I barely finish breakfast, a sad bowl of stale cereal, when the knock comes. It’s not polite, not hesitant. Three sharp thuds that rattle the front door.
Nathan’s men again.
“The Alpha requests your presence.” One says flatly.
I glance down at my pajamas and then back up at him. “Does he take appointments, or are we doing surprise therapy sessions now?”
The guard doesn’t blink. Wolves under compulsion never do. “Now.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let me grab my crown.”
I take my time changing, mostly because I know it irritates them. Every second of delay feels like a small rebellion.
The packhouse looks even colder in daylight. All steel edges and silence. The walls that used to hum with life, laughter, and shifting energy are now sterile and rigid. Nathan’s wolves patrol the halls, motionless unt
