Chapter 1

One

JEAN

The coffin disappeared into the ground with a whirring click, the mechanism depositing my father’s corpse to its final resting place slick thanks to the rain. He’d been dead for one week, and since that fateful heart attack, the Bruchelli family had been left in shambles.

I had no way of proving the foul play that I suspected, and at this point…did it really matter? Father was dead, I was the only heir, and the remaining members of our family had all but scattered to the wind when they’d learned I couldn’t offer them any protection or stability.

There were ten of my pack left. Ten. It was pathetic, and worse, I was so damned destitute now that I couldn’t even keep that low of a number safe from prosecution and reclamation. If the authorities caught the few remaining betas and the one omega of my family, they’d send them to prison, rehabilitated, and then pawned off to some “proper” pack that was looking for a broken treasure to add to their collection.

“No. I will not let that happen.”

A solid thump rumbled beneath my feet as my father’s coffin hit the bottom of the grave. It was done. I was allowed to leave this miserable, wet place now–alone.

No one else had bothered to come. The family had to remain hidden at the estate, which would be foreclosed on in a matter of days since I had no funds to pay the rent anymore. As far as disasters went, my father dying, his mountains of crushing debt being revealed, and my status as a member of one of the top ruling crime families in Warchester being dissolved was pretty damn bad.

“Ms. Bruchelli? The car is waiting for you, and you’ve received this.”

I turned around, my heels sinking into the soggy earth of the cemetery as rain clung to my jacket and umbrella.

“What’s this, Bronte?” Cocking a brow, I held out my hand for the small white envelope that my beta clutched in nervous fingers.

Bronte was the top-ranking beta in the Bruchelli family now, and he was far from suitable for that position. The man was in his sixties, and he’d been injured a few too many times for him to be much good in a fight. Still, I knew the man would protect me with his life. He’d been there when I was born, after all, and being with someone for thirty-one years meant something.

“A messenger from the Cartalga family delivered it.”

My stomach dropped.

When it came to owing the rival families money, the Carlagas were at the top of my father’s in-debted list. They were by far the most powerful in the city—hell, maybe even the country. The Cartalgas were known for their ruthless business practices, success, and potent line of Alphas. They were cream of the fucking crop, and my father borrowed enough from them to get basically my entire pack running for the hills to cover their own asses.

“Thank you, Bronte.”

He walked alongside me, carrying the dripping, black umbrella as we headed for the black stretch SUV that was parked as close as possible to the grave site. I slid my nail under the edge of the sealed envelope, noting the wax seal of the Cartalga family was pristine and intact before I did so–the swirling filigree that blended into the block-letter capital C creating the look of an iron gate surrounded by vegetation.

The crisp sound of my sharp-edged nail cutting through the halves of paper boomed in my ears. I’d just go the fuckers done right before I’d found my father dead in his room, lying prostrate across the bed and bleeding from the mouth.

Natural causes, my ass.

The black front of my pointer finger claw disappeared behind the elegant silver paper, the red-coated underside flashing in the bit of light cast by the street lamp. I’d been focusing on tiny details for days, trying to glean any possible information from my surroundings that they’d offer up. Too bad it was all pointless.

Slipping inside the car, I sat down on the black leather seats, which squeaked softly. The vellum paper used for the missive was beyond expensive, and I wondered why on earth the Cartalgas were splurging on this kind of thing for little old me.

As the SUV grumbled to life and Bronte began the drive back to the family house while we still had it, I flipped open the letter and started reading.

“Holy shit,” I mumbled to myself. “This can’t be real.”