The Blackthorn Hall was built to impress, from the vast ceilings carved with purple vines, to chandeliers glittering like captured stars, and mirrors tall enough to make even the most powerful Alpha check his own reflection twice.

And in the center of it all stood Zara Grey.

She wore black silk, simple yet devastating, her hair swept to one side to reveal the pale curve of her neck. The room hushed when she entered, not because of her title or her name, but because of the way she moved, as if the world itself made space for her.

She didn’t need to search for Marcel Eden. She could feel his...