The packhouse felt like it was holding its breath. Three days since the financial collapse started, and the tension had spread through every hallway, every room. I could feel it even from the east wing—wolves whispering, footsteps hurried and anxious, the scent of fear mixing with anger.

I was in my room when Julien found me.

He didn't knock. The door slammed open, and he filled the doorway, shoulders tight, jaw clenched. His eyes had that wild edge I'd seen before, back in the foster pack when the older wolves would corner us. Except now he was the one doing the cornering.

"You," he said, voice low and dangerous. "This is because of you."

I stood slowly from where I'd been sitting by the window. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play stupid." He crossed the room in three strides, and I forced myself not to step back. "Everything was fine until that stunt you pulled at the anniversary. You embarrassed me in front of the entire pack, and now look what's happening. Investors pulling out, alliances dissolving. You brought this on us."

The mate bond twisted, but I kept my face neutral. "You think I caused a financial collapse by defending myself?"

"You attacked Mya. You showed everyone how unstable you are." His hand shot out, gripping my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "You're bad luck, Olivia. You always have been. I should've seen it sooner."

My wolf snarled inside my chest, but I kept her down. Not yet.

"Let go of me."

"You don't give me orders." His grip tightened. Then I felt it—a sharp, violent tug on the mind-link connection between us. The bond that let mates communicate, share thoughts and feelings. He was severing it.

Pain exploded through my skull. I gasped, hands flying up to clutch my head as he ripped the connection apart. It felt like something vital being torn away, leaving raw edges that burned.

When I could see again, he was holding my phone. My laptop sat on the bed where he'd tossed it.

"You won't be needing these," he said. "Can't have you spreading more poison, can we?"

"Julien—"

"You'll stay here. No contact with the pack. No devices. You'll eat what's brought to you and keep your mouth shut." He moved toward the door, then paused. "This is for your own good. To protect you from yourself."

The door closed. The lock clicked.

I stood there, breathing hard, one hand pressed to my temple where the severed mind-link still throbbed. The mate bond remained—that couldn't be cut without a formal rejection—but the communication channel was gone. He'd isolated me completely.

Or so he thought.

Two hours later, they came for me again.

Delta warriors, four of them, led by Marcus—one of Julien's most loyal. They didn't speak, just grabbed my arms and hauled me out of the room. I didn't fight. Didn't see the point yet.

They took me up. Higher than I'd ever been in the packhouse, up narrow stairs that creaked under our weight. The air grew colder, thinner. When we reached the attic, I understood why.

Silver.

The door frame was lined with it. The window bars, the bed frame, even thin wires woven through the walls. Not enough to kill, but enough to weaken. To make shifting impossible. To keep a wolf contained.

"Alpha's orders," Marcus said, not meeting my eyes. "For your protection."

They shoved me inside. The door slammed shut, and I heard multiple locks engage.

The silver's effect was immediate. A dull ache spread through my limbs, making my wolf retreat deeper inside. My Lycan blood kept me standing, kept me conscious, but I felt the drain. Subtle. Constant.

I moved to the small window. Looked out over the pack grounds, the forest beyond. From up here, I could see everything. The training grounds where Julien's warriors drilled. The main gates. The road leading away from Silverfang territory.

I pressed my palm against the glass. The silver in the frame made my skin tingle, but I didn't pull away.

Footsteps on the stairs. Multiple sets, moving fast. I turned as voices drifted up—Mya's, sharp and commanding, mixed with the deeper tones of Delta warriors.

They weren't coming to the attic. They were going to my sanctuary.

The room on the second floor where I kept everything. My tools, my designs, the artifacts I'd spent years creating. The ancestral jewelry passed down through my hidden Lycan bloodline, pieces that predated the Silverfang Pack by centuries.

I moved to the attic door, pressed my ear against it. Heard them below, the crash of drawers being opened, boxes overturned.

"Careful with that one," Mya's voice carried up the stairs. "It'll fetch at least fifty thousand on the black market. We need the cash flow."

"What about this necklace?"

"Take it all. She won't be needing any of it anymore."

My hands curled into fists. The silver burned where my skin touched the door, but I didn't move.

They were stealing from me. Selling my heritage, my work, my history to cover Julien's failing pack finances. Using my own creations to prop up the empire that was crumbling because I'd willed it to.

The irony would've been funny if it didn't make me want to tear the door off its hinges.

I stepped back. Looked around the attic. Silver-laced prison, yes. But prisons only worked if the prisoner was actually trapped.

I touched the base of my throat, felt my wolf stir despite the silver's drain. My Lycan blood hummed beneath my skin, patient and deadly.

Let them think they'd won. Let them sell my jewelry, spend my money, celebrate their small victories.

I'd take it all back. Every piece. Every dollar. Every scrap of dignity they thought they'd stolen.

And when I was done, there wouldn't be anything left of the Silverfang Pack but ashes and regret.

The attic door creaked open just after midnight.

I was on my feet before the sound fully registered, my wolf rising despite the silver's constant drain. The footsteps were light, hesitant. Not the heavy tread of Delta warriors or Julien's confident stride.

A figure slipped through the doorway, barely more than a shadow. Small frame, hunched shoulders. The scent hit me a second later—familiar, bringing me back to cold nights in the foster pack, huddled in corners while the stronger wolves took the best sleeping spots.

"Samson?"

He flinched at his name, nearly dropping the cloth bundle in his hands. His eyes darted to the stairs behind him, then back to me. Even in the dim light from the window, I could see how thin he'd gotten. Omega life in the Silverfang Pack clearly wasn't much better than it had been in the foster system.

"I—" He started, stopped, tried again. "I brought food. They're not feeding you enough. I heard the kitchen staff talking."

He set the bundle on the small table near the door, unwrapping it to reveal bread, cheese, and an apple. Real food, not the scraps they'd been sending up twice a day.

I moved closer, and he stepped back instinctively. The silver made my movements slower, but I kept my voice gentle. "Thank you."

"There's more." He pulled something from his pocket. A phone. Cheap, probably a burner, but it looked functional. "I know they took yours. I thought... you might need it."

My fingers closed around the device. It felt like a lifeline.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked.

His gaze dropped to the floor. "I should've helped you back then. In the foster pack. I saw what he did—how Julien would set things up, make himself look like the hero. I was too scared to say anything." His voice cracked. "I'm still scared. But I can't just watch anymore."

The mate bond twisted in my chest, a reminder of all those years I'd believed Julien's protection was real. All those times I'd thought I was lucky to have him.

"What else do you know?" I kept my tone even, but my wolf was alert now, focused.

Samson's hands twisted together. "Mya's been going through your things. She took a necklace—the one with the silver wolves and the moonstone centerpiece. She's been showing it off to anyone who'll look."

My ancestral Lycan necklace. The one piece I'd never intended to wear publicly, too recognizable, too clearly marked with the symbols of royal bloodlines. I'd kept it hidden, wrapped in silk at the back of my jewelry box.

"She's wearing it tonight," Samson continued. "To the Regional Alpha Summit. I heard her talking to Julien about it. She thinks it'll make her look legitimate, like she's already Luna. She's planning to meet with some of her family connections there—they're offering a loan to keep the pack afloat."

The Regional Alpha Summit. Every major pack in the northeastern territory would be there. Alphas, Lunas, heirs. And Mya would walk in wearing stolen Lycan royalty around her neck, pretending it was hers.

I turned the phone over in my hands. "What time does the summit start?"

"Seven. They're leaving in an hour." He glanced at the stairs again. "I should go. If they catch me up here—"

"Go." I met his eyes. "And Samson? Thank you. Really."

He nodded once, quick and nervous, then slipped back through the door. The lock clicked behind him, but it didn't matter anymore.

I had a phone.

I moved to the window, as far from the silver-laced door as possible, and pulled up the encrypted messaging app I'd had Elena install on all SSL devices. My fingers flew across the screen, muscle memory taking over.

The response came in seconds.

*Alpha. We've been trying to reach you.*

*I need a hack,* I typed. *Regional Alpha Summit. Audiovisual system. Can you access it remotely?*

A pause. Then: *Give us twenty minutes.*

I leaned against the wall, phone clutched in my hand, and watched the packhouse below. Lights blazed in the main wing. I could see figures moving past windows—Julien and Mya, probably, getting ready for their grand entrance.

My wolf stirred, pushing against the silver's suppression. Not much longer now.

The phone buzzed.

*We're in. Full control of their A/V system. What do you need?*

I smiled, and it felt like baring teeth.

*Stand by. I'll send you footage. When I give the signal, I want it playing on every screen in that summit hall.*

*Understood, Alpha.*

I pulled up the video I'd recorded outside Julien's office—the one with their voices, their plans, their betrayal laid bare. Sent it through the encrypted channel.

Then I opened my photo gallery. Found the security footage Samson had helped me access weeks ago, back when I'd still had my devices. The clip showed Mya in my sanctuary, hands rifling through my jewelry box, slipping the Lycan necklace into her bag.

I sent that too.

The phone buzzed again. *Ready when you are.*

I looked out at the packhouse, at the luxury cars pulling up to the main entrance. Julien emerged first, sharp suit, confident stride. Then Mya, in a dress that probably cost more than Samson made in a year.

And around her neck, catching the light from the entrance lanterns, was my ancestral Lycan necklace.

I touched the base of my throat. Felt my wolf rise, silver be damned.

"Let's see how legitimate you look when everyone knows you're a thief," I whispered.

Then I sent the signal.

The attic felt smaller after Samson left. I sat by the window, phone hidden in my palm, watching the taillights disappear down the drive. Julien and Mya, off to play Alpha and Luna at the Regional Summit while I rotted in their silver cage.

Except I wasn't rotting. I was waiting.

The phone buzzed against my skin. Elena's message was brief: *In position. Awaiting your signal.*

I pulled up the security footage one more time. Watched Mya's hands rifle through my jewelry box, her fingers closing around the Lycan necklace like she had any right to touch it. The timestamp glowed in the corner—clear, undeniable proof.

My wolf stirred despite the silver's drain. Not long now.

I sent the command: *Go.*

---

I couldn't see the summit hall, but I didn't need to. I could picture it perfectly—the grand ballroom at the Riverside Hotel, crystal chandeliers throwing light across polished marble, Alphas and Lunas in their finest. Mya would be there, preening in her stolen dress and my stolen necklace, playing the role she'd been rehearsing for months.

The phone buzzed again. Elena's update came through in fragments:

*Footage playing now.*

*Multiple screens.*

*She's trying to leave the stage.*

*Someone's blocking her path.*

I pressed my forehead against the cold window glass. Wished I could see Mya's face when the entire regional pack leadership watched her commit theft in high definition.

Then: *Blood Moon Alpha's daughter just stood up. She's demanding the necklace back. Says she recognizes the royal insignias.*

Colette. I'd met her once, years ago, at a border negotiation. Sharp eyes, sharper tongue, zero tolerance for weakness or dishonesty. If she'd recognized the Lycan symbols, she'd know exactly what that necklace represented. And exactly how far beneath Mya it was.

*Julien's trying to smooth it over,* Elena sent. *Not working. Colette just announced Blood Moon is severing their alliance with Silverfang.*

I closed my eyes. Felt the satisfaction roll through me like heat.

The Blood Moon alliance had been Silverfang's strongest tie. Warrior training programs, shared border patrols, trade agreements worth millions. Julien had spent three years building that relationship.

Gone in three minutes.

*They're leaving,* Elena's message continued. *Julien looks—*

The phone went dark. Battery dead.

I stared at the blank screen, then tucked it under the mattress. Didn't matter. I'd seen enough.

Now I just had to wait for Julien to come home.

---

The packhouse exploded with noise around eleven.

Car doors slamming. Voices raised, sharp with panic and anger. Footsteps thundering through the main hall. I moved to the attic door, pressed my ear against the wood despite the silver's burn.

"—complete disaster—"

"—Blood Moon pulled everything—"

"—how did that footage even get there—"

Then Julien's voice, cutting through the chaos like a blade: "Get Marcus. Get all the Elders. Emergency meeting. Now."

My wolf rose, pushing against the silver's weight. This was it. The moment he'd been planning, just accelerated by desperation and humiliation.

He was going to reject me tonight.

Footsteps on the attic stairs. Heavy, fast, furious. The door flew open and Julien filled the frame, still in his summit suit, tie loosened, face flushed with rage.

"You," he snarled. "You did this."

I stayed by the window. Didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.

"Did what?"

"Don't play innocent." He crossed the room in three strides, and I felt the mate bond twist, corrupted and sick. "That footage. The security breach. You sabotaged us."

"I've been locked in an attic for three days," I said. Kept my voice level. "How exactly would I manage that?"

"You're more cunning than you look." His hand shot out, gripping my arm hard enough to bruise. "But it doesn't matter anymore. I'm done with you. Done with your poison, your bad luck, your pathetic weakness."

The silver burned where his fingers pressed into my skin, but I met his eyes. Saw the fear beneath the anger. He was terrified. His pack was crumbling and he had no idea why.

"The Elders are gathering," he said. "We're making this official. I'm rejecting you. Stripping your title. You'll leave Silverfang territory tonight as an Omega, or you can stay and serve in the kitchens. Your choice."

He released me, stepped back. The mate bond pulsed between us, sick and dying.

"Mya will be Luna by morning," he continued. "She's what this pack needs. Strong. Loyal. Not some wolfless liability who can't even—"

"I'll come to the meeting," I said.

He stopped. Stared at me.

"What?"

"You want to reject me in front of the Elders? Fine." I touched the base of my throat, felt my wolf stir beneath the silver's weight. "I'll be there."

Something flickered in his eyes. Uncertainty, maybe. Or suspicion.

But his pride wouldn't let him back down. Not now.

"Good," he said. "Makes it cleaner. Ten minutes. Main hall."

He turned and left, the door slamming behind him. The lock didn't click this time. He wanted me to come down on my own. Wanted me to walk into my own execution.

I moved to the window one last time. Looked out over the pack grounds, the forest beyond, the road leading away from Silverfang territory.

Then I straightened my shoulders. Let my wolf rise, silver be damned.

Time to show them what a wolfless liability could do.