The blood dripping from Michael’s jaw hit the concrete with the exact rhythm of a ticking clock.
Jane stared at the red puddle expanding beneath Vance’s twisted neck. She didn't scream. She didn't step back. Her mind, a terrifyingly efficient machine built for survival, immediately began sorting the last sixty seconds into clinical boxes.
Box one: The mercenaries are dead.
Box two: Michael is no longer a wolf.
Box three: You are the true heir.
The third box refused to close. It rattled. It leaked. Twenty-two years of being told she was defective. Twenty-two years of being the invisible, discarded half-sister while Elena was paraded as the golden prize. Her father had known. The Elder Council had known. They hadn't just rejected her; they had buried her alive to protect Ryan’s stolen t
