Charlotte POV:
The shack was a rotting pile of wood held together by moss and spite.
The roof leaked directly over the mattress. The wind whistled through cracks in the walls. It smelled of mildew and abandonment. This was where the Alpha put the woman who was supposed to be his fated mate.
I spent the next two days shivering. The dampness seeped into my broken bones, making them ache with a deep, throbbing rhythm.
I was outside, trying to patch the roof with a rusted sheet of metal I found, when I heard the crunch of gravel.
"Nice place," a voice sneered. "Really suits your aesthetic."
Kalia.
She was wearing a brand new trench coat-one of the designs she stole from me. She held a lit cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other.
I gripped the jagged metal sheet. "Get off my property, Kalia."
"Your property?" She laughed, stepping closer. "Everything here belongs to Bryant. Which means it belongs to me. And honestly, this eyesore is ruining my view from the mansion."
She flicked the lighter open. The flame danced in the wind.
"I think a little bonfire would improve the landscape," she said, eyeing the dry, rotting wood of the porch.
"You wouldn't," I said, stepping between her and the house. "Bryant wouldn't allow arson."
"Bryant does what I tell him," she hissed. "And besides, who's going to miss a rat like you?"
She lunged, aiming the lighter at a pile of old newspapers on the porch.
I didn't panic this time. I knew the terrain.
I sidestepped, my bad leg screaming in protest, but I swung the metal sheet. I didn't aim for her-I aimed for the ground. I slammed it into the mud, creating a slick ramp.
Kalia, expecting me to cower, lost her footing on the wet metal.
She shrieked, arms flailing, and slid past me. The shack was built on a steep incline overlooking a dry, rocky ravine. She tumbled over the edge.
It wasn't a lethal drop, but it was messy. She landed in a patch of thorn bushes and mud, screaming like a banshee.
"My coat! My face!"
I stood at the edge, looking down. "Watch your step, Kalia."
Then, the roar of an engine cut the air. Bryant's SUV skidded to a halt.
He jumped out, seeing me standing over the ravine with a jagged piece of metal in my hand, and Kalia screaming below.
"What did you do?!" he roared.
He didn't ask. He didn't look at the lighter still clutched in Kalia's hand. He just saw me as the aggressor.
He shoved me aside, hard enough that I hit the wall of the shack. Then he scrambled down the slope to help Kalia.
He hauled her up. She was scratched, muddy, and furious.
"She tried to kill me!" Kalia wailed, pointing at me. "She set a trap! She tried to push me onto the rocks!"
Bryant turned to me, his eyes glowing red.
"You represent a threat to the Pack," he growled. "I should kill you right now."
I stood up, dusting off my hands. "Do it then. Or are you afraid of what the Council will say if you murder an unarmed girl?"
He hesitated. The politics stopped him. Not mercy.
"Get in the car, Kalia," he muttered.
He looked at me one last time. "You're lucky I have a reputation to maintain. Stay in your hole, rat."
They drove off, leaving me alone in the mud.
But I wasn't alone.
A figure stepped out from the dense treeline. A man in tactical gear.
"Miss Glover," he said, speaking into a headset. "Threat neutralized. The Alpha... he chose the wrong side again."
I heard a voice crackle in his ear, loud enough for me to hear.
"Let him dig his grave," Jaden's voice said. "I'm bringing the shovel."
