Alice's POV
The next day was a dream. Kiss marks still lingered on my lips, mascara had most likely smudged around my eyes, my neck carried the weight of a collar mistakenly revealed to me as a diamond necklace, and my heart- well, that was locked in shackles much sooner than I had ever made my way down that aisle.
Standing in front of a mirror in my hotel room, I wore a silk robe open over bare skin. Yesterday's dress hung on a stand like a red flag victory flag, but not a joyful one. Jermin Hunt, the man I loved in a former life, had won his bride. But if he thought he had won, he had not been looking very well.
He hadn't seen the fury tightly tucked inside of those of mine.
He hadn't heard the quiet revenge growling vengeance in my vows.
Packing my bags like any good bride-to-be would-be she should be docile, tranquil, quiet at times. The wedding planners would have done all the running around. But I made certain that I slipped in the family heirloom shawl that my mother had gifted me a while ago into the lining of my suitcase. Not for comfort. A secret pocket.
False seam.
Somewhere in between were the two little USBs that I had stolen from my dad's old computer the night before the wedding. One was blank as a sheet, just in case anyone ever bothered to check. The other? Financial reports, names, and affiliations to bring the Hunt family into scandal- should I be able to crack it?
That was the trick-cracking.
And surviving.
"Mrs. Hunt, the car is ready," said Andrew, the butler, entering with a slight bow.
Mrs. Hunt. I held myself tightly to keep from shuddering.
"Thank you, Andrew," I said, smiling through clenched teeth. "Would you be so kind as to have my bags taken down? I will come down shortly."
The drive to Hunt estate was accompanied by oppressive silence. Jermin, thank God, was nowhere to be found. He had another commitment to attend to, so someone surely was dying this morning. A mafia wedding was only saccharine sweet to the cameras. Blood, off-stage, was hard money.
Gates creaked open like a titanic mouth.
The Hunt estate, a colossal gothic monolith of blood and gold, was emerging from the shadows of morning light. The ivy climbed up its grey stone walls like blueish veins on a cadaver. Guard towers rose along the perimeter, and cameras watched even the birds flying over the garden walls.
I felt like I'd walked through those doors, like this was where I belonged.
"Welcome home, Mrs. Hunt," the housekeeper said with a professional smile.
Nod. Up the stone steps I went, my heels echoing out across the marble floor intentionally. I wanted them to know. Every step. Every move. Let them hear the shadow I cast.
It was all tidy on the inside. A blend of cold modernity and old-time prosperity. Too clean. Too watched.
But it would not be cameras that I would fear.
It was the lady who had been waiting for me at the top of the stairs.
Jermin's mother.
Lady Genevieve Hunt.
She wore black once more as if to mourn my father-all over again-or perhaps simply counting off her minutes to her next victim. Thinner than mockery, her smile slipped. "You're early."
"Ready to start my work as your wife," I said breezily.
"You never had the face for innocence, Alice," she breathed. "Be cautious of the mask you wear in this house."
"Careful is my speciality," I said and sidled around her.
My new bedroom adjoined Jermin's. Not the bridal suite, though that irked me not.
We were not friends. We were not lovers. Just wolves with corresponding rings.
I squandered the first hour playing pretend that I was unpacking. Folding gowns. Alfrescoing perfumes. Shelve-ing books. All for show. I even went so far as to have one of the servants help me by getting her to put my jewellery in the glass case Jermin had provided for me.
All for nothing.
When I was finally alone, though, that's when the real work began.
I entered the closet. Unwrapped the shawl. Unsew the false seam.
The USB was still there.
I hid it in another hollowed-out perfume bottle that I'd emptied and re-packaged: Lavender Noir. My favourite. And now, my most lethal secret.
Knock knock.
I got lost in the most tranquil version of myself and opened the door.
Jermin stood there, lounging easily against the doorframe: shirt open at the collar, no tie. Pure raw masculinity with a touch of madness.
"You're getting comfortable, I guess."
"I do my best to make any home," I said.
He leaned against the doorframe, eyes travelling over my face. "You were serious when you did it yesterday. When you were crying."
I dipped my chin, letting my lower lip tremble."It wasn't simple marrying into the family that ruined mine. But I am attempting."
His hand went to lift my chin.
Don't try so hard. I might just think that you do care.
Wouldn't that be terrible? I whispered.
His eyes went dark. And for a moment, I saw the man who once could make me laugh. The boy who would steal a kiss by the courtyards. But that boy was dead long before my dad died.
"I said what I meant at the altar. Play by the rules, and you'll be safe."
I smiled. Slowly. Sharply.
"I did not come here to play safe."
His hand slid off my face, and, unlike me, he did not smile back.
Good.
Turning, he went away. I locked the door behind him.
Inside, I collapsed on the edge of the bed with my heart thumping.
Last night had been a display of a mafia show of a newlywed, shown like a trophy. But today? Today, the hunt started.
The Hunt estate had become my jail.
But jails have cracks.
And I will discover all of them.
By the evening, I would have committed the shift changes of the guards, the blind spots between the garden CCTV cameras, and the sound of Lady Genevieve's heels clicking on the marble floor as she moved.
I would start searching for the abandoned but not forgotten old office of Jermin's father the next day. I had to know what happened the night my father died.
I want evidence.
And I had to have it before they caught up on the scent of betrayal.
Even wolves know the price of getting too close to the truth.
But I was not frightened of wolves.
I was the fire they dreaded
in the darkness.
And this house? It would burn, secret by secret.