The journey back to the Dark Claw pack house was a blur of agony. Isaac didn’t carry me; he dragged me. His grip on my upper arm was a vice of steel, cutting off circulation, while my twisted ankle screamed in protest with every stumbling step I was forced to take. I tried to speak, to explain about the rogues in the woods, but every time I opened my mouth, a sob choked me.

"Silence!" Isaac roared, shoving me through the heavy double doors of the pack hospital. "You've done enough damage tonight."

The sterile scent of antiseptic hit me, mixing with the metallic tang of blood. Screams echoed from the private ward down the hall—Alison’s screams. They were high-pitched, terrifying sounds that made the hair on my arms stand up. Isaac’s face twisted in anguish at the sound, his golden eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

He threw me onto a waiting gurney, not caring that my head cracked against the metal railing. "Watch her," he snarled to a Delta guard. "If she moves, break her legs."

I curled into a ball, clutching my throbbing ankle. Through the open door, I watched Isaac rush into Alison’s room. The Healer, a nervous man named Dr. Evans who had always looked at my father with envy, stepped out a moment later, his hands covered in blood. He looked at Isaac, shaking his head solemnly.

"I'm sorry, Alpha," Dr. Evans said, his voice trembling. "The heir... the pup is gone. The dark magic used... it was too strong. It ruptured the placenta instantly."

A howl of pure misery ripped from Isaac’s throat, shaking the foundations of the building. He fell against the wall, sliding down until he hit the floor, burying his face in his hands. "My son... my son..."

Then, the grief snapped. He stood up slowly, turning his gaze toward me. The sorrow in his eyes hardened into a glacial rage that froze my blood.

"It wasn't magic," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Isaac, please. I was attacked. Look at my dress. Look at my ankle."

He marched toward me, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him. "You hired them," he hissed, his breath hot against my face. "You couldn't bear the rejection. You couldn't bear seeing me happy. So you used your father's gold to hire rogues to stage an attack, giving you an alibi while you cursed my mate!"

"No!" I cried, tears streaming down my face. "That’s insane! I would never hurt a child!"

"You are the child of a monster," Isaac spat. "And tonight, you proved you have his blood. Guards! Take her to the silver cells."

Panic flared, brighter and hotter than before. "Isaac, no! The silver... it will kill me! My wolf is dormant, I can't heal!"

"Then die," he said coldly, turning his back on me to walk into Alison’s room. "It’s a better fate than you deserve."

The dungeon of the Dark Claw Pack was a place of nightmares. Damp, cold, and smelling of ancient fear. The guards threw me into a cell at the far end of the corridor. As I scrambled to catch my balance, my skin brushed against the bars. A sizzling sound filled the air, followed by the smell of burning flesh. I screamed, recoiling to the center of the stone floor.

"Silver-lined," the guard grunted, locking the heavy door. "Standard for rogue witches."

"I need to call my father," I gasped, cradling my burned arm. "I have rights. The Council..."

"You have nothing," Isaac’s voice echoed from the stairs. He descended slowly, holding my shattered smartphone in his hand. With a cruel calmness, he crushed the device between his fingers, letting the glass and metal dust fall to the floor. "No one is coming for you, Luna. You are cut off. You will stay here until you confess how to reverse the curse on Alison, or until you rot."

He didn't wait for my plea. He turned on his heel and left, plunging the dungeon into semi-darkness.

Hours passed. The cold seeped into my bones, making my ankle throb with a dull, relentless rhythm. I huddled in the corner, trying to keep away from the silver-laced walls. The silence was heavy, broken only by the dripping of water somewhere in the shadows.

Then, the click-clack of heels echoed on the stone steps.

I looked up, squinting through the gloom. Alison stood on the other side of the bars. She wore a silk robe, clutching her stomach, her face pale and tear-stained. But the moment the guard at the top of the stairs closed the door, her posture changed. She straightened up, the tears vanishing instantly. A smirk curled her lips.

"Comfy?" she asked, her voice light and mocking.

"You..." I rasped, my throat raw. "You lost the baby... how can you be walking?"

Alison laughed, a low, throaty sound that chilled me more than the damp air. She walked up to the bars, gripping them with her bare hands. The silver didn't burn her. She had coated her palms with something—wax or resin.

"Oh, you poor, stupid thing," she cooed. "There never was a baby."

My breath hitched. "What?"

"Rogue herbs," she whispered, her eyes dancing with malicious glee. "They bloat the scent, mimic the hormones. It’s a simple trick, really. But Isaac? He’s so desperate for a legacy, so desperate to prove he’s a big, strong Alpha, he didn't even question it."

"You monster," I breathed, horror dawning on me. "You let him believe his child died... just to hurt me?"

"To destroy you," she corrected. "And your father. And this pathetic pack." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Those rogues in the woods? My friends. I called them the moment you ran. You were supposed to die there, Luna. But this..." She gestured to my cell. "This is so much better. Isaac is torturing the woman he swore to protect, all for a lie. When he finds out the truth—and he will, eventually—it will break him."

"He won't believe you," I said, trying to summon the strength of my bloodline. "He'll see through you."

Alison scoffed, turning to leave. "He just threw his fated mate into a silver cage because I shed a few crocodile tears. He doesn't see anything, Luna. He only sees what I want him to see. Enjoy the dark."

As her laughter faded up the stairs, the darkness felt heavier than ever. I was alone, trapped in a cage designed to burn me alive, with the man I loved holding the key and my worst enemy whispering in his ear.

The heavy iron door of my cell groaned open, the sound scraping against my raw nerves like a serrated blade. I huddled deeper into the corner, pressing my spine against the damp stone, praying the shadows would swallow me whole. My ankle throbbed with a dull, sickening rhythm, swollen to twice its size, but the physical pain was a distant echo compared to the terror seizing my chest.

Isaac stood in the doorway. The harsh hallway light silhouetted his broad frame, casting a long, predatory shadow that stretched across the floor until it touched my bare feet. He didn't look like the boy who used to sneak me extra desserts from the pack kitchens. He didn't even look like the man who had rejected me hours ago. He looked like a stranger possessed by a cold, clinical madness.

"Get up," he commanded, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Isaac, please," I croaked, my throat dry as sandpaper. "My leg... I can't walk."

He didn't argue. He crossed the small cell in two strides, his hand clamping around my upper arm. He hauled me to my feet with effortless, brutal strength. I cried out as my injured foot dragged uselessly against the stone, sending white-hot spikes of agony up my shin.

"Pain is a teacher, Luna," he muttered, dragging me into the corridor. "You've been coddled. You've been allowed to be weak. That ends tonight."

He pulled me through the labyrinthine hallways of the pack house, ignoring the stares of the few servants still awake. They averted their eyes, terrified of their Alpha's simmering rage. We burst out the back doors into the biting chill of the night air. The training grounds lay before us, a circle of packed dirt illuminated by blinding floodlights that buzzed like angry hornets.

In the center of the ring stood a wooden whipping post equipped with iron shackles. My stomach dropped.

"Isaac, no," I begged, digging my heels into the dirt. "Don't do this. I didn't hurt Alison. I swear on the Moon Goddess!"

He shoved me forward, forcing my wrists into the cold iron cuffs. The metal clicked shut, locking my arms above my head, leaving me exposed and helpless.

"You didn't use magic," Isaac said, stepping back to admire his work. He pulled a tripod from the shadows and set his smartphone upon it, angling the camera directly at my face. "I realized something, Luna. You're not a witch. You're just a coward. Your fear of men... it's pathetic. It’s what made you run to the rogues. It’s what killed my son."

He tapped the screen. A red light blinked on.

"We're live," he announced, his voice booming for the benefit of the pack members watching from their screens. "Tonight, the Dark Claw Pack witnesses the rehabilitation of a traitor. We are going to cure your phobia, Luna. We are going to burn the weakness out of you."

He whistled sharply.

From the darkness beyond the lights, five figures emerged. My breath hitched, trapping a scream in my throat. They were Gammas—huge, muscular warriors known for their aggression. They were shirtless, their skin glistening with sweat, their eyes locked on me with predatory intent.

"Exposure therapy," Isaac sneered, crossing his arms. "Boys, release your auras. Don't touch her... yet. Just let her smell you."

The command hit them like a whip. The five men stepped into the circle, surrounding me. The air instantly grew heavy, suffocating. They pushed their Alpha command down, not enough to force submission, but enough to terrify. The scent hit me next—a wave of musk, testosterone, and raw, unfiltered aggression. It was the scent of the rogue attack. It was the scent of my nightmares.

"No!" I screamed, squeezing my eyes shut. "Get away!"

"Open your eyes!" Isaac roared from behind the camera. "Look at them! They are your pack mates!"

One of the Gammas, a man with a scar running down his chest, stepped closer. He leaned in, his breath hot against my neck, growling low in his throat. The vibration rattled through my bones.

Panic, absolute and blinding, shattered my mind. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I thought it would burst. The world tilted. I couldn't breathe. The air was too thick, too full of *them*.

"Please," I whimpered, my body convulsing in the chains. "Isaac, help me!"

"Endure it!" Isaac shouted, his face twisted in a mask of cruel righteousness. "Stop crying and be a wolf!"

The warriors circled closer, a wall of looming flesh and growls. The sensory overload was too much. My vision tunneled into a pinprick of darkness. The scream that tore from my throat wasn't human; it was the sound of a soul fracturing. Then, the darkness swallowed me whole.

***

**[Perspective Shift: Alpha Sylas Hunt]**

hundreds of miles away, in the high-tech office of the Northern Frost Pack, a glass of whiskey shattered against the wall.

I stared at the tablet on my desk, my hands gripping the mahogany edge until the wood splintered under my fingers. On the screen, the livestream from the Dark Claw Pack played on—a horror show of cruelty masked as discipline.

I saw her. Luna. My mate.

I had stayed away for years, respecting the bond she had with Isaac, hoping he would protect the fragile flower that was destined for me. But as I watched her hang limp in those chains, surrounded by growling mongrels, something inside me snapped. I felt her terror vibrate through the dormant bond like a physical blow. I felt her mind fracture.

"Isaac Gibson," I growled, my voice a low rumble of impending death. "You just signed your own death warrant."

I snatched my phone, dialing a number I had saved for this exact nightmare.

"Garrett," I barked the moment the line connected, not bothering with pleasantries. "Check your messages. I'm sending you a link. Get your warriors to the chopper. I'm already in the air."

"Sylas?" The older Alpha's voice was confused, then suddenly cold as he must have opened the link. "My god... Luna."

"We burn it down," I said, my vision turning red with the urge to kill. "We burn it all down."