Isolde POV:
The world came back to me in fragments of cold and light.
The memory of the limousine ride was hazy-Austen handing me a glass of sparkling water that tasted like bitter almonds.
Now, I was waking up on a hard, transparent surface.
I tried to sit up, but my head swam. I blinked, my vision clearing. I was in a box. A glass box, roughly eight feet by eight feet, situated in the center of the club's grand ballroom.
Panic, sharp and immediate, clawed at my throat. I scrambled to my knees, my hands pressing against the glass. It was cold. Ice cold.
"Austen?" I called out. My voice sounded muffled, bouncing back at me.
Beyond the glass, the ballroom was filled with people. The elite of the Blackwell Pack, business partners, wealthy humans in the know. They were all holding champagne flutes, looking at me. Not with concern, but with the detached curiosity of visitors at a zoo.
And there, standing on a raised platform just outside my cage, was Austen.
He looked magnificent in his tuxedo, holding a microphone. His arm was wrapped possessively around Debra's waist. She was wearing a red dress that looked like spilled blood, diamonds glittering at her throat-diamonds that belonged to my mother.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," Austen's voice boomed through the speakers, though I could only hear it muffled through the thick glass. "Welcome to the dawn of a new era."
I pounded on the glass. "Austen! Let me out! What is this?"
He didn't even look at me. He addressed the crowd. "For too long, the Blackwell Pack has been held back by outdated traditions. By weak bloodlines that hide behind ancient names."
Debra giggled, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Look at her," she mouthed, pointing a manicured finger at me.
I realized then what the floor of the cage was. It wasn't just glass. Beneath the transparent floor, I could see coils. Cooling coils. And vents.
"Tonight," Austen announced, "we mourn. We have received confirmation from the Elders." He paused for dramatic effect. "The Supreme Alpha, Ezra Warner... my beloved father-in-law... is dead."
The world stopped.
No. Not Dad. He was just in hiding. He was testing Austen. That was the plan. He couldn't be dead.
Dad! I screamed into the mental void, throwing my mind out as hard as I could. Daddy, please! Austen has gone mad! He's hurting me!
Silence. Just the roar of the crowd applauding Austen's ascension.
But then... faint, like a radio signal from a dying star... a vibration.
...hold on... my little wolf...
It was him! He was alive! But he was far away, too far to help me now.
"With Ezra gone," Austen continued, his voice rising with arrogance, "The Blackwell assets and the Alpha power transfer to me. But a true Alpha cannot be tied to weakness."
He finally turned to face me. His eyes were dead.
"Isolde Blackwell," he said, his voice projecting so everyone could hear. "You claim to be royalty. You claim to be strong. But look at you. Trapped. Scared. You can't even Shift, can you?"
He was right. I tried to call upon my wolf, to break my bones and reshape into a beast that could shatter this glass, but nothing happened. The glass... it was treated. And the cold.
"Let's see how much royal blood can withstand," Austen sneered. He signaled to someone off-stage.
A vent hissed open in the ceiling of the glass box.
"Let's cool her down," Debra laughed, her voice carrying through the glass. "She was complaining about the heat, wasn't she?"
Icy air, visible as white mist, began to pump into the cage. It wasn't just air conditioning. It was industrial coolant.
"Austen!" I screamed, the cold instantly biting into my skin. "The baby! You're killing your son!"
He just raised his champagne glass to me. "To the Nolan Pack," he toasted.
"To the Nolan Pack!" the crowd echoed, though I saw a few elders exchange uneasy glances as they drank.
