Adriana

The tiled floor beneath me resonates with the sound of my heels, a crisp, rhythmic echo that punctuates the silence of the hallway. Each person I pass averts their gaze, their eyes trained on the ground as if afraid to meet mine. I can hardly blame them. My reputation precedes me, a reputation meticulously earned and fiercely maintained. My very presence has a way of unsettling even the most self-assured alphas, making them question their own authority. It's a power I wield effortlessly, a confidence that radiates from every pore.

The double wooden doors at the end of the hall loom before me, and as I push them open, they swing wide with a resounding crash that reverberates through the room. I suppress a sigh of annoyance; I prefer to arrive unnoticed, to observe without drawing attention. Today, however, that luxury is denied me.

Inside, five men sit around a long table, their expressions a mix of surprise and apprehension. Three of them flinch at the sound of the doors, while my father and a guest remain unperturbed. My father's eyes, a piercing ocher, lift to meet mine. He shakes his head slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips, his silver curls shimmering with the movement.

"You need to get that door fixed," I remark, savoring the moment as my brother's eyes narrow in irritation. Damon’s sapphire gaze hardens, his chiseled features betraying no emotion, yet I can sense his displeasure at my unannounced entrance. He despises the way I can unsettle him, especially in front of our guest.

My father gestures to the empty seat beside Damon, a silent command to join them. I comply, sliding into the chair, feeling the intensity of my brother's grip as he pulls me closer. I glance at him, a curtain of midnight hair partially obscuring my face. Beside me sits Leo, my father's beta and my brother's closest friend, his golden locks and vivacious hazel eyes a stark contrast to Damon's dark features. Leo's presence is a reminder of our complicated web of alliances and loyalties.

Across the table, a man with sleek white hair and onyx eyes scrutinizes me. His aura is overwhelming, a tangible force that demands submission. I resist, almost defiantly, but a subtle flick from Damon forces me to bare my neck in respect. It is a rare sight to see my father acknowledge another's dominance, but this man is one of the few who commands such deference.

As the tension eases, my father speaks. "I apologize for my daughter's late arrival. Her flight was delayed, and she came straight here from the airport."

The white-haired man, whom I now recognize as the Lycan King Alaric, assesses me critically. "This is what you wear on an airplane?"

Without hesitation, I reply, "I wore sweats on the plane. I changed in the limo because my father insisted I dress appropriately for this meeting." Extending my hand, I introduce myself. "My name is Adriana, first daughter of the Alpha King."

At the mention of my title, the other man at the table, with copper curls and golden eyes, straightens, his expression shifting to one of interest. He takes my hand, but instead of shaking it, he kisses it, a gesture I've become accustomed to as the daughter of a powerful alpha. His name is Prince Tristan, Alaric's second son.

The formalities complete, my father shifts the conversation. "Adriana, what have you discovered?"

I retrieve my phone, handing it to him. "Apologies for the lack of polish. I compiled this on the plane. There have been significant attacks on isolated packs along the southern US borders, primarily near shorelines. I've found evidence suggesting Lycan involvement in these attacks. Inner city packs are targeted during full moons when their members are most vulnerable, often alone or in small groups. The rural areas are hit with devastating speed, often before help can arrive.

"In the north, the attacks are fewer but more brutal, suggesting a stronger Lycan presence. I've included photos to support these findings." I pass the phone to King Alaric, who reviews the images with a critical eye.

"I don't like this," he says, handing the phone to his son. "Your assessment seems accurate. Shouldn't this task fall to the King's Gamma?"

"Gamma Thorne is recovering, so I'm temporarily filling his role," I explain, reclaiming my phone from Tristan, who gives me a playful wink. "I've already dispatched two armies to southeast Texas, where I suspect one of the hideouts is located."

"There haven't been any attacks there," Alaric challenges.

"Exactly," I respond, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "They're avoiding drawing attention to themselves."

My father nods in approval. Alaric looks to him. "Is your daughter always this... challenging?"

"She wouldn't be the daughter of an Alpha if she weren't," my father replies proudly. "I'll keep you updated, Adriana."

Damon interjects, "I'll ensure our men are prepared for any survivors."

My father's phone beeps, and he glances at it, a smirk forming. "It seems we have a lead. Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, we have an investigation to conduct." He turns to Alaric. "Your assistance would be welcome, King Alaric."

The Lycan King rises, his eyes lingering on me. "I'll see what support we can provide. Our wives are still discussing the Moonlit Ball, so I'll wait to inform them."

The mention of the ball, a tradition I loathe, brings a grimace to my face. It marks the beginning of the Claiming, where unmated females are presented to potential mates. This year will be my last, but the burden of the ball remains a constant.

My father smirks. "Yes, I heard your family will attend this year. Will Prince Tristan participate in the Claiming?"

Alaric smiles proudly. "Tristan and Julian will attend, but neither intends to participate."

I exhale quietly in relief. Werewolves I can manage, but Lycans are another matter entirely.

My father nods. "Many she-wolves will be disappointed, but I believe the males will sleep easier."

Alaric's gaze shifts to Damon. "And your family?"

"My two youngest have found their mates. Damon will participate, as will Adriana."

Alaric's interest piques. "I thought Damon was the only one without a mate. Why is Adriana participating?"

I respond before anyone else can. "My exclusion requires my mate to be alive." The statement hangs in the air, the tension palpable as I rise to leave. "With that, I must depart."

My father frowns. "Let your mother know you're home, Adriana."

I nod, offering a slight bow before exiting the room, the weight of the conversation pressing down on me. As I walk away, I hear my father offering apologies for my early departure, the remnants of past heartaches resurfacing.

"Adriana!" A voice calls out, shrill and urgent.

I turn, spotting my mother standing in the grand hall, its decor a testament to her meticulous planning for the upcoming ball. Beside her stands a striking woman with chocolate-colored locks and golden eyes—Sarah, the Lycan Queen.

"Adriana, come here," my mother commands, her arms outstretched. I comply, allowing her to envelop me in a warm embrace.

She pulls back, examining me with concern. "What happened?" She lifts my sleeve to reveal a fresh slash mark, her expression one of horror.

"It's only a few hours old," I explain. "I encountered a rogue during an investigation. He attacked me, but I killed him before he could do more damage. We found Wolfsbane on him after his death."

"Why would a rogue be carrying Wolfsbane?" my mother asks, aghast.

Sarah's eyes widen in realization. "You didn't say the rogue was a werewolf," I clarify, the implication hanging heavy in the air.