[Killian]
The Voss estate sits on forty acres of old-growth forest north of the city, behind wrought-iron gates that haven't rusted in a century because someone is paid specifically to ensure they don't. The drive is lined with oaks—bare now, skeletal fingers against the gray sky. The house looms at the end: stone and iron and old money. My prison and my throne.
Liam drops me at the entrance. He doesn't offer to come in. The estate has its own gravity, and outsiders—even trusted Betas—feel it the moment they cross the threshold.
I step through the front doors and the silence swallows me. Polished marble. Dark wood paneling. Portraits of dead Voss Alphas lining the hallway, each one staring down with the same gray eyes I see in every mirror. My father is conspicuously absent from the wal
