Cass’s POV

A guard bursts through the door, nearly tearing it off its hinges. "Alpha! Our rogues were attacked!"

"Rogues?" I ask, catching up as Warrick strides toward the exit.

"They patrol the borders in exchange for supplies," Warrick explains. "Let's see what’s left of them."

We rush to the front courtyard. The rogue leader, Crow—whom I remember from the festival—staggers toward us, his men dropping several bodies at Warrick’s feet. Colt and I freeze. We recognize them—they are from Colt’s pack.

"Finally," I mutter. "Ezra is making his move."

More men emerge from the treeline, and suddenly, a familiar face appears. "DASH!" I shout, rushing forward to pull him into a hug.

Warrick watches us, his expression unreadable. "Well, well. Look who’s back."

"Don't you dare touch him," I snap. "He’s my friend."

"For all we know, he’s working with the enemy," Garret counters, his hand resting on his weapon.

"No," Dash gasps. "We were hunted. We barely made it to your borders."

Behind him, more warriors emerge, ushering in James, along with Colt’s younger siblings, Miles and Bryn. My heart swells—part relief, part shattering grief. James looks hollow, his eyes glassy and haunted.

"James," I whisper, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"He killed her, Cass," James chokes out, his voice trembling. "Lauren is dead."

I hold him as he sobs, the reality of it hitting me like a physical blow. Nearby, Colt is wrapped in a chaotic reunion with his siblings.

Warrick approaches Dash, his presence commanding. "The truth. Why are you here?"

"Ezra went mad," Dash replies, clearly struggling against the subtle pressure of Warrick’s influence. "He killed the Alpha, my father. We were hunted for days. Miles has information—about assassins."

Warrick dismisses the mention of assassins with a wave of his hand. "We can handle them. Bring them inside."

In the war room, the atmosphere is frigid. Warrick pardons Dash, though his tone warns that this is a one-time offer. As he leaves to interrogate the prisoners, the doors click shut, leaving us alone with Colt’s family.

Bryn, Colt’s sister, turns her gaze toward me with undisguised contempt. "So, you’re the Alpha’s daughter?"

"She’s my mate," Colt cuts in, his voice sharp.

Bryn sneers. "And what could he possibly see in you? You’re nothing but a pawn in this house."

I feel the familiar hum of my power at the base of my skull. It’s not rage this time; it’s a calm, cold decision.

Shut the fk up.

Bryn opens her mouth to retort, but no sound comes out. Her eyes widen in panic. She tries to scream, to curse, to argue, but she is completely silenced.

"Oh, look at that," I say, a genuine smile touching my lips. "The silence is lovely."

Dash stares at me, horrified. "You really can do it. Alpha Ruling."

"It's not just a suggestion like Alpha Command," Colt explains, looking at me with a mix of awe and trepidation. "She can control their minds—their very bodies."

I realize then the weight of what I hold. If I slip, if my emotions override my logic, I could snuff out a life as easily as silencing a voice.

Later that night, exhausted and emotionally drained, Colt and I collapse into bed. The world outside is descending into war, but in his arms, I find a fragile peace.

"You’re thinking too much," Colt whispers, pulling me closer.

"I’m thinking about what I did to Bryn," I admit. "I didn't even have to try. It just... happened."

Colt runs a hand through my hair. "You have a tremendous amount of power, Cass. Just... don't let it turn you into someone I don't recognize. Don't become like him."

"I am

not

my father," I say, a flash of irritation surfacing.

"I know," he says softly. "But you’re his daughter. You’re a storm, Cass. Just make sure you’re the one deciding where the lightning strikes."

I close my eyes, listening to his steady heartbeat, but sleep remains elusive. The war is coming, and I am far from ready.