The golden blood dripped from Nero's palm onto steel, each drop hissing like acid.

Alessia's wolf howled inside her skull.

Not human. Not wolf. What in the name of the moon-

The wound should have closed. It didn't. The blood shimmered unnaturally, glowing faintly as it hit the metal. The scent was wrong-sweet like ozone and electricity, not iron. Not blood.

Nero flexed his wounded hand, the movement languid, controlled. Watching her with those predator's eyes, pupils slit like a serpent's.

"Satisfied?"

The interrogation room's fluorescents buzzed like angry wasps, flickering slightly. Alessia forced her eyes away from the bleeding god in front of her and toward the two-way mirror.

Something moved behind it.

"What's behind there?" she asked, voice tighter than she liked.

Nero pulled a monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and began to wrap his palm with mechanical precision. "Lupus Lumen's... feeding chamber."

A shiver danced down her spine, chasing the sweat already beading at the nape of her neck.

He smirked, reading her too easily. "Don't worry, little wolf. It prefers male Alphas. Stronger signals, messier screams."

She didn't answer. Couldn't. Her mind was sprinting through centuries of pack lore, every story about monsters that hunted monsters.

None of them had golden blood. None of them had names like Nero King.

Before she could speak again, the door slammed open.

Graves filled the threshold, his tactical vest smeared with blood. Not his. "Sir. We have a situation at the gala prep."

Nero's smile vanished like a switch flipped.

"Which one?"

"The champagne," Graves said grimly. His eyes flicked to Alessia, then away. "Someone spiked it with wolfsbane."

[FLASHBACK: TWO HOURS EARLIER]

THE POISONED CHALICE

King Corp's Grand Ballroom glittered like a spider's web spun from diamonds and secrets.

Crystal chandeliers hung like icicles. The air stank of money, perfume, and tension hidden under tailored tuxedos. Alessia moved through the catering staff in silence, her black uniform blending into the crowd as she adjusted centerpieces that didn't need adjusting.

She wasn't here for the decor. She was here to map exits. Count guards. Note weapons.

Too many silver accents. Too many itchy necks.

Her wolf didn't like it.

The vial tucked in her bra strap felt heavier than glass should. Wolfsbane. Cyrus's idea. "Just in case," he'd said, as if that made it fine. As if weaponizing your own daughter wasn't crossing a line.

Alessia's jaw clenched.

"See something you like?"

Nero's voice slithered into her ear, smooth and uninvited.

She flinched-just slightly-but didn't turn. He stood close enough that his breath stirred the fine hairs at her temple. His Rolex brushed her bare arm.

She forced a smile, kept her hands folded around a tray of napkins. "Just admiring the decor."

"Liar."

He said it casually, without heat, like a chef pointing out a poor cut of meat.

Then he showed her the watch face-digital now, with a pulsing red dot.

"Someone brought a gift," he murmured, as the red dot moved slowly toward the champagne tower. "Care to explain?"

Alessia's blood ran cold.

Nero's hand slid to the small of her back. Heat radiated through the thin silk of her uniform. It wasn't just physical. It burned into her thoughts, into her spine.

"You're cataloging weapons. Calculating escape routes. Wondering how fast you could kill everyone here if things went loud."

Her breath stuttered in her chest.

"Relax." He smiled against her temple. "I'd do the same."

Then he slipped something cold into her palm.

She looked down. A pearl-handled switchblade, compact and impossibly sharp.

"For when the real fun starts."

And then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd of elites and execs, leaving her with the knife... and the red dot now blinking faster.

It was moving.

Toward the kitchens.

[PRESENT]

THE GAME CHANGES

Back in the interrogation room, Nero leaned against the wall with the practiced ease of someone who never needed to run.

"You didn't poison the champagne," he said.

Not a question.

Alessia sat straighter, wrists still bound in silver cuffs, but defiance hardening in her spine.

"Wolfsbane's crude. I prefer elegance."

"Mm. Poison lacks poetry, doesn't it?"

He nodded to Graves. The security chief dropped a tablet onto the table. Footage began to play.

Alessia blinked.

It was her. Walking through the ballroom. Same maid's uniform. Same face. Same braid down the back.

Then: her double slipped a small vial into the champagne basin.

Her stomach twisted violently. What the actual-

Nero's voice turned gleeful. "Meet your sister. Or should I say... your replacement?"

The video changed. Now: Cyrus Blackmoon in a shadowed basement, standing beside the imposter. Arm around her shoulders. Smiling.

Nero tilted his head. "Daddy seems to think you've gone soft."

Alessia's throat burned.

The impostor was holding a silver briefcase-the briefcase. The one she'd risked her life to steal from King Corp's restricted vault last week.

Except the latches were wrong. The weight had been wrong.

"Oh moon," she whispered.

"It was a decoy," Nero confirmed. "A lovely fake. I designed it myself. Your sister has no idea she's walking around with a glorified lunchbox."

Alessia's jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

Nero leaned down, speaking directly into her ear.

"Here's your new choice, little wolf."

His breath ghosted across her skin. "Help me catch your sister... or die with her."

THE HUNT BEGINS

The ballroom's thousand-crystal chandelier shattered.

The explosion was deafening.

Fire and glass rained from the ceiling. People screamed. Bodies hit the ground. Smoke rolled in like ocean fog.

Alessia went down hard, instinct driving her flat as shrapnel cut the air above.

A body slammed into hers. Warm. Heavy. Nero.

He shielded her without hesitation, even as a second blast tore through the bar.

Through the smoke, a figure stood poised at the edge of the chaos.

Her own face.

The impostor smirked. Raised a detonator.

And pressed it.

Another boom. A fireball swallowed the east wing.

The floor shook. Lights died.

And then-

The howling began.

Not human. Not wolf. Something ancient. Something hungry.

Alessia's cuffs burned, but she ignored the pain. Nero hauled her to her feet. His eyes glowed-gold meeting gold.

"Looks like your sister's throwing a party," he said.

Alessia gritted her teeth. "Then let's crash it."