Chapter 1

I lived with Alpha Kaelan for six years.

Yet on my birthday, he brought home a girl.

He was covered in blood, and the delicate girl was hiding in his arms.

From that day on, he, who had always indulged me in everything, never looked at me again.

Everyone thought I loved Kaelan desperately, that my heart was broken into pieces.

I smiled and fiddled with the watch on my wrist.

I was a spy planted by the Silverveil Pack in the Cinderclaw Pack.

I'd been undercover by his side all these years for one purpose: to send him to hell.

How could I... ever fall in love with him?

Late at night, the villa was brightly lit.

I sat on the sofa, relighting the candles on the cake.

"Lyra, stop waiting."

"Kaelan said he's not coming..."

The lighter in my hand kept clicking open. The flickering flame sparked to life, then died.

I stared at the flame.

"If he doesn't come home, I'll just keep waiting."

"He promised to spend every birthday with me. What does it mean to break that promise?"

But in reality, the clock hands on the wall had already pointed to three in the morning.

He wasn't coming back.

And here I was with a whole crowd of people waiting in the villa—all my subordinates.

Those who knew thought I was waiting for him to celebrate my birthday with me.

Those who didn't might think I was waiting for him to come home so I could stage a rebellion.

Finally, one second before the clock struck four in the morning, the rumble of a car engine sounded downstairs.

"Lyra! He's back!"

Someone rushed upstairs and loudly announced the news.

I stood up and walked to the stairs, looking down.

Yes, he was back.

I frowned and asked the man standing downstairs, looking at me with an inscrutable expression.

"Kaelan, who's that woman in your arms?"

Kaelan had a long knife wound stretching from the tail of his eyebrow to his cheekbone.

Blood was still trickling from it.

If anything, it added a touch of ruthlessness to his usually refined and handsome features.

"This was caused by a silver weapon? Looks like it's healing slowly."

I pressed gauze to his wound, but he grabbed my wrist.

"Lyra, have I been spoiling you too much all these years, hmm?"

His fingers traced restlessly across the inside of my wrist.

That's just how he was—hiding all his menace and threats inside gentle gestures.

I lowered my eyes.

"Spoiling? I guess so."

He chuckled twice, his fingertips lightly and lazily pressing against my radius bone.

"Is that so? Then calling so many people to my house..."

"Those who don't know might think I'm some kind of mob boss."

Well, he was exactly that—a mob boss.

He'd walked through days of licking blood from knife edges to reach where he was today, all built on piles of corpses and skulls.

Oh, but now he'd gone legitimate. He was a young entrepreneur.

The newspapers were full of praise, calling him a brilliant young talent.

It was disgusting.

"Who's the girl you brought back?"

I struggled slightly, just enough for him to release my hand.

And successfully changed the subject.

But he relaxed his eyebrows and now avoided me.

"None of your business."

The man stood up, took the gauze from my hand, then leaned down and kissed the corner of my lips.

"You have time to worry about what woman I brought back..."

"But no time to worry about how I got injured."

With that, he bit my neck as a slight punishment.

"I really raised you for nothing."