The dead leaves of the outer woods crunched beneath my worn boots. I had fled the pack house just to breathe, to escape the suffocating scent of Duncan and Anais that clung to the hallways. But I wasn't alone.

"Running away so soon, Emilia?"

I froze. Grayson stepped out from behind a massive oak, a sickeningly smooth smile playing on his lips. His Beta aura pressed against me, but it was the small glass vial in his hand that made my blood run cold. The liquid inside was a thick, sludgy black.

"What is that?" I whispered, my voice hoarse.

"An upgrade," Grayson purred, closing the distance between us. "Your little rejection stunt was entertaining, but you're still a threat to my plans. And Duncan... well, my dear brother's wolf is hanging by a thread, isn't he?"

My breath hitched. "Leave him out of this."

Grayson chuckled, a cold, hollow sound. "I hold his fate in my hands. One word to the Lycan Council about his pathetic, cursed wolf, and he loses his Alpha title. Or better yet, I could just end his misery myself. Unless, of course, you take your medicine."

He shoved the vial toward my chest.

I stared at the toxic brew. The previous doses of wolfsbane had already left my inner wolf weak and whimpering. This new strain looked lethal. But then I thought of Duncan. Even after the humiliation, even after he replaced me and stripped me of my dignity, I couldn't let his wolf die. I couldn't be the reason he lost everything.

With trembling fingers, I took the vial and uncorked it. I didn't hesitate. I tipped my head back and swallowed the poison.

Fire. Immediate, blinding fire tore down my throat. I collapsed to the damp forest floor, gasping for air that wouldn't come. It felt like swallowing liquid silver. Deep within my mind, my silver-white wolf let out a broken, agonizing howl before collapsing into a silent, shivering heap. The severe physical deterioration had truly begun.

"Good girl," Grayson sneered, stepping over my writhing body. "Keep your mouth shut, or my brother pays the price."

It took me an hour to drag myself back to the pack house. Every step was a battle. My veins throbbed with a toxic, burning ache. But there was no rest for a disgraced servant. The moment I stumbled into the infirmary, I was ordered to the second floor.

Anais had requested a healer.

I pushed open the heavy mahogany door to her suite. The overwhelming stench of heavy roses hit me, making my roiling stomach churn violently. Anais sat at her vanity, brushing her golden hair. She didn't look sick. She looked victorious.

"You still smell like him," she said, her voice dropping its usual sweet cadence. She stood up, her eyes flashing with pure malice. "That lingering mate bond of yours. It's a stain on my future as Luna. I need you completely out of the picture."

"I'm just a servant now," I rasped, gripping the doorframe to keep from collapsing. "I'm no threat to you."

"Oh, but you are."

Before I could blink, Anais snatched a silver-plated letter opener from her desk. She didn't hesitate. She dragged the jagged silver edge violently across her own forearm.

The scent of her blood and burning flesh hit the air. I lunged forward out of pure healer's instinct. "What are you doing?!"

The moment I stepped close to her, Anais dropped the blade at my feet and let out a blood-curdling, terrified scream. "Help! Somebody help me! Please!"

The door behind me slammed open with enough force to crack the wood.

Duncan stood in the doorway. His chest heaved, his eyes wild and feral. He took in the scene in a fraction of a second: Anais bleeding and crying on the floor, the bloody silver blade resting at my worn boots, and me, standing over her.

"Duncan!" Anais sobbed, crawling toward him. "She attacked me! She said I stole you from her! She tried to kill me!"

"Duncan, no," I choked out, taking a step toward my mate. "I swear to you, she did it to herself. Please, you have to believe me—"

"Silence!"

His Alpha command hit me like a physical blow. Because of the new wolfsbane ravaging my system, the command didn't just force me to submit; it shattered my defenses. My knees slammed into the hardwood floor. A sharp, metallic taste flooded my mouth, and I coughed up a splatter of dark blood onto the floorboards.

Duncan didn't care. He was blinded by a toxic mix of jealousy over what he thought he saw with Grayson, and a misplaced, fiery vengeance for his new chosen mate. He stalked toward me, his aura suffocating the air right out of my lungs.

"I gave you mercy by letting you stay in this pack," Duncan snarled, his voice vibrating with a hatred that tore my soul in two. "And this is how you repay me? By trying to murder my Luna?"

"I didn't..." I whimpered, the wolfsbane making my vision blur.

He didn't listen. Duncan grabbed me by the upper arm, his grip bruising my flesh. He dragged me out of the room, down the grand staircase, and past the staring, whispering pack members. I was too weak to fight, too broken to cry.

He hauled me down into the bowels of the pack house, where the air turned freezing and smelled of mildew. He threw me onto the hard stone floor of the pack dungeons.

I landed hard, my bones aching, my poisoned blood burning. I looked up at the man I loved, the man I was currently dying to protect.

Duncan stared down at me, his eyes devoid of the warmth that had once saved me. He slammed the heavy iron door shut, the lock clicking into place, leaving me alone with my dying wolf and a shattered heart.

The damp chill of the dungeon had seeped into my bones by the time the heavy iron door groaned open. I didn't look up right away. My body was still trembling from the lethal dose of Grayson’s poison, my inner wolf curled into a silent, dying shadow in the back of my mind.

Heavy boots echoed on the stone. The scent of cedar and vanilla wrapped around me, but it offered no comfort. It only brought the agonizing reminder of the mate bond I had severed.

"Get up," Duncan’s voice cracked like a whip in the dark.

I pushed myself off the floor, my joints screaming in protest. When I finally met his gaze, the absolute zero of his stare made my breath hitch. There was no trace of the man who used to hold me.

"Anais requires her meals," he stated, his tone devoid of any emotion. "And as her servant, you will prepare them."

I swallowed the thick, metallic taste still lingering in my mouth. "I am a healer, Duncan. Not a cook."

He stepped closer, his Alpha aura pressing down on my bruised shoulders until my knees threatened to buckle. "You lost the right to call yourself a healer when you took a silver blade to my Luna. From now on, you will cook for her. And you will lace her daily meals with trace amounts of wolfsbane to build her immunity."

My head snapped up. "Wolfsbane?" I whispered, my voice trembling. "Duncan, you know I can't. I have a deathly allergy. Just touching it..."

"I know exactly what it does to you," he interrupted, his jaw tight, his eyes flashing with a cruel, vindictive light. "Consider it penance. If you want to stay in my pack, you will do exactly as I command. Or I will throw you to the rogues today."

He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me to suffocate on the injustice of it all. He thought he was punishing a jealous traitor. He didn't know he was handing me a death sentence.

Ten minutes later, I stood in the pack kitchen. The head chef had been cleared out, leaving me alone with a silver tray, a steaming bowl of soup, and a small wooden box containing dried wolfsbane petals.

Just opening the lid sent a wave of dizziness crashing over me. The acrid, peppery scent of the purple flower seized my lungs. I gasped, my chest tightening instantly as respiratory agony set in. Every breath felt like inhaling crushed glass.

With trembling fingers, I reached into the box. The moment the dried petals brushed my skin, a violent hiss filled the quiet kitchen.

My healer instincts flared to life. A warm, golden glow erupted from my palms as my magic desperately tried to fight off the toxin. But the wolfsbane was relentless, and my wolf was already too weak. The golden light flickered and died, replaced by angry, red blisters that bubbled across my palms and up my fingers. Tears streamed down my face, dropping onto the marble counter.

I gritted my teeth, stifling a scream, and crushed the petals into the food.

*Endure it,* I told myself. *Just endure it.*

Because Duncan didn’t know the real reason I accepted this torture without a fight. He didn't know that this daily punishment was the perfect cover.

While I ground the wolfsbane for Anais, I pulled a small, hidden vial from the deep pocket of my apron. It contained the black sludge Grayson had forced down my throat—the experimental poison that was currently rotting my inner wolf. As a healer, I had spent the last twenty-four hours agonizingly analyzing the toxin in my own blood. I realized that if I altered its compound with the pure wolfsbane Duncan was forcing me to handle, I could invert the poison.

I could synthesize a cure for Duncan’s cursed, weakened wolf.

I couldn't save my own family from his father's slaughter. I couldn't save my own life from Grayson's blackmail. But I could save Duncan. Even if he hated me. Even if he broke me.

My hands shook violently as I carefully extracted a single drop of the inverted serum, letting it fall into a hidden glass tube. Another blister popped on my thumb, raw flesh exposed to the toxic air. I choked on a sob, my lungs burning so fiercely I had to lean against the counter to keep from collapsing. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision.

"Is it done?"

Duncan’s voice from the doorway made me jump. I quickly shoved my hidden vial back into my apron, wiping my tear-streaked face with the back of my wrist.

He stood there, his arms crossed, his eyes dropping to my hands. For a fraction of a second, I saw a flicker of something in his gaze—a ghost of the mate who used to kiss my fingertips. He saw the angry, weeping burns. He heard the wet, ragged wheezing of my ruined lungs.

But then the walls slammed back down. His expression hardened into stone.

"Take it to her," he commanded coldly.

I picked up the silver tray. The metal handles bit into my blistered flesh, sending fresh waves of agony up my arms. I walked past him, my head bowed, my breathing shallow and erratic.

He didn’t stop me. He didn't offer to carry it. He just watched me suffer.

As I carried the tray up the stairs, my silver wolf let out a faint, pathetic whimper in my mind. We were dying. Every meal I prepared, every petal I crushed, pushed us closer to the grave. But feeling the small vial of his cure resting against my hip, I knew I would do it all over again tomorrow.