Zara

All the way down the stairs to the vast dining room, I felt my stomach clench. All traces of the warehouse’s familiar appearance were gone. While the outside appeared dilapidated and abandoned, the inside had undergone a complete remodel.

A long table stood in the center of the room, with blood-red roses in a pair of clear vases. I stared straight ahead, letting my gaze glaze over, ignoring my surroundings. The silver cuffs were back on my wrists, cutting me off from my wolf and my pack.

I spotted my father at the head of the table, with Holly sitting to the side. Fear flickered in her eyes as she noticed my presence. I pretended not to see her, pretended not to care.

Marcus pulled out a chair for me, and I sat almost mechanically. I could feel my father’s gaze on me, narrowed and assessing. If he had any suspicions, he didn’t voice them.

Marcus pulled out the chair across from me and sat next to Holly. I stared straight ahead, fixated on the oil painting hanging on the wall.

"Did she resist your control?" Father asked, turning to Marcus.

"She resisted at first, but I expected that," Marcus nodded, playing the role of a loyal soldier well. Part of me wanted to laugh ominously.

Father was clearly furious at Govinda’s betrayal, but he had no idea there was another traitor in his midst. "Since the traitor and his bitch were released, she’s calmed down a bit."

"Very well," Father nodded, his gaze sliding to me. I resisted the urge to tense up, wondering if he was testing me. I thought I was playing my part well, but I had no idea if Father would be able to see through my game. "She’ll soon realize that resisting me is practically pointless. That in time, I will prevail. The sooner she breaks those pesky ties with her pack, the better."

I felt anger flare within me, but I managed to control myself before my uneven heartbeat betrayed me. Though I pretended to be completely controlled by Marcus, my father knew I could still hear everything around me.

Marcus had infiltrated my mind many times, each time trying to gain a foothold, but always failing. I could only wonder what it would be like if he truly succeeded in gaining a foothold in my consciousness, invading my thoughts.

What would it be like to lose all control, forced to sit and listen to everything around me, powerless to do anything?

"It seems that with Zara completely under your control, I don’t need my other daughter." My father shrugged, as if it were nothing special. His cold eyes were fixed on me the entire time, assessing my reaction as his words reached my ears. "Get rid of her, Marcus. Take your time."

"Yes, my lord," Marcus muttered, and in the blink of an eye, he was up from his chair.

His movements were blurry, and when I blinked, he was already standing. Marcus held Holly in front of him, her mouth wide open, his hands clutching her slender neck.

I saw her pleading with me, her eyes wide and terrified. Pain echoed through me, and I fought the urge to jump from my seat.

He won’t kill her, I tried to convince myself. She’s his daughter, I repeated like a mantra. I knew my Father would kill us both without hesitation. He would do it the moment we lost our value, wanting only our power and the chance to take the throne.

With all the strength I had, I held my head up, my eyes empty. My hands were relaxed, resting on my knees, my breathing slow and even. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Holly visibly tremble, shuddering as Marcus’s hands gripped her neck.

"Zara, please," Holly whispered, but the sound was quickly cut off as Marcus squeezed her throat.

"Go on," my father nodded, never once taking his eyes off my face.

Holly’s sobs turned into low wheezes, and I watched as her eyes began to widen and bulge. With each passing second, I lost control, with each slurred breath I took, trying to draw air but never quite managing.

Just as I began to break down and my fingers trembled, my father turned his gaze back to Marcus.

"Okay, that’s enough," my father nodded, never once glancing at his other daughter, the one desperately gasping for air.

"You’re doing well," Marcus’s voice echoed in my head.

I wanted to respond, I really did, but I was shaken to the core. I couldn’t ignore Holly’s hurt look, nor the fact that I’d nearly witnessed my half-sister’s death.

Our father felt neither remorse nor sympathy for his suffocating daughter. As if it were a normal occurrence, Holly sat back down, her eyes on her knees.

A few moments later, a silver cart rolled into the room. One of my father’s servants placed a plate and a tall glass of blood in front of me.

My veins. In the center, a thick steak lay on my plate, next to boiled broccoli and mashed potatoes. The smell of food was nowhere near as appealing as the smell of blood. Neither my father nor Marcus had a plate in front of them, only a tall glass of blood.

As soon as my father raised the glass to his lips, Holly began cutting into her steak. I followed suit, lifting my glass as mechanically as possible. The blood trickled down my throat, dispelling the lingering fear I’d felt watching Marcus strangle Holly.

My muscles relaxed, my mind cleared as the blood circulated through my body. After draining the glass, I moved on to the steak. I cut the piece of meat into small cubes, my eyes clouded and indifferent. The steak, like the rest of the food, tasted of ashes in my mouth.

Dinner ended shortly afterward, and Marcus led me back to the bedroom. He lingered in my room for a few moments, making sure no one was watching us. His lips were pulled down in a frown, his brows drawn together in irritation.

"Did you enjoy nearly killing Holly?" I laughed dryly. "How you can pretend to be so loyal is beyond me."