Prologue Sadie

The officiant finishes his eulogy and looks at me with a raised brow. I give a rough shake of my head. He asked me to prepare a few words when we were planning the funeral, and I told him no then. If he expects me to praise my father, that won't happen.

He won't get what he's asking for today, and if I have my way, ever. Even after his death, my father is a polarizing national figure. Half the country wants to build statues in his honor and continue his dangerous mission. The other half wants to spit on his grave. I won't do either.

Despite the media circus, this funeral is a sparse affair. No flowers. No guests outside of family. No elaborate speeches. I've given him the minimum rites. I want this over, to do my duty and bury everything Brock Lancaster was for good.

Around the graveside, my pack and my aunt's family have gathered, but beyond our small group, the wolves are circling. The cemetery is thick with lawyers, news crews, politicians, and angry protestors, all held back by security. The list of people wanting a piece of me, of LanCo, is endless.

On autopilot, I move through the remainder of the ceremony. Every muscle in my body is locked tight, the Sadie Lancaster mask in place. The fa?ade of a socialite itches and chokes, but it's necessary. These last few months, I've had to call on my training and use every ounce of it to make it through the political maze I've found myself in.

My pack stays close to me as we are stopped repeatedly on our way to the limo. People offer false condolences and try their best to squeeze information from me. I play my part well, sticking to the lines Logan, my beta mate, helped me rehearse. I play it so well that I don't recognize myself.

Graham, one of my alpha mates, guides me with a hand on my back, and I'm grateful for that small comfort. He's been a rock through this, using his charm and knowledge of the city to help me navigate this world I thought I'd left behind. Finally, when I'm numb and all hollowed out, the limo comes into view.

I'm about to make it to the car when a woman darts through the crowd and heads straight for the security line, shouting, "You should die too, bitch. You got rich while other people died."

The woman spits at me, but it doesn't land. The security team forms a brick wall, not letting her through, but her voice continues to rise. Elliot and Hunter, two of my alpha mates, growl and put themselves in front of me to add another layer of security.

Even with all that, the image of her face marred with hatred is seared into my mind. My brain locks onto the image and plays her shouts on repeat.

Logan holds out his hand, and I duck into the waiting limo.

Hands bang roughlyon the windows, and fists pound the top of the limo. Their shouts blur into a deafening roar. My skin crawls at being boxed in as the crowds hammer and beat at us from all sides. The driver inches forward, but the procession has stopped at the gate of the cemetery, where crowds have cut off traffic.

Out the tinted window, a woman sobs as she waves a poster covered in images of a brown-eyed girl. My breath comes in shallow pants, my nails digging into the leather seat.

"Beautiful?" Logan asks beside me, his voice tinged with worry. He grabs my hand, unlocking my fingers and curling them into his palm. On my other side, Hunter does the same.

"Baby girl, you're safe," Hunter's deep voice rumbles, mixing in with the resonant low sound of his purr. "We won't let them get to you."

I close my eyes and try to block it out, to let the heat of my mates' bodies ground me, but it's no use. The past few months have been filled with devastating blows, one after another. My breath saws out of me. Images of it all assault me, my thoughts racing and hurling me back in time.

My mind freezes on the memory of my father pulling a gun on me, painting in vivid color his hatred of me, of all omegas. The reminder of the horror in those frozen moments rattles me to my core, and it all comes crashing down. The shouting protestors. The constant need to be on. Everything is too much. My heart beats too fast, and my breath won't get past the squeezing in my chest.

The scent of dark chocolate and sweet smoke surrounds me. I'm picked up and seated on a lap, held tightly.

"Breathe with me, Red. In and out. Like that." Elliot places my hand on his heart and holds it there. He counts softly in my ear as I focus on the rise and fall of his chest.

This isn't the first time I've had a panic attack. Growing up, I had them often. But they don't come frequently anymore. My blood feels as if it's crawling with ants. The world is too vivid and yet out of focus at the same time.

Tristian, my steady alpha, squeezes in beside Logan on the bench seat and brushes his hand along my hair. "It will pass, sweetheart. You're doing so well. Breathe with him."

Elliot squeezes me tighter, the pressure of his embrace anchoring me to the moment. Around me, my pack is hovering, kneeling on the limo floor or wedged on the bench. The limo lurches forward in the crowd and drives up the winding road toward the top of the hill, but they don't stop touching me—my pack purrs, filling the car with a deep, soothing sound that overtakes everything.

I follow the steady beat of Elliot's heart and ground myself in Tristian's gaze. Strong hands soothe me where they can, and all my mates surround me with strength and support. My muscles finally unlock, and air fills my lungs.

"That's it, princess. You're safe. We've got you," Hunter says softly.

The limo comes to a stop at the funeral home. Around us, doors slam. I know camera crews are out there. News vans line the area. The echoes of the protestors' shouts are still heavy in the air. I need to make a statement to the media and give some remarks before I can finally be done with this day. All I want is my pack and my nest. But Knotty Pines is far from here, and the day is long.

I take another deep breath and hold it, shoring up my walls. Now isn't the time for panic or crisis. It's never the time, not for Sadie Lancaster. Only with my pack in Knotty Pines, where I'm Sadie Jackson, can I ever rest or truly be myself. I don't have that luxury right now.

I'm all that's left of the Lancaster name, except my deranged mother who is rotting in jail and awaiting trial for murder, and it's my duty to make amends for the wrong my family has done. That woman from the crowd wasn't wrong. I benefited from people's suffering. I can't focus on that right now. All I can do is be strong and brave for my pack, who has sacrificed so much for me these last few months.

I force myself to take a deep breath and pull away from their comfort. "I'm okay. I need to give my statement."

"You don't have to give them shit, baby girl," Hunter grumbles.

But I do.

I am Lancaster's daughter. It's a truth I can't change, and I hate it. But I get out of the limo and speak to the gathered media all the same.