Alana POV:
"We'll find it," Austen said, voice laced with a frantic edge. He was on his knees, searching under the bed. "Rings don't just vanish."
"Leave it," I said. "It's just metal."
He stood up, dusting off his suit. "It is the symbol of our union."
"Our union is a hole in my hand, Austen."
He flinched. He hated reality. He preferred his delusion of 'atonement.'
"Get dressed," he commanded. "We are going out. I bought you something."
He drove us to the city. High-end district. Jewelry stores. Boutiques. He bought bags of designer clothes, trying to bury the guilt under silk and leather.
"Look," he said, holding up a blue dress. "Matches your eyes."
"My eyes are gray," I said. "That dress is turquoise."
He ignored me. "We're going to the Grand Auction House. There's a piece... I want you to see."
He almost slipped. He was taking me to buy a gift for Joyce.
The auction house was crowded. We sat in a private box. Joyce was there, hooded, in the corner. She waved.
Item 45.
My heart stopped.
A silver locket, etched with moon phases. Tarnished. Old.
Mother's locket.
Lost when our assets were seized. Inside was a microscopic engraving of the White Wolf genealogy map. My death warrant if found.
"Bidding starts at five thousand," the auctioneer announced.
"Ten thousand," I said, voice shaking.
Austen looked surprised. "You want that junk?"
"It was my mother's."
"Fifteen thousand," a voice called.
Joyce's proxy. She knew.
"Twenty thousand," I cried.
"Thirty."
"Fifty thousand!" I was desperate.
Austen grabbed my arm. "Alana, stop. It's garbage. Joyce wants it for her collection. Let her have it. I'll buy you diamonds."
"No!" I tried to stand. "Eighty thousand!"
"Sit down," Austen said.
"One hundred thousand!" I screamed.
Austen's eyes flashed Alpha red.
"I command you to stop bidding."
The Command hit me like a physical gag. My vocal cords paralyzed. My tongue turned to lead. I fought it, pushing against the invisible wall of his will.
Internal organs squeezed. Capillaries burst. I coughed, and blood splattered onto the velvet railing.
"Sold to the lady in the back for thirty thousand."
The command lifted. I slumped, gasping, blood dripping from my chin.
Austen looked at the blood, horrified. "Why did you fight the command? You know it hurts you."
"You... gave it to her," I wheezed. "You gave her my mother."
Joyce looked up at our box and winked. Then ran out, feigning tears.
"She's upset because you drove the price up," Austen sighed. "I need to check on her. Stay here. This behavior requires a lesson."
He left me bleeding.
I wiped my mouth and stumbled toward the exit. I had to get that locket.
I reached the parking garage. Dim. Smelling of exhaust.
"Well, well," a voice sneered.
Two warriors from the Blood Moon Pack. Low-level thugs Austen used for dirty work.
"Alpha says you need to learn respect," one said, cracking knuckles.
"He didn't send you," I said, backing away.
"He said 'teach her a lesson,'" the warrior grinned. "Interpretation is open."
He swung a metal bat.
I tried to dodge. The other grabbed my hair. The bat connected with my ribs.
Crack.
Pain exploded. I fell to the concrete. They kicked me. Once. Twice.
"Useless Omega," they spat. "Can't even heal right."
They left me in a puddle of oil and blood.
My phone beeped.
A photo from Joyce.
Her high heel, crushing the silver locket.
Oops, the caption read. It was so brittle. Just like you. Come to your father's house for dinner. Bring the pieces. Maybe you can glue them back together.
I stared at the photo.
I wasn't going to glue it back together. I was going to retrieve the shards.
And then, I was going to burn their world down.
