The second formal pack banquet was louder than the first. The dining hall was packed tightly with Silverfang warriors and Briarwood wolves who were still trying to figure out how to blend in. The air was thick with the smell of roasted meat, spilled wine, and the heavy, nervous sweat of a newly conquered pack.

I was on clearing duty. My arms felt like lead. Every step I took sent a dull ache up my calves. My wolf was so quiet tonight, buried deep under the heavy weight of the Wolfbane Fade. My chest just felt hollow and cold. I moved from table to table, keeping my head down, stacking greasy plates and gathering dirty silverware.

I reached the table nearest to the Alpha's dais. A senior Silverfang warrior was sitting there, laughing loudly with his friends. I reached for his empty plate. My fingers were slick with dishwater and grease. As I picked it up, my grip slipped. The edge of the heavy ceramic plate clattered hard against his crystal wine glass, tipping it over. Red wine spilled across the white tablecloth.

He stopped laughing. He turned to me, his eyes flashing a dangerous, bright yellow.

"Clumsy bitch," he snarled. He shoved his chair back so hard it screeched against the stone floor. His large hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. His grip was like a steel vice. "Can't you do one simple thing right, Omega?"

I flinched, trying to pull my arm back. "I'm sorry. I'll clean it up right now."

He didn't let go. His fingers dug deeper into my skin, bruising the bone. "You'll lick it off the table if I tell you to."

Then, the air in the room simply vanished.

"Drop."

It was just one word. It wasn't shouted. It wasn't even loud. But it rolled through the massive dining hall like a physical shockwave.

Winston's Alpha tone.

It hit my chest so hard I gasped, my knees buckling slightly. But the warrior holding me took the full force of it. He released my wrist instantly. His eyes went wide with pure terror, and his knees hit the stone floor with a sickening crack. He bowed his head low, exposing his neck, his massive shoulders shaking uncontrollably under the crushing, suffocating weight of Winston's aura.

The entire hall went dead silent. Nobody breathed. The clinking of forks stopped. The music stopped.

I looked up at the head table. Winston was standing. He looked down at the kneeling warrior with a face carved from ice. He didn't look at me. His eyes were fixed entirely on the man bleeding on the floor.

"You forget yourself, Marcus," Winston said. His voice was completely flat, but it carried to every corner of the room. "You cause a scene in my hall over a spilled glass. You disrupt my pack's dinner with your pathetic lack of control."

"Forgive me, Alpha," the warrior choked out, his face pressed near the stone.

"Control your temper," Winston said coldly. "Or I will control it for you. Return to your seat."

Winston sat back down. He picked up his own glass and took a slow sip. "Clear the table, Omega," he added, waving a hand without ever glancing in my direction.

I grabbed the plate with shaking hands and hurried out the swinging doors to the kitchen. Everyone in that room thought he was just enforcing pack discipline. They thought he was showing his dominance over a rowdy warrior.

But I knew the truth.

When he spoke that word, the scent of dark cedar and rain had spiked violently. It wasn't the scent of an Alpha keeping order. It was the scent of pure, possessive rage. He didn't care about the noise in his hall. He cared that another man had put his hands on me. He just couldn't admit it to his pack, or to himself.

The next morning, Silas caught me in the hallway before the breakfast rush. He handed me a folded slip of paper. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"New assignment," Silas said quietly.

I opened it. *Personal Attendant to the Chosen Mate. Report to the guest suite immediately.*

I stared at the paper. It was his latest punishment. It wasn't enough to make me serve him in the dining hall. I had to serve the woman taking my place. He wanted to rub my face in it. He wanted me to feel the humiliation of dressing his future Luna.

I pressed my fingers to my wrist, took a deep breath, and walked up the grand staircase.

I knocked on the heavy double doors of Talia's suite.

"Come in," a smooth voice called out.

I pushed the door open. The room was bright and luxurious, smelling of expensive floral perfume. Talia was sitting at a large oak vanity, wearing a silk robe. I kept my eyes on the floor, my hands folded perfectly in front of my cheap gray dress.

"I'm here to assist you," I said softly.

She looked at me through the mirror. "The blue dress in the closet, please."

I walked to the massive walk-in closet. The fabrics were soft and expensive. I pulled out the dark blue silk dress and laid it carefully on the edge of the large, unmade bed. Then I went down to the kitchens to fetch her breakfast tray.

When I returned, two visiting Alphas from a neighboring allied pack were sitting in the small lounge area of her suite. Talia was fully dressed, looking flawless and regal. I set the heavy silver tray on the small table between them and stepped back into the corner, pressing my back against the wall.

The men talked about border patrols and trade agreements. Talia poured the tea. She moved with effortless grace, adding exactly the right comments, smiling at exactly the right times. She was everything an Alpha needed. She was perfect.

My chest gave a dull, hollow throb. My wolf didn't even have the strength to whimper anymore. She just curled tighter into the dark.

"Ellie," Talia said.

I blinked, startled to hear my actual name instead of 'Omega'. I stepped forward quickly. "Yes?"

"Could you bring us some more hot water, please?" she asked.

She looked right at me. Her dark eyes were calm. There was no smirk on her lips. No hidden cruelty in her tone. It was just a polite, simple request.

"Right away," I whispered.

When I came back with the water, I stood by the wall again for another hour. Through it all, Talia never snapped at me. She never demanded I stand closer or farther away. Every other wolf in this house used their rank to step on me, eager to please their Alpha by degrading the lowest Omega.

But not her.

After the guests finally left, Talia sat by the large window, looking out over the training grounds.

"You can clear the cups, Ellie," she said softly. "Then take a break. You look pale."

I froze, my hands full of porcelain saucers. I looked at her. Really looked at her. She wasn't looking at me with pity. It was just a quiet, clinical observation.

"Thank you," I murmured.

I walked out of the room holding the tray. My mind was spinning. Winston wanted this to break me. He wanted me to hate her, to feel the burning, ugly jealousy of watching another woman live the life that was supposed to be mine.

But I didn't hate her. She wasn't the enemy. She was just playing a role, the same as I was. It just made everything hurt worse. Because she was perfect for him, and I was dying, and Winston was tearing us both apart for a lie that I was simply too tired to fight anymore.

I was assigned to take the laundry baskets to the wash-house near the eastern tree line. It was a punishing task in the dead of winter, but I preferred it. It got me out of the pack house. It got me away from the heavy, suffocating scent of dark cedar that clung to the walls.

The air outside was biting cold. I set the heavy wicker basket down in the snow to catch my breath. My chest ached with a dull, hollow throb. My wolf was sleeping again, buried so deep under the Wolfbane Fade that I sometimes forgot how to feel her at all.

"Ellie?"

I froze. I knew that voice.

I turned slowly. Standing just a few feet past the territorial border markers was a man. He was tall, his shoulders broad under a thick leather jacket. He carried the confident, grounded stance of a trained warrior. But when he reached into his pocket and held up a small, frayed square of cardboard, I saw the scrawny, starving teenager I used to know.

It was a matchbook from the diner.

"Jamie," I breathed.

I crossed the invisible border line and threw my arms around him. He hugged me back tight, lifting me off my feet for a second. He smelled like pine needles, open roads, and clean air. It was a good scent. A free scent.

"Look at you," I said, stepping back and wiping a stray tear from my cheek. "You're huge. You're a real warrior."

Jamie smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. His gaze swept over my face, taking in my hollow cheeks and the dark circles under my eyes. He looked down at my thin, frayed coat.

"Ellie, you're freezing," he said, his voice thick with worry. He stepped closer, taking a deep breath. His brow furrowed deeply. "And your scent... it's so faint. It's almost gone. What's wrong with you? Are you sick?"

I quickly took a step back, pressing my fingers to my wrist. "I'm just tired, Jamie. Pack life is busy. That's all."

"You're lying," he said bluntly. He never had any of the polite filters pack wolves used. "I've been scouted by three different packs on the East Coast. I came to see you first before I signed with anyone. I wanted to make sure you were okay. Are they treating you right here?"

"I'm fine," I lied. "I'm so proud of you, Jamie. You're going to be a great warrior."

He opened his mouth to argue, but the words never came out.

The air in the clearing simply vanished.

A crushing, terrifying weight slammed into my chest. The temperature seemed to drop twenty degrees in a single second. Jamie gasped, his hands flying to his throat. His knees buckled instantly, hitting the frozen earth with a hard thud. He couldn't even stand. The Alpha aura was so dense it felt like a physical hand pressing us into the dirt.

I knew that heavy, dark scent. It wasn't just cedar and rain anymore. It was sour with pure, unadulterated rage.

He had known exactly where I was. The mind-link. The one he never used to speak to me, but refused to sever. He had been tracking me.

A massive, pitch-black wolf exploded from the tree line.

Winston.

He was enormous, easily two meters at the shoulder, his fur bristling like dark needles. His golden eyes were glowing with a violent, murderous light. He didn't growl. He didn't issue a warning. He just attacked.

He slammed into Jamie like a freight train. The sound of Jamie's body hitting the trunk of a pine tree made me scream. Jamie tried to shift, trying to call on his own wolf to defend himself, but Winston's aura was too suffocating.

Winston's jaws snapped, tearing into Jamie's shoulder. Blood sprayed bright red across the white snow.

"Stop!" I screamed, running forward. "Winston, stop! Please!"

He didn't hear me. He was completely lost to the wolf. He pinned Jamie to the ground, his massive paws crushing the younger boy's chest. Winston's jaws opened wide, aiming straight for Jamie's jugular. He was going to kill him. He was going to rip his throat out right in front of me.

"Alpha!"

Silas burst through the trees, breathing hard. He didn't hesitate. He threw his own body weight forward, shouting through the pack mind-link. "He's submitting! Alpha, look at him! The rogue is submitting!"

Winston froze. His massive teeth were a fraction of an inch from Jamie's bleeding neck. Jamie was completely still, his hands open, his neck bared in total surrender.

A low, rumbling growl shook the ground beneath my feet. Winston's chest heaved. Then came the sickening crack of breaking bone as he forced the shift.

He stood up. He was completely naked, his broad chest heaving, his mouth and hands smeared with Jamie's blood. He didn't look at Silas. He didn't look at the boy bleeding in the snow.

His golden eyes locked onto mine.

He didn't say a single word. He closed the distance between us in three long strides and grabbed my upper arm. His fingers dug into my flesh like iron clamps.

"You're hurting me," I gasped, stumbling as he yanked me forward.

He ignored me. He dragged me through the snow, past the wash-house, and straight toward the pack house. I had to run to keep up with his long, furious strides. The few pack members we passed in the halls plastered themselves against the walls, lowering their eyes, terrified of the blood on their Alpha's skin and the lethal tension rolling off him.

He dragged me all the way to the servants' wing. He shoved me into my room—the warm room right above the boiler. I hit the floor hard, scraping my palms against the wood.

Before I could even turn around, the heavy door slammed shut.

The deadbolt clicked into place.

I scrambled to my feet and hit the wood with my fists. "Winston! Let me out! He's just a boy! We fed him at the diner! Winston!"

There was no answer.

Then, I heard Silas's voice in the hallway outside. He sounded breathless, cautious. "Alpha... what did the rogue do to warrant that kind of force?"

The silence that followed was suffocating. It was heavy, violent, and completely unhinged. Even through the thick oak door, Winston's unspoken fury made the hair on my arms stand up. He couldn't answer Silas. He couldn't say the truth—that he had nearly killed a boy just for touching me.

Silas cleared his throat, his voice dropping an octave. "I'll have him escorted off the territory immediately. He won't come back."

Heavy footsteps walked away.

I slid down the door until I was sitting on the floor. I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs. I was shaking violently. The room was warm, but I felt like I was freezing to death from the inside out.

Deep in my chest, a tiny spark flickered. My wolf stirred. She was so weak now, just a fragile, dying ember in the dark. The terror and the overwhelming scent of Winston's bloodlust had drained whatever strength she had left.

*Winston,* she whispered in the dark of my mind.

It was just his name. Over and over. A desperate, pathetic plea to a mate who had locked us in a cage.

*Winston.*

I closed my eyes and pressed my hands over my ears, but I couldn't block her out. I sat there on the floor, listening to my wolf call for the man who was killing us, her voice growing fainter and fainter with every passing second.