"If you sit on my lap," Rodrigo said quietly, "you don't get to pretend you don't know what that means."
She straddled him anyway.
Rodrigo's grip on her waist tightened the moment she settled fully onto his lap, the heat of him searing through the thin lace between them.
Daciana kept her movements slow, every roll of her hips. She wasn't performing for the crowd anymore. She was performing for him. For them.
She leaned in until her lips brushed the shell of his ear, voice soft but steady.
"You're shaking," she murmured. "Just a little. I can feel it."
Rodrigo's jaw clenched. His fingers flexed against her skin like he was fighting not to pull her closer.
"Don't flatter yourself," he growled low.
She smiled against his neck—small, knowing. "I'm not. I'm observing."
The bass thrummed through the floor, through her bones. The elite wolves around them watched in near silence now..council heirs, pack enforcers, men who rarely lost composure. Bills still drifted down like dark snow, but no one shouted.They simply stared, hungry
Zarek stood closest to the stage edge, arms crossed, "You really don't have to do this, Daciana. We said arm candy. Not… this."
Kruze's voice came colder. "Though I won't pretend we're disappointed."
She glanced at them both…then returned her full attention to Rodrigo. She arched her back slowly, letting her hair cascade down, letting the movement press her chest against his shirt.
"I need the money," she said simply, just loud enough for him to hear. "And I need you to remember my name long after tonight."
Rodrigo's nostrils flared. He scented her—fresh arousal, no suppressants tonight, her wolf awake and restless beneath her skin. His thumb brushed the underside of her breast through the lace, a single deliberate stroke.
"You think you can play us?" he asked, voice rough.
She met his gaze without flinching. "I think I already am."
A shadow moved at the side of the booth and stepped forward.
She'd stared at it for a year in every photograph, every press release, every news article she'd printed and pinned to the inside of her wardrobe door. Marcus Vey. Senior advisor to the Alpha King. Second signature on the cover-up.
He was here. At Rodrigo's bachelor party. Which meant he was connected to the family closer than just professionally.
He slipped a matte black card into the edge of her garter, fingers grazing her thigh for one heartbeat too long.
"Private arrangement," he said quietly. "Name your terms."
Before she could respond, Zarek and Kruze were there…hands firm on her arms, lifting her off Rodrigo's lap
"That's enough," Kruze said, tone final.
Zarek's grip lingered a second longer, thumb brushing the inside of her elbow. "You're drawing too much attention, little wolf. We don't share. And right now you're making every alpha in this room forget that rule."
Security wolves appeared, pulling the twins away on urgent business. Zarek shot her one last look—warning—before they vanished into the crowd.
She stood alone for exactly four seconds.
The club was still loud. Still dark. Still full of wolves with money and hunger and no particular reason to notice her.
Rodrigo slipped through a side door alone.
She could follow the twins. Find out what the urgent business was. Stay visible. Stay safe. Stay smart.
She followed Rodrigo instead.
Mission, she told herself.
Sure, her wolf said
Daciana gathered her silk robe, tied it loosely at the waist, and followed the only trail that mattered: Rodrigo.
She found him in a curtained alcove, shirt discarded, back to her. The muscles of his shoulders flexed as he lifted a thin leather whip.
The first crack echoed sharp against his own skin.
"She's not yours," he muttered, voice strained. Another lash. "You're getting married for the pack. You owe him. You have a bride."
Crack.
"Daciana…" Her name came out broken on the next strike. "She's not yours."
Red lines bloomed across his back. Self-inflicted. Self-punishment.
Her throat tightened.
She hadn't expected this. Hadn't prepared for this specific thing. A man like Rodrigo Westmont — dangerous, heir to everything — punishing himself in a back room because he wanted someone he'd decided he couldn't have.
That's our mate, her wolf said. Certain.
Don't, Daciana said.
He said your name.
Stop.
He said it like it costs him something. Like he's been saying it alone for a while.
I know, Daciana told her. I know. Stop talking.
Heavy footsteps approached.
Rodrigo dropped the whip behind a low couch, yanked his shirt on just as the curtain parted.
Zarek and Kruze shoved Jayden and Sable inside—both forced to their knees. Jayden's lip was bleeding. Sable's eyes were wide with terror.
Daciana's pulse roared in her ears. WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY DOING HERE!
She couldn't storm in. Not yet.
She retreated quickly, snatched a half-empty bottle of vodka from a passing server, and forced down three burning swallows. She hated the taste, hated the way it blurred her edges, but she needed the cover.
The vodka hit her stomach. She hated how it made her head fuzzy and her body loose, but her wolf loved it — woke up fast, pushing heat through her veins, making everything feel sharper instead of blurry. It was like the animal inside her was saying,
"Go on, play the drunk girl — I've got you." She needed that edge tonight. It made the act believable without breaking her.
She let some spill down her chest—sticky, obvious—then stumbled back through the curtain like she'd lost her balance entirely.
She collapsed into Rodrigo's lap with a soft, startled laugh, arms looping around his neck as though she'd meant to land there all along.
"Oh—sorry—" she murmured, voice slurred just enough. "I… I think I drank too much."
Her thighs bracketed his hips again. She shifted once—subtle, almost accidental—pressing against him in a way that made his breath hitch.
"My friends," she said, waving vaguely toward Jayden and Sable. "They followed me. Thought I wasn't safe. I left so fast…"
Jayden started to speak...
Kruze's hand clamped the back of his neck, pressing him down. "Not now, human."
Daciana leaned into Rodrigo, lips brushing his jaw. "Please," she whispered. "They're idiots. They were worried. Let them go."
Zarek's throat worked visibly. Kruze tilted his head, studying her with dark amusement.
"And what are you offering for their freedom?" Kruze asked.
She kissed Rodrigo—slow, a promise more than a plea. Then she pulled back just enough to meet all three pairs of eyes.
"Anything you want," she said quietly. No slur now.
Jayden looked up at her for one quick second…then Kruze shoved his head down hard. That one look cut deeper than anything the twins could say. She wanted to reach out, to tell him she was sorry, that this wasn't forever. But words wouldn't fix this. Not tonight.
"Daciana." Jayden's voice. Just … her name. The way someone says it when they're watching something they can't stop and don't know how to survive watching.
She heard it.
She kept her eyes on Rodrigo anyway.
Rodrigo's hands settled on her hips….firm, possessive.
"What exactly are you offering, Daciana?"
She held his gaze.
"Everything."
A slow, devastating smile curved his mouth….a man finally allowing himself to break.
"Then I claim your body," he said. "Tonight. And you will come with us to Westmont Castle… to be fully claimed. By all three of us."
She felt her wolf surge up hard and hot and didn't even bother telling her no.
Her wolf didn't pretend to object.
Daciana pretended enough for both of them.
She slid from his lap on unsteady legs, knelt beside Sable, and pulled her into a tight hug. While their bodies shielded the motion, she pressed the thick stack of cash from her garter into Sable's hand.
"Send this to Mom first thing tomorrow," she breathed. "Promise me. And don't look for me. Please."
Sable's fingers closed around the money. She nodded once.
Daciana rose. Adjusted her robe. Looked at the three Westmont brothers…
She couldn't bring herself to meet Jayden's gaze..the betrayal and fear carved into his face hurt worse than any lash.
"Shall we go?" she asked.
Rodrigo stood. Closed his hand around her wrist..
The curtain fell behind them.
And just like that, she stepped deeper into the heart of the enemy..closer to revenge, closer to ruin, closer to whatever came next