POV: Daria

Pain has a way of warping time. As I lay in the puddle of my own blood and amniotic fluid, memories flickered like a broken movie reel.

I remembered the day I met Kaeden.

It was the Recognition.

For werewolves, finding a mate isn't about dating or compatibility. It is biological destiny ordained by the Moon Goddess. When you meet your Fated Mate, your senses explode.

I remembered the scent. It hit me across a crowded ballroom-fresh pine needles crushed under heavy rain, mixed with the smoky warmth of a wood fire. It was the best thing I had ever smelled.

Then came the spark. When his hand brushed mine, a jolt of static electricity, stronger than any household shock, zipped up my arm. My Inner Wolf had stood up on her hind legs and roared one word: Mine.

We were happy. For two years, we were the perfect couple.

Then Clemmie arrived.

She didn't have a scent. Or rather, she smelled like cloying vanilla perfume that masked everything else. She wasn't his mate. But she had something else.

Witchcraft.

I didn't have proof, but I knew. She gave him "herbal teas" for his stress. Slowly, Kaeden changed. He stopped reaching for me in the night. He started saying that the Moon Goddess had made a mistake. That Clemmie was his true soulmate, and I was just a genetic error.

A "defect." That's what he called me.

The defect is bleeding out, I thought bitterly, staring at the ceiling of the dungeon.

Voices drifted from the hallway. My hearing was fading, but the adrenaline of terror sharpened it for one last moment.

"Is the donor ready?" It was a man's voice. Clinical. Cold.

"She is prepped," Kaeden's voice replied. He sounded impatient, his words slurring slightly. "Just get it done. Clemmie is deteriorating fast."

"The transplant carries risks, Alpha," the doctor said. "Taking a heart from a living donor... especially a Luna..."

"She's not a Luna," Clemmie cut in, her voice sharp. "And the donor list is too long, Kaeden. You said you'd do anything to save me."

"Anything," Kaeden echoed, sounding like a man talking in his sleep.

"Her blood work matches mine, Kaeden," Clemmie pressed, her voice dropping to a hypnotic purr. "It's almost like fate. Her heart is the only one strong enough. If you love me, you'll let the doctor do his job."

I froze.

They didn't just want me dead. They wanted my heart.

Why me? There were thousands of wolves. Why did Clemmie need my heart specifically?

"The White Wolf bloodline is potent," the doctor murmured, his voice dropping so low I almost missed it. "Even if she is a recessive carrier, her organ will grant the recipient immense power. Miss Clemmie will not just be cured; she will be stronger than any female in the region."

White Wolf?

The legends spoke of the White Wolves-royalty among shifters, closest to the Goddess, capable of miracles. I had always healed fast, faster than the others, but I thought it was just luck.

"Do what is necessary," Kaeden murmured, rubbing his temples as if fighting a migraine. "Harvest the heart. Dispose of the rest."

"And the fetus?" the doctor asked.

"Incinerate it."

The words hit me harder than the Alpha Command.

He wasn't just misguided. He wasn't just drugged. He was a murderer. He had just signed the death warrant for his wife and his unborn child to please a woman who wanted to steal my strength.

Tears hot as lava slid down my temples.

I tried to move my fingers. I had to run. I had to fight.

But the silver cuffs held tight. My body was heavy, like it was filled with lead. My Inner Wolf was too weak to take control.

The door handle began to turn.

Goddess, I prayed, closing my eyes. If you are real... curse him. Curse him for eternity.

The door opened.

But it wasn't the doctor.

POV: Alois

I hacked the electronic lock on the dungeon door in fourteen seconds.

As a former Gamma-the tactician and strategist of the pack-I knew the security protocols better than the Alpha himself. I had been demoted to the IT department because Clemmie didn't like the way I looked at her.

She was right to be suspicious. I knew a snake when I saw one.

The door hissed open. I sprayed a cloud of "Scent Mask" aerosol over myself. It smelled like chemically synthesized mud and ozone, designed to hide a wolf's natural odor from other predators.

I stepped inside and nearly retched.

The smell of blood was overwhelming.

"Luna," I whispered.

Daria lay on the table. She looked like a broken doll. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, contrasting with the dark red stains soaking the metal beneath her.

I rushed forward, pulling a lockpick from my pocket. My hands shook. Not from fear, but from rage.

I remembered two years ago. I was dying from a Rogue bite that had gone septic. The healers had given up. Daria had come to the infirmary. She sat by my bed for three nights, wiping my fevered brow. She even gave me her own blood for a transfusion when the supplies ran low.

Her blood had burned like fire in my veins, but it healed me in hours.

I owed her my life.

"Alois?" Her voice was a cracked whisper. Her eyes fluttered open. They were glazed with pain.

"I've got you," I said, working the pick into the silver cuffs. "Hold on."

Click.

The cuff sprang open. I freed her hands and feet. The burns on her wrists were deep, the flesh raw and angry.

I scooped her up into my arms. She weighed nothing. It felt like carrying a ghost.

"Leave me," she murmured, her head lolling against my chest. "He will kill you."

"Let him try," I growled.

I carried her out of the cell, moving silently through the corridors. The pack house was quiet. Most of the warriors were at the border, distracted by a fake Rogue sighting I had generated in the system ten minutes ago.

We reached the underground garage. My modified SUV was waiting, the engine idling silently.

I opened the back door and laid Daria gently on the seat. She was shivering violently. Shock was setting in.

"Stay with me, Daria," I said. "We're almost out."

I jumped into the driver's seat and gunned the engine. The tires squealed on the concrete as we shot toward the exit ramp.

Suddenly, a figure stepped out from the shadows, blocking the exit.

It was Marcus, the Beta. The Alpha's second-in-command.

He stood with his arms crossed, his massive frame filling the lane. His nose twitched.

He couldn't smell Daria because of the blood loss and the silver in her system suppressing her wolf. He couldn't smell me because of the masking spray.

But he could smell the fear.

I slammed on the brakes, the car skidding to a halt inches from his knees.

Marcus walked to the driver's side window. He tapped on the glass.

My heart hammered against my ribs. If I shifted now, I would destroy the car and kill Daria. I had to bluff.

I rolled the window down two inches.

"In a hurry, IT boy?" Marcus asked, his eyes scanning the dark interior of the car.

"Server crash at the downtown office," I lied, keeping my voice steady. "Alpha Kaeden will skin me alive if the financial data is lost."

Marcus sniffed the air again. He frowned. "I smell... ozone. And something metallic."

"Cleaning supplies," I said. "Spilled some in the back."

Marcus leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. He looked at the backseat. Daria was covered by a blanket I had thrown over her, but a stray hand was visible.

"What's under the blanket?" Marcus asked, his voice dropping an octave.

I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white.

"Marcus," I said, dropping the act. "Look at me."

Marcus met my eyes. He saw the desperation there.

"You know what's happening upstairs," I whispered. "You know it's wrong. You have a daughter, Marcus. Would you let Kaeden carve her up for that witch?"

Marcus stiffened. His gaze flicked to the blanket, then back to the gate controls. He had always been loyal, but he wasn't blind. He hated Clemmie as much as I did.

He reached for the door handle, hesitated, and then pulled his hand back.

POV: Alois

"Get her out," Marcus breathed, his voice barely audible. "Before I remember my duty."

He stepped back and hit the release button for the gate.

"Thank you," I choked out.

I didn't wait. I slammed the gas pedal. The SUV shot forward, leaving the pack lands behind.

"Alois..." A weak voice came from the back.

"I'm here, Luna. Hang on."

I drove like a madman, weaving through the city traffic. I wasn't taking her to a hospital. Kaeden owned the hospitals. I was taking her to the Black Market.

Dr. Gates ran a clinic in the basement of a laundromat in the slums. He was a human who knew about our world and didn't care about pack laws, only money.

I carried Daria down the narrow stairs. She was limp now. Her breathing was shallow, rapid gasps.

"Gates!" I roared, kicking the door open.

The doctor, a thin man with greasy glasses, looked up from a microscope. He saw the blood and sighed. "I charge double for Alpha messes."

"Just save her," I said, laying Daria on the surgical table.

Gates cut away her dress. He paused when he saw the silver burns. Then he took a blood sample. He ran it through a centrifuge on his desk.

A moment later, the machine beeped. Gates looked at the screen, and his eyes went wide.

"Holy mother of..." he whispered. "Do you know what she is?"

"She is a patient," I barked. "Fix her!"

"Look at the energy reading!" Gates turned the screen to me. The graph was spiking off the charts. "This isn't normal werewolf blood. This is... ancient. White Wolf markers."

He looked at Daria with greedy eyes. "Her organs alone would be worth millions on the black market. Her heart could cure any disease. Her bone marrow could create super-soldiers."

I grabbed Gates by the collar and slammed him against the wall. My canines extended, sharpening into points.

"You want money?" I snarled. "I'll give you something better. I'll give you the patent rights to the synthetic version of her blood. You can be the richest man in the human world. But if she dies, you get nothing but a severed throat."

Gates swallowed hard, his eyes darting between me and the readout. Greed won.

"Okay. Okay! But she needs surgery now. The uterus is ruptured. I... I can't save the pup."

I looked at Daria. A tear slid from her closed eye. She heard him.

"Save the mother," I said, my voice breaking.

Gates got to work. "I have a drug. 'Wolf's Sleep.' It stops the heart for three minutes. Flatlines the monitor. It mimics death perfectly. We can use the tissue from the... from the procedure... to fake a corpse."

"Do it," I said.

Gates injected a clear liquid into Daria's IV.

"I'm sorry, Daria," I whispered, holding her cold hand.

On the monitor, the green line of her heartbeat slowed.

Beep... beep... beep...

Then, a long, high-pitched tone filled the room.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

The line went flat.

"She's under," Gates said, wiping sweat from his forehead. "We have to move fast. If I don't revive her in exactly 180 seconds, she stays dead."

My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a notification from the pack network.

Alpha Kaeden has initiated a track on your vehicle.

He knew.