The estate was a labyrinth of gilded cages.

    I spent the next few days wandering the halls, always followed by two massive, silent guards who looked like they were made of muscle and bad intentions. They didn't speak; they just watched. I was a bird in a golden cage, draped in the finest silks and fed the richest foods, but I was still a prisoner.

    Everywhere I went, I felt the eyes of the Pack. The staff, the guards, the gardeners-they all had that same intensity. That same unnatural stillness.

    But it was the North Tower that called to me.

    It sat at the edge of the cliffs, a jagged spire of ancient stone that looked as though it were trying to claw its way into the sky. Girard had forbidden me from entering it. "Rule Four," he had added over dinner, his eyes dark. "The North Tower is off-limits."

    Naturally, it was the first place I went when the guards were distracted by a shipment of weapons arriving at the docks.

    I slipped through the shadows of the garden, my bare feet silent on the cold stone. The air grew colder as I approached the tower, smelling of salt, wet earth, and something metallic-something like old blood.

    The door was heavy oak, reinforced with iron. It creaked as I pushed it open, revealing a spiraling stone staircase that seemed to descend into the very heart of the cliff.

    I climbed. My heart was a drum in my ears. At the top was a single, circular room.

    There were no windows. The only light came from a massive stone basin in the center of the room, filled with a shimmering, dark liquid that looked like liquid obsidian. Around the room were cages-massive, reinforced steel cages-but they weren't for people. They were too large.

    "You shouldn't be here, Arielle."

    I whirled around. A woman stood in the doorway. She was beautiful in a cold, predatory way, with hair as white as bone and eyes a piercing, unkind blue. Soline.

    "I'm the mistress of this house," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "I go where I please."

    Soline laughed, a jagged sound that echoed off the stone walls. "Mistress? You're a stabilize. A biological dampener. Do you know what this room is?"

    She walked toward the stone basin, her fingers trailing through the dark liquid. "This is where the Alphas come when the madness takes them. When the beast grows too strong for the man to contain. Girard comes here to scream, Arielle. He comes here to be chained so he doesn't tear his own pack apart."

    She turned to me, her eyes narrowing. "He thinks you can save him. He thinks a little human blood can quiet the storm of centuries. But look at this."

    She gestured to the walls. I saw the scratch marks-deep, jagged gouges in the solid stone. Marks that no human could have made.

    "He's a monster, little girl. And eventually, he'll grow tired of playing house. He'll want to hunt. And you? You're the closest prey."

    A low, subsonic growl rumbled from the staircase. The temperature in the room plummeted.

    Girard was standing there. He didn't look like the man in the bespoke suits. He looked raw. Unhinged. His eyes were pure, molten gold, and his chest was heaving.

    "Soline," he rasped, the sound more animal than human. "Leave us."

    Soline bowed her head, a smirk still playing on her lips, and disappeared into the shadows.

    Girard walked toward me, his movements twitchy and violent. He backed me against the stone basin, his heat clashing with the cold of the tower. He grabbed my wrists, pinning them to the stone.

    "I told you," he hissed, his face inches from mine.

    "Off. Limits."

    "Is it true?" I asked, my voice shaking. "Do you come here to be chained?"

    He let out a jagged breath, his forehead resting against mine. "I come here because I am losing my mind, Arielle. And right now... the only thing keeping me from shifting and tearing this room apart is the scent of your skin."

    He leaned down, his mouth crashing onto mine with a desperation that was terrifying. It wasn't a kiss; it was a battle. He tasted of copper and rain. His hands slid down to my waist, pulling me so close I could feel every corded muscle in his body.

    In the North Tower, surrounded by the ghosts of his madness, the bond didn't just spark. It exploded.

The air in the tower was thick with the scent of sex and ozone.

    Girard had me pinned against the stone basin, my silk robe a ruin around my ankles. His skin was burning, a fever that seemed to be consuming him from the inside out. I could feel the beast beneath the surface-the way his muscles twitched, the way his heartbeat was far too fast for a human.

    "The bond isn't finished," he groaned against my neck, his voice a layered rasp of man and wolf. "The marriage was just a legal formality. The pack needs to see the Rite. I need to feel the Rite."

    "What rite?" I gasped, my fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back.

    He pulled back, looking at me with eyes that were no longer human. He reached for a small, silver blade on a nearby pedestal.

    "The Lien de Sang," he whispered. "The Blood Link. It will make us one, Arielle. You will feel what I feel. You will see what I see. You will never be alone again."

    He took my hand and, before I could protest, made a small, quick nick across my palm. He did the same to his own.

    He pressed our palms together.

    The world disappeared.

    It was like being struck by a bolt of white-hot lightning. I screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the roar in my mind. Suddenly, I wasn't in the tower anymore. I was in a forest of shadows. I could hear the heartbeat of every living thing for miles. I could smell the salt of the ocean, the pine of the woods, and the deep, earthy musk of the pack.

    And I could feel Girard.

    His rage. His loneliness. His overwhelming, soul-shredding desire for me. It was a tidal wave that threatened to drown me. I felt the beast inside him-a massive, black wolf with eyes like stars-reaching out for me, claiming me.

    Mine, the voice echoed in my soul. Forever mine.

    I snapped back to reality, gasping for air. I was slumped in Girard's arms, my body shaking with the aftershocks of the connection. The wound on my palm was already gone, leaving only a faint, silver scar.

    Girard looked at me, his eyes finally fading back to amber, though they were filled with a new, terrifying clarity. He looked at me not as a prisoner, but as a part of himself.

    "It's done," he whispered, his lips ghosting over my forehead. "You are the Luna now. My blood flows in yours."

    He picked me up, carrying me back toward the main house, but I felt different. The cage didn't feel so small anymore. The world felt larger, sharper, and far more dangerous.

    But as we reached the master suite, a high, haunting howl echoed from the cliffs.

    It wasn't a howl of celebration. It was a howl of war.

    "The Monets," Girard hissed, his jaw tightening. "They've come to take back what they think is theirs."

    I looked at the man who was now a part of my soul and realized the truth: my father wasn't just coming for a rescue.

    He was coming to kill the monster I had just become a part of.

    And for the first time in my life, I wanted the monster to win.