EMMA
The heavy iron torch in my hand felt like a lead weight, the flame flickering wildly as the draft from the hidden vault licked at the fire. I stared at Clara, the woman who had played the role of the dutiful, cold-blooded protector in London while she was busy dismantling her brother’s kingdom from the inside.
"You’re a goddamn traitor," I spat, my voice echoing off the narrow stone walls of the vault. I clutched the ledger against my ribs, the leather cool and mocking. "Gabriel is out there breaking his back to save this family, and you’re in here counting the silver Damien paid you to bury him."
Clara didn’t flinch. The silenced pistol remained steady, a black extension of her frozen resolve. "Gabriel is a relic, Emma. He’s an Alpha who thinks he can fight off the twenty-first ce
