Rodrigo POV
"Dacy."
Nothing.
"Daciana."
Still nothing. She was completely out — hair everywhere, one arm hanging off the side of the bed, mouth slightly open, wearing his shirt and absolutely nothing else because he'd had to change her out of that dress last night and that had been its own specific kind of torture that he was not going to think about right now.
"Daciana. Wake up."
She made a sound. Pulled the sheet over her face.
He stood at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed and looked at the ceiling and reminded himself he was a grown man with functional self-control.
His shirt hit her mid-thigh. Her legs were bare. Her hair smelled like the club
Memories from last night hit him..her in that black lace stripper outfit. She'd been drunk, wet, needy. It took every ounce of willpower not to rip that lace off, not to bury himself inside her. His brothers had been watching, too…
Zarek grinning like an idiot, Kruze's eyes dark with that quiet hunger. But he'd carried her to the bed, undressed her.
Slid that damn outfit off her body, inch by inch, her curves exposed under the dim lamp. He'd pulled one of his shirts over her head, her hair spilling everywhere, and fought the urge to climb in beside her.
Her scent clung to his sheets—sweet, wild. His wolf had snarled mate the whole time he buttoned his shirt over her bare skin.
"I'm not dressed," she said from under the sheet.
"I know. I dressed you."
Silence.
The sheet came down slowly. She looked at him. Then at the shirt. Then at him again.
"Did you—"
"No."
"But you—"
"Changed you out of what you were wearing because you couldn't do it yourself. Yes." He kept his voice flat. "Nothing else…Lift your legs."
"What?" She stared at him, cheeks flushing pink.
"You heard me. Lift 'em. See if it hurts."
She hesitated, then shifted her legs under the covers. No wince. No soreness. She looked back at him, eyes wide.
"See?" he said, voice flat. "If it was just me, you wouldn't be able to move those legs right now. Add my brothers? You'd be wrecked. We Westmonts don't take advantage of desperate, drunk girls."
"Desperate?" She sat up straighter, fire in her eyes. "I wasn't desperate. I was saving my friends. And relieved? Yeah, a little. Never pegged you three for gentlemen.
"Don't pretend you didn't enjoy undressing me, Rodrigo. I felt your hands shake."
She pushed her hair back ..looked around the room with the eyes of someone taking inventory — exits, layout.
You're looking for information, he thought. Even now. Even hungover in my shirt.
He snorted, turning away so she wouldn't see the heat in his gaze. "Don't get used to it. Stay in this room. Don't leave. Freshen up—we head back to the academy when I'm done here."
He left.
In the hallway, Zarek was waiting, leaning against the wall with that easy grin. "Morning, big bro. How's our little spy holding up? She looked ready to eat us alive last night. Hot as hell in that outfit, though. You sure you didn't—"
"She's got a headache, probably," Rodrigo cut him off, voice rough. "And shut up about last night."
Zarek laughed, falling into step beside him. "Come on, admit it. She had us all wrapped around her finger. Flirty little thing, but smart. I like her fire. Father's called us, by the way. The Lycan King demands an audience."
Rodrigo grunted. "Where's Kruze?"
"Already in there, kissing ass like always. You know how he is—loyal to a fault. Should have more fun, that one.
They pushed into the father's office—a massive room with dark wood walls, maps of pack territories pinned everywhere, and the faint smell of old blood.
Kruze was there, standing straight as a rod, thumb rubbing that black band on his wrist over and over. Their father, the Lycan King, sat behind his huge desk.
Kruze was mid-sentence. "...and the border patrols need better tech. I ran the numbers—efficiency up twenty percent if we—"
"Rodrigo!" Their father barked, ignoring Kruze completely. His eyes locked on the oldest son like lasers. "You were supposed to handle that leak yesterday. Where the hell were you? Kruze and Zarek had to clean up your mess!"
Rodrigo stopped in the doorway, arms crossed. "Father, I'm not your killing machine anymore. I've told you—find someone else for your dirty work. My hands are clean now. I've paid enough."
The king slammed his fist on the desk. "Paid enough? You're a Westmont by blood! You took the oath to protect this family. You don't get a choice. You're tied to it—necessities come with the name. So you do what has to be done!"
"Well, Zarek and Kruze took care of it, didn't they?" Rodrigo shot back. "And I'm sure wherever that kid is now, no one's hearing a word about what he knew."
Kruze stepped in, thumb still fidgeting with his band. "Father, we handled it clean. No traces. The numbers check out—risk level's down to zero. We can move on to—"
The king didn't even glance at him. "Kruze, shut your mouth. You're always crunching numbers like that's all you're good for."
Kruze's face tightened, but he stayed quiet, thumb pressing harder into the band.
Zarek leaned against the wall, smirking. "Hey, Father, ease up. Kruze is the brains here. Without him, we'd be lost in your 'necessities.' And me? I'm good for more than parties.."
The king turned on him. "Zarek, why can't you be more useful? You're only good for wasting money! I should cut you off. I heard how much you blew on that ridiculous bachelor party for your brother. Pathetic"
Zarek's grin turned sharp. "Tread carefully, Father. We all have secrets in this family—like you do. We have oaths to protect, sure, but no one plays with my escapes. I'd hate for anyone to misplace something important. You know how it is. Things go missing when people feel undervalued."
Their father's eyes sharpened.
"Are you threatening me."
"I'm reminding you," Zarek said pleasantly. "That we're all on the same team."
"Get out of my office," he said quietly.
"Gladly." Zarek was already moving. "Kruze, darling, come along. Leave the man to his brooding."
Kruze followed Zarek out and he stopped.
Back against the wall. Thumb finding the band without thinking.
He'd had the numbers. His father hadn't looked at him once, He pressed the band again.
Zarek appeared in the doorway. Said nothing. Just waited.
Kruze pushed off the wall. "I'm fine."
"I know," Zarek said.
They walked.
...............
Rodrigo stood up. "I'm done here," turned and slammed the door behind him. His father—the Lycan King, the monster who killed wolves..
He took the east stairs down to the garden level and went to the far corner where the old stone bench sat behind the hedges and nobody came unless they knew it was there.
He needed space. He was going to be powerful enough soon—stronger than his father. He'd take over, fix the pack, make things right for the wolves who'd suffered. No more blood on their name.
He slipped into his hiding spot—a loose stone in the garden wall. Pulled out the photo. It was her—Daciana—a year ago.
He'd been on the rooftop that day, ready to end it all. The guilt had crushed him—finding out his father had done it, that he'd unknowingly helped cover the tracks. The wind whipping his hair, toes over the edge.
Then her voice from behind—like an angel, soft but strong. "Don't waste your life for the Westmonts. You have so much more to do. Don't do it."
He'd turned, but she was already gone. He'd come down, followed her trail. and watched her in the protest—her fight, her spirit, her beauty. It imprinted on him. She saved him without knowing. Gave him purpose. He was going to live.
She's yours, his wolf had said that first night.
He'd found out her name three days later through pack records. Daciana Mikelson Landvale Pack. Sister with a terminal illness directly linked to the contamination.
And then she'd landed in his school and kissed him in a chapel and stripped at his bachelor party and ended up in his bed wearing his shirt and he still hadn't figured out what to do with any of it.
She was here for revenge. He'd known it from the second he'd seen her recording his brothers in the library and recognized her face.
She was going to try to destroy his family.
He tucked the photo away as footsteps approached.
"Ready to go?" Zarek asked, Kruze right behind him. Zarek clapped him on the shoulder. "Father's still fuming in there. Classic family meeting."
Kruze rubbed his band, eyes sharp. "We need to move. But there's a problem—wedding planners are everywhere. The whole place is crawling with them. No way in or out without someone spotting Daciana. And we both know she's not your bride."
Rodrigo froze. "Shit."
Zarek grinned. "Yeah. So, big bro—how do we sneak our little spy out? "
"Get her a disguise," he said. "Something male. Tracksuit. Cap. Anything that reads student." He looked at Zarek specifically. "And don't make it weird."
Zarek opened his mouth.
"Don't," Rodrigo said.
"I wasn't going to—"
"You were."
Zarek closed his mouth. Then: "Sure, big brother. Alpha. We're on it." He clapped Kruze on the arm. "Come on. Disguise mission."
Rodrigo watched them disappear down the hall, then headed back toward his room.
Too late.
The door was already cracked open. Voices—bright, excited, female—spilled out.
He heard one laugh. "The bride! She's already here—perfect timing!"
Then Daciana's voice,: "Wait, I'm not—"
The door swung wider. Two women in bright colors grabbed her arms, twirling her out into the corridor like a prize.
Rodrigo's wolf snarled.
They already had her.