The Lycan King's estate rose from the horizon like something out of a dream—or a nightmare, depending on who you were.
Massive stone walls stretched toward the sky, topped with silver spires that caught the afternoon light. Gardens sprawled across acres of manicured land, fountains spraying crystal-clear water into the air. The main gate was wrought iron, twenty feet tall, decorated with wolves mid-leap.
I'd forgotten how beautiful it was.
The limo slowed as we approached. Through the partition, I heard Jeremy's sharp intake of breath.
"Look at this place," Angel whispered, her voice tight. "It's..."
"Exactly where we belong," Jeremy finished, but I caught the tremor underneath his bravado.
The driver pulled up to the main gate. Two Royal Guards stepped forward, their uniforms pristine, their expressions cold. One leaned down to the window.
Jeremy rolled it down, puffing out his chest. "Beta Jeremy Wagner of Silver Moon Pack. I'm here for the High Council Summit."
The guard's eyes flicked over him, unimpressed. "Invitation?"
Jeremy fumbled with the envelope, nearly dropping it. The guard took it, examined the seal, then handed it back without a word.
"Park in the guest lot. Third row." He stepped back, waving us through.
Jeremy's face flushed. "That's it? No escort? No—"
But the guard had already turned away.
Angel touched Jeremy's arm. "It's fine. They're just guards. Wait until we're inside."
The limo rolled forward, and I pressed my hand against the window, watching the familiar landscape pass by. The rose garden where I used to read. The training grounds where I'd learned to fight. The west tower where my bedroom had been.
Home.
The driver parked in the guest lot as instructed. Jeremy and Angel climbed out, straightening their clothes, trying to look like they belonged. I grabbed my duffel and followed.
"The servants' entrance is around back," Jeremy said without looking at me. "Find it yourself."
They walked toward the main entrance, Angel's heels clicking on the cobblestones.
I watched them go, then turned and headed in the opposite direction.
The servants' entrance was exactly where I remembered it—a small wooden door tucked behind the kitchen wing, half-hidden by ivy. I pushed it open and stepped inside.
The smell hit me first. Bread baking. Herbs drying. The faint scent of silver polish. I closed my eyes and breathed it in.
"Can I help you?"
I opened my eyes to find a young kitchen maid staring at me, her expression wary.
"I'm with the Silver Moon delegation," I said. "Just looking for the staff quarters."
She pointed down the hallway. "Third door on the left. But you'll need to check in with—"
"I know the protocol." The words came out sharper than I intended. I softened my voice. "Thank you."
She nodded and hurried away.
I walked down the hallway, my feet remembering the path even after five years. Past the laundry room. Past the storage closets. Past the—
"Hayley?"
I froze.
A woman stood in the doorway of the senior staff office, her silver hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her eyes were sharp, intelligent, and currently wide with shock.
"Mrs. Thornton," I breathed.
She crossed the distance between us in three strides and pulled me into a fierce hug. "Moon Goddess, child. We thought—" She pulled back, holding me at arm's length. "What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like—" Her eyes narrowed. "What's going on?"
I glanced down the hallway. Empty. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"
She nodded and pulled me into her office, closing the door behind us.
---
Mrs. Thornton had been my father's senior advisor for thirty years. She knew everything that happened in the palace, and most of what happened outside it.
I told her everything. The chalice. Jeremy's betrayal. The fake offers. The loan from Viktor Steele. The forged documents.
When I finished, she sat back in her chair, her expression unreadable.
"The King knows," she finally said.
"He knows?"
"About the chalice, yes. Your cousin Elena briefed him two days ago." Mrs. Thornton's smile was thin. "He's been waiting for this. An opportunity to make an example of wolves who think they can defraud the Crown."
I pulled the folded papers from my jacket pocket—copies of Jeremy's loan agreement with Viktor Steele, the forged territory deeds, everything I'd managed to photograph over the past week.
"Then he'll want these."
Mrs. Thornton took them, scanning the pages. Her expression darkened. "Treason. Forgery. Fraud." She looked up at me. "Your ex-mate is a fool."
"I know."
"The King will handle this tomorrow, during the presentation." She stood, tucking the papers into a locked drawer. "Until then, stay out of sight. Let Jeremy think he's won."
I nodded and turned to leave.
"Hayley."
I looked back.
"It's good to have you home," she said softly.
My throat tightened. "It's good to be home."
---
The summons came at midnight.
I was lying on the narrow bed in the servants' quarters when someone pounded on the door.
"Hayley! Get up!"
Jeremy's voice, slurred and loud.
I pulled on my jacket and opened the door. He stood in the hallway, swaying slightly, his tie loosened and his shirt half-untucked. The smell of champagne rolled off him in waves.
"Come with me," he ordered.
I followed him through the silent hallways to the guest wing. He'd been given a suite—modest by palace standards, but still nicer than anything in Silver Moon territory. Angel was passed out on the bed, still in her dress.
Jeremy collapsed into an armchair and pointed at the bar cart. "Pour me a drink."
I crossed to the cart and poured two fingers of whiskey into a crystal glass. My hands were steady as I handed it to him.
He took it without thanks, downing half in one gulp. "Tomorrow," he said, his words running together. "Tomorrow, everything changes. The King will see the chalice. He'll offer me a Council seat. Maybe even a territory of my own." He laughed, the sound harsh and ugly. "And you'll still be nothing. Just a common little wolf who couldn't keep her mate."
I stood there, silent, watching him.
He leaned forward suddenly, grabbing my face with one hand. His fingers dug into my cheeks, forcing me to meet his eyes.
"You should be grateful," he hissed. "Grateful I let you come. Grateful I don't throw you out on the street like the worthless Omega you are." His breath was hot and sour. "You're nothing without me, Hayley. Nothing."
I held his gaze, letting the moment stretch.
Then I smiled.
"Enjoy tonight, Jeremy," I whispered. "Tomorrow, everything changes."
He blinked, confusion flickering across his drunken features. Then he laughed, releasing my face and shoving me backward.
"Get out," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm done with you."
I walked to the door, my heart pounding but my steps measured.
Behind me, Jeremy poured himself another drink, already forgetting I existed.
I closed the door softly and leaned against it, touching my bruised cheek.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, Jeremy Wagner would learn exactly what he'd lost.
And I would finally stop pretending to be anything less than what I was.
