"They're not coming for you," Alexander says coldly. "They're coming for answers."
Aslin backed away from the laptop, her heart hammering so hard she thought it might burst. The security feed showed the three men stepping into the elevator. Heading up. Heading here.
She had maybe two minutes.
Her phone. She needed her phone. Aslin ran to the bedroom, grabbed it from the nightstand with shaking hands. Who could she call? The police? And tell them what? That her husband had hired mercenaries who were now in her building? That she'd broken into his private files and discovered he was hunting her missing sister?
They'd think she was crazy.
The elevator dinged. Thirty-seventh floor. Three more to go.
Aslin looked around wildly. The penthouse had no back exit. Just one door, and they were coming through it. The windows didn't open. Alexander had chosen this place specifically for its security. Now that security was a cage.
Thirty-eighth floor.
She ran to the study, grabbed the laptop, shoved it in her bag. Evidence. She needed evidence of what Alexander was doing. Then she pulled out her phone and did the only thing she could think of.
She started recording.
"My name is Aslin Ventura. I mean, Aslin Líbano now. I got married yesterday to Alexander Líbano." Her voice shook but she kept going. "If something happens to me, if I disappear, it's because of him. He's been searching for my sister Iris for three years. He's hired people, mercenaries, to find her. And now those same people are in my building. They're coming here and I don't know why but I'm scared and—"
Thirty-ninth floor.
Aslin's finger hovered over the send button. Who could she send this to? Her mother would panic. Her father would call Alexander first. She had no close friends anymore, not since college. Alexander had taken up all her time, all her attention.
The elevator dinged. Fortieth floor.
Aslin hit send to her mother, then locked herself in the bathroom. Stupid. So stupid. Like a locked door would stop them. But her brain had stopped working properly, running on pure terror now.
She heard the front door open. Footsteps in the living room. Multiple sets. Moving through the penthouse methodically. Searching.
"Mrs. Líbano?" A male voice, calm and professional. "We're not here to hurt you. We just need to talk."
Aslin pressed herself against the bathroom wall, phone clutched to her chest.
"Your husband sent us. He's worried about you. Said you found some things that upset you, and he wants to make sure you're okay."
Lies. They were lying. Alexander wasn't worried about her. He was worried about what she'd found.
"We know you're scared. We know this is confusing. But if you come out, we can explain everything."
The footsteps moved closer. Stopped outside the bathroom door.
"Mrs. Líbano. The door's locked. That's fine. We'll give you a minute. But you should know—we're very good at our jobs. And this door won't stop us if we need to come in."
Aslin's hands shook so badly she nearly dropped the phone. She pulled up her messages, started typing to her mother. In the apartment. Men here. Alexander sent them. If I don't—
The bathroom door exploded inward.
Not broken down. Exploded. Like something had hit it with superhuman strength. The lock tore free, wood splintering, and suddenly the three men were there. Crowding into the bathroom. Blocking any escape.
The one in front was huge. Not just tall, but massive. Built like he could snap her in half without trying. His eyes were wrong. Too bright. Too intense. Animal eyes in a human face.
"Phone," he said, holding out his hand.
"No." Aslin backed into the corner, clutching it tighter.
"We can do this easy or hard, Mrs. Líbano. Your choice."
"What do you want?"
"Right now? Your phone. And your husband's laptop. Then we're going to have a conversation about boundaries and privacy."
"You can't just break into my home—"
"Actually, we can." The man smiled, showing too many teeth. "Your husband gave us a key. Gave us permission. You're his wife. Which means you're his responsibility. His property."
The casual way he said it made Aslin's blood run cold. Like she was a thing. An object. Something to be managed.
"I'm leaving," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm walking out of here, and you can't stop me."
"Can't we?"
He moved faster than should have been possible. One second he was by the door, the next his hand was around her wrist, squeezing hard enough to hurt. The phone fell from her grip, clattering on the tile.
"Let go of me!"
"When you calm down."
Aslin tried to pull away. Couldn't. His grip was iron. She looked at the other two men, searching for sympathy, for hesitation. Found nothing. They just watched, expressionless.
"What are you?" she whispered.
The man holding her tilted his head. "You really don't know, do you? Alexander married you and never told you what he is. What your sister is. What you might be."
"What are you talking about?"
"Later. Right now, we need to secure this apartment. Make sure you didn't send anything to anyone. Damage control." He pulled her out of the bathroom, his grip never loosening. "Sit."
He shoved her onto the couch. One of the other men picked up her phone, scrolling through her messages. His expression darkened.
"She sent a video to her mother. And text messages."
"Delete them."
"Already sent."
"Then we go to Plan B." The leader pulled out his own phone, dialed. "We have a situation. The wife found the files. Sent evidence to her mother. We need cleanup."
Aslin's stomach dropped. Cleanup. What did that mean? What were they going to do to her mother?
"Don't hurt her," Aslin begged. "Please. She doesn't know anything. She won't understand what she saw. Just leave her alone."
The man lowered his phone. "That's not up to me. That's up to your husband." He studied her face, something almost like pity flickering in his eyes. "You should have stayed out of his business, Mrs. Líbano. Should have been content being the pretty wife who didn't ask questions."
"I deserve to know the truth."
"The truth?" He laughed. "You can't handle the truth. You're human. Fragile. Ignorant. You have no idea what world you just stumbled into."
"Then tell me!" Aslin's fear was turning to anger now. "Tell me what Alexander is. What Iris is. What any of this means!"
The man exchanged glances with his companions. Then he shrugged. "Why not? You've already ruined everything anyway."
He sat down across from her, elbows on his knees. "Your sister is a werewolf. Born, not made. Her whole pack was. And three months ago, they were slaughtered. Every last one of them. Except Iris, who vanished."
Aslin stared at him. Werewolves. He was talking about werewolves like they were real.
"You're insane."
"Am I?" His eyes flashed gold. Not a trick of the light. Actually changed color. "Your husband has been searching for Iris ever since. Hired trackers, mercenaries, informants. Spent millions trying to find her. Because he's obsessed. Because he can't accept that she left him."
"Alexander's human. He's not—"
"Human adjacent. His family has been involved with wolf politics for generations. Mediators. Negotiators. Sometimes hunters." The man leaned back. "That's how he met Iris. His father was brokering an alliance between packs. Alexander saw her and decided he had to have her. Only problem—Iris didn't want to be had."
Aslin's head spun. This couldn't be real. Werewolves didn't exist. This was insane.
But the door. The way he'd moved. The eyes.
"I don't believe you."
"Don't care if you do." The man stood. "What matters is Alexander believes it. And he's not going to stop until he finds her. Even if it means burning down the entire territory. Even if it means starting a war."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you asked. And because—" He paused, something shifting in his expression. "Because you deserve to know what you married into. Your husband isn't the man you think he is. He's dangerous. Unstable. And if Iris really is alive, if he finds her..." The man shook his head. "A lot of people are going to die."
His phone rang. He answered, listened, then nodded. "Understood." He hung up and looked at Aslin. "Your husband wants to talk to you."
He tossed her his phone. Aslin caught it clumsily, hands still shaking. She lifted it to her ear.
"Alexander?"
"Aslin." His voice was cold. Controlled. Nothing like the broken man from the study. "Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Good. My people said you went through my files. That you found information you shouldn't have."
"You mean the truth? That you've been hunting my sister? That you're involved in some kind of—of werewolf conspiracy?"
Silence. Then, quietly: "They told you."
"Is it true? Any of it?"
"Some of it. The parts that matter." Alexander sighed. "I didn't want you to know. It was safer if you stayed ignorant."
"Safer for who?"
"For you! For everyone!" His composure cracked, anger bleeding through. "This world, Aslin, it's not like ours. There are rules. Power structures. Things that would tear you apart if you understood them. I was trying to protect you."
"By lying to me? By using me as some kind of replacement for Iris?"
"Is that what you think?" He laughed bitterly. "You have no idea."
"Then tell me. Make me understand."
More silence. When Alexander spoke again, his voice was different. Colder. Final.
"They're not coming for you," he said. "They're coming for answers. Tell them everything you found. Everything you know. Don't hold back. And then they'll leave, and we'll talk when I get back."
"When you get back from where? Are you really in Singapore? Or are you—"
"I'm following a lead. Someone spotted a female wolf matching Iris's description. Northern territory, near the Supreme Alpha's land."
Aslin's breath caught. "You found her."
"Maybe. The mercenaries I sent haven't reported back yet. But if she's there—" His voice went soft, almost reverent. "If she's alive, Aslin, I'm bringing her home. No matter what it costs."
"And what about me? What about our marriage?"
"Our marriage was always temporary. You knew that. On some level, you must have known." The cruelty in his voice made her flinch. "You were convenient. Available. Close enough to Iris that sometimes, in the dark, I could pretend. But you're not her. You'll never be her."
Tears streamed down Aslin's face. "I hate you."
"I know. I'm sorry for that, at least." Alexander paused. "My people will take care of your mother. Make sure she forgets what you sent her. You'll stay in the apartment until I return. Don't try to leave. Don't try to contact anyone. Just... wait."
"And if I don't?"
"Then things get complicated. And you really don't want that."
The line went dead.
Aslin handed the phone back to the leader. He pocketed it, studying her face.
"He's not coming back, you know," the man said quietly. "Not really. Even if he drags your sister back here, even if he forces her to stay, he'll never be the man you thought you married. That man never existed."
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Survive. That's all any of us can do in this world." He nodded to his companions. "Watch her. Make sure she doesn't do anything stupid."
He headed for the door.
"Wait," Aslin called. "What's your name?"
He paused, looking back. "Marcus. Marcus Winters."
The name hit her like a physical blow. Winters. Silverpine Pack. The same pack that had destroyed Iris's people.
Marcus saw the recognition in her eyes and smiled grimly. "Yeah. We're the bad guys in your sister's story. And your husband?" He gestured around the penthouse. "He's been working with us the whole time."
Then he was gone, leaving Aslin alone with two silent guards and the wreckage of everything she'd believed.