It’s been months—or more accurately about six months—Mack says the Gamma tournament is tomorrow. We’ve settled into a routine he and I, between breakfast and the beatings, and in his own weird way, I think he enjoys our time together. He even sneaks Liza in to visit me sometimes and has been bringing me books and snacks from her. The two of them keep me updated on what’s going on with the pack and keep me sane. I worry it may be the end of him or both of them, but I can’t bring myself to tell him to stop either. Those small moments, trifles of life, they’ve carried me through. I thought it would kill me that first week, being here in the Alpha’s version of solitary confinement, and to be fair, it nearly did. It’s odd what time can make normal, make you accept. This is my life now, and I’ve come to accept it. I dream sometimes of my children, the person I was before, but deep in my soul I just hope they’re safe and have found happiness. James too. I forgive him for abandoning me here

I awake to the sound of my cell opening. I must have drifted off the sleep for a while—not long I think. The tiny electric sun above me still buzzes. Two warriors sway through my door, skunk drunk from the smell of them. One stumbles as he swings around examining my space catching himself on the wall. Laughter ensues.His eyes settle on me as I move to sit up. “Ah, there she is,” he slurs. “Prettier than I thought,” the other one comments, “for the unfuckable wolf in cell six.” The stumbler laughs again. “But she’s a killer, Harry,” he says in a bad English accent. Both laugh at that.I watch as Charlotte drops from her corner web, startled by the slamming of the cell door. I regret it when one of them seems to notice my attention isn’t on him. He follows my line of sight and jumps back when he sees her just over his left shoulder.“Christ!” he exclaims. His friend laughs at him and mocks itsy bitsy spider hands as he sing-songs, “Oh, the big bad spider’s gonna come down the spout and

I squint as the light above me in my new cell clicks on, stirring me awake. I groan. I’m still exhausted. My sleep was restless, and I had trouble falling asleep. My mind almost immediately begins playing the events of the night before over again, the same thoughts that prevented me from getting any rest. My shifted form. I wasn’t a wolf. I was bigger, stronger. A bear? Was I a bear? A big fucking bear if so. Werewolves can’t shift into anything else. What am I? Is it the fae blood? I wasn’t even sure that was true, but how else could I become something else? I don’t know much about hybrids. No one does outside the council. They’re so often slaughtered before they reach maturity. Interspecies breeding is forbidden. The resulting offspring can be unpredictable, dangerous. I’m dangerous. What few that survived have wreaked unspeakable havoc if the stories are to be believed. But then, the Alpha here. He’s a hybrid. Why was he allowed to live? I scoff to myself. He has wrought unspeaka

Between my limited time out of the dungeon, the trip to the ballroom, and the walk to Andrew’s quarters I feel like I have a rough idea of the floor plan of the pack house, or at least enough to make it out a door with Liza and any girls she can gather. I concentrate on drawing mental maps as Andrew stops to unlock his door. “Don’t expect a ride over the threshold,” he notes as he swings the door open for me, “You’re not my mate or my wife, but I expect you to respect her someday.” I don’t answer him but allow him to lead me inside when he places his hand on the small of my back and pushes gently. This is more than just a room. It’s a house within a house. The entryway leads into a living room with furniture that likely costs more than my whole property, and on the far side I see a hall that leads to what looks like a bathroom, bedroom, and likely an office—there are three doors. Andrew slips off his jacket and pulls a set of keys from his pants, throwing them in a tray by the door.

I stretch as the morning light hits my face, feeling well-rested for the first time in what feels like ages, and jump, nearly falling off the bed, when I see the Alpha sitting near my feet, intently watching me. The corners of his mouth turn up slightly, nearly a smile.“Good morning,” he says, not moving. I shrink away from him, pulling the covers up to my chest as if their soft down filling will act as a shield from whatever he’s here for. He just continues to stare, and it’s too awkward to stay like this, so I stand up, grabbing a glass of juice he’s left on the side table beside a tray of fruit, eggs, and sausage. His eyes follow me.“Whose room is this?” I ask to break the silence. The faint smile on his face fades. “Your predecessor. You actually look quite like her asleep,” he says softly. There’s a longing in his tone. I want to get away from him, yet I also want to talk to him, know more about the girl whose ring I found, and maybe it’s just the good night’s sleep talking, bu