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“We will find him and eliminate the threat,” Jericho said. “Both to you and the Council.”

The corner of Tiberius’s mouth twisted. “Forgive me if I don’t share your optimism. What with the drug being stolen, prisoners dying, drug-crazed rogues roaming the streets.” His voice rose. “And Zion’s brand marking my walls.”

The magister sighed, regaining his composure, then locked Victor in his sights. “Before this gets further out of hand, I’ve decided to open an investigation of my own. I’ve even assembled my own contingent of warriors to carry out the task.”

Victor stared at the antagonistic male seated behind his desk. The clan leader’s face was an expressionless mask, his reaction tightly contained.

Seeming disappointed at his lack of response, Tiberius leaned forward, driving his insult home. “From now on, you will report all your findings directly to me.”

After a stretch of icy silence, Victor spoke, “I’m to assume the other Council members concurred.”

Tiberius grinned. “They trust my judgment. I explained to them you would understand, wanting only what is best for our community.” Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. “Who knows, if my team proves fruitful, perhaps the Council will have no further need for you or your guard. Then you can focus solely on the needs of your clan.”

Victor arched a brow. “Indeed.”

With the thinly veiled threat delivered, Tiberius stood and rounded the desk. “I must be off. Don’t want to miss the ribbon-cutting ceremony for my nephew’s new casino. I’ll be in touch.” He strode out of the room, leaving his men to follow.

Jericho eased to his feet, the clan leader’s fury a palpable force. “My liege—”

“Leave. Now,” Victor ordered, his tone tight, scowling at the seat Tiberius had vacated.

Jericho followed that command without question, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind him. From the office, a snarl rang out, along with the sound of breaking glass.

Alex satwith her book propped on the arm of the green velvet sofa, legs curled beneath her. The gas fireplace crackled at her side. Cheerful, inviting—wasted. After meeting Tiberius Steele in person, nothing could draw the cold from her bones.

What if he recognized her as a faerie?

She chewed her thumbnail. Surely he didn’t. Faeries appeared human until blood was involved. The magister had given her the same attention he would a bug crawling across the carpet.

She shivered at the thought of the magistertestingher ability. As much as she hated to admit it, perhaps Victor had done her a courtesy after all.

Victor.

Her stomach twisted. His words grated in her head.“Again, Alexandra.It is no longer acceptable for you to deny your true nature.”

Easy for him to say when most of the underworld believed hertrue naturewas something sinister and evil.“But what if Victor is right?”whispered a voice from the bottom of that well.

She burrowed deeper into the corner of the couch.Lah, lah, lah. Not listening to you, creepy voice.

Words blurred into focus on the page—upside-down. She sighed and flipped the book right-side up. What she really needed was a bag of pretzels and a cold beer. Pair it with a trashy magazine and some rock music with killer female vocals. Heaven.

Libraries were so not her thing. When you spent your days dodging everyone’s emotions, you sure as hell didn’t want to read about them. At times, she’d envied the smart girls. The studious, dedicated types. At a young age, she’d had bigger things to worry about than failing grades. Not that her dad cared.

Liam cared, though. Her heart tripped.

More than once, she’d skipped class only to find him waiting for her. Massive arms folded, brow furrowed. He’d wanted her to be more, to be better. Smarter than he’d been. But most of all, he’d wanted her to stay safe, stay free.

And yet, here she was. Caught. Blackmailed. Manipulated. What a disappointment she must be.

Feeling twice her years, she eased to her feet and lumbered to the towering wall of books. Colorful spines spanned the shelves. Row after row of leather-bound elegance.

She returned her novel to its rightful place, next to its distinguished neighbor. It was all so disgustingly organized. Every spine sat exactly one inch back from the shelf edge. All in alphabetical order.

She poked a book out of alignment. Grabbed another and stuck it at the end of the shelf. The next, she turned backward, pages out. “Ha! Have fun finding that one, Victor.” Just for good measure, she yanked out two more and shoved them into random spots. “Stick that in your Dewey Decimal System.” She poked a couple more—just because it felt good.

“Such a little rebel.”

“Shit.” She startled and spun.