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“Gas,” Lexi breathes from beside him, eyes wide with horror.

Inside me, the urge to follow the others isn’t nearly as strong as it was a moment ago. I look at Lexi and Grey, who are also clearly immune to whatever’s happening. No, whatever’s being done to us.

Gas.

I inhale, tasting it again. And suddenly, I know exactly what’s gotten into everyone.

“What’s happening to them?” Lexi asks.

“Magic,” I say.

Grey nods. “Compulsion, most likely.”

“But you’re immune,” I say, the words half-question, half-relief.

“Maybe because we’re alphas,” Lexi proposes.

“It’s working on Nash,” I say, dread pooling in my gut at the dead look in his eyes as he walked right past me a moment ago.

“The serum,” Grey says with an expression like granite. He’s worried. The lack of it in his expression speaks volumes about how bad this is. “It makes us immune.”

“That explains us,” Lexi says. “What about you?” she asks me.

I blink, completely at a loss until I remember: seven years of Null. A drug that masks your scent and your wolf and maybe whatever else Davina used in her hex spell that let her control the others.

I swallow hard, shaking my head. “It’s a long story.” I look at Grey, my thoughts racing through strategy after strategy, but none of them work if I have to fight my own pack.

“What do you want me to do?” I hiss.

“Go with them,” Grey says. “Pretend you’re compelled. See what he has planned.”

“Stay in the house,” I tell him, already moving.

I hurry to catch up with the others. The moment I do, my expression goes neutral. My feet move with the group. I watch Dutch’s shoulders drop into that loose, easy set that means he’s not thinking about anything, and my chest squeezes so hard I have to breathe through true fear.

Dutch, Razor, Crow—they are the strongest wolves I know. They might be right beside me, but I’m in this alone now.

Outside, the lawn fills up with pack members I recognize from morning patrols. Estate staff. Marcus. Elena. Dozens of wolves. More than usual. And then I remember: We called all of our security forces back to the house, which means every single fighter we have is now under Ramsey’s control.

I scan every face and feel the wrongness of them like a song sung off key; they’re all present, but none of them are here. My stomach roils at how fucked we are. How Ramsey set all of this up so perfectly to make this moment happen.

He’s smarter than I gave him credit for. That hurts my pride.

Nash is three people to my right.

I look at him. He’s watching the tree line, and his face has an open, uncomplicated quality I’ve never seen on him before. The Nash I know always has something going on behind his eyes. Something turning over, assessing, measuring.

Right now, there is nothing.

It’s the most frightening thing about this moment.

Focus, my wolf says.

Ramsey steps out of the trees, and it’s all I can do to keep my expression neutral. Happy. Welcoming.

I want to throw up. To claw his eyes out. To let my wolf sink her teeth into his throat. He did this. He compelled their free will away. And now, I’m left standing alone in a sea of robots to face this pack’s greatest enemy. And at the end of it all, I am what I feared most: alone.

No sign of his pack, though. Not on the lawn. Not at his back. Which should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. Ramsey isn’t the kind of man to walk into enemy territory without an exit plan and a second knife hidden somewhere close.