Theron looks wrong.

That’s the first thought that cuts through my panic. He looks wrong. Debauched.

His hair is disheveled, his shirt half-untucked, and his eyes… his eyes are glossy, unfocused, like he’s fallen ill or drunk too much wine. But I can smell him from here, and there’s no alcohol on his breath.

Just something wild and unstable, like his wolf is too close to the surface.

His heart pounds so hard I can hear it from across the room. The rhythm is erratic, frantic, nothing like the steady Alpha composure he always wears like armor.

My own heart matches his beat for beat.

There’s nowhere to hide. The archives are small and he’s blocking the only exit. He already saw me. Already know I’m here, in a place I have no business being. With evidence of my snooping scattered across the desk behind me.

I back away instinctively, my mouth opening with excuses already forming.

I got lost. I was looking for cleaning supplies. I didn’t mean to—

But then something stops me.

What else can he do? What worse could possibly happen that hasn’t already? He’s rejected me. Humiliated me. Turned me into a servant. Made me watch while he claimed another woman as his mate.

I’m bound here by magic I can’t break, bleeding and exhausted and alone.

What more can he take?

The excuses die on my tongue. Instead, I straighten my spine, lift my chin, and meet his eyes. If he’s going to punish me for this, fine.

But I won’t grovel. Won’t beg. Won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cower.

‘Careful,’ Mira warns, but there’s approval in her voice.

Theron moves toward me slowly, each step deliberate. Predatory.

My instincts scream at me to run, to shift, to do something. But I hold my ground. My back hits the bookshelf, and still he keeps coming until he’s right there. Close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his body.

For one terrifying moment, I think he’s going to force himself on me. Think he’s going to corner me here in the archives and take what he tried to take at the border. His hand comes up, and I flinch despite myself.

But he doesn’t touch me.

He just… stands there. Breathing me in.

His chest rises and falls too quickly, his pupils dilated. He leans closer, and I press harder against the bookshelf, my fingers digging into the wood behind me.

Thoren’s hand hovers near my face, trembling like he wants to touch but can’t quite make himself do it.

“You weren’t supposed to be able to do it.” His voice is rough, barely above a whisper. “The bond breaking, rejection… It should have killed someone as weak as you.”

I don’t respond. Don’t move.

Just watch as something like confusion and fear wars across his face.

“Rejection like that, in front of the whole pack, severing the soul-tie so completely…” His hand drops to his chest, pressing against his heart. “I felt it tear. Felt it burn. I thought… I was sure you’d collapse. That you’d die before you even made it to the border.”

“Disappointed?” The word comes out sharper than I intended.

“Terrified.”

The admission seems to surprise him as much as it surprises me. His eyes focus on mine, really focus, and I see it clearly now.

Fear. Actual, genuine fear.

“What are you, Kira?”

The question hangs in the air between us, heavy with implications I don’t understand.

What am I? I’m nothing. Nobody. A servant girl with omega blood and a wolf that didn’t surface until recently.

Except that’s not quite right anymore, is it?

“Not something you can control anymore,” I say, and there’s steel in my voice I didn’t know I possessed.

Pride burning in my chest, in my eyes. Even as every instinct screams that this situation is dangerous, unfamiliar, wrong.

Theron goes very still. His breathing is labored, harsh in the quiet of the archives. His eyes search my face like he’s looking for something—answers, maybe, or recognition.

“Don’t.” The word comes out shaking with fury. “Don’t you dare—”

“You don’t get to do this!” My voice rises despite my better judgment. “You don’t get to humiliate me, turn me into a servant, and then… then kiss me like—”

“I need you to keep your head down and do your job without incident.” His jaw clenches. “Don’t speak unless spoken to. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Don’t you dare bring even more shame upon this pack than you already have.”

“Shame?” The word explodes out of me. “I brought shame? I did?”

“You rejected me in front of the entire pack during a sacred ceremony.”

His voice drops to something dangerous.

“You disrupted the Luna binding. You shifted into something that shouldn’t exist and tried to flee pack lands. So yes, Kira. You brought shame. And when royalty arrives, you will be invisible, silent, and obedient. Do you understand?”

Every part of me wants to argue. To rage. To tell him exactly where he can shove his orders.

But Mira’s voice whispers warning. ‘Choose your battles. Survive first. Fight later.’

“I understand,” I force out through clenched teeth.

“Good.” He turns toward the door, then pauses. Doesn’t look back. “Stay out of the archives. Whatever you’re looking for, it’s not here.”

“How would you know what I’m looking for?”

“Because I looked too.” The admission is quiet, almost too quiet to hear. “When my father died. I wanted to know the truth about your parents. About the blood oath.”

He glances back over his shoulder, and something in his expression is almost… regretful.

“The pages are gone. Someone made sure of that. Leave it alone, Kira. Some secrets stay buried for a reason.”

Then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him, and I’m alone with my racing heart and the taste of him still on my lips and my mother’s note clutched in my trembling hand.

“Kira, my princess, I’m so sorry.”

I sink to the floor, my legs finally giving out, and press the heels of my palms against my eyes.

In two days, the werewolves royalty arrive.

In two days, everything changes again.

I just don’t know how yet.