Chapter 3

The crowd around me whispered, their eyes darting between me and Brittany like I was some kind of circus act.

"My God, I've never seen someone kneel over a dress clash!" one gawked.

"Derek's got Brittany on a pedestal!" another chimed in.

"Lapdog's gonna end up with nothing!" a third sneered.

Kneeling there, my heart bled out. Brittany, all smiles, signaled a waiter to bring ten bottles of hard liquor. "Hannah, chug these, and I'll forgive you," she purred, her doll-like face beaming with fake innocence.

I glanced at Derek, ready to remind him I'm allergic to alcohol. He cut me off, lips curling with scorn. "Allergic? Nobody's coddling you here."

His words were venom, like he wasn't the same wolf who once smashed a glass from my hand, scolding me for not taking care of myself. I said nothing, just poured the liquor down my throat. The burn tore through my stomach, pain twisting my face, sweat dripping. Ten bottles later, whatever was left of me and Derek was ash.

Eyes bloodshot, I glared at him. "Happy now?"

"Happy?" Derek pulled Brittany close, his tone dripping with indulgence. "Babe, what else should she do to make it up to you?"

Brittany's cheeks flushed, but her glance at me was pure disdain. "How about a maid outfit? Let her serve everyone here on her knees." She giggled, adding, "Don't worry, Hannah. Make my friends happy, and Derek'll pay you. Three grand an hour—same as that bottle of wine your mom stole from my family."

My face went white. I'm an art student; tuition and training cost a fortune. Back when Dad died, we had nothing. Mom took a job as a maid for the Kane pack to keep my dreams alive, only to be harassed by Brittany's dad, Lawrence. Brittany framed her for theft, got her fired. Mom's life was misery—accused of stealing, seducing, and now, driven to suicide. The victims carried the guilt; the abusers slept easy. What a sick joke.

I clenched my teeth, voice sharp. "My mom didn't steal wine. Or wolves."

Laughter erupted. Derek's frown deepened. "Still lying, Hannah? You saying Brittany framed her?"

"You'd better watch it. Slander's a crime."

"Then call the enforcers," I shot back. "Let them figure out who's lying."

Derek's smirk was cold. "This is Belmor Town. I run things here. Do what Brittany says while I'm still patient."

Tears stung my eyes, but I gave in, slipping into the maid outfit. My face took slaps, my hands held trays of spiteful drinks, my dignity crushed. When the crowd finally left, Derek leaned in. "Next time, it won't be this easy." He wrapped an arm around Brittany and sauntered to his car.

The car rocked soon after, moans spilling out. I flashed back to when Derek forced himself on me in his car, spitting cruel words while clinging to me like he'd break me. I thought he felt something for me, held back only by guilt over his mom. I was wrong. He just wanted to defile me, to punish me.

Tears blurred my vision. Everything went black.

When I came to, I was dangling a hundred feet in the air, ropes biting into my skin. One glance down, and vertigo hit like a freight train. My mouth was taped, muffling my screams to whimpers. Icy wind lashed my thin frame, threatening to snap me loose.

Rain poured, and Derek's voice sliced through. "Hannah, I underestimated you. Apologize, and you bring a hidden camera to record it? You think any media in Belmor Town would dare cross the Sullivan pack? Who'd air your little videos?"

My heart sank. Of course. Derek owned this town, black and white. No one would risk their neck for me.