Faith barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she replayed how Killian's arms felt around her.
By 6:00 AM the next day, she was already dressed and heading to his study to clean. It was her routine, but today, she had a goal. She knew Killian had a breakfast meeting at the Pack Council.
The study was empty. The morning sun came through the windows and lit up the dust. Faith looked at the massive computer on his desk.
She thought about the Silver Moon Scholarship. Back in the trenches, it had been her only dream. She had to know if the results were out. She had to know if her "Phoenix" project had even been noticed before her aunt drugged her.
She sat in his chair,the leather still smelled like him and woke the monitor. Her fingers flew across the keys, bypassing the basic guest login. She pulled up the competition portal.
Status: Finalist Selection in Progress.
She began typing, her heart racing. If she could just upload the final data set she had stored on a cloud drive, she might still have a chance. She was so absorbed in the code that she didn't hear the silent click of the door.
"The archives are in the West Wing, Faith. My computer is not."
Faith jumped up from the chair, her heart nearly
Popped out of her throat. Killian was leaning against the doorframe. He wasn't at the Council. He was watching her.
He walked over, his eyes scanning the screen. "The Silver Moon Scholarship? You're the one who submitted the 'Urban Phoenix' model?"
Faith lowered her head, bracing for a lecture. "Yes."
"The judges were talking about this at the gala last night," Killian said, his voice calm. "They said it was the work of a genius, but the applicant disappeared. They assumed it was a scam".
He looked at her, Tell me "Why didn't you finish the final interview?"
Faith felt the old sting of betrayal. "My aunt. She found my notes. She knew if I won, I'd be under the Council's protection and she couldn't use me as a servant anymore. So she destroyed my laptop and drugged my tea and sold me to the traffickers the night before the finals."
The air in the room shifted. A low, vibrating growl started in Killian's chest—a sound of pure, protective fury.
"She sold you," he repeated, his voice dangerously calm. "Because you were too brilliant to be kept in a cage."
He reached over her shoulder, his hand clicking a few keys. He didn't close the tab. Instead, he opened a new window and typed in a high-level command.
"What are you doing?" Faith asked.
"Running a background check that goes deeper than school records," Killian muttered. I want to see exactly who gave the order to put you in that van.
As the progress bar loaded, Killian looked down at her. "If you really want to finish this competition, you'll need more than a scholarship. You'll need a name that people are afraid to touch."
The computer beeped. A file popped up: Confidential Transfer - 50,000 Credits. Killian's eyes darkened as he read the sender's name. "It wasn't just your aunt, Faith. This payment came from a hidden account linked to the Crescent Pack."
Faith gasped. "Silas? But I don't even know him!"
"Well, he knows you" Killian hissed, his grip tightening on the back of her chair. "And he's been planning this for a long time."