Veronica POV
After arriving at Alaric’s pack, Veronica was led into the packhouse by two nervous-looking omegas. They moved quickly, eyes cast down, barely saying a word. The way they flinched at every sound made her stomach twist.
Tyrant, she thought. She might not know him—yet, but the fear leaking off his people told her enough.
She’d already witnessed she-wolves being dragged away by their mates the moment they crossed the border. Growling, snarling, grabbing. Like animals. No, worse—like monsters.
What kind of pack is this?
The inside of the packhouse wasn’t modern, but it was lavish—oversized chandeliers, velvet drapes, and way too many oil paintings of dead men who probably thought they were important. It was the kind of place that whispered old money and cruelty.
If she weren
