Liora snapped her eyes open and whatever greeted her was a golden cage.
Not metaphorically. An actual cage, ornate bars that gleamed under recessed LED lighting, intricate scrollwork at the corners, but a cage nonetheless. She was lying on a plush rug, her body aching, her mind foggy with confusion. Beyond the bars, she could see a massive penthouse suite, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a city skyline she didn't recognize, modern furniture in black and chrome, abstract art on the walls.
"Where am I? How did I get here?"
Her voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. She pushed herself up on trembling arms, her designer dress, the pale blue Valentino she'd worn to dinner, now wrinkled and stained. The last thing she remembered was sitting at the royal dining table in the Valerian Palace, laughing at something her brother, Crown Prince Marcus, had said. Her father, King Aldric, had been discussing the upcoming trade agreements with the werewolf territories. Celeste had been scrolling through her phone, complaining about her Instagram engagement rates. Everything had been normal. Safe.
Then... nothing.
A gap in her memory like someone had cut a piece of film from her life.
Panic clawed at her chest. Liora scrambled to her feet, gripping the golden bars. Her phone, where was her phone? Her Cartier watch was gone from her wrist. No jewelry. Nothing.
"Hello?" she called out, hating how her voice shook. "Is anyone there? There's been a mistake, I'm Princess Liora of Valeria, I....."
"We know who you are."
The voice came from the shadows near the windows, and Liora's heart stopped. A woman emerged into the light, tall, with silver-streaked dark hair pulled into a severe ponytail, wearing an expensive black suit that screamed power. But her eyes... her eyes reflected the light with an unnatural amber glow, and she moved with a predator's grace that no amount of designer clothing could disguise. Behind her, more figures stepped forward. Men and women in business attire, all with those same strange eyes, all watching Liora like wolves watching prey.
Werewolves.
"Werewolves," the woman confirmed, as if reading her thoughts. A cruel smile curved her lips. "I am Veyra, Beta of the Shadowpine Pack. And you, Princess, are in the Thornwood Tower. Downtown Blackmoor City. About eight hundred miles from your pretty little palace in Valeria."
"That's impossible," Liora breathed. "I was just, I was at home, we were having dinner....."
"Three days ago," Veyra interrupted, checking her Apple Watch with casual cruelty. "You've been unconscious for three days. The sedatives your own people gave you were quite strong. Military-grade, apparently. Your father's security team was very thorough."
Three days. The room spun.
"My people? What are you talking about? My father would never....."
"Your father sold you," Veyra said bluntly, pulling out her phone and swiping through screens. "King Aldric himself signed the treaty. Had you drugged at dinner, loaded into a private jet, and delivered to us at Blackmoor International Airport. Didn't even stay for the handoff. His plane was wheels-up fifteen minutes after yours landed."
She turned the phone around, showing Liora a photo: her own unconscious body being transferred from one black SUV to another in an airport hangar. The royal motorcade was visible in the background, already pulling away.
The words didn't make sense. Couldn't make sense. Her father loved her. He was the King, yes, cold and distant sometimes, but he wouldn't, he couldn't....
"You're lying," Liora whispered.
"Am I?" Veyra tilted her head, studying her with those unsettling eyes. "Tell me, Princess, did your family seem nervous at that dinner? Did they look at you strangely? Toast to your health, perhaps, one last time?"
Liora's mind raced back. Her father had been quiet, she remembered now. Unusually so. Marcus had kept trying to catch her eye, opening his mouth like he wanted to say something, then closing it again. Celeste had hugged her goodnight, which was odd, they never hugged. And her wine... her wine had tasted bitter. She'd thought it was just a bad bottle.
Oh God.