Ophelia’s POV:

“You—”

Raymond shot up from his chair. He nearly threw the woman off his lap; she scrambled away, stumbling over her own discarded heels as she frantically pulled the bodice of her silk dress up to cover her flushed chest.

I stood frozen, the weight of Ria in my arms the only thing keeping me upright. I swallowed hard, trying to force down the massive, jagged lump that had formed in my throat.

“What are you doing here?!” He sneered.

He didn't reach for his shirt. He stood there, bare-chested and looming, radiating a predatory heat as he stalked toward me. My legs trembled, the muscles turning to water, but I forced myself to hold my ground.

“What am I doing?” I repeated, my voice a hollow echo. I looked at him, searching for even a flicker of remorse in those cold blue eyes, but I found only a simmering, righteous anger. “What are you doing, Alpha? Our daughter is dying upstairs while you... while you are this?”

His brows furrowed for a fraction of a second as he looked at me, then his gaze flickered to the woman cowering by the bookshelf. Now that she was standing straight, trying to fix her disheveled auburn hair, the bile rose in the back of my throat. I finally recognized her.

Camilla. His secretary.

“You dare to question me?” Raymond sneered, closing the distance between us until he was inches away.

I clenched my free hand into a fist, the nails biting into my palm. My mind felt like a train jumping its tracks, reeling back through the years. I saw a montage of every night I had spent waiting for him, every humiliation I had endured in silence, every bruise I had hidden beneath long sleeves.

I had long ago made up my mind that I would stay in this marriage forever. I had told myself this was my punishment. This was my atonement for the sins of my past, for a life I had tried to leave behind. I didn't mind the coldness. I didn't mind the lack of love. As long as he remained loyal—as long as he never replaced me—I could endure the ghost of a life. I could force myself to love this man.

But this? Seeing my worst nightmare come to life after four years was like a punch to the gut. I wanted to run. I wanted to turn around, walk out that door, and disappear into the night. But I couldn't. Not with Ria’s shallow, rattling breath ghosting against my neck.

“I—” I cut myself off, my voice cracking like dry parchment. I took a shaking breath and forced the words out. “I need to go to the hospital. Now, Raymond.”

He stiffened, his eyes finally dropping to the bundle in my arms. Ria was almost entirely hidden by the thick wool blanket, her head resting heavily on my shoulder, but he knew who she was. He only had one child, no matter how much he wished otherwise.

He sneered, a sound of pure disgust. “What is wrong with her now?”

The word ‘now’ hit me like a lash. I tightened my grip on Ria, shielding her body with mine. “Her fever won't go down. It’s been three days, and she’s turning blue, Raymond. I need to get her to the emergency room.”

My voice had gone soft, nearly a whisper. The idea of begging him—this man who was still covered in the scent of another woman—was utterly repulsive. But I was an Omega with no keys, no money of my own, and a daughter who was fading. I would crawl through glass if it meant saving her.

He scoffed, turning his back on me to stare out the floor-to-ceiling window at the dark, sprawling estate. “You—” He stopped, then spun back around, his face contorted with a sudden, explosive rage. He jabbed a finger at me, his voice rising. “This is why I hate you so much! You can’t seem to let go, even though it’s clear that she’s a lost cause!”

My eyes widened, my chest burning as if he’d poured acid into my lungs. “What are you saying?! She’s three years old! She’s your blood!”

“She is a mistake!” he roared, his Alpha aura flaring. “This useless daughter of yours is not going to live past six, and we both know it! The doctors know it! You waste your time all day and all night doing nothing but bumbling around her like an idiot when you’re supposed to be serving your Alpha! When you’re supposed to be providing me with a real heir!”

He stepped forward, his massive frame shoving into my personal space. “And now, see what your carelessness has led me to resort to. Do you think I wanted to break our marital vows? Do you think I wanted to cheat on you?! No! This is all your fault. If you weren't so obsessed with a dying child, maybe you’d be a wife worth touching!”

With each sentence, he jabbed his finger into my shoulder, pushing me back. One step. Two. My feet caught on the edge of the rug until my back finally hit the cold, hard wood of the wall. I shuddered, the impact jarring Ria.

My eyes felt heavy, my throat parched. I wanted to cry. I wanted to wail until the walls came down. But the tears wouldn't come. It had been a decade since I’d cried.

“She’s our daughter,” I said, my voice eerily level. I forced my gaze to remain steady against his burning, terrifying blue eyes. “How... how could you blame your own weakness on a sick child?”

I finally spat the words out. I had let them all humiliate me—the pack, the staff, the socialites. I had let them paint me as the lowly, lucky Omega who had stumbled into a position she didn't deserve. But I would not let him sully her name.

I would not let the dirt I was crawling in touch her.

She was not a mistake.

For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, the monster woke up.

Raymond’s hand shot out, grabbing my shoulder with bone-crushing force. I gasped as Ria began to slip from my arms. I clutched her tighter, even as his fingers bruised my skin.

“You fucking dare to talk back to me?” he hissed, his face inches from mine. “It seems I have given you too much freedom. To dare think that an Omega as lowly as you could call me weak? You want to see my strength, Ophelia? Fine. I will show it to you!”

His hand came back and then swung forward in a blur.

CRACK.

The slap was so loud it echoed off the high ceilings. My head snapped to the side, my vision exploding into white spots. The copper taste of blood filled my mouth.

Ria, jolted awake by the violence, let out a piercing, ragged wail. She buried her face into the crook of my neck, her small hands clutching my nightdress. “Mama! Don’t hurt Mama!” she screamed, her voice thin and terrified.

“Give her to me,” Raymond growled, reaching for Ria’s blanket. “If she’s going to die, she’ll do it without your pathetic influence.”

“No!” I shrieked, twisting my body to shield her.

He grabbed Ria’s arm, trying to yank her away from me. The sight of his large hand on her skin triggered something primal inside me. I didn't think about the consequences.

I lunged forward and sank my teeth into his forearm. I bit down with everything I had, tasting his metallic blood as I ground my teeth together.

Raymond roared in pain, his grip on Ria loosening just enough. He shoved me away with a snarl of pure animal rage. I lost my footing, my socks sliding on the polished floor. I went down hard, rolling to protect Ria as we hit the ground. My head slammed into the corner of a heavy wooden filing cabinet.

Pain exploded at the base of my skull, a dull, nauseating throb that made the room spin. But I didn't let go. I pulled Ria into my chest, curled into a ball on the floor, trembling.

Raymond stood over us, clutching his bleeding arm, his chest heaving. “I should have never taken you as my wife,” he panted, his voice trembling with a lethal edge. “It’s clear now that I made the biggest mistake of my life. Someone like you—so stupid, so useless, so vulgar, insolent, always begging and unable to even bear a proper heir. I should have abandoned you long ago and married someone worthy.”

I looked up at him through a haze of pain, my body shaking uncontrollably. The physical pain was secondary now. The fear was primary. It was all-consuming as I realized what was coming.

“You think I am weak, huh? Think you’re so strong?” He sneered, stepping back into the center of the room.

Suddenly, the door to the office creaked further open. Zoe stood there, clutching her ribs, alongside a house guard who had run over at the sound of the screaming. Camilla stood by the desk, watching with wide eyes.

Raymond took a deep breath, and then he unleashed it. His Alpha Voice.

“I, Raymond Ambrose Vorthas, Alpha of the Vorthas Pack, have had enough of your incompetence and your insolence,” he declared, his voice booming. “You have failed your Alpha. You have failed this pack.”

I tried to speak, to beg him to stop, but the Alpha’s voice kept my jaw locked.

“I hereby revoke my marriage vows!” he thundered. “I cast you out! I break the bond that ties your soul to mine! From this moment forward, you are nothing to the Vorthas name. You are stripped of your title and your protection!”

He stepped forward, pointing a finger at the door. “I reject you, Ophelia Vitale.”

The bond inside me snapped. It felt like a limb being torn from my body without anesthesia. I let out a broken, silent sob, clutching Ria to my chest.

Ophelia’s POV:

I curled into myself, my knees hitting the hard floor with a dull thud. My fingers went limp, and for a terrifying heartbeat, Ria slipped from my grasp. I scrambled to pull her back against me even as the world spun.

"It hurts... it hurts..." I whimpered, the words lost in the roaring of my own blood.

Raymond looked down at me, his blue eyes burning with a cold light. He didn't look like a man who had just severed his family; he looked like a man who had finally cleaned a stain off his rug.

"Don’t worry though," he began, his voice dropping to a low, mocking drawl. "I know you are too weak to survive out there. I won’t throw you out of the house just yet. You’ll stay here. You’ll stay as my side bitch, and you’ll watch in regret as I marry someone else. Someone worthy of the Vorthas name."

He sneered, the corner of his lip curling in a way that made my stomach churn. "Because the one who is actually weak here is you, Ophelia. Look at you. Kneeling in front of me, sobbing, already on your knees when all I have taken from you is a measly mark."

He bent down, his shadow eclipsing me. He gripped my chin in a bruising hold, forcing my head up so I had to look into the abyss of his cruelty. His gaze slid momentarily to my daughter—his daughter—with nothing but revulsion, before returning to me.

"The best part is that we both know this won't be the last time you'll be on your knees for me," he hissed. "Because you were born a whore. You will come back begging me for it... like you always do."

He shoved me back with such force that my head hit the wall for the second time. Dark circles invaded my vision. I tried to shake my head, to scream that he was wrong, but my tongue felt like a lead weight in my mouth.

I was drowning in the scent of his betrayal. I wanted to call out for Ria, to tell her I was sorry, to take her to safety, but my body refused to obey.

"Take them back to their room," Raymond barked, his voice sounding as if it were coming from the end of a long tunnel. I heard the guard's boots approach. "Lock them up. I don’t care how much she screams—do not let her out. That’s her punishment. And let the elders know to assemble for a meeting. I have news to share."

His footsteps echoed away, growing fainter and fainter until the darkness finally won, and I slipped into the void.

I woke with a violent gasp, my lungs burning as if I had been underwater. I scurried back across the carpeted floor, my eyes wild as I searched the dim room. We were back in the small, white-carpeted room.

"Ria?" I croaked.

She was right beside me, still swaddled in her thick wool blanket. Her eyes were closed, her face pale. I lurched forward, my heart stopping as I reached for her hand.

I let out a choked, horrified sob. Her entire hand had turned a deep, bruised blue. The cyanosis was spreading.

"Oh god. Oh god, no. Ria, honey, wake up!" I shook her gently, then with more desperation, but she remained limp. Her breathing was shallow—so shallow I had to press my ear to her chest just to hear the faint, erratic fluttering of her heart.

I jumped up and sprinted to the door, my fists raised to bang against the door. I wanted to scream for help, for anyone. But my hand paused inches from the surface.

“Lock them up... I don’t care how much she screams.”

"No," I whispered, the word trembling on my lips.

No one would open this door. It wasn't the first time Raymond had locked me away to "cool off," but this was different. He had broken the bond. He had revoked the marriage. In the eyes of the Vorthas pack, I was already a ghost. He wouldn't open the door, no matter how much I begged. And if I stayed here, waiting for his mercy, Ria would be dead by sunrise.

"Useless. Useless. Cursed," I muttered, the words repeating in my mind like a rhythmic lash. What was I worth if I couldn't save her?

I looked at her dark hair, so different from the blonde, crystalline perfection of the Vorthas line. Raymond’s hatred for Valeria—my sweet Ria—wasn’t a secret. The whole pack knew he viewed her as a stain. My ex-mother-in-law had been the first to point it out. Every Alpha in their bloodline was born like a golden god.

But not Ria. She was born with dark chestnut hair.

People whispered that I had cheated. They looked at me with filth in their eyes, and eventually, Raymond started looking at me the same way. I had begged him for a DNA test. I had pleaded with him to prove her parentage so the accusations would stop. I wasn't filthy. I hadn't cheated. She was his.

But he had refused every time, claiming a test wouldn't change the fact that she looked nothing like a Vorthas. He had never looked at her with love. And I, an orphan who had been adopted by a mother who couldn’t care less about me, and a father who now despised me, had no one to turn to for help.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing the panic into a small, tight box in my mind. I wouldn't let Ria become like me. I wouldn't let her be a victim.

"You are not alone," I whispered to her, my voice hardening. "I've got you."

I moved, wrapping Ria back into her blanket, realizing with a pang of grief how small she felt. She was only nine kilograms—dangerously underweight for a three-year-old. I pulled her little winter hat and gloves from the cupboard, tucking her in.

I glanced in the mirror. I was still in the spaghetti-strap nightdress that barely reached my thighs. I ran to the small cupboard and pulled out the only piece of clothing I had kept in this room—something I hadn’t worn for over four years—a thick, oversized black hoodie that reached my knees. I pulled it on quickly.

I didn't have a phone. I didn't have money. I had nothing but a window.

I grabbed the sheets from the cot and used it to tie Ria securely to my back, knotting it tightly across my chest so she wouldn't slip. I walked to the singular window at the back of the room. It was the only reason I had readily agreed to stay in this room; it opened toward the dense forest at the rear of the estate, a blind spot in the guard patrols.

I pushed the window open, the biting December air hitting me and making me shudder. There was a large oak tree just a few feet away. I didn't think about the height. I didn't think about the cold.

I climbed onto the sill and jumped, my hands scrabbling for the rough bark. I felt the wood scrape the skin off my palms, the sting sharp and hot, but I didn't let go. I slid down the trunk as quickly as I could, my feet hitting the frozen ground with a thud.

I didn't stop to look back. I ran.

My chest was heaving, the air burning my throat by the time I crossed the forest perimeter. I was wearing nothing but thin socks, and my feet had gone numb from the cold within minutes. I couldn't tell if I was stepping on thorns or jagged stones; I only knew that I had to keep moving.

The forest was a labyrinth, the moon my only guidance. Every snap of a twig sounded like a gunshot and I ran until my lungs felt like they were going to burst, until the dense trees finally began to thin, revealing the grey ribbon of the highway in the distance.

The fear of not finding a ride suddenly overcame me. Who would even go through here in the middle of the night? And even if someone did, would they stop for me?

I reached the shoulder of the road, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Just then, two twin beams of light cut through the darkness. A car was approaching.

I didn't hesitate. I jumped forward, waving my arms frantically, my heart soaring as the vehicle began to slow. It was a sleek, black sedan. It came to a smooth stop right in front of me.

The darkened window of the driver's seat rolled down with a soft hiss and my entire body froze.

The man in the driver's seat was dressed in a sharp, black-on-black suit. His collar was open, revealing a neck covered in intricate, dark tattoos that crept up toward his jawline. He had a light stubble. But it was his eyes that stopped the world.

They glinted a sharp, piercing violet as they met mine.

Suddenly, time seemed to slow down, before it reversed. My head spun, memories flashing behind my eyelids like a fever dream.

It had been exactly 4,817 days since I first met those eyes at the age of nine. A year after my adoption.

And it had been exactly 1,530 days since I last saw them—the day I turned eighteen, the day I shifted, and the day I heard a single word echo in my mind with the force of a tidal wave, ‘Mate’.

"Da...mon?" I whispered, my voice trembling as I took a reflexive step back.

This was Damon Enzo Vitale.

My step-brother.

The man I had run from. The man…who hated me.