The Silver Cage wasn't just a prison; it was a tomb designed for the living. The bars were coated in pure silver, singing a song of agony that vibrated against my skin, suppressing my wolf until she was nothing but a faint, whimpering shadow in the back of my mind.

For two weeks, I rotted in the damp darkness. The interrogations were a blur of shouting and accusations, but the silence between them was worse. It gave me time to think. Time to remember the look in Nicholas’s eyes when he commanded me to destroy my own life.

On the fourteenth night, the heavy iron door creaked open. I didn't look up from the dirty straw mattress. I expected the guards with their buckets of cold water. Instead, the clacking of high heels echoed against the stone floor.

“You look terrible, Ollie,” a voice cooed. “Like a rat caught in a trap.”

I lifted my head. Jessica stood on the other side of the silver bars, pristine in a white cashmere coat that cost more than the annual budget for the pack orphanage. She held a small glass vial in her gloved hand, swirling the purple liquid inside.

“What do you want, Jessica?” My voice was a rasp, my throat raw from screaming.

“Just checking on my big sister,” she smiled, a cruel twisting of lips that looked so much like mine. “And to deliver your medicine.”

She uncorked the vial. The acrid scent of wolfsbane hit me instantly, making my stomach heave. Before I could scramble back, she flicked her wrist, splashing the liquid through the bars. It landed on my bare arm, right over a healing cut from the guards.

I screamed.

It felt like acid. Smoke rose from my flesh as the poison ate into the wound, turning the blood black.

“Oops,” Jessica giggled, watching me writhe on the floor. “You were never meant to be Luna, Olive. You’re weak. And now, you’re nothing.”

Inside me, my wolf let out one final, agonized howl before fading into a terrifying silence. The wolfsbane was doing its job. It was severing my connection to her, forcing her into a coma from which she might never wake.

***

The next morning, the guards dragged me out. I couldn't walk; the poison had settled in my joints, making every movement agony. They hauled me into the daylight of the courtyard, throwing me to the gravel at Nicholas’s feet.

He refused to look at me. He stared at the horizon, his jaw set in a hard line. Beta Marcus stood beside him, looking between me and the Alpha with open conflict on his face.

“Alpha,” Marcus said, his voice low. “This… this is too much. She confessed, yes, but to execute a Luna? The pack is uneasy. The omens are bad.”

“She is not Luna,” Nicholas said. His voice was devoid of warmth, stripped of the bond that used to hum between us. “She is a traitor.”

“Then imprisonment,” Marcus argued. “Life in the tower. But exile? In her condition? It’s a death sentence anyway.”

Nicholas finally looked down. For a split second, I saw a flicker of pain in his hazel eyes, a crack in the Alpha mask. He knew I was innocent. He knew he was sending his mate to die to protect the woman who had actually betrayed us.

But the weakness vanished as quickly as it appeared.

“My decision stands,” Nicholas declared, his voice booming across the courtyard so the gathered wolves could hear. “Olive Bennett is stripped of all rank and title. She is hereby exiled from the Blood Moon Pack. If she is found on our lands after sunset, she will be hunted down like any other Rogue.”

He turned his back on me. “Get her out of my sight.”

***

The drive to the border was silent. The guards, men I had once cooked for, men whose children I had held, wouldn't meet my eyes. They stopped the jeep at the edge of the territory, where the dense forest gave way to the jagged cliffs of the Raging River.

“Get out,” the head guard grunted.

I stumbled out of the car, my legs shaking. The rain had started, a cold drizzle that soaked through my tattered dress. I watched the taillights of the jeep fade into the mist, leaving me alone in the grey twilight.

I was a Rogue. Nameless. Packless. Mate-less.

I took a step toward the shelter of the trees, shivering. I needed to find cover before nightfall. But as I reached the tree line, a twig snapped.

I froze. My wolf was dormant, unable to warn me, but my human instincts screamed danger.

Five wolves emerged from the shadows. They weren't patrol wolves. They were mangy, scarred, their eyes yellow with madness. Rogues. But they didn't look surprised to see me. They looked… expectant.

“Well, well,” the largest one sneered, shifting back into human form. He was a hulking man with rotting teeth. “The little Luna. Right on time.”

I backed away, my boots slipping on the wet mud. “I have nothing of value. Take my coat, take whatever you want.”

The man laughed, pulling a jagged knife from his belt. “We don’t want your coat, sweetheart. The pretty blonde one paid us upfront. Said she wanted to make sure you didn't survive the night.”

Jessica.

Adrenaline flooded my system, momentarily dulling the pain of the wolfsbane. I turned and ran.

I sprinted toward the cliffs, my breath tearing at my lungs. Behind me, the sound of paws hitting the earth thundered closer. I could hear their snaps and snarls, the wet sound of jaws anticipating flesh.

I burst through the brush and skidded to a halt.

The world ended here.

Before me was a sheer drop, hundreds of feet down to the churning, white-capped water of the Raging River. Behind me, the Rogues burst from the trees, circling me, cutting off any escape.

I was trapped between a watery grave and a violent death. I looked at the leader, who was licking his lips, and then at the abyss below.

If I was going to die, it would be on my own terms.

The mud was slick under my boots, sending me sliding toward the precipice. Behind me, the growls of the Rogues grew louder, a chorus of hunger and violence that vibrated in my chest. Below, the river roared, a churning maw of white foam and black water smashing against the jagged rocks.

I was trapped.

“Nowhere left to run, little Luna,” the leader sneered, his human form shifting, bones cracking and reshaping into a massive, grey wolf.

Panic clawed at my throat, but beneath it lay a desperate, foolish hope. Nicholas was my mate. Even now, even after the betrayal, the exile, and the poison coursing through my veins, the bond still existed. A mate could not ignore the cry of a dying soul. It was primal. It was absolute.

I closed my eyes and screamed into the mental void.

*Nicholas! Please! They’re going to kill me! Help me!*

The connection opened for a split second. I didn't feel concern or fear from his end. Instead, I was hit with a wave of heat and the sickeningly sweet scent of vanilla. Through the link, I heard a soft giggle, followed by the low, rumbling purr of my husband.

*“Nick, stop, you’re tickling me,”* Jessica’s voice echoed in my mind, clear as crystal.

*“Shh,”* Nicholas murmured, his voice thick with lust. *“Let me mark what is mine.”*

My plea hit him then. I felt him stiffen. For a heartbeat, I thought he would roar in anger, that he would come for me. Instead, a wall of pure ice slammed down.

*“Get out of my head, Olive,”* he snarled, his mental voice dripping with disgust. *“Do not interrupt me again.”*

**SNAP.**

The link went dead. He didn't just ignore me; he blocked me. He severed the emergency line to his mate to continue courting my sister.

The pain was worse than the wolfsbane burning in my blood. It was a physical blow that buckled my knees. My soul shattered. The last tether keeping me to this life, to the hope that I was worth something, dissolved into mist.

The Rogue leader lunged.

I didn't think. I just reacted. With a scream that tore my throat raw, I forced the shift. My bones broke and realigned, agony spiking through my poisoned body. My wolf was weak, emaciated, her fur dull and patchy, but she was still a wolf.

As the Rogue’s jaws snapped at where my neck had been a second before, I pushed off the muddy bank.

I soared into the empty air.

For a moment, I was weightless, suspended in the grey rain. Then, gravity took hold. The wind rushed past my ears, silencing the Rogues' howls. I hit the water with the force of a car crash.

Cold. crushing, suffocating cold.

The current seized me instantly, dragging me under. I tumbled over rocks, feeling ribs crack, air squeezed from my lungs. Darkness swarmed the edges of my vision. I didn't fight it. Why would I? My mate wanted me dead. My pack wanted me gone.

I let the river take me.

***

Pain was the first thing to return. A dull, throbbing ache that pulsed in time with a slow heartbeat.

I wasn't dead.

I tried to move, but my limbs felt like lead. I was lying on something wet and gritty. Mud. The smell of industrial oil and stale river water filled my nose, mixed with the faint scent of… croissants? It was strange, foreign.

I whimpered, the sound barely audible. I was still in my wolf form, though I felt small, broken.

“*Attendez!* Over here!” A voice shouted. It wasn't the rough growl of a Rogue. It was sharp, authoritative.

Footsteps squelched in the mud. Heavy boots. I cracked one eye open. The world was blurry, grey and muted. A figure loomed over me, dressed in a dark uniform with a crest I didn't recognize—a silver fleur-de-lis entangled with a wolf’s head.

“It is a wolf,” the man said, switching to English with a thick accent. He crouched, his hand hovering over his weapon. “A Rogue. She washed up from the river.”

“Is it alive?” another voice asked.

“Barely. Look at the scarring. And the smell… wolfsbane.” The first man, the Captain, wrinkled his nose. “Protocol says we execute unauthorized border crossers. Especially Rogues.”

He drew his sidearm. The metallic click of the safety being disengaged echoed loudly in the quiet morning.

I closed my eye. *Do it,* I thought. *End it.*

But the shot never came.

A low, vibrating power suddenly washed over the riverbank. It was immense, heavier than any Alpha aura I had ever felt. It tasted like ozone and ancient earth, terrifying yet strangely… warm.

“Stand down, Captain.”

The voice was deep, smooth like velvet wrapped around steel. It commanded instant obedience.

“Your Highness,” the Captain stammered, the sound of boots shuffling and heels clicking together following immediately. “We found a stray. We were just handling the disposal.”

“Disposal?” The deep voice moved closer.

I felt a presence kneel beside me. Unlike Nicholas’s aura, which had always felt like a weight crushing me down, this power felt like a shield. It wrapped around my shivering form, pushing back the cold.

A large, warm hand touched my matted fur.

Electricity—pure, golden sparks—shot through me at the contact. My wolf, who had been comatose since the poison, stirred feebly in the back of my mind.

*Safe,* she whispered. *Mate?*

“Look at her eyes, Ryder,” the man murmured. His voice was laced with a sudden, fierce intensity that made the air crackle. “This is no ordinary Rogue.”

He scooped his arms under me. I was filthy, covered in river slime and blood, yet he lifted me against his chest as if I were made of porcelain.

“Sir? The dungeon?” the Captain asked uncertainly.

“No,” the man growled, the sound vibrating through his chest and into my broken ribs. “Take her to my estate. Prepare the healers. If she dies, Ryder, you answer to me.”

I let my head fall against his shoulder, the scent of cedar and rain filling my lungs, drowning out the memory of vanilla. For the first time in five years, the darkness didn't feel lonely.