Olivia’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach as the SUV rumbled closer to its destination. Three endless hours had passed since they were blindfolded and shoved into the back seat like prisoners.

Throughout the ride, Alex taunted her mercilessly, and his two companions laughed along, throwing cruel names at her as if it were a game. Every insult hurled her way led to Johnathan stepping in, which only earned him another savage beating.

Olivia understood their twisted intent—it wasn’t really about her. They insulted her as an excuse to unleash their hatred on him. Their contempt for humans ran far deeper than words.

Biting back her tears, Olivia dabbed discreetly at her face, then reached blindly for Johnathan’s cuffed hands. She squeezed them, silently begging him not to rise to their provocation. He looked at her—anguished, bruised—and returned the squeeze in quiet understanding.

When the vehicle finally jolted to a stop, Olivia’s body tensed with dread. Their torment had only just begun.

They were yanked out roughly, blindfolds ripped away. Olivia squinted against the glare of garden lights and blinked until her vision adjusted. A sprawling villa rose before her eyes, its lavish gardens lit like a palace, its presence both regal and menacing.

Her stomach twisted. She knew this place. Marcus’s villa—far from his official territory, but still under his absolute control. This was where his dirtiest dealings thrived, nestled in false luxury.

Her legs wobbled beneath her as they were dragged through the grounds toward the looming front doors. Olivia expected the dungeon—but to her surprise, their captors pushed them up the grand staircase instead, toward the third floor.

Her heart lurched. The third floor. That floor had only one room—Marcus’s.

Alex led the way, his posture brimming with smug pride, while Jayson and Delta forced Olivia and Johnathan higher. Delta carried Megan, holding the terrified child hostage against her parents’ obedience. Olivia’s chest constricted every time she heard her daughter’s muffled whimpers.

At last, Alex rapped a coded pattern on the ornate door.

Knock, knock, knock… knock, knock, knock.

The door swung open, revealing a slender silhouette in a silk-pink robe. Olivia’s lip curled in disgust. Lillian. Marcus’s simpering assistant—and bedwarmer.

“Welcome, Beta Alex,” Lillian greeted smoothly, dipping her head in mock respect. Her lips curled in a sly smirk as her gaze slid to Olivia.

Olivia’s spine stiffened. She would not bow her head to this woman.

Lillian leaned close to her ear, whispering in a honeyed, poisonous tone. “Don’t worry… Alpha has someone special tonight. He hasn’t touched me.”

Goosebumps prickled Olivia’s skin. She bit down her revulsion, refusing to give Lillian her reaction.

The group entered. And there he was.

Marcus.

He lounged decadently on a white leather couch, an expensive cigar smoldering in one hand and a crystal goblet of whiskey in the other. Everything around him glittered in opulence, the obscene wealth of a man who delighted in control.

Olivia wanted to retch. His eyes tracked over her slowly, hungrily, peeling away every layer of dignity until she felt bare before him. His gaze wasn’t admiration. It was hunger.

“Alpha,” Alex bowed, dropping to one knee and pressing a fist to his heart. His loyalty shone in his voice.

“You never disappoint me, Alex,” Marcus praised, clapping his Beta’s back with paternal indulgence. “I am proud to have a wolf like you.”

Alex’s grin spread smugly, feeding off the crumbs of approval.

Then Marcus’s attention drifted back to Olivia. A silent command flickered in his eyes.

“Take the child and provide her a great care until she is—,” his voice was smooth, but the whispered word that followed scraped her raw: “Alive.”

Olivia’s heart seized in panic as Lillian tore Megan from Jayson’s arms.

“Mama! Papa!” Megan’s pitiful cries pierced her soul, tiny fists thrashing against her captor.

“Please, Marcus… I beg you!” Olivia dropped her pride, tears spilling freely. “She’s just a child. She’s innocent. Don’t drag her into this!”

Hope flickered in her chest—foolish, desperate hope that he might show mercy.

But Marcus only smiled, cruel and wicked. “Come now, Oli. Do you want her to see the… disaster… about to befall her parents?”

Her throat closed around her sob. Her silence, her compliance, seemed to delight him.

While Lillian carried Megan away—ignoring the child’s pleas—Marcus seized Olivia’s wrist and drew her into his lap, as though she were a prize he had just won. Every fiber of her body recoiled, sickened by his touch.

Johnathan snapped, rage surging, and lunged to break free—but Jayson The Delta forced him down, a brutal kick to the back of his knee slamming him onto the floor before Marcus in a bowing position.

As Marcus stroked her wrist possessively, Olivia forced herself to focus. Her powers. This was her chance. Megan was no longer in the room. She unclasped her bracelet, hoping to unleash her gift at last.

But nothing came. No energy. No spark.

Panic surged through her. Why now? Why betray me now of all times?

Marcus poured whiskey and pressed the glass into her hands. She shook her head frantically, refusing. His command turned sharp.

“Drink, Oli.”

When Jayson cocked the gun against Johnathan’s temple, Olivia’s resistance shattered. She choked the drink down, coughing as the burning liquid clawed at her throat. Marcus patted her back almost tenderly, an obscene mimicry of comfort.

His arms snaked tighter around her waist. His lips brushed her neck, his breath hot against her skin. Every kiss made her body stiffen with loathing, yet she dared not fight back—not when the gun remained trained on Johnathan.

“Alpha.” Alex’s voice broke the moment as he stepped forward, placing an object on the table. A handgun—the one stolen from Johnathan at the warehouse.

Marcus’s gaze swept over it. His grip on her waist tightened, fury sparking as recognition flared in his eyes.

“I warned you, Oli…” he murmured, then snapped her head back by her hair, forcing her gaze to meet him. His tone rasped with betrayed anger.

“I told you not to play games with me. And still… you deceived me. Why, Oli? Why?!”