The needle pierced my skin with a familiar sting. I flinched, but couldn't move—Dante's Alpha command held me frozen in place, my body betraying me once again.

"Stop," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Please, Dante."

His fingers tightened around my scarred left arm as he steadied the needle. The vial beneath my elbow slowly filled with dark red blood—my blood.

"This is the only part of you worth keeping," he said, his voice cold and distant. "Your blood will live forever in 'The Alpha's Empire.'"

I watched the liquid that had once saved his life now being taken to glorify another woman. Three days. Three days before what should have been our Mating Ceremony.

"The portrait needs something special," Dante continued, his eyes fixed on the filling vial. "Amaya deserves to be immortalized properly when she becomes Luna."

My heart thundered in my chest, each beat a painful reminder that I was still alive, still feeling, still hoping despite everything. "You promised," I managed to say as tears blurred my vision. "You promised I would be your Luna."

His laugh was sharp, cutting through me like glass. "A wolfless Omega? The pack would never accept you." He removed the needle, pressing a white cloth against the puncture wound. "But your blood—your blood is still valuable."

I couldn't look away from the vial as he held it up to the light, examining it like a treasure. Ten years ago, I'd given him my wolf's vitality to save him from Wolfsbane poisoning. Now he was taking what little remained of me to celebrate replacing me.

---

The Great Hall buzzed with excitement. Pack members crowded the space, their voices echoing off the high ceilings. I stood at the back, trying to make myself invisible in my plain grey dress.

"Tonight marks a new era for Shadow Ridge," Dante's voice boomed across the hall as he took center stage. The crowd fell silent, all eyes turning to him—and to the stunning woman beside him.

Amaya Gray stood tall in a white ceremonial gown that made my heart stop. I recognized it immediately—the Luna's gown that had been designed for me.

"This beautiful woman," Dante continued, his hand possessively at Amaya's waist, "has agreed to become my Luna and lead our pack alongside me."

Applause erupted. I felt dozens of eyes shift to me, then quickly away—as if my pain was something to be ashamed of, not caused by them.

"Eva," Dante called out suddenly, his voice softening into something almost gentle. "Join us."

My feet moved before I could think, carrying me forward to stand on the lower dais. Amaya's smile widened as she took in my simple grey dress, her eyes gleaming with triumph.

"Eva will serve as our Pack Ward," Dante announced, his words falling like stones into still water. "And she will continue as Pack Healer, providing her... services to those who need it."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Pack Ward—a position so vague it meant nothing. A placeholder for someone who no longer had a place.

"Eva," Dante leaned close as the elders approached to greet Amaya. His breath tickled my ear as he whispered, "You will remain here. You will not leave the territory. And you will be available to me whenever I desire."

I stood frozen as he straightened, his arm sliding around Amaya's shoulders. "She'll be my secret comfort," he added, loud enough for only me to hear. "The one thing no one else can ever replace."

---

Back in my small room in the servants' quarters, I pulled out the bottle I'd hidden beneath my mattress. Wolfsbane suppressants—stolen from the infirmary one pill at a time over months.

My hands trembled as I counted them. Enough to stop my heart. Enough to mask my scent. Enough to make it look like I'd burned alive in that cabin.

A soft knock startled me. The door opened before I could respond, revealing Marcus Chen, the pack Beta.

"I can't do this anymore," he whispered, closing the door behind him. "What he's doing to you—what we're all allowing—it's wrong."

He placed a heavy bag on my bed. Inside was a body—a rogue wolf he'd procured from the morgue.

"The pack will be at the Grand Canyon territories tomorrow night for the pre-gala celebration," Marcus said, his voice tight with guilt. "No one will notice if you're gone."

He handed me a lighter, a fake ID, and a plane ticket to Europe. "This is the only way, Eva. You have to become someone else."

I stared at the items in my hands—my escape, my rebirth, my death.

"Can you do it?" he asked softly. "Can you kill yourself to be free?"

I touched the ticket, thinking of the wolfsbane pills that would stop my heart. "Yes," I whispered. "I think I've been dying for years."

As Marcus turned to leave, I caught his arm. "Thank you," I said, meaning it with every fiber of my being.

He nodded once, his eyes damp. "I should have helped you sooner."

As the door closed behind him, I opened the bottle of pills, staring at the means to my end—and my beginning.

The night of the Gala arrived with a steady rain that matched my tears. I stood in my small room, staring at the rogue's body on my bed—a young female wolf with dark hair like mine. Marcus had been thorough in his selection.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to her, though I wasn't sure why. She was already dead, a victim of pack warfare, now to become my substitute in death.

I changed quickly into the plain grey dress I'd worn to the announcement ceremony, then carefully dressed the corpse in my best clothes—the ones I'd hoped to wear to my own Mating Ceremony. The fabric stretched awkwardly over her frame, but in death, she would burn down to bones and ash. No one would notice the difference.

My fingers trembled as I fastened my mother's silver locket around her neck—the only piece of my family I had left. The moonstone pendant caught the dim light, seeming to pulse with a life of its own.

"It has to be convincing," I murmured, arranging her limbs in a natural position.

The Wolfsbane pills waited in a small vial on my nightstand. I'd counted them carefully—enough to stop my heart temporarily and mask my scent completely, but not enough to kill me permanently. At least, that was the theory.

"Three minutes without oxygen after consumption," I reminded myself, tucking the vial into my pocket. "Just long enough to get away."

I dragged the body to Dante's private cabin while the pack celebrated in the main hall. The rain soaked through my clothes, but I welcomed the cold—it kept me alert, focused on each step of my plan.

The cabin was empty, as I knew it would be. Dante would be at the Gala, showing off Amaya to the neighboring packs. I positioned the body on his bed, arranging it as if I'd been surprised during a nap.

"Forgive me," I whispered again, though I wasn't sure who I was asking forgiveness from.

In the kitchen, I found the gas line easily—Marcus had marked it on the diagram he'd given me. One swift cut with the wire cutters, and the sharp smell of gas filled the air.

I returned to the bedroom, struck a match, and touched it to the curtains. The flame caught quickly, spreading up the fabric to the ceiling.

"Now," I told myself, pulling out the vial.

I swallowed the pills in one gulp, feeling them burn down my throat. Immediately, my heart stuttered, then slowed dramatically. My vision blurred at the edges as I stumbled toward the door.

Behind me, the fire roared to life, consuming everything in its path. I made it to the tree line just as the gas ignited with a deafening explosion. The shockwave knocked me to my knees, but I didn't stop.

"Goodbye, Eva," I whispered as darkness claimed me.

---

I woke to screaming. Not mine—his.

Dante's howl of agony cut through the night as I watched from the shadows of the forest edge. The pack had returned from the Gala to find flames engulfing the Alpha's cabin. Now they stood in a circle, watching as their leader clawed through smoldering debris.

"Find her!" he roared, his Alpha tone making several wolves drop to their knees. "Find Eva!"

But there was nothing to find—at least, not the living version of me.

"Alpha," Marcus's voice was steady as he approached. "The fire's too hot. We can't get closer."

"Get out of my way!" Dante shoved him aside, his hands already blistered from digging through the ashes.

I should have felt something—guilt, perhaps, or satisfaction. Instead, I felt hollow as I watched him discover the charred remains of the rogue wolf wearing my locket.

"Eva," he whispered, dropping to his knees beside the body. The locket had fused to the neck bone in the heat, creating a permanent bond between my past and this anonymous corpse.

The mate bond snapped—or so he thought. The sound was audible even from where I hid, a crack in the air that made every wolf within hearing distance whimper in sympathy.

Dante's howl rose again, this time wordless and primal. Windows shattered in the main house as his grief exploded outward in waves of Alpha power.

"No one touch her!" he snarled when two Delta wolves tried to approach. "No one touch my mate!"

He cradled the blackened remains against his chest, rocking back and forth as rain mingled with his tears.

"Alpha," Marcus tried again, his voice gentle. "You need to let her go."

"She's mine," Dante growled, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Mine!"

I watched Marcus nod to someone behind Dante—the pack healer. A syringe glinted in the firelight as he approached cautiously.

"This will help you rest," Marcus said, plunging the needle into Dante's neck.

Dante's eyes widened, then rolled back as the sedative took hold. His grip on the charred remains loosened just enough for Marcus to pry them away.

As they carried Dante's unconscious form back to the pack house, I slipped away into the darkness, my heart beating steadily again—stronger than it had in years.

Eva Dunn was dead. And I was free.

The rain fell in sheets, soaking through my clothes as I watched from the shadows. One year had passed since I'd burned away Eva Dunn and risen as someone new. One year since I'd watched Dante Ross cradle a stranger's charred remains and howl my name into the night.

The Shadow Ridge Pack was crumbling.

I shouldn't have returned. Shouldn't have risked everything to see what became of the man who broke me. But some wounds never heal, and some bonds—even broken ones—pull you back like gravity.

"What happened to him?" I whispered to myself, watching Dante emerge from the rebuilt cabin.

He was a ghost of the Alpha who once commanded respect with a single glance. His clothes hung loose on his frame, unwashed and torn. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his once-immaculate beard now reached his chest in wild disarray.

"Alpha," a young Delta approached cautiously, clutching a stack of papers. "The northern border reports are ready for your review. Three more rogues were spotted near the river."

Dante didn't acknowledge him. His eyes remained fixed on the cabin door as he stepped inside.

The Delta looked helplessly at Marcus Chen, who merely shook his head. "Leave them on my desk," Marcus said quietly. "I'll handle it."

I followed Dante's path into the cabin—or what I could see of it through the windows. The exterior matched the original structure, but inside had been transformed into something else entirely.

A shrine.

My shrine.

Dozens of canvases covered every wall, each bearing my face—or attempts at it. Some showed my profile, others my eyes, others my hands. None captured me correctly.

"Again!" Dante's voice echoed through the cabin as he slashed another canvas from its frame. "Her eyes weren't like that! They were... they were..."

The artist cowered in the corner, paints scattered at his feet. "I've tried, Alpha. I can't—"

"Get out!" Dante roared, his Alpha tone making the man's knees buckle. "Get out and don't return until you can see her properly!"

I pressed myself against the building as the artist fled past me, trembling.

Inside, Dante sank to his knees amid the ruined portraits. He clutched a charred locket in his palm—my mother's locket that had fused to the rogue's bones in the fire.

"Eva," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Where are you? Why can't I find you?"

A door opened somewhere inside the cabin. Amaya appeared, her figure silhouetted against the hallway light. She wore a silk robe that clung to her curves, her hair artfully tousled.

"Dante," she purred, approaching him with calculated grace. "Let me help you forget, just for tonight."

She reached for him, her fingers trailing down his chest. I expected him to pull away—he always had before—but this time he grabbed her wrist with such force that she gasped.

"You're not her," he snarled, his eyes flashing amber. "You'll never be her."

Amaya's face contorted with rage and humiliation as he released her with a shove. "She's dead!" she hissed. "Dead and gone! What kind of Luna am I when my Alpha mourns a corpse?"

"The only kind that matters," Dante replied coldly. "The kind that stays out of my way."

---

Three years later, sunlight streamed through gauzy curtains, painting golden patterns across silk sheets. I stretched lazily, feeling my wolf stir contentedly within me.

*Lylah,* she whispered in my mind. *Morning.*

*Good morning, Silver,* I replied, reaching out to touch the bond that had once been severed.

The door opened quietly as Kenzo entered, carrying a tray with two steaming cups of coffee. His dark hair was still damp from his morning shower, and his smile—that same smile that had saved me when I was at my lowest—lit up his entire face.

"Bonjour, ma reine," he said, setting the tray on the nightstand. "Coffee for the most beautiful Lycan Queen in all the territories."

I laughed, accepting the cup he offered. "Flatterer."

"Truth-teller," he corrected gently, sitting beside me on the bed. His fingers traced the silver crescent moon pendant at my throat—the one containing a drop of my original wolf's essence.

"The Summit preparations are nearly complete," Kenzo said, his tone shifting to business. "We leave for New York in three days."

My hand stilled on the coffee cup. "New York."

"The Global Alpha Summit," he reminded me. "All packs will be represented."

Including Shadow Ridge.

"Dante will be there," I whispered.

Kenzo's hand covered mine, warm and steady. "You are not Eva anymore," he said firmly. "You are Lylah Rodriguez, Lycan Queen of the Parisian Crescent Pack. Your aura alone will make him bow."

"But—"

"No buts," Kenzo interrupted, his eyes softening. "You've built a new life. You have me, you have Isabella. Your past cannot hurt you unless you let it."

A small sound from the doorway made us both turn. Isabella stood there, her golden eye and silver eye blinking sleepily, her tiny fingers clutching a wooden wolf carving.

"Maman," she called, toddling toward me. "Papa says it's time for breakfast."

I opened my arms as she climbed onto the bed, her giggles filling the room as Kenzo tickled her ribs.

"See?" Kenzo whispered against my hair as we watched our daughter play. "This is your true strength."

As Isabella's laughter echoed through our bedroom, I wondered if Dante would recognize the sound of happiness in the voice of the woman he thought he'd lost forever.