The howls started at dusk.

I stood at my window, watching the Alphas gather on the lawn below. One by one, they stripped off their formal clothes and shifted—bones cracking, fur rippling across skin, power radiating in waves that made the air itself feel heavy. Wylder was among them, his massive gray wolf larger than the rest, his presence commanding even in animal form.

They took off into the forest, a pack of predators running the perimeter. Tradition. Territory. Power.

I waited until the last howl faded into the distance.

Then I moved.

My duffel bag was already packed, hidden under the bed. I pulled it out, slung it over my shoulder, and applied Elena's scent-masking oil to every inch of exposed skin. The smell was sharp, medicinal, burning my nostrils. I didn't care. I rubbed it into my neck, my wrists, behind my ears—anywhere a wolf might catch my scent.

The tracking phone sat on the nightstand, its screen dark. Wylder had given it to me on my first day at the Pack House. "So I always know where you are," he'd said. Not a gift. A leash.

I picked it up, walked to the window, and threw it as hard as I could into the bushes below.

Gone.

The scent-masking cloak came next. I pulled it off and let it fall to the floor in a heap of gray fabric. For three years, I'd worn it like a second skin, hiding what I was—or what they thought I was. Worthless. Wolfless. Weak.

I left it there and walked out the door.

The hotel corridors were empty, everyone either at the run or attending the evening's festivities. My footsteps echoed against the marble, too loud, too exposed. Every shadow felt like it was watching me. Every corner hid an Alpha who would drag me back.

But no one came.

I slipped out a service exit and into the night. The forest loomed ahead, dark and endless, but I turned away from it. Away from the Alphas. Away from their territory and their rules.

Toward the neutral lands.

The first mile was easy. Adrenaline carried me, my legs moving faster than they had in years. But then the withdrawal hit.

My hands started shaking first. Then my legs. The nausea rolled through me in waves, and I had to stop, doubled over on the side of the road, dry-heaving into the grass. My body was screaming for the poison it had grown dependent on, the wolfsbane that had kept me weak and compliant.

I forced myself upright and kept walking.

Every step hurt. My muscles burned. My head pounded. But I thought about the life growing inside me, the tiny spark of something pure and innocent, and I pushed through the pain.

This child would not grow up in a cage.

This child would not be a transaction.

I walked until my feet bled, until the hotel lights were nothing but a distant glow behind me. The neutral territory border was marked by a line of stones, ancient and weathered. I crossed it and felt something shift—like stepping out of a cage I hadn't realized was locked.

Free.

I was free.

---

Wylder's wolf was restless.

The run should have calmed him, should have burned off the tension that had been building for days. But instead, it made everything worse. His wolf kept circling back toward the hotel, whining, agitated.

Something was wrong.

He shifted back to human form and dressed quickly, ignoring the other Alphas who were still running. Marcus met him at the entrance, his expression carefully neutral.

"The negotiations are still ongoing," Marcus said. "Alpha Gregor wants to discuss—"

"Later." Wylder's voice was clipped. His wolf was clawing at his insides, demanding he check on her. On Naomi.

He took the stairs two at a time, his heart pounding for reasons he didn't want to examine. Her room was on the third floor, tucked away in the servants' wing where she belonged.

Except she didn't belong there. His wolf had been trying to tell him that for months.

He knocked once. No answer.

He opened the door.

The room was empty. Her duffel bag—gone. Her phone—gone. The scent-masking cloak he'd given her lay crumpled on the floor, abandoned.

But her scent lingered. Fear. Determination. And underneath it all, something that made his wolf go absolutely feral.

She was pregnant.

She was carrying his pup.

And she had run.

"Marcus!" His roar shook the walls, rattled the windows. The Beta appeared in the doorway seconds later, his eyes wide.

"Find her," Wylder snarled, his wolf so close to the surface that his voice came out distorted, inhuman. "Find her NOW."

---

Christian stared at the drink in his hand, watching the ice melt into the amber liquid.

Three weeks. Three weeks since Estelle had brought him into her pack, and he still hadn't been given the Alpha title she'd promised. Instead, she paraded him around like a trophy, introduced him as her "consort," and dismissed him whenever actual pack business was discussed.

He was starting to realize he'd made a mistake.

"You're brooding again," Estelle said, sliding into the seat across from him. Her smile was sharp, predatory. "It's not attractive."

"You promised me a position," Christian said, trying to keep his voice steady. "You said—"

"I said a lot of things." She leaned back, studying him like he was a bug under glass. "But let's be honest, darling. You're not Alpha material. You're barely Beta material. You're here because you're pretty and you have a decent bloodline. That's it."

His jaw clenched. "I gave up everything for you."

"You gave up a wolfless Omega who was already sold to another Alpha." Estelle laughed, cold and dismissive. "Hardly a sacrifice."

Naomi's face flashed through his mind. The way she used to look at him, like he was her entire world. The way she'd believed every lie he'd told her.

She was still valuable. Still carrying the potential for a powerful bloodline. And she was still bound to him by their history, by the guilt he'd planted so carefully.

Maybe it was time to reclaim what was his.

The cave smelled like damp earth and old stone. I'd been here for three days—or maybe four. Time blurred when your body was tearing itself apart from the inside out.

The fever came in waves. One moment I was shivering so hard my teeth chattered, the next I was burning up, sweat soaking through my clothes. My muscles ached like I'd been beaten. My head pounded. Every breath felt like dragging glass through my lungs.

This was withdrawal. The wolfsbane leaving my system. Three years of poison, and my body didn't know how to function without it.

I curled tighter around myself, pressing my back against the cold cave wall. The duffel bag sat beside me, mostly empty now. I'd rationed the food Elena had slipped into my bag, but it was gone. The water bottle was down to the last few sips.

I should move. Find a stream. Find shelter that wasn't a hole in the ground.

But I couldn't. My legs wouldn't hold me.

The baby. I pressed my hand against my stomach, feeling for something, anything. Was it still there? Was it okay?

Please be okay.

Then I heard it.

*You're stronger than this.*

I jerked upright, my heart slamming against my ribs. The voice was inside my head—clear, distinct, furious.

"Who—" My voice came out as a croak.

*Me, you idiot. Your wolf.*

I stopped breathing. My wolf. I had a wolf.

*Of course you have a wolf. You've always had a wolf. He just kept me buried.*

Christian. She meant Christian.

The realization hit like a physical blow. All those years of believing I was broken, defective, worthless—it was a lie. He'd done this to me. Poisoned me. Suppressed the one thing that made me whole.

*He's coming,* my wolf said, her voice weak but urgent. *I can smell him. Cedar and pine. He's close.*

No. No, no, no.

I tried to stand, but my legs gave out. I hit the cave floor hard, my vision swimming. I couldn't run. Couldn't fight. Couldn't do anything but wait.

Footsteps crunched on gravel outside the cave entrance.

"Naomi?"

That voice. I knew that voice.

Christian stepped into the cave, his silhouette backlit by the fading daylight. He looked the same—sandy hair, easy smile, the kind of face that made people trust him. But now I saw what I'd been too blind to see before. The coldness in his eyes. The calculation.

"There you are." He crouched down, tilting his head like he was examining a wounded animal. "You look terrible."

I tried to speak, but my throat was too dry.

"I have to admit, I'm impressed." He settled onto his heels, making himself comfortable. "I didn't think you had it in you to run. Guess there's some fight in you after all."

"Stay away from me," I managed.

He laughed. "Or what? You'll collapse at me? You can barely sit up."

He was right. I hated that he was right.

"I've been thinking," Christian continued, his tone conversational. "Estelle turned out to be a disappointment. Rogue Queen, can you believe it? All that power, all those promises, and she was just using me." He shook his head, like it was a minor inconvenience. "But you—you're carrying Montgomery's pup. That's valuable. Very valuable."

My hand moved instinctively to my stomach.

"I could drag you back to Wylder myself. Claim a reward. Or—" His smile widened. "I could use the baby as leverage. Make my father pay for selling me out. Either way, I win."

*Don't let him touch you,* my wolf snarled.

Christian reached for me, his fingers closing around my wrist. His touch burned, wrong in every way.

"Come on, Naomi. Let's go home."

"No." The word came out stronger than I expected.

His expression darkened. "That wasn't a request." His voice shifted, taking on that commanding edge—the Alpha tone. "Submit."

The command slammed into me, trying to force my body to obey. For a moment, I felt myself starting to fold, starting to give in like I always had.

Then my wolf roared.

*NO.*

Something inside me snapped. Not broke—snapped into place. Like a lock finally turning, a door finally opening.

Christian's grip tightened. "You know, it was almost too easy. The wolfsbane in your vitamins. You took them every single day, never questioned it. God, you were so gullible."

He was laughing. Laughing at how he'd poisoned me, controlled me, destroyed three years of my life.

Laughing at the threat to my baby.

*Enough,* my wolf said.

And then she was there—not just a voice, but a presence. Power flooded through me, hot and fierce and absolutely furious. My vision sharpened. My muscles stopped shaking. The fever burned away, replaced by something else entirely.

Christian's smile faltered. "Naomi?"

I looked at him, and for the first time in three years, I wasn't afraid.

"Get your hands off me."

My voice didn't sound like mine anymore. It was deeper, stronger, carrying a weight that made Christian's eyes widen.

He didn't let go. "You don't have a wolf. You're—"

"Wrong." I grabbed his wrist and twisted. Hard.

He yelped, stumbling back. "What the—"

The shift started before I could stop it. My bones cracked, reshaping. My skin burned as fur erupted across my body. The pain was excruciating and exhilarating all at once.

And then I was standing on four legs, staring at Christian through eyes that saw everything differently now.

My wolf was white. Pure white, like fresh snow.

Christian's face went pale. "That's impossible."

*Nothing about me was ever impossible,* I thought. *You just made me believe I was.*

I took a step forward, and Christian scrambled backward, his confidence shattering.

"Naomi, wait—we can talk about this—"

I growled, low and threatening.

He ran.