The ballroom was cavernous, the ceiling so high Camila could barely see the intricate stained-glass skylights. The filtered light painted the floor in pale shades of violet, blue, and yellow. Rows of stone columns, roaring lions at their base, stood nearly three feet in diameter. Omegas dressed in dark green carried china trays of delicate cucumber sandwiches, salmon crostini, and champagne.

The scene took Camila's breath away.

She started at the edge of the crowd, mingling with some of the lower level alphas. She ate a single pão de queijo, a doughy cheese bread ball that made her mouth water, but avoided the champagne; she wanted to be alert at all times. As the sun sunk lower in the sky, the servants lit candles, lending a golden glow to the room. 

Camila took to the dance floor, spending a moment with every suitor she could find. She kept an eye on Declan, ready to stop whatever nefarious plan is in the works, but whenever she looked over, he was standing still. He leaned casually against the back wall, those brilliant green eyes never straying far from her.

It was hot and humid, summer in the Amazon, but Camila shivered.

Rather than acknowledge him, she found another dance partner. Then another. It was late and the hard soles of her stilettos cut into her toes. Tomorrow, her feet would be raw and blistered. 

The dance floor was almost empty. Most guests sat talking quietly or they've already left. The violinist played a solo, a slow, sad melody.

She was twirling in the arms of Alpha Eric—a skinny man, built like a runner, with an easy smile and a goatee—when he started towards her.

"May I cut in?"

Camila knew Eric says something, but she didn't hear him. Declan stole every bit of focus she had.

He looked handsome, in a black suit that, although it must have been borrowed, perfectly highlighted his broad shoulders. His dark hair was messy, tousled, as if he hadn't bothered to brush it before the dance. Green eyes glared down at her.

He was unhappy, Camila realized, and the mating bond surged to life. She should comfort him, hold him, bring him somewhere safer, more intimate.

The other, more rational part of her, remembered lying on the floor after the interrogation. Feeling pathetic. Manipulated. Foolish.

But it would be impolite to refuse his offer.

She slipped her hand into his. His other hand settled on her waist, pulling her closer than is strictly necessary.

They danced.

The air between them--what little of it there was--pulsed with tension. Camila's skin tingled, vibrating with energy. The dress felt too tight, the fabric too rough against her skin. Her cheeks flushed.

"I'm surprised you know how to dance." She was desperate for a distraction. And it was true, he could dance, although his movements were more practical than elegant. Not the background she would expect for a Vindicator.

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

The violinist kept playing, every note long and mournful. Camila smiled tersely. She didn't owe him anything.

"We need to talk," Declan said.

"Then talk," she said. His hand was calloused, rough against hers. "I can't promise to listen."

They turned. The skirts of her dress kissed his thighs, their bodies moving in sync. In a single movement, he pulled her flush against him, body to body, separated only by thin fabric.

Despite herself, Camila gasped.

"You're going to want to listen." His voice was rough.

With her last shred of self-control, Camila pressed a hand to his chest, putting an inch or two of space between them. She took a deep breath. "Fine. Talk."

"Come with me." He took her hand, leading her off the dance floor. Camila barely noticed his guards following, silent as shadows. He led her to a balcony.

It was quiet outside. Tense. The violinist still played, faintly, in the distance. Camila removed her hand from his, leaning against the cool, metal railing. The guards stood at a respectful distance. Alex joined them, his eyes fixed on her.

Declan ran his fingers along the railing. He looked at the view: ornate gardens lit silver in the moonlight. "Look," He said, finally. "I want to apologize. I screwed up. I didn't expect to find my mate here. When I got captured, I'd just found out about a plan to take out my pack. I had to escape, or they would have died. I never wanted to hurt you and- I never will again." He met her gaze. He looked vulnerable. Honest.

Just another manipulation.

"And earlier today? Threatening Alex just because you can?"

"I figured you'd cave. He would never actually get hurt." Declan shrugged. "I actually try to avoid hurting people. I'm trying to do the right thing for our people, Camila."

"For fuck's sake!" Camila spat. The last thing she wanted to hear was more excuses. "You're a criminal. You've done horrible things. You know you killed people, when you escaped. Three guards and a maid who probably caught you. You're not a good man. You don't get to-"

"And how many people die for your crown? For your family?" He stepped forward. Closer. "Ever been north? The battles are so bloody the snow's more red than white. I'm trying to make a difference."

"Oh!" Camila laughed, hysterical. "And you want me to help. Now that you've got a royal mate, I'm just supposed to fall in line-"

"That's not what I meant."

"Fall in line and support the dethroning of my family, the destruction of everything we stand for. Just because you say so."

"You know I'm right."

She slapped him. Her hand struck out, hard and fast, and didn't land. He caught her wrist midair.

Declan pulled her forward, closer, his hand wrapped tightly around hers. His breath was hot on her cheek. "You're supposed to listen to me."

"You haven't earned that right."

"Did you bring your knives to the dance?" He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Softly, he whispered, "Listen to me or don't. But I'll do whatever I have to do to get what I want. And right now, I want you to stay here and listen to me."

"If you try anything-"

"Think about how many people are in this room. Your friends, your suitors... your parents."

She froze. He couldn't hurt them, could he? But there was something terrifying about the steely determination in his eyes. Camila got the sense he wouldn't hesitate to kill.

She glanced at his wrists, searching for the glint of silver. 

She couldn't see anything. Perhaps they'd put the silver on his ankle, to hide it from polite viewers? A shiver ran down her spine.

"Your highness," Alex stepped forward, his hand hovering over his gun. He stood just outside the balcony. "Is everything okay?"

Camila ripped her hand away.

Smirking slightly, Declan backed away. "We're fine, vampire. Go back to your corner." His emerald gaze stayed trained on Camila. Like a predator, toying with its prey.

Camila took a breath and tried to compose herself. They had an audience and she had to be the perfect princess: polite, gracious, detached. She was always detached, always polite, always so fucking perfect. A sudden wave of anger washed over her.

"Take him away," she called Declan's guards. "I don't want to see him again."

Someone screamed.

A crack cut through the air. The ground collapsed beneath her feet. She fell, weightless as she tumbled through the air. A hand closed around her wrist. Her shoulder screamed, the joint stretching unnaturally.

She smelled smoke.

Declan was above her, still on the balcony, his grip like iron on her arm.

Her feet scrambled wildly, grasping for any kind of purchase on the smooth palace wall. One delicate black heel slipped off and plummeted to the ground, shrinking to a small black dot far below her.

Declan leapt from the balcony.

Camila screamed.

In midair, Declan began to shift. His left hand arched painfully, the bones cracking like firewood. Claws sprouted from his fingers, dagger-sharp and gleaming in the moonlight, coarse black fur erupting from his skin. The transformation was sudden, instantaneous, and grotesque, his human wrist ending in a massive, wolf-like paw. His claws shrieked, digging into the stone wall, and their fall came to a sudden stop.

Far above her, Alex yelled, "Camila!"

Declan kicked through a window on the second floor, the servant's quarters. Shattered glass sprayed inwards.

He threw her in. She landed roughly, staggering. Glass shards bit into her bare foot.

In an instant, Declan was beside her, hauling her upright. "Move!" He pulled her left, towards a narrow, unadorned hallway.

"No, we can't-" She yanked her arm from him. "We have to go back for my parents. Alex and Serena-"

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her with him. "That bomb had wolfsbane in it. If the explosion didn't kill them, the vampires will have gotten them by now. Move!" A stone brick hurtled towards her. Camila jumped aside, the brick scraping her shoulder painfully. Her dress ripped.

"The vampires... how do you know-"

"Quiet." He placed a finger against her lips. Camila stopped breathing. "This way."

They hurried deeper into the palace. Right above them, someone screamed. The sound was abruptly cut off. Camila tried to think—there was a connection, pieces of a puzzle she hadn't quite connected—but all she could think about were her parents. They couldn't have died in the blast. They were the Alpha King and Queen, the most powerful wolves in North and South America. Her parents were strong. They'd be okay.

They had to be.

Again, Camila stopped. "I'm going back. There must be something- something I can do."

"You're not going back." Declan growled. He grabbed her arm, hard enough to bruise, and dragged her behind him.

Camila slipped a hand under her skirts, unsheathing the dagger tied to her thigh. She pressed the point to the back of his neck.

"I'm going back."

His grip loosened. His head bowed. Slowly, he turned towards her. "Camila, think. They're dead already. We need to get you out of here-"

The puzzle pieces snapped into place.

"How did you know about the wolfsbane?" The dagger shook in her hand. "The vampires? I haven't seen one. You wanted to get out tonight, huh? That's what you wanted, when you threatened Alex. Oh my- Oh my Goddess." She'd practically killed her parents herself, hadn't she? She'd been the one to agree to let him out, tonight of all nights. Had he planted the bomb? Told the vampires where to strike?

She tried to breathe. To calm down.

Declan moved like lightning. In an instant, the dagger clattered to the ground. He pulled her hands behind her back.

"Like I said, I'm sorry," he whispered against the shell of her ear. "But you're coming with me."

So... that happened. 

Everyone still with me? 'Cause like, I was exhausted writing this chapter. Seriously, I think this chapter took me the longest yet. I kept starting something, then scrapping it, then repeating the whole process.

As always, thanks for sticking with me. 

-Harley