CLAIMED BY THE WILD.

Secrets in the Dark.

“Eat the stew, Princess. Starving to death in a cell is a terrible look for a future queen.”

Vincenzo’s smooth, mocking voice echoed off the stone walls as he kicked the heavy oak door shut, balancing a silver tray on one knee.

I pressed my spine against the freezing iron bars of the third-story window, clutching the torn edges of my ruined wedding dress over my bare throat. My skin was still raw and blistered where Matteo had ripped the live kill-collar off my neck in the canyon.

“I would rather choke on my own blood than touch food from a pack of lawless murderers,” I spat, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Murderers?” Vincenzo chuckled darkly, setting the tray down and leaning his tall, lethal frame against the four-poster bed. “That’s rich coming from Cassian’s little puppet. Tell me, Lyra—what do you think your fiancé does to secure the silver borders?”

“Cassian brings order to the realm!” I defended fiercely, though Matteo’s words from the canyon still haunted me. “He protects the minor packs!”

Vincenzo’s smirk vanished, replaced by cold, aristocratic fury. He reached inside his blood-stained coat and tossed a heavy, leather-bound ledger onto the floorboards at my feet.

“Open it,” he commanded softly.

I stared at the official royal seal embossed on the cover, my stomach twisting. Slowly, I dropped to my knees and flipped the heavy pages.

The ink was smudged with dried blood. Inside were coordinates, supply tallies, and liquidation orders for three peaceful border packs that had supposedly been wiped out by "rogue plagues" last month. And right at the bottom of every single execution order—written in bold, unmistakable strokes—was Alpha Cassian Vane’s personal signature.

Wait. My breath caught as I turned to the final page.

Pinned to the parchment was a royal marriage decree, co-signed by my father. Upon the consummation of the union and the transfer of the Silver Bloodline, the bride is to be quietly disposed of via the collar’s secondary trigger.

“This is a forgery,” I whispered, my hands shaking so violently the paper rattled. “He wouldn't. My father wouldn't—”

“Your perfect prince is a butcher, Lyra, and you were the lamb walking willingly to his altar,” Vincenzo said, turning toward the door. “Eat your dinner. When Matteo finishes securing the perimeter, we’re moving farther north.”

The heavy iron lock clicked shut behind him.

Silence crashed down around me, suffocating and loud. My entire life was a lie. My father had sold me, and Cassian had tried to decapitate me in the Badlands to cover his tracks.

I can't stay here. If Cassian realized the kill-switch had failed, he would send an army to burn this estate to the ground—and these rogues would use me as a shield when he arrived.

Rushing to the narrow stone window, I gripped the rusted iron bars. The gap between the masonry was tight, meant to keep full-grown Lycans inside, not a slender, suppressed female. Ignoring the sharp stone tearing into my ribs and hips, I forced my body through the opening and crept out onto the icy, rain-slicked third-story ledge.

Thirty feet below, the jagged cobblestones of the courtyard waited in the dark.

I reached for the thick ivy vine clinging to the tower wall—and the brittle stone beneath my bare foot snapped.

“No, no, no—!” I gasped as my fingers tore through the wet leaves, plunging straight into the freezing night air.

THUD.

I didn't hit the stones. Two massive, tattooed arms caught me cleanly out of mid-air, absorbing the brutal impact with a low grunt.

I gasped for air, staring up into Luca’s wild, unhinged grin. The scar across his eyebrow twitched in the moonlight as he held me effortlessly against his bare, muscular chest.

“Well, well. Nice of you to drop in, Princess,” Luca chuckled, tightening his grip around my bare thighs as I immediately started thrashing. “Though if you were looking for my bedroom, it’s two doors down.”

“Put me down, you psychotic savage!” I shrieked, slamming my fists into his collarbone and kicking wildly. “Let me go!”

“And let you snap those pretty little legs on the rocks?” Luca tutted, carrying me across the dark courtyard like I weighed nothing. “Matteo would skin me alive. Hey, boys! The royal hostage is trying to fly!”

The massive double doors of the main hall swung open, spilling amber firelight across the frost.

Matteo stepped out onto the stone steps, shirtless, with white bandages wrapped around the severe silver-burns on his palms—burns he had taken to save my life. Beside him stood Vincenzo, nursing a dark bottle of liquor, and Dante, whose golden eyes were locked onto the distant treeline.

“Put her on her feet, Luca,” Matteo’s deep voice boomed across the courtyard, vibrating straight down my spine.

Luca set me down, keeping one heavy hand clamped around my wrist so I couldn't bolt.

“I am not going back into that cell!” I shouted, planting my heels into the dirt as tears of rage and betrayal finally spilled over my lashes. I pointed a shaking finger at Vincenzo. “That ledger is a lie! Everything you’re doing is a trap to break the Silver Throne!”

“If it’s a lie, little bird, why is your heart beating like a trapped rabbit?” Matteo asked softly.

He walked down the steps, stopping just inches away from me. The heat radiating off his scarred chest was overwhelming against the freezing wind whipping my tattered dress. He raised one bandaged, blood-stained hand and gently wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb.

“Cassian is uniting the packs under a graveyard, Lyra,” Matteo rasped, his amber eyes burning with lethal certainty. “And without that silver collar choking your bloodline, you’re finally starting to feel the truth, aren't you?”

“I hate you,” I whispered, my voice breaking as the dormant, terrifying power inside my chest pulsed in dark agreement with his touch. “I hate all of you.”

“Good,” Matteo murmured, leaning down until his lips brushed the shell of my ear. “Hold onto that hate, Princess. Because your fiancé didn't wait until dawn.”

Suddenly, Dante dropped from the courtyard wall, twin blades already drawn as the night sky beyond the mountains erupted in blinding crimson flares.

The ground beneath our feet began to violently tremble—the unmistakable thunder of five hundred royal war-wolves charging straight toward the valley.

“Matteo!” Dante growled, his eyes blazing in the dark. “Cassian’s vanguard just breached the canyon. And he brought the Blood Hounds.”