BIANCA'S POV

"Get this filthy thing out of my sight!"

Jack pointed a shaking finger at me, then at my parents. His disgust was palpable. It rolled off him in waves, suffocating me.

My father stepped forward, his chest heaving with rage.

"Watch your tone, boy," my father growled.

But it was a hollow threat. Jack was the Beta's son. My father was just a low-ranking wolf who dared to love a human.

Jack's lip curled, and he took a deliberate step back, as if proximity to me might contaminate him. The crowd pressed closer, their whispers rising like a swarm of hornets.

Some faces showed pity. Some showed satisfaction.

They'd been waiting for this moment-waiting to see the half-breed finally put in her place.

My mother's hand found mine, squeezing so hard my bones ground together. Her human warmth was the only anchor keeping me from collapsing.

My best friend, Susanne, rushed forward. She grabbed my arm, her eyes blazing. I could see the curses forming on her lips.

I shook my head.

"Don't bother," I murmured, my voice dead. "It's over."

"What is happening here?"

The voice boomed across the square, silencing the music and the whispers.

The crowd parted. The Alpha approached.

He was a giant of a man with a shaggy beard and eyes like cold flint. He looked at me like I was a stain on his polished floor.

"I will not accept her as my mate," Jack stated, puffing out his chest. "She is a defect."

My wolf whimpered inside me, retreating to the darkest corner of my soul. Even she couldn't protect me from this.

I wiped my tears, daring to look up at the Alpha. I hoped for mercy.

"So, you refuse to mate with this... mutt?" the Alpha asked, his voice bored.

"I won't," Jack answered decisively. "I reject her."

The mate bond, already fragile from his rejection, shattered completely. Pain exploded through my chest, white-hot and merciless. My knees buckled, but Susanne caught me before I hit the ground.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Why, Moon Goddess? Why give me a mate just to let him destroy me?

"Then there is no place for the crossbreed in our pack."

The Alpha's words hit me harder than the rejection.

Exile.

My father lost control. He pushed past the guards, screaming.

"Why? On what basis are you dismissing my daughter?"

"I have tolerated your weak bloodline for too long," the Alpha sneered. "You brought this animal into our clan. She is neither human nor wolf. And if she is not worthy of her fated mate, she is worthy of nothing."

"She is my daughter!" my father roared.

"She is an abomination," the Alpha countered, his voice dropping to a lethal growl. "She leaves by sunset. Or she dies."

I touched the jagged scar on my cheek. The reminder of the time I fought marauders at the Flintwood Sugar Plantation. I had bled for this pack. I had fought for them.

And now, because I wasn't "pure," I was garbage.

PRESENT DAY

The ship slammed against the wharf, jolting me back to reality.

The memory faded, but the pain remained. It always did.

I grabbed my knapsack. It contained everything I owned in the world. A few clothes. A little money and a broken heart.

Three weeks at sea had done nothing to heal the wounds. If anything, the isolation had let them fester. Every night, I dreamed of Jack's sneer. Every morning, I woke to the phantom ache of a severed mate bond.

I stepped onto the rotting wood of the dock.

Dartmoor Island. The forbidden gem of the South Pacific. The dumpster for the unwanted.

The port was empty. The buildings were hollow shells, reclaimed by creeping vines and moss. It was quiet. Too quiet.

"Travel west," the captain had said. "Find the Centro Villa."

The captain's words were still on my mind. His advice reminded me not to expect much from the island's occupants.

He'd also warned me about something else-rogues. Dartmoor was a refuge for the rejected and the exiled, but not all of them were looking for redemption. Some had embraced their darkness.

The port buildings stood void, and the street I followed north was congested with vegetation.

Hopefully, soon I would find the street that extended west to the Belmont pack. I hoped they would accept me and wouldn't discard me like my former pack had done.

I hoped the Belmont pack would be different. I hoped they wouldn't care about my scar or my mixed blood.

Maybe I could just live alone in an isolated area.

The sun was already setting , painting the sky in shades of blood and crimson. I needed to find shelter before dark. The captain's final words echoed in my memory: "Whatever you do, girl, don't be caught outside after nightfall."

I had been walking for ten minutes when the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

My wolf stirred. I sensed something strange, danger was looming.

The hedges to my left didn't just rustle. They exploded.

Seven men emerged from the brush.

They wore ragged black vests and khaki shorts, dirt smeared across their chests. They didn't look like the "reasonable people" the captain had mentioned.

They looked like hunters.

I froze as they circled me. I sniffed the air.

Shifters.

But these weren't civilized pack wolves. Their eyes were yellow and wild, and their smiles were full of sharp, predatory teeth.

The leader stepped forward, blocking my path. He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on my chest.

"Well, well," he licked his lips. "Look what the tide washed in. Fresh meat."

My hand moved to the silver knife hidden in my belt. The blade was small, but it was all I had. My wolf rose to the surface, ready to fight even if we couldn't win.

The leader's nostrils flared. He tilted his head, trying to figure out my next move.

"Wait." He leaned closer, inhaling deeply. "You're not pure wolf."

The others tensed, growls rumbling in their throats.

"Half-breed," one spat.

The leader's smile widened, showing too many teeth. "Even better. No pack to miss you. No one to come looking."

He reached for me.

That's when the gunshot cracked through the air.

BIANCA'S POV

I froze.

Panic clawed at my throat. It wasn't just that they were shifters. It was the look in their eyes.

Hunger and lust.

I took a step back, feeling a sudden weakness in my feet.

"She's a nice catch," one of them sneered again, licking his lips.

His tongue dragged across his bottom lip slowly, deliberately. The others chuckled, a sound like gravel scraping against bone. They weren't just threatening me-they were enjoying it.

I realized my mistake too late. Dartmoor was a prison island. Most of the convicts were male. A woman-even a scarred, rejected one like me-was a prize.

I'd been on Dartmoor for less than twenty minutes.

I tried to retreat, but the hedges behind me rustled. Two more men stepped out, blocking my path to the port.

Trapped.

My wolf snarled, urging me to shift, to fight. But I was outnumbered and exhausted from the journey. Even at full strength, I'd never faced odds like these.

"How fascinating," the leader purred, stepping closer.

He was big, with a thick mustache and biceps the size of tree trunks. The words "El Paso" were inked into his skin.

He looked at me like I was a meal he couldn't wait to devour.

"Stay back!" I yelled, dropping my backpack.

My hand found the silver knife at my belt. I pulled it free, the blade catching the dying sunlight. It was a pathetic weapon against nine shifters, but it was all I had.

I calculated the odds. Nine male shifters. One half-breed female who barely knew how to fight.

I was screwed.

"Ooh, she's got claws," one of the men mocked, his voice dripping with amusement. "I like them feisty."

"Don't be like that, sweetheart," El Paso laughed.

He reached for me, but a low growl vibrated through the air, stopping him cold.

The sound came from everywhere and nowhere, resonating in my chest. It was primal. Ancient. The kind of growl that made even predators remember they could be prey.

A truck roared up the road, screeching to a halt. Two men jumped out.

The air shifted instantly.

The first man was massive, shirtless, with elaborate dark tattoos covering his chest. He looked like a war god carved from marble.

But it was the second man who stole the air from my lungs.

He wasn't as bulky as the tattooed giant, but he radiated power. He had wavy hair and a face so handsome it hurt to look at him. His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass, his eyes a piercing amber that seemed to see straight through to my soul.

Everything about him screamed danger. Authority. Alpha.

My wolf stirred. 'Pay attention', she whispered urgently, practically clawing her way to the surface.

I couldn't look away from him even if I wanted to. Something invisible pulled at my chest, like a hook lodged between my ribs.

"Logan," the tattooed giant cheered, cracking his knuckles. "Nice seeing you here."

"I can't say the same," Logan the leader of the gang surrounding me spat back. "This is my catch."

The wavy-haired stranger ignored Logan completely. His eyes locked onto mine.

He froze.

His mouth parted slightly, shock flooding his features. He stared at me, his gaze burning into my soul. He didn't look at my scar. He looked... right at me. Into me. Like he could see every broken piece I'd tried to hide.

For a heartbeat, the world fell away. The threatening rogues. The tattooed giant. Even my fear. There was only him and the inexplicable electricity crackling between us.

I flushed, wanting to hide. I didn't want him to see me. I was broken. Rejected goods. Why was he looking at me like I was something precious?

"That lady," the wavy-haired man said.

His voice was deep, commanding. It wasn't a request. It was an Alpha command that resonated with power.

It sent shivers down my spine, and my wolf practically purred in response. Traitor.

"Hand her over," he ordered.

Logan laughed, but it sounded nervous. Even he could feel the shift in power. "I saw her first. She's mine."

"Yours?" The wavy-haired man took a step forward, his eyes flashing dangerously.

The amber in his irises began to glow, his wolf rising to the surface. The temperature seemed to drop, and every rogue took an involuntary step backward.

"Mine!" Logan roared, desperation bleeding into his voice.

Chaos erupted.

"Take her to the truck!" Logan screamed at his men. "Go! Now!"

Logan shifted mid-air, his bones cracking as he turned into a massive wolf, throwing himself at the newcomers to buy time.

I didn't get to see the fight.

Two of Logan's goons grabbed me, their fingers digging painfully into my arms.

"No!" I screamed, kicking and scratching. "Let me go!"

I drove my elbow into one's ribs, heard the satisfying crack, but the other backhanded me across the face. Blood filled my mouth.

"Shut up, bitch!"

They didn't care about my struggle. They tossed me into the back of the truck like a sack of potatoes.

My head slammed against the metal floor, stars dancing in my vision. Pain exploded through my skull, and for a moment, everything went white.

"Drive!" one of them yelled, slamming the doors shut.

The engine roared, and the truck peeled away, leaving the wavy-haired man behind.

Through the haze of pain, I heard something that chilled me to the bone-a roar of pure rage that didn't sound entirely human.

I scrambled to the back window, looking out as we sped away. My vision swam, but I forced myself to focus.

Through the dust, I saw the wavy-haired man rip a wolf apart with his bare hands. Blood sprayed across his chest, but he didn't stop. He looked up, his eyes locking on the retreating truck.

Even at this distance, I felt his gaze like a physical touch.

He roared-a sound of pure fury that shook the trees. Birds scattered from their perches. The ground itself seemed to tremble.

He was coming for me.

But as the truck turned a corner and darkness swallowed me, I realized something terrifying.

I had escaped one monster only to be stolen by another. And on Dartmoor Island, no one heard you scream.

FLETCHER'S POV

I felt a sharp pain on my shoulder.

I snarled, ducking under a jagged hook that aimed for my throat.

I was surrounded. Four of Logan's dogs against one.

They moved like a pack, covering each other's weaknesses, exploiting every opening I gave them.

"Die, you Belmont trash!" one of them screamed, lunging at me.

I gutted him before he hit the ground, but two more took his place. A claw raked down my back, and I roared in frustration.

Where was Carlos?

My cousin should have finished with Logan by now. Unless-

I looked up just in time to see a blur of fur launch from the shadows.

Carlos, my cousin hit Logan with the force of a freight train, pinning the traitor to the dirt. His massive wolf form dwarfed Logan's, and for a moment, I thought we had him.

"Get him!" a rogue shouted. "Don't let him escape!"

"I need backup!" Carlos yelled, his voice straining as he grappled with Logan.

But Logan was fast. Too fast.

Something was wrong. Logan had always been strong, but this was different. His muscles bulged unnaturally, veins standing out like black rivers under his skin. Whatever enhancements the rogues were trafficking on Dartmoor, Logan was clearly sampling the product.

With a sickening crunch, Logan twisted, throwing Carlos off him like he weighed nothing. Logan was huge, fueled by whatever dark magic the rogues were using on this cursed island.

He slammed Carlos into a tree, dazing him.

The impact shook the ground. Bark exploded outward, and I heard ribs crack even from twenty feet away.

"No!" I screamed.

I tried to run to my cousin, to help him, to rip Logan's throat out with my teeth............

The image of the girl with the scar flashed in my mind. Her scent. It was strawberries and rain, and it was driving my wolf insane.

I'd never felt anything like it. The moment our eyes met, something fundamental had shifted in my universe. She wasn't just beautiful-though she was, scar and all. She was necessary........

My wolf clawed at my control, desperate to shift and tear apart anyone who stood between us and her. The rational part of my mind knew I needed to focus on the fight.

The primal part only knew she was getting farther away with every passing second.

I took a step toward Logan, blinded by rage.

A wooden club slammed into the back of my skull.

My vision swam. I stumbled, dropping one of my knives. Stars burst behind my eyes, and the world tilted sideways.

"Stay down," a voice hissed.

Another blow hit my ribs, stealing my breath. I hit the dirt hard, tasting earth and blood.

My wolf snarled, trying to force the shift, but my body wouldn't cooperate. The silver in my system fought against my healing, making everything sluggish.

Chains rattled. Before I could shift, before I could fight back, they were binding me. Heavy, rusted iron wrapped around my arms and legs, pinning me to the earth.

The metal stank of wolfsbane and old blood. These chains had bound others before me. How many had died in them?

I coughed, spitting blood. "You're dead! All of you are dead!"

Logan walked over. He shifted back to human form, naked and covered in blood. He looked down at me and laughed.

The sound grated against my ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"Pathetic," he sneered. "The Belmont pack has grown weak."

He kicked me in the ribs, and I tasted copper. Something cracked inside my chest-another rib, maybe two.

"Let's go," Logan ordered his men. "The girl is waiting at Port Alvarez. I want to see what she can do."

My blood froze.

The casual way he said it-like she was a toy he'd picked up, an object to be examined-made rage flood through me so intensely I thought I'd black out.

"If you touch her..." I choked out, "I will kill you."

Logan didn't even look back. He just laughed again, signaling his men to retreat. They left us there, bleeding and broken in the dirt.

"I'll do more than touch her, Fletcher," he called over his shoulder. "She's pretty, even with that scar. Might keep her for myself. Or maybe I'll share her with the boys. Haven't decided yet."

His laughter echoed through the trees long after he disappeared.

Silence fell over the road.

Relief washed over me, followed instantly by a wave of pure, unadulterated hatred.

They hadn't finished us off. That was their mistake.

Logan thought we were trash. He thought we weren't a threat.

He was wrong.

"Fletcher."

A groan came from the bushes.

"Carlos," I coughed, forcing my body to heal. "You alive?"

"Barely."

My cousin dragged himself into the light. His fur was matted with blood, but his eyes were clear. He'd shifted back, and I could see the deep cuts across his chest, his left arm hanging at an unnatural angle.

"He took her," I whispered, the words tearing at my throat.

"We'll get her back," Carlos grunted, testing his broken leg. It snapped back into place with a sickening pop. "Who was she?"

I closed my eyes, and her face appeared again. The fear in her eyes. The scar that only made her more beautiful. The pull I felt in my chest, like a gravity well.

Even now, miles away, I could feel her. A golden thread connecting us, vibrating with her terror.

"I don't know her name," I said, clutching the dirt. "But she is mine."

"Yours?" Carlos froze, understanding dawning in his eyes.

"Mate," I growled. "She is my fated mate."

Carlos's eyes widened. He knew what that meant.

Logan hadn't just kidnapped a random girl. He had declared war on an Alpha. He had stolen the one thing in this world I would burn everything to get back.

"He took her to Port Alvarez," I said, sitting up. The wounds on my back were already knitting together, the itch of supernatural healing driving me forward. "He has a harem there."

The thought of Logan touching her, looking at her... it made my vision turn red. My wolf howled inside me, demanding blood.

"We need a plan," Carlos said, his voice hard. "We can't just walk in there. He has an army."

"Then we get our own," I snapped. "We go back to Centro Villa. We gather the mercenaries. We gather the pack."

"It will be a bloodbath," Carlos warned.

I stood up, wiping the blood from my lip. I looked toward the north, toward Port Alvarez. Toward her.

The mate bond pulsed, and I could feel her fear like it was my own. She was terrified. Hurt. Alone.

I would tear the world apart to reach her.

"Good," I said.

I picked up my knives, the steel glinting in the moonlight. My hands were steady now, purpose replacing pain.

"He thinks he won today. He thinks he broke us."

I turned to Carlos, my wolf rising to the surface, making my eyes glow gold.

"Call the men. We aren't just going to rescue her."

I looked at the horizon, imagining Logan's head on a spike. Imagining his fortress burning, his army scattered, his empire reduced to ash.

"We are going to burn Port Alvarez to the ground."