Pain greeted me before consciousness fully returned. A searing, all-consuming agony that seemed to burn from within my very bones. My eyelids felt weighted with lead as I struggled to open them, the harsh fluorescent lights of the pack infirmary stabbing into my retinas.

I tried to scream, but only a raspy whisper escaped my throat. My vocal cords felt raw, as though I'd swallowed glass.

"Water," I croaked, my tongue thick and dry.

A figure appeared in my field of vision—Marcus Vale, our pack healer. His face remained impassive as he looked down at me, no trace of compassion in his eyes.

"Alpha's orders. Limited fluids until you're stable." His voice was cold, clinical. "Your wolf should be healing you by now."

I tried to respond, but the pain intensified, white-hot needles piercing my skin from the inside out. My body was wrapped in bandages from neck to toe, the scent of antiseptic and burned flesh overwhelming my senses.

"My wolf," I managed to whisper. "Can't shift."

Marcus's expression hardened. "Convenient excuse. The Alpha says you've been faking your inability to shift for months."

He checked my vitals with mechanical precision, avoiding my eyes. "You're lucky to be alive, Celine. Though I doubt you deserve it after what you did."

"What I did?" The words scraped against my damaged throat.

"The fire." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "We all know you set it yourself. Desperate attempt to get attention, to ruin the ceremony."

I shook my head weakly, tears stinging my eyes. "No..."

"Save your strength." Marcus straightened, adjusting his white coat. "Your pain medication is being restricted. Alpha's orders. He says your wolf should handle the healing."

He knew I couldn't shift. Everyone knew. The trauma from my miscarriage had left my wolf silent, unreachable. But Declan had chosen to believe I was lying about that too.

---

Days blurred together in a haze of pain and fever. When I could bear it, I reached for my phone on the bedside table, wincing as the movement pulled at my burns.

The pack's social network app loaded slowly on the cracked screen. My heart sank as I scrolled through the posts.

Alina's face smiled back at me from dozens of photos. Her in Declan's arms. Her wearing the Luna's ceremonial necklace. Her fresh marking proudly displayed.

"New beginnings with my Alpha," read one caption beneath a photo of them kissing.

"The ceremony was perfect," declared another, showing off her ring.

But worse than the public posts was the private message that popped up as I scrolled.

"Enjoying the show, Celine?" Alina's name flashed on my screen.

I opened the message with trembling fingers. A video began to play automatically.

Alina's voice purred from the speakers. "Miss me?"

The camera panned to show her in the Alpha suite—our suite—wearing nothing but Declan's shirt. She was sprawled across his bed, running her fingers through her dark hair.

"This is from three weeks ago," she said, smiling directly at the camera. "Right after you lost your pup. While you were still bleeding, actually."

The camera moved, revealing Declan entering the frame. He kissed her neck, right over the spot where he would later mark her.

"He never went back to you after that night," Alina continued. "Every time you think he was with you, he was with me."

I dropped the phone as though it had burned me worse than the fire.

---

A soft knock at the door startled me from my misery. I expected Marcus with more accusations, but instead, a young woman slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind her.

"Elena?" I recognized her vaguely as one of the lower-ranked wolves who worked in tech support.

"Shh." She glanced nervously over her shoulder. "I don't have much time."

She approached my bed, her eyes darting to the door every few seconds. "I saw what happened," she whispered. "The security logs."

My breath caught. "What logs?"

Elena reached into her pocket and pulled out a small phone—a burner model with no markings. "I work in the security office. I saw the records from the night of the fire."

She pressed it into my hand, closing my fingers around it. "The Alpha remotely locked the shutters after the fire alarm went off. He did it from the Pack House, during the ceremony."

"Why are you helping me?" My voice was barely audible.

Elena's eyes filled with tears. "Because my sister was rejected too. She didn't survive it."

She straightened as footsteps approached in the hallway. "Hide this. They're monitoring everything else."

As she turned to leave, she paused at the door. "The truth is in there. What you do with it is up to you."

The door closed behind her, leaving me alone with the small device that held the key to my revenge—and perhaps my salvation.

The hospital room's sterile white walls seemed to close in around me as I stared at the ceiling, counting the tiles to distract myself from the pain. My burns throbbed despite the minimal medication Marcus allowed. Three days had passed since Elena slipped me the burner phone with its precious cargo of security logs.

I heard footsteps approaching—too heavy for a nurse, too purposeful for a doctor. The door creaked open, and I tensed, expecting Alina's smug face or Marcus's cold stare.

Instead, a janitor stepped in, pushing a cleaning cart. Something about him seemed off—his movements too fluid, his posture too alert. When he looked up, I recognized him from somewhere.

"You're Theo," I whispered, my damaged vocal cords making it sound more like a question than a statement.

He quickly closed the door behind him and removed his cap, revealing auburn hair and intelligent eyes. "Guilty as charged."

"The Rogue streamer," I added, trying to sit up despite the pain.

"Former streamer," he corrected, pulling out a tablet from his cart. "At least for today."

He approached my bed cautiously, glancing at the door. "I hacked the visitor logs. You have exactly seven minutes before someone notices I'm not supposed to be here."

I nodded weakly. "What do you want?"

"I think the question is what do you need?" He placed the tablet on my lap. "Because I found something you should see."

The screen showed thermal footage of the night of the fire. The timestamp matched when I'd been trapped inside.

"I was streaming an urban exploration of your pack's perimeter," Theo explained. "I thought the old estate would make good content."

The footage showed the Alpha estate engulfed in flames, then panned to capture the Pack House in the distance. Theo zoomed in on a balcony where two figures stood watching the blaze.

"Declan and Alina," I breathed, recognizing them instantly.

"But that's not all," Theo said, tapping the screen to activate the audio.

Their voices came through clearly, laughing as they watched my prison burn.

"Is that smoke bothering you, Alpha?" Alina's voice purred.

"Nothing to worry about," Declan replied. "Probably just Celine burning dinner again."

They clinked glasses as sirens wailed in the distance.

"I ignored three fire alarm notifications on my phone," Declan said casually. "She'll learn to stop being so careless."

Theo paused the video. "The official story is that no one knew about the fire until the patrols saw the smoke. But this—" he gestured to the frozen image, "—shows they saw it from the beginning."

"They watched me burn," I whispered, tears stinging my eyes.

Theo nodded grimly. "I've been streaming for years. I know when someone's lying, and that official statement stinks worse than your burned house."

"Why show me this?" I asked.

"Because I hate liars," he said simply. "And because no one deserves what happened to you."

He pulled out a small drive. "I've copied everything. Thermal footage, audio, timestamps—it's all here."

I took it with bandaged fingers. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Theo said. "We need to combine this with whatever you have."

I reached for Elena's burner phone under my pillow and handed it to him. "Security logs. He locked me in."

Theo's eyes widened as he examined the files. "This is enough for attempted murder charges, not just negligence."

"We need to—" I began, but my voice failed me.

Theo handed me his tablet. "Type it."

I slowly typed out my plan: *We need to present this at the next Pack Gathering. The Lycan Council will be there. We need to expose them both.*

"Can you do it?" I asked.

Before he could answer, the door swung open. Alina stood there, her perfect smile faltering slightly at the sight of Theo.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said with false sweetness. "I didn't realize you had company."

Theo quickly resumed his janitor pose, grabbing his cleaning supplies. "Just doing my job, Luna."

Alina's eyes narrowed at the title. She waited until he left before approaching my bed.

"Poor Celine," she cooed, sitting on the edge of my mattress. "How are you feeling today?"

I said nothing, watching her warily.

"I came to check on you," she continued, her voice dripping with false concern. "After all, you're still technically pack, even if you're not really the Luna anymore."

She leaned closer, her perfume suffocating me. "It must be so hard, being rejected and burned and... oh yes, barren."

Her manicured nail traced the edge of my bandage, then suddenly dug into my burn graft.

I bit back a scream as pain shot through me.

"If you don't leave this pack immediately," she whispered, her face inches from mine, "I'll finish what the fire started."

I remained perfectly still as her words poured over me like acid. Under my pillow, Elena's burner phone recorded every syllable.

Alina smiled again, patting my hand condescendingly. "Rest well, Celine. I'll check on you tomorrow."

As she sashayed out, I clutched the phone tighter, a plan forming in my mind. The recording would be my first piece of ammunition in a war she didn't even know had begun.

The television in my hospital room flickered with a familiar face that made my stomach twist. Alina stood at a podium, her expression a perfect mask of concern as she addressed the pack.

"Today marks the launch of our Mental Health Awareness campaign," she announced, her voice dripping with false sincerity. "Many of you have expressed concerns about Celine Chapman's... condition."

The camera panned to show posters with my face plastered across them. "Wolfless and Dangerous: Recognize the Signs."

"I've personally witnessed her deteriorating mental state," Alina continued, her eyes wide with manufactured fear. "The incident with the fire was just one example of her instability."

I switched off the TV, my bandaged hands trembling with rage. The burns on my palms pulled tight as I clenched my fists, sending fresh waves of pain up my arms.

"Propaganda," I whispered, my damaged vocal cords making it sound like a growl.

A nurse entered, her eyes avoiding mine as she checked my vitals. "There's a... situation outside," she murmured, adjusting my IV with mechanical precision.

I didn't need to ask what she meant. The chanting had started yesterday—pack members gathering outside the hospital, their voices carrying through the windows.

"Send her away!"

"Protect our pups!"

"No place for mad wolves here!"

Alina had turned my tragedy into a public relations campaign. She'd painted me as a threat to the pack's children, a unstable woman who couldn't control her inner wolf—except I couldn't shift at all.

---

"Her burns aren't healing properly," Marcus said, his voice low as he examined my chart. "The grafts are failing."

I remained silent, watching his face for any sign of the compassion that should have been there. For days, he'd been administering barely enough pain medication to keep me conscious, claiming my "wolf should handle it."

"She doesn't have a wolf to heal her," he muttered, more to himself than to me. "Not anymore."

He pulled up my medical records on his tablet, scrolling through pages of data. His brow furrowed as he studied the numbers.

"This doesn't make sense," he said, louder now. "These burns require specialized treatment at a human burn unit."

I turned my head away, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing my suffering.

"The Alpha denied the transfer request," Marcus continued, his voice strained. "He said you needed to remain under pack supervision."

Through the window, I could see protesters carrying signs with Alina's slogans. Marcus followed my gaze, his expression shifting from clinical detachment to something that looked almost like guilt.

"I'll be back," he said abruptly, leaving the room without finishing his examination.

Later that night, I heard him return, his footsteps hesitant in the hallway. He slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind him.

"I've documented everything," he whispered, placing a small drive on my bedside table. "The denied treatments, the inadequate pain management, the Alpha's direct orders."

"Why?" I managed to ask, my voice barely audible.

"Because I took an oath to heal," he replied, his eyes meeting mine for the first time. "And because what's happening to you is wrong."

---

The Great Hall of the Pack House loomed before me as two Delta wolves wheeled me in. Every head turned, conversations dying as I passed. The scent of judgment and curiosity filled the air.

"Look at her," someone whispered. "She can't even shift to heal herself."

"I heard she tried to kill the Alpha and Luna," another voice added.

My burns throbbed under the harsh lights as they positioned my wheelchair facing the dais where Declan stood tall and imposing, Alina at his side. She wore a dress that highlighted her fresh marking, her hand possessively placed on Declan's arm.

"Pack members of Silverclaw," Declan began, his Alpha voice resonating through the hall. "We gather today for a difficult but necessary task."

His eyes found mine, cold and distant. "Celine Chapman has become a liability to our pack's safety and stability."

Alina stepped forward, her expression grave. "After careful consideration and consultation with our healers, we believe her mental state has deteriorated beyond recovery."

The crowd murmured in agreement, their faces showing varying degrees of pity and disgust.

"As your Alpha," Declan continued, "I must make decisions that protect our future generations. Celine's presence threatens the well-being of our pack, especially our pups."

He gestured to a group of mothers holding children close to their sides. "We cannot risk exposing impressionable young wolves to her instability."

"Today, I ask you to vote for her immediate exile as a rogue," he declared. "For the good of Silverclaw."

The hall erupted in shouts of approval as hands raised in support of my banishment. Through the pain and betrayal, one thought crystallized in my mind: They had no idea what was coming.