Chapter 1

I used to believe my greatest sacrifice was for love. Now I know it was for a lie.

Three years ago, I married Ethan Scott. His family, the titans of Wall Street, had crumbled, their empire reduced to whispers and shame. I, Annabel Chadwick, last of a bloodline he could never comprehend, repaid a debt. He had saved my life once, a simple act of kindness in a world that had shown me none. So I gave him my own life force, my Nahualtse, the very essence of my Skinwalker power.

I channeled it into the dying heart of Scott & Associates. I made them kings again.

The cost was immense. Giving birth to our nine children, each carrying a spark of my power, drained me to the core. It left me in a coma-like sleep for a year, a hollowed-out shell of the woman I once was.

Ethan had promised me forever. He swore he would protect me, protect our children. He said he understood the price I paid.

He lied.

His grandfather, the old patriarch, was the only one who knew the truth. He respected it. He honored my sacrifice. But the old man was retired, his power in the boardroom replaced by Ethan's new, ruthless ambition.

Just before I fell into that long sleep, there was an incident. Sabrina Fowler, Ethan's childhood friend, a woman whose jealousy was as old as their families' rivalry, had insulted me. She called me a "charity case," a "freak." Ethan, in a rare display of loyalty, banished her to a finishing school in Europe. He told me he would never let anyone disrespect me again.

But as I lay helpless, she returned. I didn't know it then, but her shadow had already fallen over my family.

Today, I woke up.

The first thing I saw was Ethan' s face, handsome and familiar, but with a coldness in his eyes I' d never seen before.

"Annabel, you' re awake."

His voice was flat, devoid of the warmth I remembered.

"The children," I whispered, my throat raw. "I want to see our children."

"Of course," he said, a strange, thin smile playing on his lips. "It' s their first birthday. I have a surprise for you. For all of you."

He helped me dress, his hands clinical and distant. He led me from the sterile white room, not to a nursery filled with laughter, but to a black town car waiting outside. We drove for what felt like hours, leaving the familiar gleam of Manhattan for the decaying grandeur of the Hudson Valley.

We stopped before a Gilded Age mansion, its stone facade crumbling, its windows like vacant eyes. The air was heavy with the smell of wet earth and secrets. Inside, the opulence was suffocated by dust and neglect. A crowd of New York' s elite, faces I recognized from financial magazines, stood in a large, dark-paneled ballroom. They watched me with a mixture of pity and morbid curiosity.

And there, sitting in a high-backed chair as if on a throne, was Sabrina Fowler.

She was next to Ethan. His hand rested on the back of her chair, an intimate, possessive gesture.

My blood ran cold.

"Ethan, what is this? Where are my children?"

He looked at me, and the mask of civility fell away completely. His face was a canvas of pure, chilling indifference.

"We' re going to play a game, Annabel."

Sabrina laughed, a sound like shattering glass. "A party game. It' s called Mafia."

My mind reeled. Mafia? I knew the game. Deception, accusation, elimination.

"The rules are simple," Ethan continued, his voice echoing in the cavernous room. "There are a number of children here. Nine of them are yours. The others are... props. You are the 'Vigilante.' Each round, you must identify and protect one of your children. The rest of the players, our guests, will vote to eliminate a 'Mafia' member-one of your monstrous offspring."

He paused, letting the horror sink in.

"If you protect your child, they are safe for the round. If the mob votes out one of your children, they will be ritually sacrificed. Their pelts will make lovely trophies, don' t you think? A unique party favor for our friends."

"If you manage to save all nine of them by the end of the game," he said with a final, cruel twist, "you are free to leave with them."

My legs gave out. I collapsed to my knees, the world spinning. I hadn' t seen my babies in a year. My power, the Nahualtse that connected me to them, was a faint, dying ember. I couldn' t sense them. I couldn' t tell which of the small, frightened faces in the room belonged to me.

"Ethan, please," I begged, tears streaming down my face. "They are your children. Our children. Don' t do this."

Sabrina leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. His face hardened into a mask of rage.

"My children?" he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "You tricked me, you witch. You and my grandfather. You birthed abominations. Monsters."

He gestured to a game master, a man in a tuxedo. "Let' s begin. Draw the cards."

A deck of cards was passed around to the children. A small, dark-haired girl in a simple white dress drew a card and her eyes went wide with fear. She held up the card. It had a single word on it: 'Doctor.'

"A healer," Ethan said with a sickening smile. "How ironic. We don' t need a doctor. We need a demonstration."

He walked over to the little girl. She flinched, trying to back away.

"No," I screamed, scrambling to my feet. "Ethan, stop!"

He ignored me. With a swift, brutal motion, he grabbed the girl and snapped her neck. The sound was sickeningly loud in the silent room. Her small body fell to the floor, lifeless.

The guests gasped, a collective, horrified whisper.

Ethan turned back to me, his face devoid of any emotion.

"Now," he said, his voice a chilling whisper. "The game begins. It' s your turn to choose, Annabel. Who will you protect?"