I'm Alice Stone, the "Flame Siren" of the circle.

None know how polar opposites like me and Victor Voss end up tangled in his Maybach, panting in charity gala restrooms, or pressed against winery windows, his grip on my waist making me weak.

After another tryst, as shower water hisses, I wrap a towel, dial my sire:

"I'll mate the South pack Alpha for his ritual, but on one condition."

His joy spills through the line: "Name it! Any thing!"

"I'll explain home," I purr, voice ice beneath silk.

Hanging up, I spot his laptop- telegrams glows with a message from "Rose":

"Victor, thunder scares me."

My digits twitch.

The bathroom door opens, water dripping from his collarbones, shirt unbuttoned. "Pack calls," he says, voice cool.

I arch a brow: "Pack calls or your sweetheart?"

He frowns, departing. The door clicks, my smile vanishing. I follow.

Half a hour later, through rain, I see Rose Wyndham in white flee the hotel.

Victor drapes his coat over her, lifting her bridal.

Our first meeting? After I smashed my sire's head, he sent me to Victor's manor for "discipline." I rebelled:

Day 1: Spilled coffee on his million suit.

He said: "Ydoria cashmere-charge Stone den."

Day 2: Shredded meeting scrolls. He recited every word.

Day 3: potion in his drink, camera ready. Instead, his kiss became my cure.

Waking sore, he pinned me to the window:

"Alice," he breathed, undoing me.

Since then, every mischief led to his office-doors slamming, desks shaking.

I'd become addicted.

So on his birth, I spent a day decorating: roses, candles, a mating ring. I waited till candles died. At 3, news flashed:

#Lord Escorts Lover

My phone dropped.

Next day, I stormed his forbidden study-walls of Rose's photos.

Graduation, travels, even sleep snaps.

I laughed, cried, destroyed them.

He returned, called cleaners, never looked my way.

I watched the ring swept like trash-he never knew it held my life.

He thought I'd beg, but love died.

"Where to, young mistress?" the driver asks.

"Home," I say, voice cold.

Sire hugs me: "Truly mating South pack?"

On the stairs, step-dam Wendy and her white Rose stare.

"Truly," I say, eyes frosty. "But my condition: sever our sire bond."

air freezes.

Sire's face contorts: "You dare! Know what you say?"

I meet his gaze, sneer curling: "Perfectly. You cheated, drove Mother to death for your mistress. This home ceased being mine then."

Advancing, I hiss: "The South pack alpha offers 50 billion for a ritual mate. You hounded me three moons-would you bind me next?"

He roars, shaking: "Fine-sever the bond! But you mate by month's end!"

"Wendy's daughter returned. She moves in tomorrow."

"Fawning over another's whelp, disowning your own-truly uniquely vile."

Turning, step-dam Wendy grabs me: "Alice, watch your tongue!"

"Why? Think to claim mistress once I'm gone? Your bastard daughter wears Stone silks, but can't scrub your shame!"

Wendy staggers, face bloodless.

I flee to my room, slide down the door, tears spilling silent.

Next morn, moving chaos rumbles below.

I snap at the butler: "Who dares disturb?"

He stammers: "Second mistress Rose Wyndham."

My core freezes.

Step-dam's "ailing" daughter is Victor's sweetheart?

The cruellest jest.

I slap myself, slam the door.

Sire roars outside: "Vacate your room-Rose wants it!"

I laugh: "No difference now. Let her have the hall; I ready my ritual dowry."

At the luxury hotel, I splurge on gowns, jewels.

Even for a ritual, I'll glow.

Sire's calls flood my phone: "3 billion spent in a day! You'll bankrupt us!"

"Calm. The 50 billion arrives soon," I drawl.

Victor's text lights up: "More tantrums? Why skip me today?"

I stare. For a year, he "disciplined" me daily.

Now a ritual-bound she-wolf, what need of his orders?

At the hotel, my luggage lies in the lobby.

"Your cards are declined," the clerk trembles.

Sire's message: "Sever the bond-no more use of my wealth."

I reply: "As you wish."

Alone on streets, a drunk accosts me: "Lovely she-wolf, alone?"

I lash out, but Victor appears, snaps the man's wrist.

He hauls me into his car: "Homeless, yet no call to me?"

I bite my lip, tears threatening.

Never again will I be his disciplined Alice.

Once, no matter how fierce my row with Sire, Victor would drive his Maybach across the pack, then carry me home.

"More tantrums?" he'd sigh.

Against his back, breathing his snow pine scent, I'd foolishly hope he cared.

Now I see-none are more cunning.

He bedded me without love, then returned to his study to moon over Rose's photos.

How did I fall short?

Blood, beauty, form-none inferior.

Why her, of all wolves?

"Unhand me!" I snarl, red-eyed, biting his arm.

He frowns, starts the car in silence.

At his manor, he hauls my trunk inside, unbuttoning his cuffs:

"Stay till you wish to return to your home."

I stand rigid: "Half a month. I'll pay rent, no further disturbance."

His gaze pierces through gold-rimmed glasses:

"No disturbance? Can you truly promise that?"

My heart clenches. He'd seen it all-from our first clash to my addiction.

I loved him wildly, while he guarded his sweetheart, watching me drown.

"Rose Wyndham is my step-dam's whelp," I blurt.

He pauses untying his tie: "Learned that today."

"What is your bond to her?"

"Schoolmate. She saved me in a crash, has lingered abroad to heal."

His tone warns: "Your quarrel is with your step-dam, not Rose."

I swallow the question "Do you love her?"-his protection says enough.

I retreat to my chamber, slamming the door. He stays away all night.

Next day, I sleep till noon to avoid him, but find him on the sofa, pack journal in hand.

"Awake?" He doesn't look up.

"No work?"

"weekend."

Grabbing desserts, I flee, but he calls: "Change. You attend a gathering with me."

Arriving at the hotel, I find it's Rose's homecoming feast.

I turn to leave, but she latches on: "Sister, glad you came! Uncle's been worried since you left."

I sneer: "So you know he's just your 'uncle'? My life concerns you not."

Yanking free, I enter the chamber, catching her tears and Victor's warning glance.

He strokes Rose's hair, whispering her to smiles.

My core shatters.

I down champagne, its bitterness flooding my veins.

In the banquet hall, glasses clink and voices roar.

I shrink in the corner as Victor, circled by elites, tracks Rose's every move.

He twists open her drink; offers a cloth when wine stains her hem; raises the thermostat at her soft cough-tenderness I've never known.

Numbly downing wine, my heart rips like flesh under a dull blade.

"The bottle spins to Mr. Voss! Punishment time!"

A tablet is thrusted forward: "Choose the one who stirs your heart."

First pair: a starlet and Rose.

Victor doesn't blink: "Rose."

Cheers erupt as Rose blushes.

My digits dig into palms as photo after photo flashes-each time, he picks Rose.

I flee to the closet, but wild cheers follow.

My photo appears beside Rose's on the tablet.

" This is interesting! Miss Stone's the circle's beauty-if he still picks Rose. "

All eyes fix on Victor.

He's uncharacteristically silent.

Three heartbeats pass.

"Rose," he says low.

My world collapses.

As whoops deafen the hall, I stagger to the sink, splashing cold water-useless against the fire in my veins.

In the dim corridor, drunkards block my path.

"Add me, beauty," one slurs, reaching.

"Back off!"

I reel, hitting the wall.

Another grabs my wrist: "Dressed like this for play, no?"

A snarl rips the air-Victor lunges, twisting the man's wrist.

He hauls me to his car, trunk in tow.

"Unhand me!" I thrash.

He pins my wrist: "More antics?"

His tone jars a memory: when I fled Sire's home, he'd hunt me down, carry me back. "More tantrums?" he'd ask, my face buried in his snow pine scent.

Foolish me, thinking he cared.

I bite his hand.

He frowns, starts the car.

At his home, he dumps my trunk: "Stay till you seek your shelter."

I stand at the threshold: "Half a month. I'll pay rent, no more disturbance."

"No disturbance?"

His gaze pierces through gold rims.

"Can you promise that?"

The words slice deep.

He's seen my fall-from defiance to dependency.

While he guards his sweetheart, watching me drown.

"Rose is my step-dam's whelp," I blurt.

He pauses: "Learned that today."

"Your bond to her?"

"Schoolmate. She saved me in a crash, heals abroad." His eyes warn: "Your quarrel is with your step-dam, not Rose."

I retreat, slamming the door as tears fall.

I lie in a blood pool, vision fading, yet see Victor Voss cradle Rose Wyndham-guarding her like treasure.

memories flash:

First meet, his eyes cold as ice behind gold rims;

Me pouring salt in his coffee, him drinking it stone-faced;

Our first clash on his desk, my teeth in his shoulder;

His birthday, my room decked in roses-only to find him with Rose;

Walking five miles to my mother's shrine, blistered heels, his silent back carrying me home.

.

The monitor's beep jolts me. Next bed, Rose weeps:

"My fault, quarreling on the road. I just wanted to drive her home. Victor, why save me first? She'll rage!"

He wipes her tears: "No blame. I'd choose you again. Your health is frail. She has no reason to anger."

His softness-unknown to me-slices my core.

What am I to him?

When Rose leaves, Victor turns, finding me awake.

"Superficial wounds. Called the best healers-no scars."

I nod: "Understood. fees repaid in half a moon."

He frowns at "half a moon," but leaves me to silence.

Days pass.

Victor stays, but I no longer cling.

Silent during treatments, meals, sleeps-emptying his world.

At a injection, he breaks: "Still angry?"

"At what?" I watch him adjust the drip.

"For saving Rose first. We-"

A corridor commotion cuts him off.

A nurse whispers: "Step-daughter of Stone Group's sire fell-rushed to emergency."

Victor's face shifts: "Pack calls. Return soon." He leaves, my heart icing.

Seven hours later, a nurse gasps: "Your drip backflowed! Near disaster!"

My hand is swollen. No visit from him.

"Where's your hunk?" a nurse teases.

"Not my mate," I say, limping out.

Corridor whispers pierce:

"Step-sire dotes-private healer, VIP den."

"Wealth can't buy love."

Through a cracked door: Victor adjusts Rose's drip; my sire feeds her apples.

tears fall, but I wipe them: "No tears. No one cares."

My steps steady, rapid.