“Your precious Alpha Female was dead.”
The casual cruelty of her words ignites rage in my chest. If I could shift, if I could break these restraints, I would tear her apart with my bare hands.
“I’ll kill you for this. For all of it. The betrayal, the lies, for Kitara. I will kill you.”
Zella laughs, the sound bright and genuine. “You know, I actually believe you would try. Your determination and loyalty are what make you such a valuable packmate. Wecould use you, Lithia. But if you’re not interested, then you’re a threat that needs to be put down.”
She moves toward the door again, her guards falling into step behind her.
“Tomorrow, Lithia. Think carefully. The world is changing whether you help or not. The only question is whether you’ll be part of the solution or part of the cleanup.”
They leave, the door slamming shut with a finality that echoes through the stone chamber. The lock turns with a sharp click, sealing me in with the weight of what she’s revealed.
Tomorrow.
“Kier?”
“I heard.” His voice is tight with anger. “Every fucking word.”
I close my eyes, breathing deep.
“What do you want to do?” he asks, resuming chipping at the stone.
It’s a good question and a necessary one.
“I’m going to burn her goddamned utopia to the ground and piss on the ashes.”
He chuckles. “Then I better get to work on getting us out of here.”
The world Zella wants to construct—ordered, controlled, built on the bones of the unwilling—can die with its architect.
But first, I have to survive long enough to make it happen.
Chapter
Eight
KIER
The prison is quiet, the guards having settled into their night routine. We still haven’t been fed, but the hunger in my belly can wait. I need to keep breaking down this godforsaken wall.
Lithia has until tomorrow morning, which means our opportunity of getting out of here is narrowing. Getting to her is the first priority. We can figure everything out from there.
There’s a scuff of a shoe on concrete, and Lithia and I freeze.
“Was that—” she starts, falling silent.
I strain to hear.
There’s a quiet jingle of keys then the faint scrape of the lock turning on my door.
I shift fast, throwing my body against the hole we’ve been working on, shielding it with my bulk.
The door creaks open, light spilling in—and I’m shocked.
I expected guards coming to execute me. Instead, it’s the bucket woman. And she’s alone.
Small, hunched, hair tied back under a stained scarf. Tonight, there’s no waste bucket in her hands.
