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“DeLoughrey.”

I furrowed my brow.

“Don't tell me he's serious,” I growled, unimpressed that this rich jerk had challenged her. “It's bad enough that I can't even leave this town for five months without this university going to shit.”

My gaze wandered back to the crest on one of the dark green banners hanging from the lanterns, which actually belonged to the Copeland pack and family but was now being used to enforce a blatant dictatorship.

I forced myself to look back at Emely.

“Now you're competing with a Legacy Ruisangor.”

I knew the Legacy Ruisangors of this town. All of them. I knew everything about them. At least what they couldn't hide through their ridiculous DUIO.

Miles was the clan leader's grandson. An immature snob who probably thought he had the biggest dick in the room.

I had spotted him just a moment ago. Next to her.

The mere memory of her intense stare was enough to set off a chain reaction. More memories crashed down on me. The ones where she wore a red satin dress and stared at me with innocent, far too human brown eyes.

Her hair was also light brown, almost blonde, and had that false sheen, just like the tip of her delicate nose.

But her cold skin and that smell had given her away.

I had hoped our winter ball encounter had been a bad dream, but there she had been, ten minutes ago. A goddamn Legacy.

“Who is that girl walking around with that DeLoughrey bastard?”

Once again, I glared in the direction where I had spotted her earlier. In a black leather jacket and those tight jeans that showed off her curves perfectly.

For a moment, I had wished she was one of those naive human girls who were good to fuck.

But she was a Legacy. The reason she had managed to mess with my sanity for a few seconds. Nothing about her attraction was real. And everything else about her was a red warning sign.

“Larissa,” Emely said quietly. “His sister.”

I stared tensely in the direction of the matte gray sports car.

Larissa. I didn't know any Larissa. And Miles DeLoughrey didn't have a sister.

I tore my gaze away from the dull gray Lamborghini that must belong to said Miles.

Nash had sent me a photo of a similar car a few weeks ago, except the one in the photo looked ready for the junkyard.

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure,” she said, nodding. “She was turned on Halloween.” She waved her hand dismissively. “But never mind.”

Larissa.

I made a mental note to look up that name and do some research. I didn’t like the fact that there was a Legacy I didn’t have any useful information about. Who knew what danger she brought to the city, even if she seemed to be a newbie.

Same with Miles. I would update my DeLoughrey files now that I had the tech to do it. Just in case this Ruisangor guy turned out to be a threat to Emely. Who knew what twisted crimes the clan was plotting with its tumor-like brood.

They all came here thinking they deserved a piece of the pie. The Ruisangors, the Quatura...

“No one will take Vanderwood away from me!” I gritted out, realizing too late that my thoughts had already turned to the reason I had returned earlier.

Anger boiled inside me, seething in my chest and creeping up my throat. Fortunately, Emely didn’t notice.