“We are going to wipe the human’s memories since you stubbornly insist on not hurting her. And as for you, you are going to be punished for defying me!” King Ren thundered at his son.“Daryl, you need to learn to stop being arrogant and listen to Father.”

Daryl’s glare shot to his stepbrother. “How about you learn to mind your fucking business, Enzo.”

“Your brother is right,” Queen Nyx butted in smoothly, her lips curving into that practiced smile that made Daryl’s blood boil.

“Stepbrother,” Daryl corrected through clenched teeth. “Just so you’re clear.”

The hatred he felt for the two of them only grew. Nyx and her bastard son. Gold diggers, both of them, always lurking for a chance to strike. He knew she wanted the throne for Enzo, and every chance she got, she tried to push Daryl out of the way.

Daryl turned back to his father, whose expression was unreadable. “So,” he asked tightly, “what punishment do you have in mind, Father?”

King Ren shifted his gaze to Nyx. “What do you suggest?”

Nyx’s smirk widened. “Fenrir Academy. It would do him good.”

Gold-digging bitch.

“You’ve always wanted to live beyond these walls, haven’t you?” King Ren said, his tone laced with finality. “Then a little fun at Fenrir Academy of Werewolves and Witches should suit you.”

“You do not mean that, Father.” Rage simmered under Daryl’s skin. Of course Nyx would suggest Fenrir Academy, the one place she knew would push him closer to danger. She would do anything to secure Enzo’s path to the throne.

Daryl pressed his lips together, fists clenching at his sides.

“You call that a punishment?” Enzo exclaimed. “That’s a luxury! Everyone wants to attend Fenrir Academy of the Fenrir Pack!”

“You haven’t been paying attention if you think Fenrir Pack is a luxury,” Daryl muttered.

Enzo blinked. “What is he talking about?”

“The Fenrir Pack is the second largest in all of Nevanda,” Ilana’s voice rang out as she entered uninvited. “But they don’t like the Monarch.”

“That’s a soft way of putting it,” Daryl said with a dry laugh.

“They detest the Monarch,” Nyx added smoothly, her eyes glittering. “And they’ve been planning rebellion for years.”

Daryl let out a bitter chuckle. “That about sums it up.”

“Well, enough talk,” King Ren said, his tone brooking no argument. “You leave in four days. Pack your bags.”

Daryl blinked, incredulous. “You’re joking, right?”

“I am the King,” Ren snapped. “I do not joke.”

•

“Where the hell have you been, Raya? I’ve spent ages looking for you!”

Was that Lynn’s voice? Or was Soraya still dreaming?

“Soraya!”

Her eyes snapped open. Lynn stood over her, arms crossed, fuming. Soraya sat up quickly, glancing around. Hotel room. Back in the hotel room? Something was wrong. She felt… empty, as if pieces of her memory had been scraped away.

“What time is it?” she asked hoarsely.

“The real question is, what day is it. You’ve been gone for a whole day, Raya. A whole day! I stepped out, came back, and found you sleeping your ass off.”

“A full day?” Soraya whispered.

“Yes. And you better have a damn good explanation because Dad will be here in thirty minutes.”

“Dad? Why is he—”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Lynn shot back before storming out.

Soraya pressed her palms to her face. Gone a whole day. No memory of where. Every time she tried to think, her mind slammed into a wall.

Where had she been?

She paced the room, running a hand through her curls, frustration clawing at her chest.

The door opened again. “Soraya! Are you hurt?” Mr. Karter rushed inside, Lynn trailing behind. He cupped her face, scanning her as though expecting wounds.

“I’m fine, Dad,” she said quickly.

“Where did you go? Your sister said you were gone all yesterday.”

To admit the truth—that she didn’t know—would only worry him. So Soraya forced a smile. “I found a new spot to read. You know me. I lose myself when I’m in a book.”

His face softened, and she mentally patted herself for pulling off the lie.

Mr. Karter sighed and sat on the bed. “Actually, that’s not why I came.”

Soraya frowned. “Then why?”

“Leave us, Lynn,” he said.

Her sister scowled but left.

Mr. Karter patted the space beside him. “Sit, Soraya.”

Her stomach twisted as she obeyed. “Is something wrong, Dad?”

“Nothing is ever wrong until you acknowledge it.”

Her throat tightened. He only spoke like that on rare occasions. “What is it?”

“Your mother has come for you.”

The words crashed over her like ice water. “What?”

“Your mother is alive.”

She stared. “You told me she left. You said—”

“She did leave. But now she’s back.”

“I don’t understand. I’ve never had a mother. Why now?”

“Because your eighteenth birthday is near. And we had a deal. I’d keep you until then… and return you to her.”

Soraya shot to her feet, fury trembling in her limbs. “A deal? What the hell, Dad? I’m not stock you can trade!”

“Listen, Raya.” His eyes glistened with desperation. “It’s for your safety.”

“Safety? Are you in debt or something?”

He shook his head. “There are things you don’t know. But the important part is this: your mother is different. And so are you.”

Before Soraya could demand more, a knock came at the door.

And then a woman walked in.

The photographs hadn’t done her justice. A red dress flowed around her like fire, white heels clicking softly against the floor. Black hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. She was beautiful, commanding, and entirely foreign.

“Quinn.” Mr. Karter rose to his feet.

The woman’s gaze fixed on Soraya. “No need for introductions. Shall we go, Soraya?”

Soraya’s resentment flared, hot and sharp. This woman who had abandoned her now dared to command her? She stood, jaw tight. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Quinn’s eyes hardened. “Unfortunately, that’s not for you to decide. You are my only living heir.”

Her father flinched. Quinn turned her cold eyes on him. “I told you to brief her.”

“You didn’t give me enough time,” he said. “I couldn’t just dump it all on her.”

Quinn snorted, rubbing her temples. “After I funded your company for eighteen years? When exactly was the right time?”

Soraya froze. “What is she talking about?”

“Oh wow, you never told her?” Quinn asked icily. She stepped closer, until she stood just inches from Soraya.

Her voice softened, but only slightly. “Because I wasn’t here doesn’t mean I wasn’t there. I sent everything I could to give you a life. I couldn’t show my face. Circumstances kept me away. But I never stopped watching.”

Something in her tone—pain, anger, longing—made Soraya’s chest ache. But no. She couldn’t let herself believe.

“Why now?” Soraya demanded. “Don’t give me that birthday crap. Tell me the real reason.”

“I’ll tell you. But can you handle the truth?”

“As long as it won’t kill me.”

Quinn’s gaze sharpened. “You were hidden for a reason. Because you’re not like him.” She flicked her chin toward Mr. Karter.

“What are you talking about?” Soraya whispered.

Quinn lifted her hand, palm hovering near Soraya’s temple. “You want truth? Then see it.”

Before Soraya could move, Quinn pressed her palm to her forehead.

Flashes tore through her mind. Fire. Screams. The metallic taste of blood. A spear flashing under moonlight. Quinn’s arm raised, striking down a beast with glowing eyes and snarling fangs.

Soraya gasped and tore back, chest heaving. “What the hell was that?”

Quinn’s voice was steady, cold. “That was the truth. I am a Wolf Hunter. And whether you like it or not—so are you.”