The silver glass bit into my palm as I sawed through the restraints. Five years. Five years of planning this moment, memorizing guard rotations, stealing fragments of broken mirror during the weekly hose-downs. The storm outside Wolf's Bane Asylum screamed louder than the voices in my head—the ones that whispered I was already dead, that escape was just another form of torture.

My wrists burned where the silver touched skin. I didn't care. Pain was an old friend now.

The guard's footsteps echoed down the corridor. I pressed myself against the wall, every muscle trembling from malnutrition and years of wolfsbane injections. My wolf—Luna, she used to be called—hadn't spoken in so long I'd almost forgotten her voice. The dormancy was complete. I was just a shell now, a broken omega who'd once been something more.

When he opened the cell door, syringe in hand, I moved on instinct. The glass shard found his throat before he could cry out. His blood was warm on my hands. I didn't feel guilty. I didn't feel anything.

The forest swallowed me whole. Rain lashed my face as I ran, barefoot and bleeding, through territory I once knew like the back of my hand. Blood River Pack land. Home. The word tasted like ash.

Maybe Greyson had realized the truth by now. Maybe he'd spent five years regretting what he'd done, searching for me, ready to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness. The hope was pathetic, but it kept my legs moving when everything else screamed to just lie down and let the cold take me.

I collapsed at the border just as music drifted through the trees. Laughter. Celebration. The Luna's Blessing festival—I'd organized that event for eight years, back when I was Luna, back when I mattered.

Hands grabbed me before I could crawl forward. Warriors. Their faces twisted with recognition and disgust.

"The mad rogue," one spat. "Alpha warned us she might come back."

They dragged me through the crowd. Pack members I'd once protected, once healed, once loved—they all stepped back like I carried plague. The festival lights blurred together, too bright after years of darkness. At the center of it all sat a throne I'd never seen before, draped in white silk and moonflowers.

And on that throne sat Camille.

My sister glowed. Her skin was perfect, her dress immaculate, her hand resting on a rounded belly that hadn't been there five years ago. She looked like everything I'd once been, everything I'd lost. The Luna crown—my crown—sat on her golden hair.

Beside her stood Greyson.

He looked older. Harder. His jaw was set in that way that meant his mind was made up, that nothing I said would matter. But I had to try. I had to.

"Water," I rasped. My voice cracked from disuse. "Please."

Camille's eyes went wide. She pressed a hand to her belly and recoiled, her chair scraping backward. "She's here to kill my baby! Greyson, she's going to kill our pup!"

The crowd gasped. Murmurs rippled through the pack like poison.

"No," I whispered. "No, I just—"

"SUBMIT."

The Alpha tone hit me like a physical blow. My knees buckled. My face slammed into mud that tasted like copper and shame. Every bone in my body screamed to obey, to flatten myself further, to disappear into the earth.

Greyson's boots appeared in my line of vision. Expensive leather, polished to a shine. I used to polish those boots. I used to do everything for him.

"I could kill you," he said, his voice carrying across the silent crowd. "It would be easy. Merciful, even. But mercy is for wolves who deserve it."

He crouched down. His face was inches from mine, but there was no recognition in his eyes. No love. No regret. Just cold, absolute disgust.

"You're not worth the effort of execution."

Something cold and heavy clamped around my neck. Metal. Rusted iron that reeked of old blood and older suffering. The collar clicked shut with a sound like a coffin closing.

"From this moment forward," Greyson announced, standing and addressing the pack, "this creature has no rank. No name. No rights. She is property, gifted to Luna Camille as a personal servant. If she disobeys, if she speaks without permission, if she so much as looks at my mate wrong—you have my permission to discipline her as you see fit."

The crowd cheered.

Camille rose from her throne, one hand still cradling her belly. She walked toward me with slow, deliberate steps. When she reached me, she bent down, her lips brushing my ear.

"Welcome home, sister," she whispered, so soft only I could hear. "I've been waiting for you."

Her smile was the cruelest thing I'd ever seen.

The servants' quarters smelled like mildew and despair. I slept on stone that leached the warmth from my bones, curled around myself like the animal they'd made me. The collar chafed my neck raw. Every morning, I woke to the taste of iron and shame.

My duties started before dawn. Scrubbing floors in the Alpha suite—my old rooms, where I'd once woken in silk sheets with Greyson's arms around me. Now I crawled on hands and knees, brush in hand, while Camille watched from the bed we used to share.

"You missed a spot," she said, pointing with one delicate finger. Her belly curved beneath a silk nightgown, round and perfect. The scent that rolled off her was thick and cloying—vanilla and something else, something that made every wolf in the pack go soft and protective around her.

I scrubbed harder. The water in my bucket had gone cold an hour ago.

Camille stretched like a cat, one hand resting on her stomach. "Greyson says the pup kicked last night. Can you imagine? Our child, growing strong."

I said nothing. Speaking without permission meant punishment.

She rose from the bed, moving with deliberate grace. Her foot caught the edge of my bucket. Water and dirty suds flooded across the floor I'd just cleaned.

"Oh," she said, her voice dripping false concern. "How clumsy of me. You'll need to start over."

This happened every day. Sometimes it was wine. Sometimes dirt tracked in from the garden. Always something to make me do it again, to keep me on my knees where she wanted me.

The pack treated me like I was invisible. Or worse—like I was something to be avoided, a curse that might spread if they got too close. They spat when I passed. Mothers pulled their children away. Warriors who'd once taken orders from me now looked through me like I was glass.

Only Camille saw me. And she never looked away.

A week into my servitude, I found myself alone in the kitchen after midnight. My hands shook as I reached for a piece of bread from the counter. I hadn't eaten in two days. The collar made it hard to swallow, but I had to try.

"Stealing now?"

I spun. Camille stood in the doorway, backlit by the hall light. Without the crowd, without Greyson, her smile was different. Sharper.

"That's not a real pregnancy," I said. The words came out before I could stop them.

Her laugh was soft and terrible. "No. It's not."

The admission hit me like a fist. "How—"

"A scent charm. Very expensive. Very convincing." She moved closer, circling me like prey. "Dr. Thorne helps with the rest. Monthly check-ups that say exactly what Greyson needs to hear. It's amazing what people will believe when they want to."

"He'll find out."

"Will he?" She tilted her head. "Who's going to tell him? You? The mad rogue who tried to kill me?" She pulled something from her pocket. A syringe. The liquid inside glowed faint purple in the dim light. "We can't have you getting any ideas. Can't have you shifting or linking with anyone who might listen."

I backed away. My spine hit the counter. "Camille, please—"

"You took everything from me." Her voice went cold. "You took my place. My mate. My life. And you were so good at it, weren't you? Perfect little Luna, so devoted, so pure." She grabbed my arm with strength that shouldn't have been possible. "Now it's my turn."

The needle pierced my neck. Liquid fire poured into my veins.

I screamed. My body convulsed, muscles seizing as the wolfsbane spread through my system. It felt like being burned from the inside out, like every cell was dying and being reborn in agony. I hit the floor, thrashing, while Camille stood over me and smiled.

"That should keep you weak for a while," she said. "Sweet dreams, sister."

The days blurred after that. Camille's performance grew more elaborate. She stumbled in the hallways, pressing her hands to her eyes. She knocked over a vase and claimed she couldn't see it. She wept in Greyson's arms about the darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision.

"It's a curse," she sobbed during dinner, her voice carrying through the dining hall. "That rogue brought it with her. I can feel it, Greyson. I'm going blind."

The pack murmured. Eyes turned to me where I stood against the wall, waiting to clear plates.

Greyson's jaw tightened. "We'll fix this."

Two days later, I was summoned to his office.

He sat behind his desk, every inch the Alpha. The man who'd once held me through nightmares was gone. This was someone else wearing his face.

"The Summit is in three weeks," he said without preamble. "After it concludes, Dr. Thorne will perform a procedure."

I waited. Speaking felt dangerous.

"You brought this curse into my pack. You're poisoning my mate, threatening my unborn child." His eyes were flat. Empty. "So you'll pay the price. Your corneas will be removed and transplanted to Camille. It's the only way to save her sight."

The words didn't make sense at first. Then they did, and the world tilted.

"You're going to blind me."

"You did this to yourself." He stood, moving to the window. "Be grateful I'm letting you live at all."

I touched my neck where the collar sat. Where his mark used to be. "I never cursed her."

"Three weeks," he said. "Don't make me move up the timeline."

I stumbled back to the servants' quarters in a daze. Three weeks until they took my eyes. Three weeks until there was nothing left of me at all.

I pressed my hands to my face, feeling the shape of my eyes beneath my palms. Soon, there would only be darkness. Soon, I would be truly nothing.

And Camille would watch it happen with that smile on her face.

The cage smelled like rust and old death. I couldn't tell if the blood crusted on the bars was mine or belonged to whoever had been here before me. My wrists were raw from the chains, silver-laced and burning. Every bump in the road sent fresh agony through my body.

They'd drugged me before loading me into the caravan. Something that made my thoughts swim and my limbs heavy as stone. I couldn't fight. Couldn't speak. Could barely breathe through the gag they'd shoved in my mouth.

Through the canvas covering the cage, I caught glimpses of other caravans. Banners from different packs. The Summit. Greyson was taking me to the Summit.

A warrior's voice drifted back from the front. "Alpha says we're trading her to Blackthorn. Heard he likes breaking rogues."

Laughter. Cold and casual.

"Better her than us dealing with her."

I closed my eyes. Blackthorn. I knew that name. Everyone did. Alpha Silas Blackthorn ran a pack on the northern border, and the stories about what he did to rogues made even hardened warriors go quiet.

This was it, then. Greyson wasn't even going to take my eyes himself. He was going to trade me away like garbage, let someone else finish what he'd started.

The caravan stopped. Voices outside. The canvas was ripped back, and harsh sunlight stabbed into my eyes. Hands grabbed the cage, dragging it off the wagon. I hit the ground hard, my shoulder slamming into the bars.

They left me there. In the dirt. Behind the Blood River encampment, hidden from view like something shameful.

I could hear the Summit in the distance. Alphas greeting each other. The formality of it all. Once, I would have been at Greyson's side for something like this. Once, I would have mattered.

The drug was wearing off. Slowly. My thoughts were clearing, but my body still wouldn't obey. I tried to shift, tried to call for Luna, but there was nothing. Just silence where my wolf used to be.

Time passed. I didn't know how much. The sun moved across the sky. My throat was so dry it felt like sandpaper.

Then I smelled it.

Vanilla. Rich and warm, cutting through the stench of my own blood and fear. It wrapped around me like a blanket, like safety, like something I'd forgotten existed.

Footsteps. Fast and purposeful.

The tent flap tore open.

A man stood there, backlit by the setting sun. Tall. Broad-shouldered. His eyes were wild, glowing with his wolf just beneath the surface. He stared at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"Moon Goddess," he breathed.

He moved toward the cage, and I flinched. Couldn't help it. Every instinct screamed that men who looked at me like that brought pain.

But he stopped. His hands were shaking.

"I've been looking for you," he said, his voice rough. "Years. I've been looking for years."

I didn't understand. Couldn't process what he was saying.

He gripped the cage door. The metal groaned. His eyes met mine, and something in my chest pulled tight. Recognition. Not of his face, but of something deeper. Something that felt like coming home.

"Hold on," he said.

Then he threw his head back and roared.

The sound shook the earth. It wasn't a command. It was a challenge. A declaration. Every wolf in the Summit would have heard it, would have felt it in their bones.

He shifted. One moment, a man. The next, a massive black wolf, bigger than any I'd ever seen. His fur was midnight dark, his eyes burning gold.

He tore the cage door off its hinges like it was paper.

Shouts outside. Running footsteps. Greyson's voice, sharp with fury. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The black wolf stood over me, his body a wall between me and the tent entrance. A growl rumbled from his chest, so deep I felt it in my ribs.

Greyson burst in, Beta Kane at his heels. His face was twisted with rage. "Reynolds. Step away from my property."

The black wolf's growl turned into a snarl. He didn't move.

Other Alphas were gathering outside now. I could hear them. Smell them. The whole Summit was watching.

The black wolf shifted back. He stood there, naked and unashamed, his body still positioned between me and Greyson. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of absolute authority.

"Mine."

One word. But it changed everything.