Radomir’s words come back. Your prince left you a gift. Use it wisely.

Alexei planted a vial of his blood in my pocket when I kissed him. That means he knew I would leave him and come back to Blackriver. Did he plan it that way? Does that mean he wants me here? Or was he just covering his bases? Why would he give me his blood? I know Anlu’kyr blood can heal. Protection? Temptation?

For fuck’s sake, that manipulative bastard.

I should destroy it. Tell Flanagan.

A knock sounds, then the door opens, and a stocky Guardian soldier steps into the office. I snap my fingers shut.

“Um, I’m sorry to disturb you, Whisperer,” he says, eyes darting to my clenched hand. “The commander ordered us to escort you to his room.” The man’s fingers twitch over his sword hilt. I suppose all the soldiers will be nervous with me.

This is my life now—guards, collars, chains. I’ll hate it. I know I’ll push against it. I’ve just got to remind myself that this is where I’m safe from Alexei’s clutches. Flanagan will protect me from the prince and protect the world from me. Here I’ll learn more about my real family—the Sabels.

As long as nobody but Quinton finds out who I am—as long as Flanagan doesn’t find out I’m the descendant of a monster—for now, this is where I belong.

Offering the soldier a friendly smile, I say, “No problem.” I slide my fingers into my pockets to indicate I’m not about to light my hands but also to slip the vial away. I’ll keep it for now. Maybe I’ll tell Flanagan later. Maybe.

Bonus Chapter

Flanagan.

I slam the phone down, the Lycan riding my wave of fury, clambering for escape. Muscles shift, skin ripples. I shove the need for blood down behind the barricades. Force the beast back into its darkness. If I have to deal with Headquarters one more time, I will not be responsible for the death toll.

I’m still growling when I leave the office and head back to my room. Back to the green-eyed wildcat who has dominated my thoughts all day. Yes, Michael is dangerous. I’ve seen how deadly he is with my own eyes. Yes, he needs containment, but here at Blackriver, not at Headquarters. He’s young and lost and vulnerable. We must win his loyalty, not persecute him until he’s driven into the enemy’s embrace.

A Whisperer needs a True Grounder. The boy is mine to protect. He stays here. The Council can come and take him over my rotten corpse.