Nine years ago, the Iron Moon burned my family out of the world. Tonight I serve their Alpha his supper. My name isn't Sena. I've chewed a root that kills my scent every dawn since I was thirteen, and it has kept me invisible in the mud of the Low Quarter for nine years — a bone-setter's girl with grey teeth and no past. Then the root ran out. Kell Torr walked the Tithe line that morning and stopped in front of me. He didn't know what he'd caught. He only knew he couldn't stop breathing it in. Add one, he said. Make it thirteen. Now I live in the house that killed my mother. I sleep three doors from the man who gave the order. I have six years of service, one stolen blade, and a name I intend to say out loud before I die. The trouble is what's happening to my body every time he comes near me. The trouble is that wolves mate for life, and mine has chosen the wrong man.