The echoes of "We are here" still haunted Alyssa's every waking moment, a cruel reminder of the day her world shattered. She lay on the cold, hard cement floor of her cell, the stark reality of her captivity a constant weight.

Three weeks. Three weeks since Pablo, the monster who orchestrated the massacre of her beloved pack and took Daimon from her, had dragged her to this gilded cage. This wasn't the dark, menacing prison she'd imagined; it was a lavish mansion, a beautiful fortress designed to lull its inhabitants into a false sense of security, or perhaps, despair.

Her body ached, a constant thrum of physical pain layered over the deep, unending ache of loss. But beneath it all, a different sensation stirred, a tiny, fragile spark of life growing within her, a secret she guarded with every fiber of her being. It was the only thing that tethered her to a future, the only reason she continued to breathe.

Just hours ago, she had faced Pablo, his smug taunts and the chilling confirmation that he had never even been at the battle. The rage had consumed her, an animalistic fury that had snapped the neck of one of his men with horrifying ease. Now, she was alone again, left to make a choice: continue to fight against an insurmountable force, or play his twisted game.

Her mind raced, the faces of her fallen family flashing before her eyes. No, she wouldn't break. She couldn't. For Daimon, for their child, she would become whatever she needed to be. Alyssa Barnes, version 3.0, was ready to play nice, to shine in this hell, and wait for the day she could rip Pablo's heart from his chest.