Vivien’s wine glass fell, shattering on the floor. Her eyes were wide with panic. “W-What? Heron, what do we do now?”
Heron’s jaw tightened. “We finish what we started.”
Vivien hesitated, fear flashing across her face. “How? She’s not just alive—she’s with them. The werewolf world… that’s not something we can touch.”
Heron’s expression darkened. “I don’t care who or what she’s with. She’s a threat. And threats need to be eliminated. You wanted the good life, didn’t you? Then stick to the plan.”
Vivien nodded reluctantly, but the tremor in her hand didn’t escape Heron’s notice. He downed the rest of his whiskey, his mind racing. If Calla was truly alive, then everything he’d worked for could crumble in an instant. No—he couldn’t let that happen. He would end her, by hook or by crook.
Calla's POV
Days passed in a suffocating haze. I stayed locked in my room, ignoring Jacob’s persistent knocks and attempts to speak. The ornate furnishings only emphasized my prison, and the mark on my neck was a constant reminder of the bond he had forced upon me. I needed to escape, but every plan I considered seemed hopeless.