THE ALPHA'S KILLER TURN LOVER

Chapter 3

Zara

I reach high into the apple tree, fingers closing around a ripe orb, when fragments of conversation drift over from the next row.

“…broke right into his bedroom, can you believe it?”

“An actual woman assassin. In the Alpha’s bedchamber!”

My hand freezes on the fruit. I bite my lower lip hard, because the memory of last night floods back uninvited: the warm, musky scent of the man filling the dark room, the impossibly smooth skin of his cheek caught in the thin beam of my torch, the way his thick lashes fluttered as he dreamed.

What was he dreaming about that made him smile like that?

Something gentle, something safe, nothing like the nightmare I’ve lived most of my life, I hope.

“Zara!” Lila calls, popping her head around the trunk. “You hear about last night?”

I twist the apple free and drop it into my basket, forcing the tremble out of my voice.

“Hear what?” I ask.

Mira and Lila, my fellow workers in the apple farm, exchange delighted glances, then burst into giggles.

“Oh, you’ll love this,” Mira says, leaning in conspiratorially. “A female assassin snuck into the Alpha’s room. But instead of killing him, she tried to seduce him.”

I nearly drop the basket in my hand.

“She—what?”

Lila nods eagerly. “That’s the word going round the kitchens this morning. She climbed into his bed, started kissing him, but he woke up and tried to grab her. She panicked, jumped out of bed so fast she left her knife stuck in the floor—like a love token!”

They both dissolve into laughter, clutching each other. I stare at them, heat rushing to my face for reasons they can’t possibly guess. The story is absurd, ridiculous, obscene . . . and yet a traitorous part of me wishes it were true.

I wishe I had crawled into that bed for an entirely different reason. I wishe I could have pressed my lips to his sleeping mouth and felt it curve against mine instead of raising a deadly knife to his throat.

I shake my head, laughing along to cover my anxiety.

“You two believe that nonsense?”

“It’s not nonsense,” Mira insists, wiping her eyes. “The Alpha himself told the guards that’s what happened. Said she was beautiful, too—slim and graceful. He’s keeping the knife on his desk like a souvenir. Everyone says she’ll come back for it . . . and when she does, he’ll finish what they started.”

My belly erupts again with that dangerously sweet mushiness and I swallow. I picture him the man running his thumb along the blade I forged myself, wondering about the woman who left it behind. Wondering about me.

Lila tilts her head. “Wait . . . that gorgeous man you were talking to yesterday, the one helping with the hay bales—that was him. The new Alpha. Did you know?”

My cheeks burn hotter and I shake my head in confusion. Yes, that was the man I almost killed. These girls can't possibly mean—

Both girls notice instantly.

“Oh my gods, Zara, you’re blushing!” Mira squeals.

She grabs my arm and tugs me deeper into the orchard, away from the other workers.

“What did he say to you yesterday? I saw you two talking forever. Tell me everything. How close did you get? Did you smell him?”

I swallow spit, my throat feels dry. “Wait, are you telling the man I was talking with yesterday is the Alpha of this pack?”

Mira gapes at me like I’ve grown a second head. “You didn’t know? His father, old Alpha Dante Dominic, was murdered two weeks ago. Poison, they think. Zain inherited the pack the very next day. Everyone’s talking about how young and handsome the new Alpha is. Half the unmated females in the territory are plotting ways to get noticed.”

Two weeks?

It's now making sense. The Loveless Cult swore the intelligence I was given was fresh: that Dante still ruled, still slept in the east wing master suite. No one warned me the old monster was dead, that his son had taken his place.

My heart starts beating fast in a bad way as remember I almost slaughtered an innocent man for a crime his father committed.

The knife I left behind wasn’t a souvenir—it was evidence of how close I came to becoming the monster I hate.

I press a hand to my stomach, trying to quiet the storm inside. Guilt, relief, fury at the Loveless Cult, and underneath it all is that persistent, treacherous sweet fluttering that started the moment the man—this new alpha—smiled at me yesterday.

Then I hear footsteps on the dry leaves. It is a heavy, confident, male footsteps.

I look up through the branches.

Zain is standing at the end of the row, sunlight catching in his dark hair, wearing a simple work shirt rolled to the elbows. His eyes scan the trees until they find me.

The moment they do, his mouth curves into that same warm, easy smile from yesterday morning.

Butterflies explode in my chest, wild and frantic. But right beside them, cold terror unfurls.

He must be looking for the woman who stood over him with a knife. And here I am, basket of apples in shaking hands, my initials carved into the blade now sitting on his desk. If he has found out my name, he is here to catch me and have me executed.

His smile widens, and he starts walking toward me.

I drop the basket. Apples tumble across the dirt.

I duck low and bolt into the thickest part of the orchard, branches whipping my face, my heart thundering loudly in my ears.

I came back to work this morning because I have to wait for word from the Cult on what to do. But this is a mistake. I start crawling faster and farther into the orchard, panic driving me crazy.