Chapter 5
Alyssa POV:
"The deal is simple," Dr. Evans whispered as he checked my IV drip. "You give the Bureau the map of the Sterling Pack's smuggling routes. In exchange, they provide the new identity and the extraction."
"I have the map memorized," I replied. My father had taught me the routes years ago, long before Brennan turned them into avenues for illegal trade.
"Good. Tonight is the Charity Gala," Evans said. "It's the perfect cover. Chaos, noise, humans. You need to get to the terrace at 10:00 PM."
I nodded.
Hours later, I was dressed in a long-sleeved gown to hide my burns and bandages. I sat in a wheelchair; my leg was too weak to support me for long.
The Gala was held in the grand ballroom of the city's finest hotel. Humans in tuxedos and diamonds mingled with wolves in human form. It was a masquerade of civility.
A waiter with intense, stormy gray eyes passed by me with a tray of champagne. He didn't stop, but he slipped a cocktail napkin under my glass. On it, a single handwritten time: 22:00.
I glanced up, but he was already gone, blending seamlessly into the crowd.
Brennan stood in the center of the room. He looked regal, handsome. And on his lap, sitting like a queen, was Debbi.
She was wearing a white dress, playing the part of the innocent virgin. Around her neck glittered a stone that made my breath hitch.
The Moonstone Necklace.
It was an heirloom passed down through generations of Sterling Lunas. My mother had worn it. Her mother had worn it. It was supposed to be mine.
Brennan tapped a glass with a spoon. The room went quiet.
"Welcome, everyone," Brennan announced, his voice projecting effortlessly. "Tonight, we celebrate the future. And with that future, comes change."
He looked at Debbi with a sickening warmth.
"I am proud to announce that Debbi Foley is officially the candidate for the new Luna of the Sterling Pack."
Applause erupted. Humans clapped politely; wolves clapped out of obligation or fear.
Brennan unclasped the necklace and fastened it around Debbi's neck. The moonstone seemed to dim as it touched her skin, as if the stone itself rejected her.
I couldn't watch anymore. I gripped the wheels of my chair and turned away, heading for the terrace doors.
The night air was cool. I rolled into the shadows, away from the light of the party. I checked my watch. 9:55 PM. Five minutes until extraction.
I took a deep breath to steady my nerves.
That's when I smelled it.
Underneath the expensive perfumes and the scent of champagne, there was a stench. It was sharp, sulfurous, like rotten eggs and unwashed bodies.
Rogue.
But not just any Rogue. It was coming from the corner of the terrace.
I squinted into the darkness. A man was standing there, smoking a cigarette. He turned, and the light from the ballroom hit his face.
I gasped. It was the Rogue Alpha, the brother of Gianna, the woman who ran the local crime syndicate. He was supposed to be in exile.
And standing next to him... was Debbi.
She had slipped away from Brennan. They were whispering. Debbi laughed, a sound that was entirely different from her innocent giggle. It was low and dark.
"Brennan is such a puppet," I heard her say. Her voice carried on the wind. "He actually thinks I'm his Mate. The idiot doesn't even know I'm using a scent-masker."
"Just get the codes to the vault," the Rogue Alpha grunted. "Then we kill him and take the territory."
My heart hammered against my ribs. She wasn't just a mistress. She was a spy. A Rogue spy.
The Rogue Alpha turned his head. His eyes locked onto me in the shadows. He sniffed the air.
"We have company," he growled.
Debbi spun around. Her face went pale, then twisted into a snarl.
"The cripple," she hissed.
The Rogue Alpha took a step toward me, pulling a knife from his jacket.
I tried to turn my wheelchair, but the wheel caught on a loose paving stone. I was stuck.
"Run!" my mind screamed, but my body was trapped in the chair.
The Rogue lunged.
I threw myself out of the chair, hitting the concrete hard. I scrambled backward, dragging my dead leg.
"Help!" I screamed, but the music inside was too loud.
The Rogue kicked the wheelchair aside. He loomed over me, the knife glinting in the moonlight.
"No witnesses," he said.
Just as he raised the knife, a black van screeched to a halt at the curb below the terrace. The side door slid open.
"Alyssa! Jump!" a voice shouted.
It was Carroll.
But the terrace railing was five feet high. I couldn't jump. I couldn't even stand.
I looked at the Rogue, then at the ballroom doors where Brennan was laughing, oblivious to the fact that his "true love" was plotting his murder.
I was trapped between a monster and a traitor. And for the first time in years, I felt a spark of something deep inside me.
Not fear.
Rage.
My vision blurred, turning red. A low growl, one I hadn't heard in five years, rumbled in my chest.
The Rogue hesitated. "What the..."
But before I could unleash whatever was waking up inside me, a cloth soaked in chemical acridity was pressed over my mouth from behind.
Debbi.
"Sleep tight, Luna," she whispered in my ear.
Darkness swallowed me whole.
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