Yule city, Yule country. Yule National School of Dance. “Your project lacks the emotions required for such a heart-friendly piece, Miss Litotes. Dance that to a person with cardiac arrest and they could die. You need to wield passionate and subtle feelings when portraying a swan-like character, which is something you do not seem to possess. Stiff movements are meant for robotic showcases, not ballet or contemporary dances. You should have learned more about that instead of focusing on technique. You are dismissed. Next person.” Eighty, or less than eighty words, yet they carry such venom that stabs Heaven’s heart like a blade. She bites her lower lips to stop herself from bursting into tears, yet that doesn’t help as she grabs her bag and hurries out, slamming the classroom door behind her. Reaching her lodge, Heaven tosses her bag aside, tucking out her phone and chewing the nail of her shaking index finger as she dials her best friend’s number. After several tries, her bestfriend, Lulu, doesn’t pick up, so Heaven resorts to calling her boyfriend instead. He too doesn’t respond. But, thankfully, Lulu calls back. ‘Heaven, are you alright?’ the girl raps from the other side of the phone. She sounds breathless, as if running while talking. Heaven shakes her head, though Lulu couldn’t see her, bawling her eyes out as she rants into the phone. “I’m not okay, Lulu! All my hard work… they… they are for nothing! The board rejected my project! How am I supposed to cope now?” ‘Hold on. Is it the one you’ve been working on for months now?’ Lulu says with short breaths again, earning a shriek from Heaven. “Yes, Lulu! That’s the one!” ‘Isn’t it your final year project?’ “It is! Now I have to repeat a damn year, and I can’t get a job in the National Dance Company anymore. I can’t even get a job in any top companies, because I’ll have a red marker on my certificate! This is so unfair, Lulu! I’ll end up scrambling to survive now!” ‘It’s alright, Heaven. Can’t you get other jobs? I told you dancing shouldn’t have been your career—’ ‘Lulu, hang up. You don’t have to teach her everything,’ someone mumbles from the other side of the call right before it disconnects. Heaven stares at her screen speechlessly. The person who just interrupted Lulu sounds too much like Hector, Heaven’s boyfriend. That makes her uncomfortable, added to the fact that Hector’s not picking up his call. Hector lives just across the bridge, so Heaven quickly hails a cab. As she arrives at her boyfriend’s studio apartment, she calls him again even though she has been doing so the entire time in the cab. He still doesn’t pick up. Now she stands on the last step that leads to his door, about to knock before her hand hangs in the air on hearing faint noises coming from inside. Curses. Constant body slamming body. Moans and pants. But she can’t be too sure. Heaven goes ahead to place the knock. No response. The noises persist. She knocks harder, and the noises suddenly stop. Then, after a while, the door opens to reveal Hector standing akimbo and sweating profusely. He looks tired, but the first thing Heaven notices is his dick standing tall. “Are you here to rant again, Heaven?” he asks boorishly. Heaven huffs, her brows creasing with a frown of disbelief as she replies. “Are you serious? I’ve been calling you.” She glances past him to the room and finds no one else. But there’s his laptop on his bed. “Did you put the porn so loud you couldn’t even hear your phone ringing?” “I guess my phone’s tucked away somewhere.” Hector shrugs. “I was going to tell you I failed my project.” “Well, Lulu told me that already. But why go about telling us? We weren’t the ones who asked you to choose dancing as a career.” “Lulu?” Heaven asks, her eyes squinting with curiosity as she tries to get into the house. But Hector slides into her way, casually blocking her. “Why aren’t you letting me in?” she queries again, about to force her way in before Lulu steps out from behind the door, standing naked at Hector’s back. “Heaven, hi,” she says nervously, her shoulders tense as she hesitantly waves at Heaven. “I didn’t expect you’d come, but it’s a good thing you did.” Heaven analyzes the Blonde with a dirty look. “Are you guys doing what I think you’re doing?” “Yes?” Hector chips in, then adds mockingly, “given the fact that we are in a ‘boring relationship’.” Heaven looks at Lulu with unbelief streaked on her face. She had told the girl how she was slowly losing interest in her relationship with Hector. But she thought her ‘bestfriend’ would keep such matters between them. “That was a private thought that I trusted you with, Lulu.” “If you want to term it as private, you should have come to me. It’s a matter of you and I, after all,” Hector scoffs. “Well, since the relationship was uninteresting, why don’t we spice it a little then? You, Lulu, and I.” Heaven huffs. The next second, she turns and walks away, but not without hearing Lulu calling behind her. “Come on, Heaven, don’t be a coward. It’s going to be fun!” “Leave her be. Let her go dine with her sordid misery,” Hector spits. “I don’t need such a bad vibe with me anyway?” Heaven looks back a couple of times, hoping her bestfriend would at least come after her. She couldn’t care less about Hector. She never even loved him and only tried to force herself to feel normal by being in a relationship, since she kept feeling like she didn’t belong in the human world. But Lulu… Lulu was like the sister she never had. Lulu was everything to her, which is why it pains her that she would do such a thing. It’s not about her having sex with her boyfriend behind her back. It’s more of she trying to convince her to have a threesome—even after seeing how displeased she was about it—knowing well about her history with men. Sleeping with Hector was hard enough, let alone having one more body rubbing her. It would only remind her of those painful times when two or more men took her at once. She had just gotten over the trauma of that and doesn’t want to relive it again. Now she is well and truly lonely, and has no one she can rely on. Heaven approaches another apartment and sits down on the stairs leading to the door, still hoping Lulu would come after her. But seconds soon stretch to minutes, and minutes to hours. Even the weather curses her existence with striking lightening and thundering storm as the earth rumbles, heavy patters of rain flourishing all over the place and splashing on Heaven, who cares less about it. Just then, a black limousine pulls up in front of the building. On her way here, she had noticed this same car following her cab, but it was the least of her problems then. Now, it’s bothersome. The tinted window of the back seat winds down, and Heaven sees who is being driven—a very unfamiliar face. Had he been stalking her? Looking in her direction, the stranger slides off the pair of black shades he wore, revealing the full view of his rectangular, well-defined face to Heaven. Still shocked and unable to move, she watches as he opens his door, slowly stepping out while pulling free a black umbrella. He takes gradual gaits in approaching her. For a moment, Heaven sees him walking in slow motion, the rain as mere showers of his glory. She has never seen a man look so ethereal—not the pure, empyrean kinds that are dazzling, but the kind that seems like a spectral; the one crawling into her brains and knitting together with her wits, leaving her heady and spellbound by such a figure that has the aura of a devil walking the night. In her state of amazement, the stranger stands in front of her, both his body and his umbrella shielding her from the raindrops that once lashed at her. “If things fall in place now, how would you feel?” he asks. At first, Heaven doesn’t react. She lets the voice sink in. Low-toned. Velvety. Sounding like an ancient being from the depths of an ocean. Then, the next minute, she shudders on realization while jumping to her feet. The stiff stranger towers above her. And, despite that she’s gazing up at him, Heaven can’t grip the actual looks of his face. One thing she notes, though, is his expression. It lacks a smile. Doesn’t a gentleman’s handbook instruct that a man should smile when meeting a lady for the first time—at least to strike a feeling of comfort that could urge her positive response? Yet, should she be surprised by that? It’s in the nature of her kind to shit on politeness, after all. She can smell his essence, though it’s not as strong as she read an Alpha’s would be. Surely, he sensed hers too before approaching her. Any wolf would recognize another wolf even if it’s in the human world. “Happy?” she responds to his question anyway, shifting back so that her backside is now pressed against the door behind her. “But it’s best not to hope.” Her eyes divert to his left hand that holds the umbrella. He has no scar on the back of that hand. “Even so, do you believe in the possibility?” the man presses on. Heaven shakes her head. “Nope. My life is already ruined. There’s no mending it, unless I can find a witch who would make the judges forget what they saw, so I’ll redo my project. But a witch would kill me on sight.” The man lets an echoing laugh roll out of his lungs, giving Heaven chills for a moment. “Do you really imagine your wolf is growling, princess? No witch would know your wolf nature unless she tested you with silver, or checked your healing span.” Heaven squints her eyes at him. Is he trying to insinuate that her wolf’s presence is too weak? Can he really say it out that loud without considering how it would make her feel? “But you do not need a witch for this one,” the stranger continues, “all you need is a place to stay, a job without certificate, and food to eat.” Heaven huffs. What a nice way to add fuel to fire. “Can you even hear yourself? Does a job without certificate sound realistic to you?” “You have lived too long in the human world, Heaven.” Wait. He knows her name? “Why not return to the other world and refurbish your mind on the existence of magic and wonders?” The man searches his coat pocket and tucks out a small black card. Pinned between his index and middle fingers, he thrusts it to Heaven’s direction. “I’m in search of a dancer, specifically a wolf. I watched you move earlier, and have deemed you capable of teaching my kid,” he mutters. “She is seven and not problematic. You just need to teach her dance, and you will have food and a place to stay. Is that understood?” Heaven nods hesitantly before taking the card with slow fingers. She stares at it as the stranger adds, “I will give you time to think. Call me with that number when you come to a decision.” The man turns to walk away. He had already taken about three steps before Heaven suddenly realizes something. “Wait!” she calls. The stranger obeys instantly, but doesn’t turn back to look at her. “You know my name. Don’t I get to know yours, at least?” Subtle silence. Whispering wind. Calling birds. “Ziason,” he mumbles, still without turning. “Ziason Father is my name.”

Heaven had always liked the idea of flying. It started when she watched her mom dance on the hill near their old cabin. However, it’s only when she got to actually dance she realized that as much as dancing was close to flying, she could also hurt or lose her wings. And she could fall—hard. Like now. For the past fourteen years, she has been training in dance. The last seven years is when she started training professionally, though. Now she’s in her finals. But dance just had a huge breakup with her. She failed, which means she doesn’t get a job in the National Dance Company—her dream job—and she won’t earn a good recommendation into any other big dance companies. She’s a rogue, once again. Always a rogue. As much as she doesn’t want to remain a rogue forever, she has no choice but to. Seven years ago when she was only fourteen, her rogue parents were murdered, and she fled from the wolf world with a vow never to return. She decided to stay in the human world. Her first months in the human world were tough. She experienced extreme brutality, sexual assaults, and several inhumane treatments until she took to sleeping near the school building with the hope that the school’s security would protect her. That was how she heard of the scholarship audition in the school of dance. Then, she thought she only needed a roof above her head and food in her belly. So, she auditioned for the scholarship and surprisingly passed. Later, she started taking it seriously. She found more joy in dancing for a professional purpose than dancing like her mother, who did it as a healing exercise. However, once again, everything has snapped and shattered. She knows this is what affected her dance—her anger for the world. It haunts her wherever she goes. It’s even now seeming as if the entire universe finds pleasure in frustrating her. And she doesn’t have a clue of how to fight it. She can’t go back to the school lodge. She’ll only feel more miserable about her existence, especially when she sees the final years who passed celebrating in the lodge lobby. No. She can’t put herself through all that. “As long as he’s not an Alpha, I can endure it,” she mutters to herself. What’s there not to endure? He’s just a wolf, after all. Yes, she may meet other wolves too, and maybe even an Alpha, but it doesn’t mean she’ll be living with the latter. “Stalking me wasn’t a good call, Mister,” she says to the man who’s still standing. “Why should I trust you now?” Ziason turns to face Heaven. Instead of answering the question immediately, the side of his lips pull up into a smirk, yet that doesn’t affect the vivid look of his eyes. The same eyes that draw Heaven’s attention like a magnet to iron, that are shielded beneath thick brows and long clustered lashes. And it doesn’t help that his pompadour-styled ebony hair falls over his forehead in moist strands, highlighting a certain kind of visual ecstasy that Heaven didn’t know existed. “I know a lot about you, Heaven Litotes,” he finally responds. And Heaven finds it hard to believe he even knows her full name. “I know there are no records of you in the werewolf world, which means you are a rogue. And in the human world, your school record says you lost your parents when you were fourteen. It states you do not know how they disappeared. I like to know the secrets and the weak spots of whoever I’m working with. But, with you, there’s nothing. Honestly, it’s thrilling. It makes me want to find out more about you. And, believe me, I will.” For some reason, Heaven enjoys the challenge. She didn’t think she would love something so weird and probably twisted, but she does. Maybe it’s the kind of person she would have grown to become had her parents not died, thereby turning her life completely upside down. “I’ll do it,” she affirms, thrusting her long slender chin forward. “I’ll teach your child how to dance. But then you’ll have to pay me.” For the first time, Heaven sees what looks like a genuine smile come across Ziason’s face. He approaches Heaven again, this time stretching his right hand out to her. “You are a strong one, Heaven,” he mumbles, “it’s why I picked you for this job.” Heaven accepts the hand and covertly turns it to the back—just to make sure he has no scar on that hand. There’s none, thankfully. She looks up to catch Ziason’s gaze as he stares down at her. It’s quite enthralling, a dark shade swirling around his narrowed eyes. Heaven doesn’t know what it is, but this man in front of her screams of danger from all round; his dressing, his thick hair that’s styled to loom over his forehead down to his eyes, not to talk of the eyes themselves. The blank intensity in their stare look so unnatural, and their color—it’s a bit uncanny. One moment, they’re a rich dim red, sort of burgundy. The next moment, they adopt the shade of ashes. And moments like now when she’s sticking her gaze on them and catching their color switching only feels unearthly, as if there’s magic settled beneath his irises. She should be scared of him. His stalking habit should have already convinced her to run for her dear life. Plus, entering a slick car that belongs to a total stranger isn’t how anyone should end such a stormy and gloomy night. But Heaven thinks she knows all the dangers in the world. In this past seven years, she has gone through most of the things anyone in their 70s can boost of experiencing, so she forgot the meaning of danger. She has forgotten the meaning of anything in fact, except fear. Not fear of anyone. Fear of herself. Heaven has always been scared of feeling miserable. Because it’s that feeling that brings about self-sabotage—the disgust for herself and her existence. It’s why she didn’t succumb to Lulu and Hector’s request. Because if she did, she’d only hate herself, and end up thinking of several ways to get rid of herself. She can only do that by suicide. That’s the last thing she wants right now. No matter how she looks at it, she still wants to live. She wants to prove to this forsaken world that she can make it. It wants her to fail, but she won’t let it watch her do so. Ziason squishes Heaven’s hand softly. “Let’s go?” She nods before he leads the way to his car. The vehicle reeks of the man alone; the smell of first rain showers meeting scorched earth, with a hint of calming mildness that Heaven can’t decipher. But that’s not his wolf smell. His wolf scent rather lingers—like a vivid aroma of pinewood. She loves the latter scent more, and wishes it was thicker. Aside from that, Heaven also notices the squealing luxury in the car. She has never boarded a limousine before, and she never for once thought the seat arrangement was different from any other car. Now she knows. Rubbing the fine leather of the seat, she can’t help but smile before looking at the man, who’s sitting opposite her. “That is your contract. Go through it,” he mutters while gesturing to a thick paper by his side. Heaven immediately reaches for it. Then she scans its wordings with her eyes. She already knows she has to teach a seven-year-old how to dance. However, she’s only now finding out she has to live in a lonely place with the girl alone for five years. No phone. No way of contacting the outer world. “Is this right? Five years. Isn’t it too much to have me locked up for such a long time?” she voices her displeasure. Ziason gives her a perfect response. “Have you seen the numbers you will be get?” Yes, she’s looking at it right now. Three billion rakis per month. And it’s cash. “Are you that wealthy?” she asks even though it’s a dumb one, seeing his vehicle alone. “If you had to pick between half a decade of freedom with nothing, and five years of bondage with all your expenses covered while receiving such amount every month, which would you chose?” Ziason queries nonchalantly. Heaven doesn’t reply. She isn’t even thinking about it. She just stares at the digits, her brain totally blank. “Let us ditch the future, regard the present,” Ziason continues. “What happens when you reject this and walk out of this car? You return to the lodge, realize you are really doomed, then you repeat final year while struggling with your part-time jobs. But at the end of the year, you still gain nothing. No better jobs. More frustration. Even if you decide it’s a waste of time to repeat final year, and decide to drop out, your life still won’t turn any better.” Heaven heard everything he said, yet only the last sentence stuck—the one that finally wakes her up. “Who says I were rejecting the offer?” she asks the man. “My mind was already made up the moment I dialed your contact.” Heaven proceeds to sign the contract, placing it back on Ziason’s seat and leaning back in hers to watch the man with a deadpan expression. Ziason smirks, then looks out the window behind her just as the car kicks off. “Your bravery astounds me, Heaven,” he mutters while returning his gaze to Heaven. He finds her still staring. Not many people have been able to look at him straight up like that, or hold his gaze. Only his brothers could afford to do that, yet here’s this tiny redhead girl in her little coat staring at him like he’s her next plaything. But then she doesn’t know, does she, about who he really is? “Tell me, Heaven,” he starts while squinting his eyes and cocking his head to the side, “what is your beef with Alphas?”

The question takes Heaven by surprise. She remains calm, nevertheless. “Nothing,” she lies, “why?” “It’s just… I heard when you said ‘as long as he’s not an Alpha’. You might have said it beneath your breath, but my wolf ears picked it up, you know. Does it have to do with you being a dormant wolf, and envying those with stronger abilities?” Heaven’s eyes widen a bit at the last question. “You discovered that too?” “I did. It’s the very first thing I noticed about you.” “I’m not ashamed of that.” Heaven shrugs. “My rogue father with a dormant wolf married my rogue mother with a dormant wolf. Together, they had a dormant wolf, though my mom’s advantage is that her lineage has an amazing skill of healing people.” “So you are a healer of some sort?” “Not really. The ability never passed down to me.” “So, basically, the only thing you know how to do is dance.” Heaven looks away with a nod. “How about fuck?” Ziason suddenly asks again, earning a sharp glare from the girl. He doesn’t mind her glower as he continues, “every woman should, at least, know the basics of pleasing a man.” “I have no intention to please any man,” Heaven nearly snaps, “and please add it in the contract that on no account should both parties cross the boundaries of the other. My boundaries are not to talk to me about anything relating to sex, and do not try to sexualize me in any way.” Ziason looks out the window. “No worries. I have no interest in women either.” “Good.” But… If he isn’t interested in women, what else would he have an interest in when he’s looking so hot? . . . ______ Wolf Kingdom. Moon’s Wrath Pack. The car soon stops after a long journey. Between Ziason and Heaven, it has been absolutely silent after that talk of sex. Both seem to enjoy the quietude too. Someone opens the door from outside the car. Since it’s his side, Ziason steps out first without bothering to help Heaven. She follows slowly behind him while dwelling more on checking out her surrounding—a large compound floored with old bricks, rounded by a great fence that looks like it could fall at any minute, and harboring a round tower of dark stone walls that rises in uneven layers, several narrow slits in the walls serving as windows. A cool air of damp limestone and old iron whizzes past Heaven’s nose, and—due to the silence within the vicinity—she suspects there may be fewer or no souls living around the area. Glancing up, there aren’t any electric wire crossings either, which means Ziason wasn’t kidding when he told her to forfeit her phone. He really was bringing her to an uncivilized area. “Just out of curiosity, Mr. Father,” Heaven starts while jogging to catch up with Ziason’s long strides, “would I be allowed the liberty to use a TV, at least? I cant be dancing everyday all year long, and I’ll certainly grow bored.” The man doesn’t respond. Instead, he pushes open the heavy, iron, double doors of the tower that usher them into a large abandoned-looking hall. Heaven gasps as she takes in the view of the hall as musky air clouds her smell. Since it’s empty, she can’t help but envision the looks of it when there were still people living in the tower. Gazing up, she notices that the dim lit building rises in tiers, the view as if staring at a coiled snake of balustrade. With no ceiling in sight, the top looks unending, the whole structure winding up in a spiral pattern with open floors—as in inner balconies—protected by balustrades, each floor topping another like an atrium. Across the double doors is the start of a stairway, where stands a nervous-looking man in brown suit. Heaven catches him bowing to Ziason, who casually hands him the contract while halting in his front and mumbling, “Satisfactory?” The way Ziason looks at the man seems to intimidate him. The latter dares not return the gaze, so he just mopes at the contract. “Uh… Yes— yes, sir,” he stutters. Heaven is confused, and doesn’t seem to figure out what’s going on as Ziason fakes a smile at the man before going up the stairs. She she trails behind him, she has the urge to ask of the man’s identity, and why he looked so scared of Ziason. But she couldn’t find the courage to, so she simply drops the questions. “This building looks really old from outside, yet how is it so refined on the inside?” she queries instead, trailing her fingers along the rough balustrade edges as they slowly climb up the unending flights of stairs. “Maintenance,” Ziason simply utters. “Isn’t it dangerous to stay in it? I mean, it could crumble at any time.” “It has been standing for nearly a century, Heaven. It will not fall on your head, I promise.” When they reach the uppermost floor of the tower, they walk through the dark and chilly inner balcony that has several closed doors, which probably belong to rooms. Ziason uses his phone torchlight to lead the way, as one could barely tell daytime from nighttime from up here. At a point, he opens one of the doors and stands aside for Heaven to enter the room. The girl hesitates before doing so. “This will be your room,” he tells her. “Not bad.” She shrugs. The room would be exactly her type had she ever had a private one—big enough to her taste, aged walls that pull the faint scent of autumn, a four-post bed at the center that’s encircled by a black mosquito net draping from its canopy, and about four candle sconces on each wall with lighted candles casting warm glows across the room. One small uncovered window lets in fresh air and some light that chases musk and darkness. And the fireplace doesn’t seem to have been used for ages, telling from how cold the room is. But it’s well-kept anyways. “I love the dark aesthetics of the place,” Heaven begins after some moments of silent appreciation, “but what about the kid?” Ziason gestures for her to come out of the room. When she does, he closes the door and continues walking through the floor. Heaven counts the doors they walk pass until the seventeenth door after hers. That’s where Ziason stops, opening the door. The room’s décor isn’t any different from Heaven’s. Except, there’s a little girl clad in a silk white robe sitting cross-legged on the bed, her wavy hair cascading down her shoulders to favor the bed sheet. She jumps out of the bed with a smile the moment she sights Ziason, running to the duo and clasping her little body around Ziason’s left leg. The man pats her head while crouching down. “How have you been, my little lamb?” he coos, even though his deep voice betrays him. The child nods in response. “What’s her name?” Heaven asks. “Kaicha.” Ziason rises to his full height. “Do not bother asking her anything, though. She would not respond.” “Seriously, why?” No response. Kaicha looks up at Heaven, jamming gazes with the latter’s. She’s a redhead like Heaven, though hers is a little darker—as in burgundy. And her eyes are so sharp that for some reason Heaven starts to feel like she’s staring directly into her mother’s orbs. She quickly shakes the feeling off with a question, “Does she listen to instructions?” Ziason nods. “Very well.” “And her mother?” “She left me with Kaicha and left.” “She wasn’t prepared for motherhood, eh?” Ziason shrugs. “I will have her maid bring food for you as well. The maid will also prepare your bath and every other thing you may need.” “So, will you show me where the dance practice room is?” Heaven asks while moving out of the room. “The ballroom, you mean?” Ziason follows suit. “It’s on the floor before the ground floor. Come.” The two adults board the stairs again. When they reach the second floor, Ziason brings Heaven to a hall introduced through the very first door in the floor. It’s smaller than the bottom hall, yet Heaven can already feel her feet itching to slide on its appropriately slick floors. “It’s my first time seeing a medieval ballroom,” she giggles. Ziason huffs while leaning against the wall. “It is empty, Heaven, and the floors were modified recently to fit your practice. You do not think these floors existed back then, do you?” “Well, what do I know?” “Besides, most content of this tower have either been destroyed or given away. If this room still had its matters, you would have been absolutely astonished by its whole look.” “Why did you give away the ones that weren’t destroyed, then?” Ziason pushes himself from the wall and leaves the hall, heading for the stairs. “To forget past memories.” Heaven jogs to catch up with him. “I won’t ask about the memories, so how about the kind of dance you want me to teach Kaicha? We haven’t clarified that.” “Any type that speaks to the soul.” “Oh…” Heaven stops at the stair landing and watches Ziason hurry down the remaining steps to the bottom hall. “As this has been settled, sir, is it okay for you release my family now?” the man in brown suit, still standing close to the stairs, asks Ziason who has already rushed past him. “Oh, right! How could I have forgotten that?” Ziason mutters as he suddenly turns back and approaches the man. “You were such a patient lawyer, David, and a good one. It will be so sad to lose you.” “What?” Panic strikes across David’s expression that instant, confusing Heaven again as he raps breathlessly, “I swear, I don’t know this lady or why you need her! I don’t know a single thing and neither does my family! Please, let us go, I’m begging you!” Ziason nonchalantly pauses in front of David, his hands resting in his pants pockets as he tilts his head down to stare intently at the lawyer. “I WILL… let your family go,” he whispers with a tight smile. David doesn’t seem to buy it. “Alpha, pleas—” Ziason waves his right hand closely across the man’s neck with a sharp movement. Heaven would swear she saw the long nail of Ziason’s index finger slice through the man’s throat right before blood gushes out. But, even at that moment, she’s gobsmacked at David’s last words. “You— you’re an Alpha?” she whispers to Ziason, who merely glances up at her before making for the door again.