Lydia had once dreamed of witnessing a prince's temper tantrum—she'd imagined it would be her son's, a moment of childish fury overshadowed by her joy at being mother and queen. But witnessing a grown man, an alpha she hoped to seduce, unleash his rage was entirely different. Prince Damon, returning from a failed meeting with Sinclair, found Ella gone and promptly tore her bedroom apart in a fit of fury.

He punched walls, ripped curtains, toppled and shattered furniture; the room looked as if a tornado had swept through. Lydia was disgusted and alarmed.

Unsure whether to reveal herself, she'd been summoned by the guards after their return. Damon's destructive fury, coupled with Ella's warnings about his abusive tendencies, solidified her belief in Ella's claims. Lydia berated herself for not noticing the army infiltrating the palace; preoccupied with planning a romantic dinner for Damon's return after the ransom was paid, she'd envisioned him retrieving Ella, completing the exchange, and celebrating with her. Now, she feared he would blame her for the invasion.

Trying to make herself invisible, Lydia hovered in the doorway. He wouldn't kill her, would he? His shouting and cursing resembled an overwrought toddler's, but this man was twice her size, easily capable of snapping her like a twig. What have I gotten myself into? she thought anxiously, doubt assaulting her for the first time.

The Prince whirled, spotting Lydia cowering. Her posture reminded him of his late wife, triggering a fresh wave of wrath. He didn't need reminding that his mate had been taken, especially not by this schemer. "You!" he seethed, jabbing a finger at her. "This is all your fault! Where the hell were you?"

Her eyes widened. "I—" Before she could speak, he slammed her against the wall, his fist around her throat.

"Shut the hell up," he ordered ferociously. "You stupid bitch! You bragged about helping me because you know Sinclair so well, but your plans backfired! I told you he wouldn't give up easily! I told you he'd stage a rescue!"

Lydia wanted to retort—to point out that his rogue attack had failed miserably, and her knowledge had been instrumental in his improved public image. But he was still shouting, his fingers digging into her throat.

"You've been a pain in my ass since you arrived!" he snarled. "Honestly, you have some nerve—waltzing in here as if you aren't the barren reject of a lesser man."

Lydia's jaw dropped. Despite struggling to breathe, she argued, "How dare you—that isn't true!"

"Oh, give it up!" he countered, a sadistic glint in his eye. He preferred physical pain, but emotional destruction held its own appeal. "I called your husband, you know. I wanted to rub it in his face that you'd transferred your allegiance to me. And you know what he told me? He said you came slinking onto his doorstep after leaving Sinclair, promising him a litter of pups and bragging about your experience as a Luna. And when he realized you were a lazy gold digger who couldn't conceive an original thought—much less a baby—he kicked you to the curb."

"You didn't come back because Sinclair chose a younger she-wolf; you had nowhere else to go." Tears burned in Lydia's eyes, but this only fueled his cruelty. "And I let you stay because I thought your knowledge of Sinclair might still be valuable, but you're as useless a strategist as you were a mate."

His grip tightened. Lydia dug her fingers into his hand, desperate for air. "Please," she begged. "I—I can still help you."

"I don't see how," the Prince scoffed. "If anything, your proximity to me is weakening public sympathy." He paused, a dawning realization crossing his features as Ella and Sinclair's clues about Angeline's murder surfaced. "Why did you wait until my campaign was already successful to offer your assistance?"

Lydia's heart pounded. He was beginning to suspect her ambition to replace his queen and the crimes she'd committed. She needed to think quickly. Details hovered at the edge of her consciousness. She held the key to her survival, but the puzzle pieces were scattered. Silence risked escalating his anger, but the wrong words could be equally disastrous.

His growls intensified; his claws broke her skin. Blood trickled down her clavicle, and she fought back a whimper, knowing he'd enjoy it.

At the last moment, an idea clicked. A sudden confidence replaced her panic, infuriating the Prince. Fortunately, she forced out the words before he could act.

"I've got a better question for you," she gasped hoarsely. "Why did no one hear of Ella until after she was pregnant with Sinclair's child? He's the most famous man in the territory, constantly followed by the tabloids, yet no one heard a word about him dating someone new. And if Ella is Aileen Crentin's cousin, why didn't I meet her? I was at Aileen and Hugo's wedding, and Ella wasn't there."

"You think they're lying about their relationship?"

The Prince blinked, processing this. After a moment, he shook his head. "They said she didn't know her relatives here until recently. Besides, I've never seen a pair of mates more in love."

"Then why hasn't he claimed her?" Lydia hissed, sensing she was on the right track. "Don't you find it suspicious that they can't keep their hands off each other in public, but he's letting her run around unmarked? The most possessive, dominant wolf in the world?"

Damon's grip loosened slightly. He rumbled pensively. "So what, you think he hired her? That it's all been a show for the campaign?"

"Maybe," Lydia shrugged. "You have to admit it makes sense. Things start going bad for him, and suddenly he conjures a breeding mate out of thin air? It's suspicious."

"You have a point," the Prince nodded, wolfish intensity in his eyes. "Maybe it's time to call in Roger again."

"Roger?" Lydia scoffed, unaware of Sinclair's changed relationship with his brother. "Roger is the absolute last person Dominic would confide in about his relationship—or politics."

"Then who am I supposed to ask? His men are too loyal to be bribed, and the Goddess knows his security is too tight to bug his mansion."

"If Ella is who she says she is, she'll have connections in the Shadow pack. Even commoners have work histories and educations; we need to verify hers," Lydia mused, relieved to have shifted his focus.

"You'd better be right about this," the Prince snarled, releasing her neck. Lydia crumpled against the wall. "This is your last chance, Lydia. One more slip-up, and I'll kill you where you stand."

Rubbing her neck, Lydia hid her trembling. "I believe you."