"What?" The word fell out of my mouth before I could catch it.
"High Class. You're… Taking all of us?" Drodd whispered, emphasizing every word.
"From this moment on," Kaeren began, pacing the small room, "you are no longer among the shack rats of the Outer District. You are a High Class family who has just moved back to the Evermont Pack after living in the Northern Territories for years. Waverly traveled briefly to Spain to find a missing relative—that is where she met me. That is where we realized we were fated."
"But I didn't—" I started.
Kaeren stepped closer to me in a heartbeat. He leaned down, his scent of mint and rain drowning out the smell of the shack. "If you want to live," he whispered, his eyes boring into mine, "and if you want to be my mate, you will sell that lie until you believe it yourself."
I looked at him, then at the foster parents who were already nodding like bobbleheads.
"Oh, she's good at lying! She's been lying about her 'work' for years. We can do this! We can be High Class!" Imogen chirped.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to reject every bit of this. But then I remembered the supervisor's face as I drove a dagger into his shoulder. I remembered the way the debtors looked at me. If I stayed here, the Syndicate would kill me, or the Law would hang me.
In this shack, I was a corpse waiting to happen. With him... I was a liar, but I was a living one.
Kaeren reached out his hand. It was large, calloused, and radiated a heat that made Pia whine in longing. "Coming, Waverly?"
I took a breath that felt like swallowing glass and placed my small, dirty hand in his.
"Good," Kaeren said, his fingers closing around mine with possessive strength. "Austin will return tomorrow to transport the rest of you to the High Class region. He will provide new names, a new house, history, and the funds to set up your business. Consider your debts erased."
"You won't forget us, will you? You'll come back for us tomorrow? We'll be ready!" Imogen pleaded, clutching her hands to her chest.
Drodd, feeling emboldened by the sudden influx of power, stepped closer to the Prince. "And don't think about double-crossing us, Your Highness. We know the truth now. It would be a shame if the Council found out your 'Spanish Luna' was just an orphan from the gutters."
The air in the room suddenly dropped ten degrees.
Before Drodd could blink, Kaeren's hand was around his throat. He lifted the older man off the floor, slamming him against the rusted corrugated wall with a sickening thud.
"Let me be very clear, scavenger," Kaeren growled, his face inches from Drodd's. His claws began to tip his fingers, drawing tiny beads of blood from Drodd's neck.
"I am not paying you because I like you. I am paying for your silence. If you so much as whisper a word of the truth—even in your sleep—I won't just take back the money. I will peel the skin from your bones and feed it to the strays while you're still awake to watch. Do you understand?"
Drodd made a gurgling sound, his eyes bulging.
"Do. You. Understand?" Kaeren roared.
"Yes! Yes!" Imogen shrieked, falling to her knees. "He understands! We'll be quiet! We'll be the best High Class family you've ever seen!"
Kaeren dropped him like a piece of trash. He didn't even look back. He just tightened his grip on my hand and pulled me toward the door.
"Austin, handle the logistics. I'm taking my mate home." Kaeren tossed over his shoulder.
As we stepped out into the muddy street, the wind caught my hair. For the first time in nineteen years, I wasn't looking at the shack as a home. I was looking at it as a grave I had just escaped.
But as the door of the luxury car closed, sealing me in with the scent of the Prince, I realized I hadn't just escaped a grave.
I had walked right into the lion's den.
____
The car's interior was a sensory overload.
After years of smelling sulfur and shit in the latrines, the scent of the sedan was intoxicating. It smelled of expensive leather, ozone, and a hint of the Prince's minty cologne.
The seats were so soft I felt like I was sinking into a cloud. They were a stark contrast to the floorboards I'd slept on for years.
Beside me, Kaeren sat. He had pulled his hoodie back up with a stony profile as he watched the ruins of the Outer District blur past the tinted windows.
He hadn't let go of my hand.
His grip was warm, but the silence between us was cold. Every time the car hit a bump, the movement forced my shoulder against his.
"He's tense," Pia whispered, her tail twitching. "He's a predator who just stole a prize, and now he's worried about keeping it."
Kaeren's voice suddenly drifted through the hum of the engine. He didn't turn to look at me. "You can stop shaking. The Syndicate can't reach you in this car."
"I'm not shaking because of the Syndicate," I whispered, pulling my hand back. He let go, but the skin where he'd touched me felt like it was tingling.
"I'm shaking because I just watched a man get his throat crushed for asking a question. Is that how you treat everyone who doesn't follow your script?"
Kaeren finally turned. In the dim light of the cabin, his eyes weren't gold anymore… they were dark, bottomless pits.
"That man wasn't asking a question, Waverly. He was making a threat. In my world, threats are met with extinction. If you want to survive the next twenty-four hours, you need to learn that distinction very quickly."
"And what happens when I become a threat?" I challenged, clutching the polyester fabric of my dress. "When I forget a line of your Spanish fairy tale? Do I get slammed against a wall, too?"
Kaeren's shadow eclipsed me as he reached out to tuck a stray, dirty lock of hair behind my ear. His fingers were surprisingly gentle, which was somehow more terrifying than his rage.
"No," he murmured, his breath hot against my cheek. "For you, I have much more creative punishments in mind. But let's focus on getting you through the front gates first. My family doesn't just have eyes; they have fangs. They will look at you and see a girl from the gutters. They will smell the coal dust on your skin. Your job isn't just to lie, Waverly. It's to perform."