The truck jerked to a halt, sending a jolt of pain through my injured leg. I gripped the metal floor, refusing to cry out as Maverick cut the engine. Through the rear window, I watched him step out, his movements fluid and predatory. The Beta followed, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the area.

"Get out," Maverick commanded, yanking open the truck's rear door. "We're here."

I eased myself down from the truck bed, my leg buckling as soon as my feet touched the ground. The rocky terrain offered no mercy to my damaged limb. Three years of silver poisoning had left its mark—a permanent weakness that even my wolf couldn't heal.

"Can't even stand properly," Maverick muttered, but he didn't offer help.

The Beta—whose name I'd never learned—kept his distance, watching our interaction with careful neutrality.

"Where are we?" I asked, though I already knew. The desolate outcrop of rocks marked the eastern boundary of pack territory—a place where rogues sometimes gathered.

"The scene of your crime," Maverick replied, his voice cold as winter frost. "Three years ago, you brought Viviana's sister here and abused her. A defenseless Omega pup."

I stared at the barren ground, remembering Viviana's accusations. How she'd described this place with such certainty—the rocks, the twisted tree, the exact spot where she claimed I'd hurt her sister.

"There was no crime," I said quietly.

Maverick's eyes flashed dangerously. "You will kneel and apologize to this place, to the memory of what you did. It's the least you can do before I exile you permanently."

"I won't apologize for something I didn't do."

His jaw tightened. "You've grown defiant in the dungeon."

"I've grown honest."

Something dangerous flickered in his eyes. "Kneel."

When I didn't move, he stepped closer, his Alpha aura pressing down on me like a physical weight.

"KNEEL!" he roared, using his Alpha command tone.

The force of it hit me like a physical blow. My knees buckled instantly, the compulsion too powerful to resist. I fell hard onto the rocky ground, pain shooting through my bad leg as it twisted beneath me.

"Apologize," he demanded, towering over me.

I looked up at him, meeting his gaze with what little defiance I had left. "I'm sorry you were too blind to see the truth."

His hand clenched at his side, but before he could respond, the Beta spoke up.

"Alpha, may I interrupt?"

Maverick's attention shifted reluctantly. "What is it?"

The Beta had been walking the perimeter, his eyes scanning the ground and trees. Now he stood beside a charred stump, his expression troubled.

"This area..." he began cautiously. "These marks on the trees—they're from claws. Deep claw marks."

"So?" Maverick snapped.

"So they're consistent with our records of a rogue attack three years ago." The Beta's voice dropped lower. "A documented battle. We lost two pack warriors that day."

Maverick froze, his eyes darting between me and the Beta.

"That's impossible," he said, but uncertainty had crept into his voice.

"The security logs show this area was a known rogue campsite that day," the Beta continued. "They'd been using it for months. It would have been suicide for anyone—especially a Luna with no guard—to bring a pup here alone."

I watched understanding dawn in Maverick's eyes, followed quickly by confusion. He looked at me—really looked at me—for the first time since pulling me from the dungeon.

"If she'd been here that day," the Beta added quietly, "she would have been killed."

Maverick's gaze returned to the charred earth, the claw-marked trees. Something shifted in his expression—not quite remorse, but doubt.

"You're saying..."

"I'm saying the timeline doesn't match," the Beta replied. "Either Viviana was mistaken about the date, or..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.

Maverick turned back to me, expectation in his eyes—as if waiting for me to react, to show guilt or relief or something human.

I gave him nothing but a hollow stare.

"Get up," he said finally.

I struggled to my feet, ignoring the pain that shot through my leg.

"We're going back," he announced, his voice suddenly businesslike.

"You're not exiling me?" I asked.

"Not until we verify the security logs." His eyes met mine, something unreadable in their depths. "If there's been a mistake..."

He didn't finish that sentence either. Instead, he turned toward the truck, leaving me to follow as best I could.

As I limped after him, I felt something shift inside me—not hope, but a cold calculation. For three years, I'd survived by believing I would never see freedom again. Now, with doubt creeping into Maverick's eyes, I realized something else might be possible.

Not forgiveness. Never that.

But perhaps... justice.

The guard shoved me into a guest room on the third floor of the pack house. Not the dungeon—a small mercy that meant nothing.

"Stay here," he ordered, locking the door from the outside. "Alpha's orders."

I heard his footsteps fade down the hallway. Alone for the first time since returning to the pack house, I took in my surroundings: a simple bed with a thin mattress, a small window overlooking the forest, a chair, a desk. Nothing like the Luna suite I once shared with Maverick.

The silence was almost unbearable after three years of dungeon noise. I limped to the bed, my leg throbbing with each step. The silver poisoning had spread deeper than I'd realized.

"Just a little longer," I whispered to myself, though I wasn't sure what I was waiting for.

I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to gather my strength. But as soon as I relaxed, a wave of dizziness hit me. My vision blurred, darkness creeping in from the edges.

"No," I gasped, trying to stand. "Not now."

My legs buckled beneath me. I collapsed onto the cold floor, my body convulsing uncontrollably. Fire seemed to race through my veins, burning me from the inside out.

The silver. It had been in my system too long.

I tried to call for help, but my voice failed me. My teeth chattered as my temperature spiked, my skin burning to the touch. The room spun around me as I curled into myself, trying to stop the shaking.

Through the haze of pain, I heard the door burst open.

"What the hell?" The guard's voice seemed distant, underwater.

"Get the Alpha!" Someone shouted. "Now!"

Footsteps pounded down the hall. Then Maverick was there, his scent cutting through the fog in my mind. He knelt beside me, his hand touching my forehead.

"Her skin is burning," he said, his voice tight with something that might have been concern. "And there's a metallic smell..."

"Silver poisoning," a voice said—the Beta, I thought. "From the shackles."

Maverick's growl filled the room. "Get Marcus Thompson here. Now."

Strong arms lifted me onto the bed. I tried to open my eyes, but they felt weighted down. Through my lashes, I saw Maverick pacing the room, his movements agitated.

"Where is he?" he demanded when the door opened again.

The healer approached cautiously, medical bag in hand. "Alpha, I—"

"Fix her," Maverick ordered.

Marcus hesitated, then reached for a syringe in his bag. "This will help with the pain..."

Something in his scent must have triggered Maverick's suspicion. He suddenly grabbed Marcus's wrist, sniffing the air.

"That doesn't smell right," he said, his voice dangerously low. "What exactly are you giving her?"

"Sedative," Marcus replied, but his heartbeat quickened. "Standard procedure for pain management."

"Your heart just raced," Maverick observed coldly. "And that smells nothing like a standard sedative."

I watched through half-closed eyes as Maverick pulled out his phone. "Get me Healer Collins from the Silver Creek Pack. Now."

Marcus paled. "Alpha, that's not necessary—"

"Wasn't necessary to treat her silver poisoning three years ago either, was it?" Maverick's eyes flashed with his wolf. "What did Viviana pay you to ignore it?"

The healer's shoulders slumped. "You don't understand—"

"I understand perfectly," Maverick cut him off. "You betrayed your oath as a healer."

Under the pressure of Maverick's glare, Marcus crumbled. "She said it would only be for a few months," he whispered. "Just until you... until you chose her instead."

"And the reports about her terminal illness?" Maverick's voice was deadly quiet.

Marcus couldn't meet his eyes. "Fabricated. All of it."

The door burst open again, and Viviana swept in, her rose perfume choking the room.

"Oh my poor dear," she cooed, moving toward me with practiced concern. "What happened?"

She reached for my hand, but Maverick stepped between us.

"Don't touch her," he said, his voice cold.

Viviana's mask slipped for just a moment before she recovered. "I'm just trying to help. Perhaps... perhaps it's her time to go."

"Go where?" Maverick asked sharply.

"To peace," Viviana said softly. "End her suffering."

I saw Maverick's nostrils flare as he scented the air. His eyes narrowed, studying Viviana's face.

"Her heartbeat is steady," he said slowly. "No distress. No genuine concern."

Viviana's smile faltered. "Of course I'm concerned—"

"You're not," Maverick interrupted. "And that smell... it's not just perfume."

He stepped closer to her, inhaling deeply. "It's lies."

Viviana's eyes widened as Maverick physically blocked her from my bedside, his massive frame a wall between us.

"Leave," he ordered. "Now."

As she retreated, her mask of concern slipping away completely, I felt darkness claim me once more. But not before I saw something in Maverick's eyes I hadn't seen in three years.

Doubt.