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"You're here late."
I freeze. The lockbox is open in my hands, my father's journal right there under the letters, and Cade's standing in the doorway like he materialized out of smoke.
"Fixing the shelf," I say. My voice comes out flat. Bored. "It was tilted."
He doesn't move. Just watches me with those sharp gray eyes that make my skin crawl. He's still in his training gear, shirt soaked through, hair tied back. Not his father. His father was all rage and teeth. Cade thinks. That's what makes him dangerous.
"At midnight," he says.
"It was bothering me."
He steps inside. Closes the door behind him. My pulse kicks up but I keep my face blank. The knife strapped to my thigh burns through the fabric. Six years I've carried it. Six years I've waited.
This could be it.
He crosses the room and I step back, putting the shelf between us. He stops on the other side, looking down at the lockbox I didn't quite close. For a second I think he's going to drag me to the cells. End this whole thing before I get my shot.
Instead he reaches past me and shuts it.
His arm brushes mine. I feel the heat of him through my sleeve.
"You should be resting," he says. "Tomorrow's the Blood Rite."
Like I could forget. The whole pack's been buzzing about it for weeks. Every unmated wolf over eighteen has to show up. It's supposed to be sacred. Mostly it's just an excuse for Cade to flex his authority and for the ranked wolves to get drunk.
"I'll rest when I'm done."
He's still too close. I can smell him now. Sweat and smoke and something sharp and wild that makes my wolf stir for the first time in months. She's been quiet. Broken, maybe. Or just smart enough to know we can't shift without blowing our cover.
"Sienna."
I hate the way he says my name. Like it means something.
I look up. Mistake. His eyes are locked on my face like he's trying to read something written there.
"What," I say. Not a question.
His hand comes up. I tense, ready to grab the knife. But he doesn't grab me. Just reaches out slow and runs his thumb along my jaw.
Right over the scar.
I stop breathing.
The scar's small. Barely visible. I got it the night Ironridge attacked. One of his father's wolves dragged me out of the burning packhouse by my face. I was ten. My father died trying to reach me.
Cade's thumb is rough and warm and I want to bite it off.
"You never told me how you got this," he says quietly.
My hand's already moving.
Six years of waiting and every single second of rage I've swallowed comes rushing up my arm. The knife's in my palm and the tip's an inch from his heart before I even register what I'm doing.
He doesn't flinch.
That's what stops me. He just stands there with my blade pressed to his chest and looks at me like he's been expecting this.
"Do it," he says.
My hand shakes. After six years, it finally shakes.
"I've seen you watching me," he continues. His voice is low. Almost gentle. That makes it worse. "For months. You look at me like you want me dead."
"Everyone wants you dead."
"Not like you."
The knife's still there. I just need to push. One thrust and it's over. Ironridge loses its alpha. I get my revenge.
But then what.
I don't have an answer and my hesitation costs me. He moves fast. His hand closes around my wrist and twists. Not hard enough to break. Enough to make me drop the knife. It hits the floor with a clatter that sounds too loud.
We're standing too close now. His other hand's still on my jaw and I realize with a sick jolt that he's not angry.
He's curious.
"Who are you," he says.
"No one."
"Liar."
I try to pull away but his grip tightens. Not painful. Just firm. My wolf snarls in the back of my head and I shove her down.
"Let go," I say.
"Tell me the truth."
"I'm an omega. I clean your floors. That's the truth."
His eyes search mine and I see the exact moment he decides I'm hiding something. But before he can push, a sound cuts through the air.
The Blood Rite bell.
It rings three times, deep and resonant, echoing across the whole territory. Calling every wolf to the ritual ground. Cade's head snaps toward the window. His grip loosens.
That's when it happens.
The wind shifts. I feel it through the open window, cool night air flooding the room. And with it, my scent. My real scent. The one I've been masking with wolfsbane and ash for six years.
Cade goes completely still.
His nostrils flare. His eyes snap back to me, wider now. Stunned. His hand drops from my wrist like I burned him and he takes a step back.
"No," he says. It comes out rough. Choked.
I don't understand. Not until I catch it too. Under the smoke and leather, there's something else. Something that makes my wolf lunge forward so hard I actually stumble.
Mate.
The word slams into my head and I taste blood. I bit my tongue. Cade's staring at me like I just ripped his world in half and I can't breathe. Can't think.
Not him.
Not the son of the man who killed my father.
The bell rings again.
"You're—" He doesn't finish. Just stands there looking at me like I'm a ghost.
I should run. Grab the knife and disappear into the forest. But my legs won't move. My wolf's howling now, clawing at the inside of my skull, screaming at me to go to him.
I'm going to be sick.
"Tomorrow," Cade says finally. His voice is raw. Wrecked. "Tomorrow at the Rite. You'll stand with the unmated wolves."
It's not a question.
I don't answer. Can't. I just stare at him and he stares back and the space between us feels like it's full of broken glass.
"If you run," he adds quietly, "I'll find you."
Then he turns and walks out. Leaves me standing there with my knife on his floor and his scent in my lungs and the absolute certainty that everything I've planned for six years just went up in flames.
The bell rings a third time.
I pick up my knife. My hand's still shaking. I need to leave. Need to find Mira and figure out what the hell I'm going to do. But I can't stop staring at the door he just walked through.
Mate.
My wolf purrs the word like a prayer and I want to scream.
Instead I walk out. Down the servant's corridor. Into the night. The Blood Rite ground's already filling with wolves. I can hear them gathering, laughing, howling at the moon.
Tomorrow I was supposed to kill him.
Tomorrow I'm apparently going to stand in front of the whole pack while the bond tries to drag me to the one man I've sworn to destroy.
I make it to the edge of the forest before I throw up.
When I'm done I wipe my mouth and look up at the sky. The moon's full. Fat and white and watching.
"Thanks," I mutter.
She doesn't answer. She never does.
I turn toward the servant quarters. Mira's probably already asleep but I don't care. I need to tell someone before my head explodes. Need to say it out loud so maybe it'll stop feeling like a nightmare.
But when I round the corner I stop short.
Someone's standing outside my door.
Not Cade. Smaller. A woman. She's wearing a cloak with the hood up but I can see the edge of her face in the torchlight. Pale skin. Dark lips. She turns her head and looks right at me.
"Sienna Thornwood," she says.
No one's called me that in six years.
I reach for my knife but she raises a hand.
"I'm not here to hurt you," she says. Her voice is soft. Almost kind. "I'm here to offer you a choice."
"I don't know you."
"No. But I knew your father."
My heart stops.
She steps forward and the torchlight catches her eyes. They're gold. Not yellow. Gold. Like coins.
"The bond you just discovered," she says, "doesn't have to be a chain. There are ways to break it. Ways to take back what was stolen from you."
I don't move. Don't breathe.
"Who are you," I whisper.
She smiles. It's not a nice smile.
"Someone who hates Ironridge as much as you do," she says. "Meet me tomorrow night. After the Rite. The old oak past the north border. Come alone."
"Why would I—"
"Because if you don't," she interrupts, "the bond will take root. And when it does, you'll forget why you ever wanted him dead."
She turns and walks away. Just like that. Disappears into the shadows like she was never there.
I stand outside my door for a long time. My hand's on the knife. My wolf's still howling. And somewhere across the packhouse, I can feel him.
Cade.
My mate.
The man I'm supposed to kill.
I close my eyes and lean my head back against the door.
"Tomorrow," I whisper to no one.
The moon doesn't answer. But somewhere in the distance, a wolf howls. And then another. And another.
The Blood Rite's coming.
And I still don't know