KINGSLEY POV
The moment I saw her, I knew she wasn’t Marguerite anymore.
She looked like her. Smelled like her, faintly sweet and earthy with the trace of cold iron underneath. But the way she moved—there was something off. Her posture was too confident for an omega. Her smile too wide. Her voice lacked the venomous edge Marguerite always had; this one sounded detached. Mocking. Like someone playing dress-up in a dead woman’s skin.
And then I saw the smoke.
Black, whispering tendrils curling between her fingers like obedient serpents, coiling in the air with purpose. My eyes followed one of them as it brushed against the metal door sealing my cell—silver-lined and warded. A hiss. A curl of steam. The polished surface bloomed with rust in seconds.
My lips curled. “So that’s what you ar
