Amanda
"Take her away."
Two maids stormed forward, seizing my wrists, and before I could even breathe, I was dragged back to the room I had only left minutes ago. Kate was there, along with two other women I recognized instantly as chefs, I'd seen them countless times in the kitchen.
On the bed lay Alpha Ricardo. But something was wrong, terribly wrong. His face was ghostly pale, drained of every trace of color, so white he looked less alive than dead.
At the foot of his bed, two women crouched low, their eyes tightly shut as their lips moved in frantic whispers I couldn't catch. Outside the room, sorrowful murmurs and muffled cries seeped through the walls, wrapping the room in dread.
"Who dished Alpha Ricardo's meal?" Aunt's voice tore through the silence, raw and venomous. Instantly, every head dropped, every arm shot out, pointing at me.
