Chapter 3

The grand ballroom of the Packhouse was blindingly bright. High society from various packs had gathered for the gala.

Sophia stood in a stunning gown, sipping champagne and laughing with the guests.

Evelyn was right beside her, practically vibrating with pride as she bragged to the other Alphas.

"Oh yes, our Sophia was personally invited by Alpha James himself."

"We will be joining forces with the Silvermoon Pack very soon."

Suddenly, the giant screen displaying the Silvermoon Pack crest flickered.

The image cut directly to the security feed of the VIP hallway.

There I was, my clothes torn, holding a bloody iron pipe, standing over two unconscious guards.

The entire ballroom went dead silent.

Conversations stopped instantly. Everyone stared at the screen in horror.

Sophia’s smile froze.

The glass in Evelyn’s hand slipped, shattering loudly on the marble floor.

"What... what is this?!" Sophia gasped, frantically tapping her phone.

She was sweating profusely, trying to shut down the feed.

Too late.

I had locked the system. No one could turn it off but me.

My voice boomed through the ballroom speakers, clear and crisp.

"Sophia, didn't you want James to find me?"

"Well, I'm out. How are you going to explain this to your little friends?"

The crowd erupted into whispers.

Every eye in the room locked onto Sophia and Evelyn.

"Alpha Vance, what is the meaning of this? Isn't that your adoptive daughter?"

"Did the Vance family seriously drug and kidnap a girl for Alpha James?"

"They’re using tracking devices on their own pack members? How pathetic."

Evelyn’s face turned from pale to purple. She pointed at the screen, screeching like a banshee.

"Emmy! You worthless bitch! What are you doing?!"

"Get your ass back to that room! If you anger Alpha James, our entire pack will pay!"

I let out a soft laugh.

"Pay?"

"Mrs. Vance, you’ve got it wrong."

"Tonight, the only ones paying are you."

I gripped the metal pipe and headed straight for the grand staircase leading to the ballroom.

Five heavily armed guards rushed up the stairs to block me. At the front was Brian, James’s scar-faced Beta.

"Take her down! Dead or alive!" Brian roared.

I dodged the first guard's claws, striking my palm hard against his throat.

In a fluid motion, I snatched his baton and cracked it across the second guard's jaw.

Blood sprayed.

My movements were precise, lethal, and fast.

Three years ago, I fought off an entire street of rogue mercenaries to protect a poisoned James. These pampered pack guards were nothing but slow-motion targets to me.

In less than a minute, all five guards were writhing on the floor, groaning in pain.

Brian clutched his broken ribs, looking up at me with sheer terror in his eyes.

"Who... who the hell are you?"

I pressed the bloody tip of the metal pipe under his chin, forcing him to look at me.

"Go tell James."

"His dogs are blocking my way."

Brian trembled, scrambling backward and running for his life.

I pushed open the double doors and stepped into the ballroom.

I knew a bunch of clowns were waiting for me.

And among them, a madman I hadn't seen in three years.