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SONYA

S onya hadn’t meant to laugh.

She wasn’t even sure it had been a real laugh—more like a slip.

A small breach in the armor she’d worn since the night Roman dragged her into that den and made her complicit in whatever twisted prophecy-fueled fantasy he’d conjured.

But damn it, Landon had made her laugh.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

She walked out of the admin building, boots crunching over the gravel path as the sun filtered through the early fall canopy overhead.

The air was brisk, sharp with pine and pavement dust, but it didn’t bite quite hard enough to shake the unease rolling in her gut.

The way Landon had looked at her—open, almost curious—it gnawed at her, more than Roman’s commands ever had.

And she hated that.

She wasn’t here to make friends.

She wasn’t here to flirt.

She wasn’t here to feel.

But Landon had this way of looking at people.

Like they were the only ones in the room.

Like he wasn’t sizing her up or calculating his next move.

No... his gaze didn’t scrape like Roman’s.

It settled. It warmed.

And it scared the hell out of her.

She ducked around the back of the parking lot where her old black Jeep sat in the shade of a cluster of oaks.

Her fingers trembled just slightly as she opened the door and slid inside.

She sat still for a moment, head tipped back against the worn headrest, trying to breathe through the weight behind her sternum.

“You can’t be soft,” she muttered under her breath.

“He’s just a target. Just a job.”

But even she didn’t buy it.

Back at the edge of town, tucked between two butchered pine trees, Roman’s watchful eyes were waiting.

She felt them before she saw him.

The moment she turned off the road that led up to the western ridge, she caught the scent—cedarwood, dominance, a hint of smoke.

Roman didn’t blend into anything.

Even when he wanted to pretend he was subtle.

He was leaning against her front porch railing like he owned the goddamn place.

The setting sun cast gold over his dark hair and shadowed the sharp planes of his face, but that smug little smirk he wore might as well have been lit in neon.

Sonya parked with a curse and stepped out, jaw clenched tight.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Checking in,” he said casually.

“You skipped your afternoon update.”

“I was getting enrolled. Like you ordered.”

Roman’s smile thinned.

“I don’t recall using the word ordered. ”

Sonya crossed her arms. “That’s because you like to pretend you’re charming instead of a tyrant.”

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t take the bait.

Instead, he stepped closer, boots crunching over gravel, until there were only inches between them.

“You met him.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Briefly.”

Roman tilted his head, studying her.

“And?”

She met his gaze, refusing to flinch.

“He’s... normal. Quiet. Friendly. Doesn’t know a damn thing about what’s in his blood.”

Roman’s brow lifted slightly.

“But you talked to him. Got close.”

“Barely,” she lied.

“It’ll take time.”

Roman exhaled slowly, his fingers brushing along the edge of her jacket collar like he had some damn right to touch her.

She hated that technically, he did.

“Time’s a luxury we don’t have, cara mia. The Elders grow restless. They want power, and power means control. If this boy is what we think he is?—”

“If,” she cut in sharply.

“You’re gambling lives on a maybe. ”

“I’m making sure the pack survives.”

“You’re making sure you stay on top.”

His eyes darkened, jaw clenching.

“Careful, Sonya. There are some things even you can’t get away with saying to me.”

“You want me to keep my claws sheathed?” she snapped.

“Then stop acting like I’m yours to command and screw in the same breath.”

His face changed for a flash—surprise?

Fury? Hunger? She didn’t care.

She shoved past him toward her porch.

“I’ll do the job. But don’t come to my house uninvited again. I know I have that right at least.”

Roman caught her wrist, not hard, but firm.

“You forget your place.”

She turned on him, voice low, dangerous.

“No, Roman. I remember it. Every damn day. I just don’t have to like it.”

They stood there for a beat, the air between them crackling with tension.

Then he let go, stepping back, smoothing his jacket like none of it rattled him.

“Just don’t forget what’s at stake. If he’s the king... we make him ours. If he’s not... we remove the threat.”

Sonya’s blood ran cold.

“He’s a person , Roman. If he’s not who you think he is, how is he a threat? He’ll be just a person.”

“To us?” Roman smiled, and this time it was all teeth.

“He’s a prophecy. That’s all that matters.”

And then he was gone, moving like shadow between the trees, not even leaving dust behind.

Sonya exhaled shakily and stepped inside her house, locking the door behind her even though she knew it wouldn’t matter.

The place was small—open living space, one bed, concrete walls she’d painted herself to make it feel less like a pack-issued box.

There were plants in the window and a scratchy old blanket over the couch.

Her little rebellion against the cold life Roman carved for her.

She dropped onto the cushions, tugged her boots off, and stared at the ceiling like it held answers.

It didn’t.

She grabbed her phone and pulled up the enrollment system, checking her class list. Landon was in two of them.

Tuesday and Thursday.

Which meant she had a few days before she'd have to look him in the eye again.

A few days to remember why this was a job.

A few days to build walls where her heart had started leaving cracks.

Because the truth she couldn’t admit, not even to herself was simple.

Landon Graves had the kind of smile that made her forget every lie she’d ever been told.

And that was more dangerous than Roman ever could be.