He lied.
The one alpha I trusted. The one I was going to run away with. The man I built my entire future around.
Azarel is the crown prince of Surhiira, and he never told me.
Now I'm hiding underground with alphas who should terrify me. Nikolai, whose silver gaze tracks me like I'm already his. Geo, who hands me a gun and tells me to shoot something to get it out of my system. Raven, who looks at me like I'm worth worshipping. And the Knight—my beautiful scarred monster, the only alpha who has never once lied to me.
Azarel is tearing through the wasteland searching for me.
Part of me wants him to find me.
Part of me wants to disappear.
And part of me—the part I don't talk about, the part that goes foggy and hollow when everything becomes too much—feels like it's starting to crack.
The porcelain shattered a long time ago.
But what breaks next might not piece back together.