The rain hammered down on Summit Mountain Cemetery, slashing through the pines, soaking through Aurora's black trench coat. She stood motionless, a tall, lean figure with sharp cheekbones and pale grey eyes that held no warmth. Water dripped from the brim of her baseball cap onto the white lily she'd placed at Vera Mercer's gravestone.

She crouched and wiped a streak of mud from the carved letters of her mother's name. The stone was freezing under her bare fingers.

Her hand stilled.

A dull, heavy thud sounded through the storm. A silenced gunshot, then another. And they were coming closer, fast.

Aurora straightened, her body coiling tight. Her gaze cut through the rain, locking onto the dense pine forest to her left.

A massive, dark figure crashed through the wet bushes. The sharp stench of blood hit her nose before the man hit the ground. He stumbled, dropped heavily onto one knee in the mud, less than three feet from Vera's headstone.

A thick spray of his blood splattered across the clean white edge of the grave.

Aurora's eyes went flat and cold.

The man forced his head up. Blood poured from a gash on his forehead, blinding him. Through blurred vision, Damian could only make out a slender silhouette in a baseball cap. A harsh, grating warning tore from his throat as he reached for his pistol, but his fingers spasmed. Too much blood loss.

The bushes behind him exploded. Six killers in black tactical vests poured out, forming a tight semi-circle that trapped Damian and Aurora against the graves. The lead killer raised his weapon, the long suppressor aimed dead center. He flicked his chin, signaling his men to eliminate the girl along with the target.

Aurora didn't even look at them.

She reached into her coat pocket, pulled out a sterile wipe, and crouched down. She began wiping the fresh blood off her mother's gravestone with slow, deliberate strokes.

The lead killer's jaw tightened. He pulled the trigger.

The bullet ripped through the rain, aimed at Aurora's back.

She didn't turn. Tracking the sound of displaced air, she tilted her body sideways at a sharp angle. The bullet scorched past her ear, singeing a stray lock of dark hair before burying itself in the mud.

Damian's pupils shrank. His instincts screamed one word. Not civilian.

Aurora dropped the dirty wipe into a puddle. She stood and turned. Beneath the shadow of her cap, her face was blank, but her eyes carried a flat, suffocating intent to kill.

Her right hand slipped into her coat. When it emerged, three thin silver needles rested between her fingers, coated with a fast-acting paralytic.

The lead killer sensed the shift. He opened his mouth to shout.

Aurora lunged. Mud erupted under her boots as she closed the distance in a heartbeat. Her left hand slapped the barrel of his gun upward. Her right drove forward. The needles sank deep into the pressure points on his neck.

He didn't scream. His eyes rolled back, and his body collapsed into the mud with a heavy splash.

The remaining five froze for a split second, then swung their weapons toward her.

Aurora didn't stop. She used the falling body as a shield, snatching the tactical knife from his belt as he went down. She moved through the rain without a sound. The blade flashed. She sliced through the second killer's wrist, severing muscle and tendon. His gun dropped.

The third lunged from behind. Aurora didn't look. She drove her elbow backward with crushing force, smashing his nose. Blood exploded across his face.

In under ten seconds, all six trained killers were down in the mud, bleeding and incapacitated.

Damian fought to keep his eyes open. He saw the brutal efficiency, tried to focus on her face, but the rain and blood loss dragged him under. His vision went black. His large frame crashed face-first into the earth.

Aurora tossed the knife aside. She walked over and nudged his shoulder with the toe of her combat boot. No response.

She crouched. Grabbing his blood-soaked collar, she ripped the shirt open. A through-and-through gunshot wound near his chest. A deep knife gash across his ribs.

A faint, irritated sigh escaped her lips. "Troublesome."

She walked briskly to her battered Jeep parked on the mountain road, retrieved a sleek waterproof medical kit from a hidden compartment, and returned. Kneeling in the mud, she unzipped the kit and pulled out a glass syringe filled with a glowing blue serum.

Her face showed nothing. She plunged the needle into the muscle near his heart and pushed the plunger down.

Within seconds, his shallow, erratic breathing steadied. The bleeding slowed.

Aurora stood. She left no trace of her identity. She turned her back on the bodies and walked to her Jeep. Time to head to Redwood City.

Aurora drove with one hand, the Jeep's tires rolling off muddy mountain roads onto the smooth asphalt of Redwood City's wealthiest district. She braked at the towering wrought-iron gates of the Lott Estate and pressed the intercom.

"Aurora Lott."

The security guard in the booth looked up. Disgust flickered across his face as he took in her cheap, damp clothes and the beat-up Jeep. The gates swung open.

She parked the dirty vehicle between a pristine Bentley and a custom Porsche. It sat there like a piece of scrap metal washed up on a white-sand beach. She stepped out, heavy combat boots hitting the marble steps, and scanned the excessive luxury of the mansion with cold, unimpressed eyes.

The heavy oak doors swung open. The blinding glare of a massive crystal chandelier made her squint. The head butler immediately stepped into her path, looking down his nose.

"Miss, you need to remove those boots. You are tracking mud onto the Persian rugs."

Aurora walked right past him. Her muddy boots sank into the expensive fabric, leaving a trail of dark, wet footprints across the foyer.

She strode into the main living room.

Eleanor Lott, a stiff old woman with silver hair swept into a severe chignon, sat on a velvet sofa, sipping black tea from a porcelain cup. She heard the heavy footsteps and looked up. Her eyes raked over Aurora like a barcode scanner, cataloging the cheap trench coat and the unapologetic posture.

Eleanor slammed her teacup onto the saucer. The clatter echoed through the room.

Stella Lott, the adopted daughter, sat beside her. She was blonde, wearing a pale pink designer dress that fit her like a second skin. She didn't reach for a handkerchief. Instead, a perfectly sweet smile bloomed on her face, and she leaned closer to the matriarch.

"Grandma, the air is a bit damp today, isn't it?" Stella's voice was soft but pitched to carry. "It reminds me of that wet earth smell from the deep countryside. It must bring back such vivid memories for Aurora."

She turned wide, innocent eyes toward the doorway. "Aurora, was life in the trailer park really that hard? You look... exhausted."

Aurora shoved her hands into her coat pockets. She stood tall, looking down at the two of them, a cold, mocking smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Eleanor's face tightened. "You have no manners. No breeding. You are an absolute embarrassment to the Lott name."

Aurora raised an eyebrow, her voice flat. "A family that threw me out ten years ago wants to lecture me about breeding?"

The words hit like a slap. Eleanor shot up from the sofa, her finger jabbing at Aurora's face. "You ungrateful bastard!"

Stella quickly stood, wrapping her arms around Eleanor to support her. She looked at Aurora with wide, innocent eyes, throwing fuel on the fire. "Grandma, please calm down. Sister probably just picked up these vulgar habits from the bottom of society. She doesn't know any better."

Aurora's eyes went lethal. She took one slow step forward.

The sheer pressure radiating off her made Stella's breath catch. Stella stumbled backward before her brain could catch up, her lower back slamming hard against the sharp edge of the glass coffee table. She gasped in pain. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes, playing the perfect victim.

Eleanor gasped and pulled Stella behind her. "You savage! This is not your filthy slum! You will not act like a wild animal in my house!"

Aurora was already bored. She cut straight to the point. "Where is my father, Kevin?"

Eleanor let out a harsh laugh. "That useless failure? He's living in the rundown guest house at the edge of the property. Where he belongs."

Aurora's jaw clenched. Cold anger twisted in her stomach.

Stella peeked out from behind Eleanor, rubbing her back. "Since you are back, Aurora, there is a very important family obligation you need to fulfill."

Eleanor sat back down, smoothing her skirt. "You will fulfill the family's marriage pact."

Aurora nearly laughed. Breaking that exact pact was one of the reasons she'd returned. But her face stayed blank. She waited for them to show their hand.

"The Lott family does not feed useless mouths," Eleanor stated. "This marriage is the only value you have to pay us back for our protection."

Aurora's gaze swept the room, taking in the suffocating smell of old money and rotting morals. Her eyes held pure disgust.

She didn't reject the demand. She simply turned her back. "I'm going to see my father."

She walked out, her heavy boots echoing down the hallway. Stella watched the muddy footprints on the rug, a vicious, calculating gleam flashing in her teary eyes.

The living room fell dead silent after Aurora left. Stella dropped the victim act instantly. She walked over to Eleanor and began massaging the old woman's tense shoulders.

Stella's voice trembled with genuine panic. "Grandma, you can't make me marry Damian Yates. He's a cripple tied to a wheelchair. Everyone says he's a violent psychopath. It will ruin my future."

Eleanor patted Stella's hand, her eyes sharp and calculating. "Don't worry, my dear. I would never throw my most valuable asset into a fire pit." She paused. "Aurora has Lott blood. Legally, she is the perfect candidate to fulfill that ancient contract."

Trading a worthless, uneducated hillbilly for the massive commercial resources of the Yates family was the most profitable deal Eleanor could imagine. She called the head butler back. "Prepare the documents. We are officially changing the name on the marriage contract to Aurora Lott."

Meanwhile, Aurora walked across the manicured lawns toward the darkest, most neglected corner of the estate. She pushed open the peeling wooden door of the guest house. The hinges screamed.

Inside, the lighting was dim. Kevin Lott, a thin man with tired eyes and graying hair, sat at a small scratched table, thick reading glasses on his nose, trying to fix a broken toaster with a screwdriver. He looked up.

When he saw his daughter standing there after ten long years, the screwdriver slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

Kevin's eyes filled with tears. He stood, his hands shaking. He took a step toward her, wanting to hug her, then looked down at his grease-stained hands and stopped, afraid of dirtying her clothes.

The ice in Aurora's eyes melted. She closed the distance and wrapped her arms tightly around him.

Audra, her stepmother, hurried out from the tiny kitchen area. She was a gentle-faced woman with worry lines and messy brown hair pulled into a bun. When she saw Aurora, she froze. The worn dish towel slipped from her hands and hit the floor with a soft thud. Her eyes widened and filled with tears.

"Rory?" Audra whispered, her voice trembling. She took a hesitant step forward. "Is that really you? Where have you been all these years?"

Aurora offered a small, reassuring nod. Seeing that, the tension drained from Audra's shoulders, and a warm, genuine smile broke across her tired face. She immediately rushed to pour a cup of hot water.

Sitting on the lumpy sofa in that cramped, drafty room, Aurora felt the tight knot in her chest loosen. It was the first time in years she'd felt warm.

Kevin sat beside her, his face full of guilt. He asked about her life outside. Aurora looked at his worn face and fed him a gentle, fabricated story, completely erasing the blood, the guns, and the dark web.

Before Kevin could ask another question, the front door was violently kicked open.

Eleanor's senior assistant marched in, followed by four massive estate bodyguards. The small room instantly felt suffocating.

The assistant held up a legal folder, a smug look on his face. "Eleanor's orders. Aurora Lott will marry Damian Yates in exactly one month."

All the blood drained from Kevin's face. He shot up from the sofa, fists clenched. "No! You're throwing her into a meat grinder! Everyone in the city knows Damian is a crippled monster!"

The assistant sneered. "If you refuse, all three of you will be stripped of your living allowance and thrown out onto the streets today."

Audra grabbed Kevin's hand, her whole body shaking with anger. "We'd rather sleep on the streets than sacrifice Aurora."

Aurora remained seated on the broken sofa. She crossed her legs, hands resting on her knees, and stared at the assistant with the eyes of a mortician looking at a corpse.

Her brain rapidly pulled up the files she had on Damian Yates. The apex predator of Washington State's financial world. Rumored to be paralyzed from the waist down.

A low, dark chuckle escaped her lips. Everyone turned to look at her.

She stood and walked slowly toward the assistant. The sheer physical dominance radiating from her made the man instinctively take a half-step back.

She snatched the folder from his hand, flipped through the first two pages, her face completely bored. "Go back and tell the old woman," Aurora said, her voice dead calm. "I accept the marriage."

Kevin and Audra gasped in horror. Kevin reached for her arm, but Aurora shot him a look so commanding it froze him in place.

The assistant smiled in triumph. "Smart girl. You know your place." He turned and marched out, the bodyguards trailing behind him.

The moment the door clicked shut, Kevin dropped his face into his hands, a broken sob escaping his lips. "I'm useless. I dragged you down with me."

Aurora turned. Her eyes were clear, sharp, and completely ruthless. "Dad, look at me. I only agreed to buy us time. I am going to break this engagement myself."

She wasn't going to be anyone's pawn. The Lott family owed them blood, and she was going to collect every single drop.