?"

"To break me. To disfigure the Aldridge blood you think I have."

He shook his head, eyes back on the road. "You’re too delicate for the dens, little wolf. You wouldn't last a night."

I didn't wait for him to change his mind. My hand dove for the floorboards, snatching up the lighter Harper had dropped earlier. Click-flick. The flame jumped to life, orange and hungry.

I held the fire inches from my cheek. The heat scorched my skin, the scent of singed peach fuzz filling the cabin.

"Pull over," I commanded, my voice vibrating with a terrifying edge.

"Rowan!" he roared.

"Stop the car! Or I swear to the Moon, I’ll ruin the face you’re so intent on owning!"

"You little idiot!" Mason slammed on the brakes.

The SUV screeched, fishtailing across the wet pavement. I flew forward, my ribs barking against the dashboard with a sickening thud. I collapsed into the footwell, the lighter clattering away as the world spun.

Mason threw the car into park. He lunged over the center console, his teeth bared in a snarl. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

I huddled on the floor, clutching my side, my eyes squeezed shut against the pain. "If I'm just a bargaining chip... if I'm just a body for the dens... I’ll make sure I'm worth nothing to you."

Mason's jaw worked as he reached for a steel box under his seat. He didn't argue. He moved with the clinical efficiency of a predator. He soaked a cloth in a sharp, chemical-smelling liquid.

His hand clamped onto the back of my neck, his fingers digging into my hair to hold me still. My eyes snapped open, wide and terrified, as he pressed the rag over my face. I thrashed, clawing at his wrists, but he was a mountain of muscle and fur.

"Sleep, Rowan," he whispered.

The world turned to gray smoke. My limbs went heavy, sinking into the floorboards until the darkness swallowed me whole.

Mason gripped the wheel, his cut palm stinging as he pulled back onto the main road. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the tiny silver blade he’d taken from me. It felt fragile in his massive hand.

An edge, he thought, a grim smirk tugging at his mouth. She has an edge.

At a red light, he caught the glint of engraving on the razor's spine. He held it up to the dashboard light.

To my sharp-tongued Elaine, whose spirit cuts deeper than this steel. Yours always, Victor.

The air left Mason's lungs.

Elaine. Victor. Rowan.

The pieces of the Syndicate’s greatest mystery clicked together with the force of a landslide. He looked down at the girl unconscious on his floor. She wasn't just a psychologist. She wasn't just a stray.

She was the lost heir. The blood of the Northern Territory.

The world came back in fragments.

The car was gone. The smell of cedar and salt remained. I opened my eyes, blinking against a soft, amber glow. My head felt like it had been kicked by a mule. I tried to sit up, but the warmth of the room pressed me back down into the silk sheets.

Where was I? This wasn't a cell. This wasn't a den.