Screaming thoughts pierced through Althea's consciousness—pleas that she die, declarations of her worthlessness, demands for self-sacrifice. Her gift allowed her to hear every hateful whisper, every desperate cry, every vicious judgment crowding the minds around her. And yet she did not waver. When the Alpha King's cold voice commanded, "Will you die for them?"—she had already chosen her answer. She would defend the defenseless, the innocent ones, those rare souls who had shown her kindness. Even if that choice demanded her death. Gavriel Kingsley, the Alpha King, surprised her. He did not end her life. His gaze—dark as midnight, predatory and absolute—pinned her in place. "You are mine now," he whispered, possession evident in every syllable. "As your slave?" she breathed. The King's chuckle was low, threatening with amusement. "As my breeder."