I drifted in and out of consciousness, fragments of memory slicing through the darkness. The rejection. The blood. Julian's cold eyes as he chose Tiffany over me.

When I finally opened my eyes fully, the sterile white ceiling above me was unfamiliar. This wasn't my room in the Alpha's wing. The bed beneath me was narrow and stiff, the blanket rough against my skin.

*Where are we?* my wolf whimpered, her voice faint from the trauma of rejection.

I tried to sit up, but pain shot through my chest. Looking around, I realized I was in the servants' quarters of the pack infirmary—a far cry from the private room I'd expected.

"Look who's awake," came a sugary voice from the doorway.

Tiffany glided in, her silk robe flowing around her like water. She looked healthier than ever, her cheeks flushed with vitality that seemed stolen from me.

"You're in the Omega section," she said, her voice dripping with false concern. "The pack healer thought it best, given your... condition."

"My condition?" I managed to whisper.

She smiled, closing the door behind her. The moment we were alone, her expression changed—the sweetness melting away to reveal something cold and calculating.

"Oh, Elena," she sighed, perching on the edge of my bed. "You really didn't think it would be that easy, did you? That you could just waltz in and claim my Julian?"

"Your Julian?" My voice cracked. "He's my mate."

Tiffany laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "Was your mate. Past tense." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You're nothing but an obstacle now. A pathetic little Omega who can't accept reality."

"He'll realize his mistake," I said, though doubt gnawed at me.

"Will he?" Tiffany's smile widened. "I've convinced the pack that your obsession with Julian is a mental illness. That your mate-scent is a trick of witchcraft." She stroked my hair, her touch making my skin crawl. "No one believes you. No one will ever believe you."

---

Weeks passed in a blur of isolation. The pack avoided me, their eyes sliding past as if I were invisible. Noelle was my only visitor, but even she seemed nervous, glancing over her shoulder constantly.

Tonight was the mating celebration—Julian and Tiffany's official announcement to the surrounding packs. I'd been ordered to attend, though my role would be serving drinks rather than being honored.

I stood in the corner of the grand ballroom, watching pack members dance and laugh. The mansion gleamed with silver decorations and moonstone lights, everything perfect for the perfect couple.

"Elena!" Tiffany's voice cut through the music. She approached with two glasses of punch, her smile dazzling. "I brought you something."

Every instinct screamed danger, but refusing would only make things worse. I took the glass, noticing a faint green tinge to the liquid.

"A peace offering," she said loudly enough for nearby wolves to hear. "We're all pack, after all."

I sipped cautiously. The liquid tasted bitter, with an underlying sweetness that couldn't quite mask it.

"Drink up," Tiffany urged, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "It's a special blend."

Within minutes, warmth spread through my body. Then my skin began to itch, and a strange sensation bloomed in my chest—like something rotting from within.

"What did you—" I started, but stopped as a warrior nearby inhaled sharply, his eyes widening.

"Rogue!" he snarled, his voice carrying across the room.

Suddenly, every wolf in the vicinity was staring at me, nostrils flaring. I could smell it too—my sweet floral scent had turned sour, putrid. Like death.

"Run," Tiffany whispered, her eyes wide with mock fear. "They'll tear you apart."

I stumbled backward as warriors began shifting, bones cracking and reforming as they took their wolf forms. Growls filled the air as they hunted me through the mansion corridors.

I ran blindly, my damaged leg protesting with each step. The scent-masking herb made me a target—to them, I was an enemy infiltrator.

I burst into the ballroom, desperate for escape, only to find myself cornered by a circle of snarling wolves.

"Please," I begged, backing against the wall. "It's a mistake—"

A massive black wolf lunged forward, teeth bared. At the last moment, another wolf intercepted—sleek and silver, with eyes like ice.

Julian.

He shifted back to human form, his hand closing around my throat as he lifted me against the wall.

"What have you done?" he growled, his face inches from mine. "What filth have you brought into my home?"

"Julian, please," I gasped. "It was Tiffany—"

"Enough!" His grip tightened. "Your obsession ends now."

He turned to address the gathered pack, still holding me by the throat. "This Omega has proven herself unstable and dangerous to our safety."

The room fell silent as he continued, his voice carrying to every corner. "She will be confined to the servants' quarters until further notice."

Shame burned hotter than fear as he released me, letting me crumple to the floor. Through tear-blurred vision, I saw Tiffany standing behind him, her hand possessively on his arm—and the satisfaction in her eyes as she watched my humiliation.

The morning sun filtered through the trees as I stood at the edge of the forest, my bare feet already bruised from yesterday's punishment. Julian had ordered a pack run—a brutal display of dominance disguised as discipline.

"Since you disrupted the mating celebration," Julian announced to the gathered pack members, his voice carrying that unmistakable Alpha command, "you will run with us today."

My heart sank. A pack run was sacred—a time when wolves shifted and celebrated their bond with nature. But Julian's eyes held no mercy.

"In human form," he added, his gaze boring into mine. "Barefoot."

Tiffany stepped forward, her wolf form sleek and white beside Julian's massive black one. "Don't worry, Elena," she purred, her voice dripping with false concern. "We'll go slow... at first."

I removed my shoes as the pack began to shift around me. Bones cracked and reformed as human bodies gave way to wolves—beautiful, powerful creatures that moved with grace I could only dream of. My wolf whimpered inside me, longing to join them.

*Stay strong,* she whispered. *We'll survive this.*

The run began slowly, almost leisurely. I kept pace with the pack, my feet burning against the forest floor. Sharp rocks and branches cut into my skin, but I refused to cry out.

"Look at her," I heard a she-wolf snicker as she passed me. "The rejected mate, crawling like a human."

Julian's eyes flashed at me from his wolf form—cold, distant. Not a trace of the brother who had once protected me remained.

As we deeper into the forest, the pace quickened. My lungs burned, my legs trembled, but I pushed forward. The rejected bond made every step agony—like running with glass in my veins.

"Faster!" Julian commanded, his Alpha tone hitting me like a physical blow.

I stumbled, my damaged leg protesting the strain. The pack pulled ahead, leaving me behind in a cloud of dust and mockery.

"She can't even keep up with humans," someone called back. "Pathetic Omega."

Then I felt it—a presence at my side. Tiffany, her white fur gleaming in the dappled sunlight, nudged me toward a side path.

"This way," she urged, her voice innocent. "There's a shortcut."

My wolf growled a warning. *Don't trust her.*

But exhaustion clouded my judgment. I followed, desperate to catch up with the pack.

The path narrowed, winding through denser trees. Tiffany stayed close, occasionally nipping at my heels—playful at first, then with increasing aggression.

"Stop it," I gasped, stumbling forward.

"Make me," she growled, her eyes glittering with malice.

I turned to face her, but as I did, my foot sank into something hidden beneath fallen leaves. There was a sickening click, and then—

Pain. Blinding, white-hot pain exploded in my right leg as steel jaws clamped around my calf, severing muscle and tendon in one brutal bite.

My scream tore through the forest, echoing among the trees. I collapsed, the world spinning around me as blood poured from the wound.

Tiffany howled—not in alarm, but in triumph. The sound masked my cries as I writhed on the ground.

Footsteps approached rapidly. Julian appeared in human form, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the scene.

"What happened?" he demanded.

Tiffany shifted back to human form, tears streaming down her face. "She attacked me," she sobbed. "When I defended myself, she stumbled backward and... Julian, it was an accident!"

I tried to speak, but the pain overwhelmed me. "Trap..." I managed to gasp.

Julian knelt beside me, his fingers probing the wound with clinical detachment. "Clumsy," he said coldly. "You're lucky it wasn't your throat."

Dr. Evelyn Hayes appeared behind him, medical bag in hand. Her eyes widened at the sight of my mangled leg.

"Alpha, she needs immediate treatment," she said urgently. "The hamstring is severed. Without Alpha blood or healing salve—"

"No special treatment," Julian cut her off. "Just stitch it up."

"Julian, please," I begged, tears streaming down my face. "I can't—"

"You can and you will," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Perhaps this will teach you to be more careful where you step."

Tiffany leaned down, her lips brushing my ear. "This is just the beginning," she whispered. "By the time I'm done, you'll wish you'd never been born."

As Dr. Hayes reluctantly began stitching my wound without the benefit of healing magic, I stared up at the sky through a haze of pain. My wolf howled in anguish inside me, mourning not just our physical pain, but the death of any hope that Julian would remember what we once meant to each other.

The Omega quarters were cold and dim, a far cry from the warmth of the Alpha's wing where I'd grown up. I lay on the narrow bed, my mangled leg throbbing with each heartbeat. Fever burned through me, making the room swim in and out of focus.

"Water," I whispered, my throat raw and parched.

The door creaked open, and a slender figure slipped inside. Noelle's familiar scent—lavender and sunshine—cut through the musty air.

"Shh," she said, closing the door quietly behind her. "I stole these from the kitchen."

She pressed a cool glass against my lips, and I drank greedily. Then she pulled out a small bottle from her pocket.

"Pain relievers," she explained, helping me sit up. "Dr. Hayes gave them to me for my headaches. I saved them for you."

The pills were bitter on my tongue, but the relief they promised was worth any taste.

"Thank you," I managed, clutching her hand. "You're the only one who still cares."

Noelle's eyes filled with tears. "I'd do anything for you, Elena. You're all I have left."

She brushed my damp hair from my forehead, her fingers gentle. "Let me braid your hair. It always makes you feel better."

I nodded weakly, and she worked methodically, weaving my tangled strands into a familiar pattern. The rhythmic motion soothed me, reminding me of happier times.

"When you get better," Noelle said softly, "we'll run away together. Just you and me. We'll find a new pack, one that doesn't care about status or bloodlines."

"Run away?" The idea seemed impossible, yet hope flickered in my chest.

"Yes." Her voice grew stronger. "I've been saving money. Not much, but enough to get us started somewhere new. Once your leg heals—"

"If it heals," I interrupted bitterly.

"It will," she insisted, tying off the braid with a ribbon she'd hidden in her sleeve. "You're stronger than they know, Elena. Stronger than anyone knows."

For that moment, wrapped in Noelle's arms with her dreams of escape, I believed her.

---

A week passed in a haze of pain and fever. My leg showed no signs of healing properly—the wound was clean but remained angry and red. I'd begun to accept that I might never run again when the alarm bells rang.

Noelle had collapsed in the dining hall.

The news reached me through whispers—foam at the mouth, convulsions, skin turning ashen. I threw off my blankets despite the stabbing pain in my leg and dragged myself to the floor.

"Please," I begged a passing Delta, "help me to the infirmary."

The warrior looked reluctant but couldn't refuse a direct plea. He half-carried me through the corridors, my weight leaning heavily on my good leg.

The infirmary was chaos when we arrived. Pack members crowded the doorway, their faces masks of horror and curiosity. Through their legs, I glimpsed Noelle on a bed, her small body convulsing violently.

"Let me through!" I screamed, pushing forward.

Dr. Hayes met me at the entrance, her face grim. "Elena, you shouldn't be here—"

"Where's Noelle?" I demanded, trying to push past her.

"In the back room," she said, blocking my path. "We're doing everything we can."

A familiar scent cut through the antiseptic smell—pine and wintergreen, tinged with something acrid. Tiffany stood in the corner, tears streaming down her perfect face.

"She was eating berries from the forest edge," Tiffany sobbed. "I tried to stop her, but she said they looked so pretty..."

As she spoke, I caught it—the faint scent of wolfsbane clinging to her fingertips.

"Noelle wouldn't eat wild berries," I said, my voice shaking. "She knows better."

Tiffany's eyes met mine, and for a split second, her mask slipped. Behind the tears lurked satisfaction.

"Dr. Hayes," she said, turning away from me, "is there anything more we can do?"

The doctor's face tightened. "We need to transfer her to a human hospital for dialysis. The toxins are spreading too quickly."

"Then do it!" I cried. "Take her now!"

"There are forms," Dr. Hayes explained, her voice heavy with implication. "Authorizations. Insurance information."

Tiffany stepped forward, a clipboard in her hand. "I've already filled out most of it," she said, her voice breaking convincingly. "Just needs her guardian's signature."

"Elena," Dr. Hayes said gently, "as Noelle's closest relative—"

"I'll sign anything," I interrupted, tears blurring my vision. "Just save her."

Tiffany thrust the clipboard toward me, pointing to a line at the bottom of a densely worded document. "Here," she said, pressing a pen into my hand.

I scanned the page, but the words swam before my eyes. Legal terminology, medical jargon—all I could see was Noelle's pale face as she convulsed.

"What exactly am I signing?" I asked, my hand trembling.

"Just the transfer authorization," Tiffany said quickly. "And acknowledgment that you understand the risks."

Something in her tone made my wolf stir uneasily, but Noelle's life hung in the balance. I signed my name with a shaking hand.

Only later would I discover what I'd really signed—not a transfer authorization, but a "Do Not Resuscitate" order and a confession that I had administered the wolfsbane as a mercy killing.

As Tiffany took back the clipboard, her fingers brushed mine. For just a moment, I felt the rough edge of a different document beneath the medical form.

"Thank you, Elena," she whispered, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "You've been so helpful."