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And then she wasn’t there, and I heard noises from the bathroom, and through the open door I could see her there, still in that ridiculous nightgown, her arm outstretched as she reached for the panel above the bathtub.

Where does it even go? Could she truly escape?

Sitting up in my bed, I realize in my memory that she had something ridiculous wrapped around her feet—makeshift shoes?

I could see to it that she had a pair of fine slippers, but nothing so sturdy that she would be tempted to run out into the snow. Maybe some clothing other than the pajamas she was brought in. And I should speak to some of the women on staff here, have them stock her bathroom with the soaps and bubbles she likes.

Women like baths, don’t they? And I think omegas especially like baths when they have their heats.

Their heats.

Mylah will, eventually, have one under this roof. It’s going to take a lot more than a locked door and a few guards to keep me contained then. Maybe, when we can tell it’s coming on, I’ll be sure to leave with the guys. Go on a hunting trip far enough away that I could run for a week and still not make it back here to her.

The rational voice in my head chimes in—can I do that every month? Surely someone would become suspicious at that point, right?

Standing and moving to the door, I poke my head out and address the first guard I see. “Fetch my sister for me. Bring her to my drawing room.”

“Yes, sir.”

Twenty minutes later, looking harried and a little upset, my sister is ushered into my drawing room. When we were kids, the staff would sometimes remark on how similar we looked. Dark hair, dark eyes, defined facial features from our mother.

But we no longer look anything alike. While I’ve grown into a strong, muscular body that I train each day, Aurora has grown into a softer body, one with curves that she did not have as a little girl. Sometimes, I wish she had found a mate when father was here—I don’t like the feeling that I need to protect her in this house, which is always crawling with alphas.

Of course, Aurora has her own team of guards that accompany her everywhere, but even guards can be untrustworthy.

A maid bustles in and sets a platter of tea and snacks on the coffee table, breaking me out of my thoughts and reminding me that I asked my sister here for a reason.

“Aurora, I need your help—”

“One moment,” she murmurs, voice delicate, soothing. She does not look up at me as she pours us each a cup of tea. “I need to focus so I don’t spill a single drop.”

I have never really been a tea person, but the house manager—surely under the advisement of Kellen—insists that it’s proper. That it’s only right to offer your guests tea when they arrive.

And, somehow, that extends to my sister and me having tea as we talk to one another. As Aurora finishes each cup with a cube of sugar, I remember our father putting her through omega finishing school, except her tutors would come to the castle and teach her individually.

“Too many omegas in one spot is a cause for trouble,” he’d explained when Aurora asked why she couldn’t just go to school with everyone else.

Now, Aurora lifts her tea to her lips, takes a delicate sip, and looks up at me over the rim of the cup. “Alright. What do you need?”

“We have a new guest,” I explain, immediately wishing that I had chosen another way to explain the situation. “What I mean by that is that we took a hostage. From Gavyn’s group. I plan to interrogate her, and that’s why I’m keeping her here.”

Aurora’s eyes widen. I usually do not tell her this much about my plans or involve her with pack business. For the most part, I just see her at meals, or when she’s drifting around the building. I am actually not entirely sure what she does with her days.

“Okay,” she says, slowly, clearly urging me to go on.

“She doesn’t have any clothes. I would like you to…get her some.”

Aurora stares at me openly, then sets her mug down on the table and shifts to face me, “Let me get this straight—you have taken someone prisoner to interrogate them and you want me to make sure they have…clothes?”

“That is correct. You should probably visit her first. Ask for her size.”

My sister continues staring at me like I’ve grown a second head. I don’t do her the satisfaction of admitting this is a weird situation. Instead, I just reach for my cup of tea, not really containing my grimace when I sip the drink.

It scalds my tongue, is barely sweet, and tastes like glorified leaf water.

Aurora opens her mouth to ask another question, but I can’t continue having this conversation. Especially not with the way my sister is looking at me, like she’s got an inkling of why I would be so kind to a captive.

“That’s all,” I say, before my sister can get her protest out.