Alyssa POV:

Two days passed in the darkness. My hand was a mess of blistered, blackened flesh. The silver prevented it from healing, keeping the wound raw and weeping.

"Get up," Sarah, the Omega, whispered through the bars. "They want you upstairs for dinner."

"I'm not hungry," I rasped.

"Please, Luna," Sarah begged, tears in her eyes. "Brianne... she said if you don't come, she'll stop paying for your mother's life support at the human hospital."

My blood ran cold. My mother. She had been in a coma for a year after a rogue attack. The Pack fund paid for her care. It was my right as a Pack member.

"Okay," I said, struggling to my feet. "I'm coming."

The dining room was brightly lit. The smell of roast beef filled the air, making my empty stomach cramp. Brennan sat at the head, Debbi to his right. My seat—the Luna's seat—was empty.

"Sit," Brennan said, gesturing to a folding chair set up in the corner, away from the table. Like a dog.

I sat.

"Debbi has prepared a soup," Brianne announced. "She's so domestic. Unlike some people."

Debbi stood up, holding a large tureen of steaming soup. She walked around the table, serving everyone. She came to me last.

"Here you go, Alyssa," she said with a sweet smile.

She tipped the ladle.

Scalding hot liquid splashed over my chest and my bad leg.

"Ah!" I threw myself backward, the chair tipping over. I hit the floor hard. The soup soaked into my clothes, burning my skin.

"Oh my god!" Debbi shrieked, dropping the ladle. "I'm so sorry! The ladle... it slipped! Are you okay?"

She looked at Brennan. "I'm so clumsy! I think a splash hit my arm!"

Brennan was out of his chair in a flash. He rushed past me—past his wife writhing on the floor in agony—and grabbed Debbi's arm.

"Let me see," he said frantically. There was a tiny red mark, barely visible. "We need to get ice."

"Brennan..." I groaned from the floor. My skin was blistering. The heat triggered the silver poison in my leg, sending spasms of pain through my body.

He looked down at me with pure annoyance. "Stop making a scene, Alyssa. It was an accident."

"It burns," I whispered.

"Get up," he snapped.

I tried, but my leg wouldn't support me.

"I command you to kneel," Brennan's voice boomed.

The Alpha Command slammed into me. My body jerked upright, forcing me onto my knees despite the pain.

"Apologize to her," he ordered. "Apologize for startling her."

"No," I gritted out. My wolf, deep inside, stirred. She hated this. She hated him.

Resisting the Command felt like my brain was being squeezed in a vice. Pressure built behind my eyes. Warm liquid trickled from my nose—blood.

"Do it," Brennan growled.

"I... apologize," I choked out, the words tasting like ash. I stared at the floor, refusing to look at the woman smirking above me.

That night, the fever took me.

The silver in my hand and the burns on my chest overwhelmed my immune system. I woke up in the Pack infirmary, shivering uncontrollably.

Brennan was there, sitting in a chair. For a second, he looked worried.

"You're awake," he said. "The doctor said the infection is spreading."

"Do you care?" I asked weakly.

He looked away. "You are still Pack."

His phone buzzed. He looked at the screen, and his expression softened instantly.

"It's Debbi," he said, standing up. "She's having nightmares about the soup incident. She needs me."

He walked to the door.

"Brennan," I called out.

He stopped but didn't turn around.

"If you walk out that door," I said, "you will never see me again."

He hesitated. For one heartbeat, I thought he might stay.

"Get some rest, Alyssa," he said. And then he left.

I closed my eyes. The tears didn't come. I was done crying.

The door opened again. It was Dr. Evans. He was an older wolf, one of the few who still respected my father.

"He's gone?" Dr. Evans asked quietly.

"Yes."

"Good," the doctor said. He locked the door and pulled a folder from under his coat. "I received a message from Carroll. The boat is ready. But we need to move now."

"I can't walk," I whispered.

"You won't have to," Dr. Evans said. "But Alyssa... once we do this, there is no going back. You will be a ghost."

"I'm already a ghost in this house," I said. "Make me disappear."

Alyssa POV:

"The deal is simple," Dr. Evans whispered as he checked my IV drip. "You give the Bureau the map of the Sterling Pack's smuggling routes. In exchange, they provide the new identity and the extraction."

"I have the map memorized," I replied. My father had taught me the routes years ago, long before Brennan turned them into avenues for illegal trade.

"Good. Tonight is the Charity Gala," Evans said. "It's the perfect cover. Chaos, noise, humans. You need to get to the terrace at 10:00 PM."

I nodded.

Hours later, I was dressed in a long-sleeved gown to hide my burns and bandages. I sat in a wheelchair; my leg was too weak to support me for long.

The Gala was held in the grand ballroom of the city's finest hotel. Humans in tuxedos and diamonds mingled with wolves in human form. It was a masquerade of civility.

A waiter with intense, stormy gray eyes passed by me with a tray of champagne. He didn't stop, but he slipped a cocktail napkin under my glass. On it, a single handwritten time: 22:00.

I glanced up, but he was already gone, blending seamlessly into the crowd.

Brennan stood in the center of the room. He looked regal, handsome. And on his lap, sitting like a queen, was Debbi.

She was wearing a white dress, playing the part of the innocent virgin. Around her neck glittered a stone that made my breath hitch.

The Moonstone Necklace.

It was an heirloom passed down through generations of Sterling Lunas. My mother had worn it. Her mother had worn it. It was supposed to be mine.

Brennan tapped a glass with a spoon. The room went quiet.

"Welcome, everyone," Brennan announced, his voice projecting effortlessly. "Tonight, we celebrate the future. And with that future, comes change."

He looked at Debbi with a sickening warmth.

"I am proud to announce that Debbi Foley is officially the candidate for the new Luna of the Sterling Pack."

Applause erupted. Humans clapped politely; wolves clapped out of obligation or fear.

Brennan unclasped the necklace and fastened it around Debbi's neck. The moonstone seemed to dim as it touched her skin, as if the stone itself rejected her.

I couldn't watch anymore. I gripped the wheels of my chair and turned away, heading for the terrace doors.

The night air was cool. I rolled into the shadows, away from the light of the party. I checked my watch. 9:55 PM. Five minutes until extraction.

I took a deep breath to steady my nerves.

That's when I smelled it.

Underneath the expensive perfumes and the scent of champagne, there was a stench. It was sharp, sulfurous, like rotten eggs and unwashed bodies.

Rogue.

But not just any Rogue. It was coming from the corner of the terrace.

I squinted into the darkness. A man was standing there, smoking a cigarette. He turned, and the light from the ballroom hit his face.

I gasped. It was the Rogue Alpha, the brother of Gianna, the woman who ran the local crime syndicate. He was supposed to be in exile.

And standing next to him... was Debbi.

She had slipped away from Brennan. They were whispering. Debbi laughed, a sound that was entirely different from her innocent giggle. It was low and dark.

"Brennan is such a puppet," I heard her say. Her voice carried on the wind. "He actually thinks I'm his Mate. The idiot doesn't even know I'm using a scent-masker."

"Just get the codes to the vault," the Rogue Alpha grunted. "Then we kill him and take the territory."

My heart hammered against my ribs. She wasn't just a mistress. She was a spy. A Rogue spy.

The Rogue Alpha turned his head. His eyes locked onto me in the shadows. He sniffed the air.

"We have company," he growled.

Debbi spun around. Her face went pale, then twisted into a snarl.

"The cripple," she hissed.

The Rogue Alpha took a step toward me, pulling a knife from his jacket.

I tried to turn my wheelchair, but the wheel caught on a loose paving stone. I was stuck.

"Run!" my mind screamed, but my body was trapped in the chair.

The Rogue lunged.

I threw myself out of the chair, hitting the concrete hard. I scrambled backward, dragging my dead leg.

"Help!" I screamed, but the music inside was too loud.

The Rogue kicked the wheelchair aside. He loomed over me, the knife glinting in the moonlight.

"No witnesses," he said.

Just as he raised the knife, a black van screeched to a halt at the curb below the terrace. The side door slid open.

"Alyssa! Jump!" a voice shouted.

It was Carroll.

But the terrace railing was five feet high. I couldn't jump. I couldn't even stand.

I looked at the Rogue, then at the ballroom doors where Brennan was laughing, oblivious to the fact that his "true love" was plotting his murder.

I was trapped between a monster and a traitor. And for the first time in years, I felt a spark of something deep inside me.

Not fear.

Rage.

My vision blurred, turning red. A low growl, one I hadn't heard in five years, rumbled in my chest.

The Rogue hesitated. "What the..."

But before I could unleash whatever was waking up inside me, a cloth soaked in chemical acridity was pressed over my mouth from behind.

Debbi.

"Sleep tight, Luna," she whispered in my ear.

Darkness swallowed me whole.