Maelis Rolkov

I walked into Father’s office. The guards at the door bowed as I entered.

Father was sitting on the couch, a folded newspaper on the table in front of him. When he looked up, his steel-gray eyes, a distinct recognition of the Rolkov's met mine, calm, sharp, and cold eyes that made even powerful Alphas drop to their knees.

Mine were different though, or so people say. Softer. Beautiful, maybe. But they carried the same weight as his. After all, the silver half-mask I wore every time hid everything but my eyes.

“You sent for me, Father,” I said, keeping my gaze on him. In this house, breaking...