Page 71 of Alpha's Hated Mate

This is crazy.I must be dreaming. Me, a Scarlet wolf, welcomed into the Royal House? Just days ago, I was nothing but an outcast at Moonhelm, and now the most powerful wolf in Clarion is treating me like . . . well, family.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I manage to say, my voice sounding much steadier than I feel.

The first tear slowly slides down my cheek. I wonder what my mother would think of me standing here now, holding her pendant, being invited into the world she and my father once belonged to.

As the sun sinks behind academy towers, I trudge toward the containment facility. My mother’s pendant rests against my chest, a symbol of family bonds—both those I’ve lost and those I’ve found.

I never thought I’d be here, voluntarily seeking out Nadia Vaultmore. That arrogant bitch who delighted in tormenting me since day one at the academy, long before she tried to turn me into her mindless puppet as part of a hair-brained plot to murder the Luna Queen.

Aydan still refuses to see her. Fortunately, he’s out with Chad tonight, discussing “Alpha business.”

The facility looms ahead, a stark, windowless building at the edge of campus. Two guards stand at attention outside the entrance, their expressions hardening as they spot me approaching.

“Identification,” the taller one demands, hand extended.

I pull out my academy ID card along with a special clearance badge from Dean Fowler. “I’m here to see Nadia Vaultmore.”

He scans my card with a small device while the other guard looks me up and down with obvious skepticism. “Scarlet visiting the Blood Lycan. Interesting.”

“Clearance checks out,” the first guard says, handing back my credentials. “Standard protocols apply. No physical contact. Do not open or enter her cell. Maintain three feet distance from the barrier at all times. If she shows any signs of transformation, hit the emergency button on the wall.”

I nod. “Yes, sir.”

He unlocks and opens the door, expecting me to follow.

The facility’s interior is modern, clinically white, and eerily quiet. My footsteps echo against the polished floors as another guard escorts me down a corridor lined with reinforced doors. Each one has a small window and a security panel beside it. We stop at the end of the hall.

“Saffron Kamaria,” he announces my name, pressing his palm against the scanner.

A few beeps signal that it recognizes his voice before the door slides open to reveal a stark antechamber. A chair faces a large transparent wall—some kind of reinforced material that looks like glass but undoubtedly isn’t. I step inside.

“You have fifteen minutes,” he says before the door shuts behind me.

Beyond the transparent wall sits Nadia, cross-legged on a simple bed, wearing sweats, her blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun. She looks smaller somehow, without her designer clothes and perfectly styled make-up.

Her head snaps up at my entrance, blue eyes narrowing.

“Come to gloat, dirty Scarlet?” I hear Nadia’s voice through some kind of audio system, her words laced with contempt despite the slight distortion.

I take a seat in the chair, clutching Alton’s journal in my lap. “No. I came to talk.”

“About what? How you’ve corrupted my brother? Or maybe how you’ve ruined everything my father worked for?”

“Actually, I do want to talk about your father.”

This catches her off-guard. Her posture stiffens, fingers curling into the thickness of her gray sweatpants. “You didn’t know him. He was brilliant. Everything I did was to honor what he started.” She glares at me. “Everything.”

“I believe he was brilliant,” I say carefully. “But I think you might not know everything about his research.”

“Please,” she scoffs, but there’s a defensive edge to it. “I watched him work since I was a child. I know exactly what he wanted—what we both wanted. A stronger wolf-kind. A pure wolf-kind.”

“If you really watched him work for years, then you know who Dr. Emile Muridae is.”

Nadia’s eyes briefly flash with recognition at the mention of the name.

I pull out Alton’s journal. “This is your father’s last journal. Emile gave it to Aydan when we visited Claymore.”

“You’re lying.” Her eyes lock onto the leather-bound book, suspicion flickering across her face. “That’s not his. I found all of his journals in his lab.”

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