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"Senator Iverson prefers to handle delicate matters personally. Privacy is paramount in cases like yours," York explained, his voice laced with practiced sincerity.

"Cases like mine?" Seraphina unbuckled her seat belt with trembling fingers. "I'm an astronomer who went away on a short vacation without telling anyone, not a political prisoner."

"Of course not." York chuckled, the sound hollow as he gestured toward the open cabin door. "After you."

The tropical air hit her like a wall—thick, humid, and heavy with the scent of salt and flowers too sweet to be natural. At the bottom of the stairs, a sleek black limousine waited, its polished surface reflecting the dense jungle surrounding them.

A man stepped out of the vehicle, his gray hair immaculately styled, wearing a tailored suit that showcased his athletic build. Recognition crashed through Seraphina like a wave, freezing her mid-step.

It was him.

The monster from her vision.

The man who must've broken into her home.

Senator Iverson approached with the practiced smile of a career politician, but his light blue eyes held the cold calculation of a predator. "Miss Lucero, what a pleasure to finally meet you properly."

A vision slammed into Seraphina without warning. Her surroundings dissolved, replaced by blood and fur and teeth. Orion, magnificent in his wolf form, gray and powerful, locked in mortal combat with another wolf—black and vicious. Senator Iverson. Blood matted Orion's fur as he struggled, fought,and ultimately fell beneath Iverson's crushing jaws. The vision panned outward—Orion's island overtaken, his pack in chains, serving Iverson's twisted ambitions. The Starlight pack bowed beneath whips and threats while Iverson stood triumphant on Orion's throne.

"Miss Lucero? Are you feeling unwell?" Iverson's voice pulled her back to reality, his hand on her elbow.

Every instinct in her body screamed at her to run, but where? They were surrounded by jungle, on an island she didn't know, miles from safety. From Orion.

Survival meant playing along. For now.

"Sorry," Seraphina forced a smile, blinking rapidly. "Just a bit disoriented from the flight. It's been quite the adventure."

"Indeed." Iverson's grip tightened momentarily before he released her. "Please, allow me to escort you to the estate. Your friend Abby is waiting for you there."

Liar.

"Abby's here?" Seraphina widened her eyes, injecting hope into her voice. "That's wonderful! I've been so worried about what she must think."

"She's understandably curious about your sudden disappearance." Iverson guided her toward the limousine, his hand hovering at her back—not quite touching, but present enough to make her skin crawl. "But don't worry, once we're at the estate, you can catch up over drinks by the pool. Consider it a mini-vacation after your ordeal."

As she slid into the plush leather interior of the limousine, Seraphina closed her eyes briefly, concentrating on the strange warmth that had bloomed in her chest the moment she'd touched Orion—that connection Bertram had called a mate bond.

Orion, please. I need you. It's a trap. He means to kill you. To enslave your pack. Find me.

The intensity of her mental plea surprised her—part desperation, part instinct she didn't fully understand. She had no idea if such connections were real or simply pack mythology, but at that moment, she clung to the possibility like a lifeline.

"The island is beautiful," she commented as the limousine purred along the winding jungle road. "Have you owned it long?"

"For decades," Iverson's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's my sanctuary from the political circus. Speaking of which, I understand King Guillaume was quite... hospitable during your stay."

Another vision crashed over her—darkness, metal against her wrists, a windowless room. Senator Iverson's voice echoing:"You will use your powers for me. You will see my path to victory. You will help me take what's mine."

Seraphina blinked it away, careful not to let her expression change. "Everyone was very kind. It was all a misunderstanding, really."

"Oh?" Iverson leaned forward, those cold eyes suddenly intent. "What kind of misunderstanding?"

"Just cultural differences." Seraphina kept her voice light while her mind raced. "He saw me in distress and assumed I needed rescuing. Very old-fashioned chivalry."

"And did you need rescuing, Miss Lucero?"

"From a break-in, yes." She met his gaze directly. "Someone entered my home. I'm not sure who."

Something flashed behind Iverson's eyes—amusement, perhaps? "How frightening for you. But you're safe now."