Elfrieda POV:

The wind on the open sea was biting, whipping my hair across my face like a lash. I stood on the deck of the Tate Legacy, Jaxon's private yacht. He had insisted on this meeting. A "final negotiation," he called it. A chance to settle the terms of our separation civilly before the lawyers got involved.

I should have known better. Before I stepped onto the gangplank, I had activated the emergency beacon on my family crest necklace. It was a protocol Jamil and I established after the miscarriage—if I was ever cornered by Jaxon, they would know.

Jaxon stood by the railing, looking out at the dark, churning water. He held a glass of scotch, his knuckles white against the crystal. But he wasn't alone.

Janice emerged from the cabin. She was wearing a white cashmere coat that looked ridiculous on a boat. She held onto Jaxon’s arm as if the slight sway of the vessel might kill her.

"I thought this was a private meeting," I said, my voice fighting the wind.

"Janice is my partner," Jaxon said without turning around. "She has a right to be here. She is the future of this pack."

"She is a parasite," I spat.

Janice laughed. It was a brittle, ugly sound. She let go of Jaxon and walked toward me. The boat rocked, and she stumbled, but corrected herself with unnatural grace.

"You still don't get it, do you?" Janice whispered, close enough that only my wolf hearing could catch it over the roar of the engines. "I didn't just win his heart, Elfrieda. I rewired his brain."

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

She smirked, glancing back to make sure Jaxon was out of earshot. "The tea he drinks every morning? The incense in his office? Witch hazel, wolfsbane extract, and a little drop of my own blood. It’s a love potion, sweetie. Old magic. He doesn't love me. He is addicted to me."

My blood ran cold. The use of magic to enslave a wolf's will was a capital offense under Council law.

"Jaxon!" I shouted, stepping forward. "She's drugging you! She's using blood magic!"

Jaxon turned, his face a mask of exhaustion and irritation. "Stop it, Elfrieda. Stop with the lies. It’s pathetic."

"Tell him, Janice!" I yelled.

Janice’s face shifted instantly. The smirk vanished, replaced by a look of sheer terror. She stumbled backward toward the low railing.

"No! Elfrieda, please put the knife down!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

I froze. "I don't have a knife."

"Don't kill me! My baby!" Janice shrieked.

She threw herself backward.

It was a performance worthy of an Oscar. She vaulted over the railing, her body hitting the dark water with a heavy splash.

"Janice!" Jaxon roared.

The sound tore from his throat, raw and terrified. He spun around, his eyes locking on me. There was no logic in his gaze, only the madness of a man whose addiction had just been threatened.

"You monster," he snarled.

"I didn't touch her!" I pleaded, backing away.

"She can't swim!" Jaxon yelled.

He didn't hesitate. He didn't check the security cameras. He didn't ask me what happened. He vaulted over the side, diving into the freezing ocean after her.

The yacht was on autopilot, cutting through the waves. The wake from the turn hit the hull hard. The boat lurched violently to the port side.

I lost my footing. I slid across the wet teak deck. My head slammed into a steel cleat with a sickening crack.

Stars exploded in my vision. Warm blood gushed down my forehead, blinding me. I tumbled over the edge.

The water was like a thousand knives stabbing my skin. The cold paralyzed my lungs instantly. I thrashed, trying to surface, but my heavy boots dragged me down.

I broke the surface, gasping for air, choking on saltwater.

"Help!" I screamed. "Jaxon!"

The yacht was drifting away. In the water, twenty yards from me, I saw them.

Jaxon had Janice in his arms. She was clinging to him, her head on his shoulder. She wasn't struggling. She was looking right at me.

Jaxon was treading water, strong and capable. He looked toward my voice. He saw me. He saw the blood streaming down my face, turning the water around me into a dark cloud that would attract sharks.

Our eyes locked.

For a second, I thought the bond would win. I thought the instinct to save his true mate would override the potion.

"Jaxon..." I gargled, sinking lower.

He turned his back on me.

He began swimming toward the emergency ladder on the yacht's swim platform, carrying Janice. He didn't look back. Not once.

He left me to the ocean.

My limbs grew heavy. The cold seeped into my marrow. My wolf let out one final, desolate whimper—a sound of a bond snapping not from rejection, but from death.

I stopped fighting. As the dark water closed over my head, I made a vow to the Moon Goddess.

If I survive this, I will burn his world to ash.

Then, everything went black.

Elfrieda POV:

The first thing I felt was the burning in my chest. Then came the violent retching.

I was coughing up seawater, my body convulsing on a hard, metal surface. Voices surrounded me. Bright lights.

"We got a pulse! Female, mid-twenties. Head trauma."

Coast Guard.

I drifted in and out of consciousness. The ride to the hospital was a blur of sirens and pain. When I finally woke fully, I was in a hospital bed. But it wasn't a normal room.

The windows were barred. There was a guard at the door. A Tate Pack warrior.

The door banged open. Jaxon walked in. He was dry now, wearing fresh clothes, but his eyes were wild.

"You're alive," he said. It wasn't relief. It was an accusation.

"You left me," I rasped. My throat felt like it had been shredded with glass.

"You tried to murder my wife and unborn child," Jaxon said, his voice dripping with ice. "The Coast Guard fished you out before I could decide what to do with you."

"She jumped," I whispered. "She's a witch, Jaxon. She's controlling you."

"Silence!"

The Alpha Command slammed into me, pinning me to the mattress. My muscles locked up against my will. Tears of frustration leaked from my eyes.

"I am moving you," Jaxon stated. "You are under arrest by the Tate Pack internal tribunal. You will be taken to a secure facility until your trial."

He signaled to the guards. Two large men grabbed me, dragging me out of the bed. I was too weak to fight.

They threw me into the back of an armored van. No seatbelt. Just a metal bench.

As the van rumbled through the city, I closed my eyes, trying to reach my brother through the Mind-Link. But my head injury had scrambled my focus. The connection was static.

Suddenly, the van screeched to a halt. Gunshots rang out.

The back doors were blown open with explosives.

Smoke filled the small space. Coughing, I looked up to see two men standing there. They weren't Tate warriors. They were Rogues. Filthy, smelling of unwashed bodies and dried blood. Their eyes were yellow and crazed.

"Well, well," one of them sneered, revealing rotten teeth. "Janice said she was pretty."

"Janice?" I gasped.

"The future Luna pays well," the other Rogue laughed. He climbed in and grabbed me by the hair. "She said she doesn't want you making it to the trial. Said she wants you ruined first, then dead."

He pulled a syringe from his pocket.

"No!" I screamed.

He jammed the needle into my neck. Fire spread through my veins. Wolfsbane. It was meant to suppress my wolf, to make me weak.

But they made a mistake.

The pain didn't suppress me. It woke something else up.

Deep inside, beneath the layer of my dormant wolf, something ancient stirred. The White Wolf. It fed on pain. It fed on the silver poison that had scarred me, and now it fed on the wolfsbane.

"Get off her!"

The Rogue ripped my hospital gown.

A primal roar tore from my throat. It wasn't a human scream. It was the sound of a predator.

I slammed my forehead into the Rogue's nose. Bone crunched. He howled, falling back, blood spraying over my face.

The scent of blood acted like a trigger. My vision turned red. I lunged at the second Rogue, my fingers curling into claws even though I hadn't shifted.

"She's crazy!" the Rogue yelled, raising his gun.

Bang.

The Rogue's head snapped back. He fell out of the van.

Standing there, holding a smoking pistol, was my father. Behind him, Jamil was already shifted into his massive grey wolf form, tearing the first Rogue apart.

"Dad," I sobbed, the adrenaline crashing.

My father rushed forward, catching me before I hit the metal floor. "We saw the beacon, El. We've been tracking Jaxon's transport grid since you went to the yacht. We knew he wouldn't take you to a real prison."

Jamil shifted back to human form, naked and covered in Rogue blood. He looked at me, his eyes filled with tears.

"He gave you to them," Jamil growled. "He let Janice sell you to Rogues."

"We have to go," my father said, lifting me up. "The jet is waiting. If we stay, I will start a war, and we aren't ready for that yet."

I clung to my father's shirt. "Take me away. Please. Just take me away."

"We are going to the North," my father promised. "Where the Tate Pack cannot touch you."

As we sped away toward the private airfield, I looked back at the burning van. The old Elfrieda died in that metal box. The one who survived was something else entirely.