Third Person's POV Jenny leaned in, her breath brushing against Parker's lips, the faint scent of her perfume mixing with the sharp tang of wine between them. Just as she was about to kiss him, Parker turned his head away, voice steady but distant. "Jenny, I only see you as a sister." Her expression hardened, the warmth in her eyes vanishing. "A sister?" she echoed with a cold laugh. "You really think you're one of us, don't you?" She shoved him back, contempt flashing across her face. "You got lucky, Parker. If it weren't for that fire years ago-when you were half-dead and rotting in some hospital bed-Grandmother would never have mistaken you for one of our blood. My father only acknowledged you as his ‘illegitimate son' to keep her from collapsing. Otherwise, you'd have died there, penniless and forgotten." "I know," Parker said quietly, his gaze unwavering. "That's why I've never thought of myself as part of the Williams family." "Good," she sneered. "Because you'd better not forget-your precious woman still depends on Williams's money for treatment. You're nothing but a dog fetching bones to please Grandmother." With that, Jenny spun on her heel and strode out of the private lounge, her heels striking the marble floor in sharp, deliberate rhythm. Someday, she swore to herself, she'd make that man kneel before her-begging. Inside the dim room, Parker remained motionless. Only when the door clicked shut did he exhale, long and slow. He reached for his phone, the WolfComm screen lighting his tired face. His thumb moved with precision, unlocking a secure app. A live feed appeared-grainy footage of a hospital ward. On the bed lay a young woman connected to tubes, a breathing mask covering half her face. Her pale skin gleamed faintly under the sterile light. Parker's fingers brushed over her image. His voice, low and rough, filled the empty room. "I'll heal you. I swear. Just a little longer." He knew the truth-only by staying in Williams's shadow could he earn enough to buy her time. Whatever he had been before, whatever memories had burned away with that fire-none of it mattered next to her life. Silas and Kade never saw eye to eye, but on one thing they agreed: they needed Parker Williams' DNA.They had the resources, the connections, and the nerve. Silas tracked down Parker's upcoming schedule, while Kade bribed one of the staff-a specialist in quiet jobs like this-to slip a dose into Parker's drink. The drug would only induce drowsiness, the kind that could be mistaken for the heavy pull of strong liquor. By the time Parker returned to his lounge to rest, the trap was already set. Moments later, Freya entered with Silas and Kade at her side. The guards posted outside were Silas's men, loyal and silent, while the staff who might interfere had been conveniently paid off. Freya's heart pounded when she saw him-Parker, slumped against the couch, his eyes closed, breathing slow. Even in sleep, his presence was steady, commanding in a quiet, dangerous way. For a moment, she simply stared. The scarred edges of his jaw caught the faint light-burn marks that traced down his neck, half-hidden by his collar. Her breath hitched. He really does look like him. "Blood or hair?" Kade asked, keeping his voice low. He'd already laid out the tools. "Hair," Freya whispered. "Less traceable." Kneeling beside Parker, she reached for the fine strands near his temple, careful not to disturb him. Each one came free with a soft tug. She sealed them carefully in a small sterile pouch, adding a few more for safety. When it was done, she didn't move. Instead, she found herself staring at him again-the steady rise and fall of his chest, the faint crease between his brows. Her throat tightened. "Do you know," she murmured, voice trembling despite her effort to stay composed, "how much I missed you?" The words were meant only for herself, but they came out like a confession. "If I'd found you sooner, maybe you wouldn't have suffered this much." Silas shifted uncomfortably nearby, his gaze softening. Kade rested a hand on Freya's shoulder, his voice quiet. "You've found him now. That's what matters. Let's hope he really is your brother." Silas said nothing. His lips pressed into a thin line as his thoughts drifted elsewhere-to the story Freya had told him, about Parker's scars and the fire three years ago that had nearly claimed his life. Not the border fire five years earlier-the one he remembered. A shadow crossed his face. If Parker was really Eric Thorne… then every scar on his body would remind Freya of Silas's failure-the moment he'd turned away instead of saving the boy from the flames. Guilt twisted in his gut.Then, suddenly, a faint sound broke the silence. Freya froze. Parker's fingers twitched. The air shifted instantly-electric, sharp, the kind of instinctual alertness that came from years of surviving in a world ruled by wolves. The sedative was wearing off. "Damn," Kade hissed under his breath.