Prologue

Prologue

Trisha POV

“No! How could you betray me!?” My voice was a raw, desperate thing, swallowed by the suffocating darkness. The face before me was a smudged, shifting horror, a monster made of shadow. It moved faster than thought, a blur of motion, and a laugh echoed around me—a sound that vibrated in my bones, chillingly familiar.

“But you’re mine. You’ve always been… mine.” The words were a physical caress, a possessive whisper that made my skin crawl. I ran. My lungs burned, each breath a ragged, painful gasp. A heavy weight around my midsection, a solid, rounded pressure, pulled at me, an anchor trying to root me to the spot. I felt its breath, hot and foul, on the back of my neck. Fingers, tipped with what felt like claws, grasped my wrist, ripping into my veins—

I gasped, a violent, silent scream, as I shot upright in bed. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Cold sweat slicked my skin, and my hands flew instinctively to my stomach, clutching the phantom curve there, the ghost of a weight that had held me down. Only… I wasn’t pregnant. Couldn’t be. I was a virgin.

The dark shapes of my room slowly resolved themselves into familiar furniture. My bed. My dresser. The window. I was safe. It was just a nightmare. I dragged in a shaky breath, trying to calm the frantic thrumming in my chest. But that laugh… it didn’t just echo; it seemed to coil in the corners of my bedroom, a spectral presence that made the air feel thick and heavy. Why did it feel so real, so known?

I lay back down, my head sinking into the pillow, but my eyes refused to close. That’s when I saw them. A pair of eyes, glowing with a faint, malevolent crimson light in the darkest corner of the room. They weren’t human. I froze, my breath caught in my throat. I blinked, and they were gone. Just my imagination. The dream, messing with my head. It had to be.

Elsewhere…

Gavin POV

The sharp, double knock on the library doors was an intrusion I felt more than heard. It pulled me from the comforting embrace of an ancient history tome; the scent of vellum and dust a fading perfume. I looked up as my father’s butler entered with a silent, deferential bow.

“My apologies for the disruption, My Lord. The King requires all the Princes’ presence in his conference quarters… immediately.”

I raised a single brow. The hour was late, the moon a silver sliver in the sky beyond the arched window. Whatever my father wanted, it was not a social call. I closed the heavy book with a soft thud, the sound a final period on a chapter of peace I wished would never end. This library was my sanctuary, the only place in this gilded cage where the centuries felt like a comfort rather than a sentence. But a summons from the King was a summons from fate.

I stood, the weariness of a thousand years settling into my bones. I was the Crown Prince, marked by destiny from birth, but I refused the crown. I would never be King. The thought of ruling, of being mired in the frivolous, mundane squabbles of modern politics, was a fate worse than death. I’d seen empires rise and fall. I’d watched mankind claw its way from the mud, only to build new, more elaborate cages for itself, lit by screens and governed by fools. None of it was worth the price of my freedom.

I walked the long, tapestried halls, my footsteps echoing on the cold, polished stone. I preferred the history I read—the times before kings and laws, when supernatural beings walked the world openly, without restriction. A time when our power was absolute, our presence known. A raw, brutal, but honest era. Not this gilded cage where my brothers postured and preened like peacocks, their feathers as empty as their heads.

I knew what this meeting was about. Another trivial dilemma, another political fire for me to extinguish. I had made it my life’s work to be the worst possible heir, a monument of arrogance and apathy, hoping my father would see reason and pass the burden to one of my five brothers.

I reached the great oak doors of the conference quarters and paused, taking a moment to compose my features into the mask of indifference I wore so well. I couldn’t risk my brothers being sent to drag me here by force. I turned the heavy brass knob and entered.

As usual, they were all waiting. My five brothers, seated around the long mahogany table, their expressions a mixture of impatience and irritation. My father, the King, sat at the head, his gaze as heavy as the crown he wore.

“Late, per usual,” Zenith, the youngest, sneered.

I rolled my eyes and took my seat beside Ronan, my eldest brother, ignoring the jibe.

My father cleared his throat. “Glad you could finally join us, Gavin,” he said, his voice laced with disapproval. “I have summoned you because an urgent matter has come to my attention. A report from the Central Province of the Western Multus District.”

“The district with that Rogue Human?” Aster, one of the twins, cut in, his interest piqued.

My brow furrowed. “Rogue Human?” I repeated, the term tasting like a riddle.

“For someone who drowns himself in ancient books, you know nothing of the present world,” Zenith mocked.

“That’s the point, imbecile,” I retorted.

“Ahem,” my father’s voice cut through our bickering like a blade. “As I was saying, the report explains why that province has been silent for two decades. The Noble Families have been succumbing to a strange ‘plague.’ It appears without warning and vanishes just as quickly, sterilizing any survivors and leaving them in vegetative states. The survival rate is less than one percent.”

The twins and Kyle, my younger brother, inhaled sharply. Zenith looked pale. Ronan’s eyes narrowed to slits.

My father continued, his voice grim. “It doesn’t spread to the lower-ranked pack members. These are targeted attacks. Murders. The last wave obliterated the remaining Nobles last night. The packs are now leaderless. This is a direct threat to the throne. You will all go. Each of you will take your brigade, insert yourselves as Alphas, conduct investigations, and report back to me. We must find the source and eliminate it.”

I slouched in my chair, a familiar resentment coiling in my gut. So we were to be glorified governors. Just great.

“Now, onto the Rogue Human,” my father said, his gaze settling on me. Of course. “Gavin, you will govern the Red Lily Acres Pack. The Rogue Human resides there. She is a threat to our secrecy, a risk of exposure. You know how lethal that would be.”

I scoffed, unable to help myself. “If she is such a threat, why not simply eliminate her? Problem solved.”

The reaction was instantaneous and shocking. My father, a man of stoic calm, slammed his fist on the table, the crack of skin on wood making everyone jump. He rubbed his creased forehead, a gesture of pure frustration.

“We’ve tried!” he roared.

I blinked. *Tried?*

“Tried?” I repeated, sitting up straight. My father, the unshakable King, was… worked up over a human?

“Yes, tried, you numbnut!” Kyle elbowed me.

I elbowed him back, harder.

“This human is not like any other,” my father continued, his voice lowering but losing none of its intensity. “She is unaffected by any creature’s presence or aura, regardless of rank. She lacks basic human self-preservation. She is defiant, rebellious to an extreme. She has taken on full-grown lycans, vampires, even demons, without hesitation.”

My interest, despite myself, was piqued. A human immune to auras? Unheard of. A flicker of something dark and predatory stirred in my gut, an ancient instinct long dormant.

“And somehow,” my father added, “no matter who has tried to tame her or slay her, they have failed. She overpowers them, slips away unscathed, all while remaining completely oblivious to our very existence. The reports are unanimous: their auras did nothing. Their own abilities seemed unwilling to manifest against her. The most anyone has ever achieved is wounding her.”

My mouth fell open. It was impossible. A human, a fickle, feeble creature, achieving such feats? “Then she isn’t human,” I stated logically, my mind already beginning to turn the problem over, examining it from every angle. “That much should be obvious.”

“You’re wrong, brother,” Ronan growled, his voice low and serious. “We have investigated every possibility. She is completely oblivious to the supernatural world. Blood samples, tests, spells… she is, without a doubt, human. Just… an extremely dangerous one.”

I stared at him, then back at my father. My mind raced, scouring centuries of history. Nothing. No record of such a human. Those who came close had been… eliminated.

“Then what do you expect me to do, Father, if all of you have failed?” I challenged, my eyes narrowed.

His gaze met mine, and I saw it then—the calculation. “We have not exposed her to a Royal aura,” he said, the words a deliberate suggestion.

I arched a brow. “That wasn’t an answer.”

“I want you to put that vast knowledge of yours to good use. Your stubborn rebellion, your patience… you are the only one of my sons who can handle her. Perhaps your compassion for their feeble kind can finally tame her.” He was using my own nature against me.

I clenched my jaw. But I would be lying if I said the challenge didn’t fascinate me. A puzzle no one else could solve. A creature that defied the very laws of nature as I knew them. And if there were two things in this world I couldn’t resist, it was a chance to prove myself superior to my brothers, and a good, long hunt.

Leaving the palace was a bonus.

“Fine,” I growled, the word tasting of victory. “I accept. I will tame this Rogue Human.”

My father smiled, a slow, triumphant curve of his lips. “Excellent. You leave at the next full moon.” As he began assigning the other packs to my brothers, his voice faded into a dull hum in my mind. I was already plotting. In a quick, silent mind-link, I commanded my Beta. *Jim. Gather the brigade. Pack for a long stay. We leave at dawn.*

If they wanted me to tame the Rogue Human, then tame her I shall. I would study her, dissect her, break her down piece by piece, until she was mine, and mine alone.