Ivy POV:
I needed armor. Not Kevlar, but silk and velvet.
I stopped at the most exclusive shopping district in Chicago. I needed an outfit for tonight—something that screamed 'money' and 'power.' Something that would make Ainsley feel like the cheap imitation she was.
I was browsing a rack of designer clothes for Leo—little jackets with protective runes stitched into the lining—when my ears pricked up.
Footsteps.
Not shoppers. These were heavy, deliberate steps. Three men.
I didn't turn around. I kept examining a tiny blue vest.
"Ivy."
The voice was familiar, but it lacked the warmth a brother's voice should have.
I turned. Dexter Dillard, my older brother, stood there. He was flanked by two Silver Lake warriors. They looked out of place among the perfumes and jewelry, their cheap suits straining at the shoulders.
Dexter looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot, and he smelled like stale coffee and anxiety.
"Dexter," I said coolly. "You look like hell."
"You have to come with us," Dexter said, his voice low. "Now. Father is furious. The Elders are convening a trial."
"Fast work," I mused, glancing at the warriors. "Did Clayton call in my license plate number, or did he just follow the limo?"
"Clayton told us everything," Dexter hissed, confirming my suspicion. "You made a mistake coming back to this city."
"A trial?" I laughed. "For what? Surviving?"
"For desertion! For faking your death!" Dexter looked around nervously to see if anyone was watching. "Just come quietly, Ivy. Don't make a scene."
I turned back to the clothes. "I'm busy."
"Ivy!" Dexter stepped forward. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Ainsley... when she heard you were alive, she collapsed. She's heartbroken! She's sick, Ivy. She's so fragile."
I spun around, my patience snapping.
"Fragile?" I stepped into Dexter's face. "The woman who stole my mate and watched me bleed out in the snow is fragile?"
"She didn't know!" Dexter lied. "We all thought you were dead!"
"Liar," I said. My voice was calm, but deadly. "Five years ago. That night. I was freezing. I was dying. I reached out to you, Dexter. Through the link. I screamed for you."
Dexter's face went white.
"I felt you," I whispered. "I felt you hear me. And then... you blocked me."
The warriors behind him shifted uncomfortably. Blocking a pack member in distress was a serious violation of the Wolf Code. It was cowardly.
"Father ordered it," Dexter whispered, his voice trembling. "He said... he said if you were rejected, you were a shame to the family. He ordered us to cut the link."
"And you listened," I said. "You chose your daddy's approval over your sister's life."
"I had no choice!"
"We always have a choice," I said.
Dexter reached out to grab my arm. "We're leaving. Now."
My white wolf snarled. I could rip his throat out right here. It would be self-defense. But that was too easy. I wanted to break them slowly.
I sidestepped his grab seamlessly.
"I will come," I said, smoothing down my coat. "Not because you ordered me, but because I want to see the look on Donnell's face."
I tossed the blue vest to the sales clerk and handed her a black credit card—the kind with no limit.
"Keep this for me," I told her.
I turned back to Dexter.
"Lead the way, brother," I said, my smile not reaching my eyes. "But remember one thing: it's easy to invite a predator into your house. It's much harder to get them to leave."
