The heat from the locket against my skin intensified until it burned like molten metal. I gasped, tearing it from my neck and watching in astonishment as it glowed with an otherworldly light.

"What is happening?" I whispered, my voice shaking.

And then, a voice filled my mind—deep, powerful, and commanding.

"Nola? My daughter?"

I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Who's there?"

"It's Father," the voice boomed, making me wince. "Noah Simpson."

Noah Simpson. The name hit me like a physical blow. Everyone in the werewolf world knew that name—the Alpha King who ruled the most powerful pack alliance in the Pacific Northwest.

"No," I breathed. "That's not possible. I'm an orphan."

A bitter laugh echoed through my mind. "Is that what they told you? That you were abandoned?"

Something cold and terrible settled in my stomach. "You're... my father?"

"I am," he confirmed, his mental voice vibrating with barely contained rage. "And I can feel your pain, daughter. I can sense the broken bond."

I pressed my hand to my chest, where the rejection still burned like acid. "How?"

"I've been watching over you," he explained, his voice softening slightly. "Waiting for the right moment to reveal your true heritage."

"My true..." I trailed off as understanding dawned. "I'm not an Omega, am I?"

"No," he growled. "You are a Lycan Princess."

The words echoed in my mind as golden light pulsed behind my eyes. My wolf stirred within me, no longer dormant.

"They rejected you," Noah continued, his fury building. "They dared to reject my daughter?"

"I want to leave," I whispered, suddenly desperate to escape. "Please, help me get out of here."

"Leave?" Noah's mental voice turned icy. "I will burn the Silvermoon Pack to the ground for what they've done to you."

"No!" I cried, though part of me thrilled at the idea of revenge. "I just want to go. I'm not strong enough..."

My voice broke as another wave of pain washed over me. The rejection was still tearing me apart from within.

"Then call for me," he commanded. "When you're ready to escape."

---

I stuffed clothes into a worn backpack, my hands trembling with excitement and fear. The truth of my identity still reverberated through me—I wasn't a worthless Omega but a Lycan Princess, daughter of the most powerful Alpha King in the region.

"I can do this," I whispered to myself. "I can get out."

The pack house was quiet as I slipped down the back stairs, avoiding the main hall where Cason and Kiana would be celebrating their engagement. My wolf stirred restlessly within me, lending me strength I'd never known before.

I'd made it to the edge of the property when a familiar scent hit me—copper and malice.

"Going somewhere?" Kiana's voice sliced through the darkness.

I spun around to find her flanked by three pack warriors, their expressions grim.

"I'm leaving," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "You got what you wanted."

Kiana's smile was venomous. "Actually, I don't think I do. Not yet."

She nodded to the warriors. "Take her."

Two of them lunged forward, grabbing my arms. I struggled, summoning the Alpha command I'd inherited from my father.

"Let me go!" I shouted, infusing my voice with power.

The warriors faltered, their eyes widening in surprise, but Kiana laughed.

"You're too inexperienced," she sneered. "You don't know how to use your new powers."

One of the warriors pulled out a syringe filled with pale green liquid. "Wolfsbane," he muttered. "Enough to keep her quiet."

I fought wildly as they pinned me down, but it was too late. The needle plunged into my arm, and cold fire spread through my veins.

---

Darkness swallowed me whole.

When consciousness returned, it came in fragments—the rumble of an engine, the smell of gasoline, the feel of metal pressed against my cheek.

I was in the trunk of a moving car.

"She's still breathing," a male voice said from somewhere outside. "You sure this is worth our trouble?"

"Viktor Blackwood doesn't ask questions," Kiana's voice replied. "He pays cash for merchandise like this."

My blood ran cold as I heard the name of the notorious Rogue King.

"And you're sure she won't come back to haunt us?" the man asked.

Kiana laughed, the sound chilling me to the bone. "Once she's sold at the auction, she'll belong to whichever rogue pays the highest price. She'll be too busy being someone's breeding stock to ever find her way back."

The car hit a bump, sending pain shooting through my battered body.

"Don't damage the goods," Kiana snapped. "Viktor wants her intact."

"Relax," the driver replied. "This one's already broken. Her mate rejected her."

Their voices faded as drugs pulled me back under, but one thought burned in my mind: I was being sold to a rogue auction, and no one knew where to find me—except my father.

If I survived long enough to call for him.

The first thing I noticed was the smell—a sickening mixture of sweat, fear, and something wild and feral. My head throbbed as consciousness returned, the wolfsbane still clouding my thoughts. I tried to move, but my wrists were bound with coarse rope that bit into my skin.

"She's awake," a gruff voice announced.

I forced my eyes open, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights. I was in what looked like an abandoned warehouse, but the walls were reinforced with metal plates and the windows were barred. The floor was concrete, stained with what looked disturbingly like dried blood.

"Fresh meat," another voice said, and laughter followed.

I struggled to sit up, taking in my surroundings. I was in a cage—an actual cage—made of silver-infused bars that burned against my skin when I accidentally touched them. Across the room were more cages, each containing terrified female wolves, their eyes hollow with despair.

"Where am I?" My voice came out as a croak.

"Welcome to the Black Market Auction House," said a tall man with a scar running down his face. "You're the newest addition to tonight's inventory."

Inventory. The word made my stomach turn.

"Kiana," I whispered. "She did this."

"Your friend? Yeah, she's a regular supplier." He smirked. "Brings us the best broken toys."

The door at the far end of the warehouse swung open, and a hush fell over the room. A man entered—tall, imposing, with eyes so dark they seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Power radiated from him in waves that made even the guards straighten their postures.

Viktor Blackwood. The Rogue King.

He moved through the room with predatory grace, inspecting each cage. When he reached mine, he crouched down, his fingers gripping the bars.

"This one's different," he murmured, studying me with clinical interest. "Dirt can't hide that face. And that scent..."

He inhaled deeply, his eyes widening slightly. "What are you?"

"I'm nobody," I whispered.

His laugh was cold. "No. You're something special. The Main Event."

He nodded to his guards, who unlocked my cage and dragged me out. I fought wildly, but in my weakened state, it was useless. They forced me to my knees before Viktor.

"Put this on her," he ordered, holding out a silver collar studded with black stones.

"No!" I thrashed against their hold. "Please!"

The collar snapped around my neck, and white-hot pain seared through me. I screamed as it seemed to sink into my skin, leaving a burning band of metal that couldn't be removed.

"What is this?" I gasped.

"A silencer," Viktor replied casually. "It blocks mind-links. Can't have you calling for help, can we?"

My blood ran cold as I realized what this meant—I couldn't reach my father anymore.

---

Miles away, in a fortress carved into the mountainside, Noah Simpson paced his study like a caged animal. His face, usually a mask of controlled power, was twisted with barely contained rage.

"Father?" His Beta, Marcus Reed, stood in the doorway, watching anxiously.

"She's gone silent," Noah growled, pressing his fingers to his temples. "The connection is blocked."

"Blocked? That's not possible unless—"

"Unless she's wearing a silencer." Noah's eyes flashed golden. "Or she's dead."

The word hung in the air between them, heavy with implication.

"We need to find her," Marcus said firmly. "Now."

Noah nodded, his composure returning like a steel mask sliding into place. "Summon the Lycan Guard. All of them."

Marcus's eyes widened. The Lycan Guard was Noah's elite force—warriors twice the size of normal wolves, each capable of taking down an Alpha single-handedly.

"And contact the Silvermoon Pack," Noah continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I want Cason Duncan here. Now."

"Father, if he's harmed her—"

"If he's killed my daughter," Noah cut in, "there won't be enough left of him to bury."

---

In the Silvermoon Pack house, Cason Duncan stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his skin had a sickly pallor that hadn't been there before.

"Alpha?" A Beta called through the door. "There's a messenger from Alpha King Noah Simpson demanding to see you immediately."

Cason's head snapped up. "Noah Simpson? Here?"

"He's not here yet, but his messenger says it's urgent."

Cason stumbled out of the bathroom, still weak from the hollow feeling that had plagued him since rejecting Nola. Something was wrong—he could feel it in his bones.

"Where's Kiana?" he demanded.

"In the kitchen, Alpha."

Cason found her there, whispering with a group of females. She looked up when he entered, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

"What's going on?" he asked without preamble. "Why would Noah Simpson send a messenger?"

Kiana's expression flickered before settling into concerned innocence. "I don't know. Maybe it's about pack business?"

"Nola," he said suddenly. "Where is she?"

Kiana's smile faltered. "She... she ran away. After you rejected her, she couldn't face the shame. She joined a rogue pack."

Something cold settled in Cason's stomach. He studied Kiana's face, seeing for the first time the calculation behind her eyes.

"You're lying," he whispered.

For a moment, genuine fear flashed across her face before she composed herself. "I'm not. She's gone, Cason. Forget about her."

But as Cason turned away, a strange scent caught his attention—Nola's scent, faint but unmistakable, leading toward the pack borders and beyond.

"I need to check something," he muttered, following the scent trail before Kiana could stop him.

The warehouse echoed with the sound of chains and desperate whimpers. I sat huddled in my cage, watching as the first of us were led to the auction block—a raised platform where women were displayed like livestock.

"Next up," the auctioneer called, his voice dripping with false enthusiasm, "we have a young beta female from the Eastern territories. Healthy, fertile, and trained to serve."

A girl no older than eighteen was dragged onto the platform, her eyes vacant with shock. She wore only a thin shift that did little to cover her trembling body.

"Starting bid at five thousand," the auctioneer announced.

Numbers flew through the air as rough-looking wolves raised their hands, each bid driving the price higher. The girl's fate was sealed when a burly rogue with a scar across his face won with a bid of twelve thousand.

"Sold to the gentleman in the back," the auctioneer declared, as two guards dragged the screaming girl toward her new owner.

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the sound. My wolf stirred restlessly within me, fighting against the silencer's effects.

"Focus," I whispered to myself. "Daddy needs to hear me."

I concentrated on the golden warmth in my chest, pushing against the silver collar's burning suppression. If I could just reach my father...

"Stop struggling," a guard hissed, noticing my efforts. "You'll make it worse for yourself."

I ignored him, pouring all my energy into breaking through the block. For a moment, I felt something give—a tiny crack in the mental barrier.

"Father," I called silently. "Please hear me."

My eyes flickered golden as power surged through me. The guard stepped back, his face paling.

"What the hell?" he muttered, reaching for his weapon.

Before he could draw it, Viktor appeared beside him, moving with preternatural speed. His hand shot out, striking me across the face with such force that I slammed against the cage bars.

"Don't try that again," he snarled, his eyes flashing red. "You're mine to sell."

---

Outside the warehouse, Cason crouched in the shadows, flanked by three of his strongest warriors. His face was a mask of determination as he studied the heavily guarded entrance.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" he asked the Beta beside him.

"Yes, Alpha. The trail leads straight here."

Cason's jaw tightened. After following Nola's scent to this abandoned industrial area, he'd discovered the warehouse guarded by rogues—Viktor Blackwood's men.

"We're retrieving our runaway member," he told his warriors. "She's Silvermoon property."

One of the warriors raised an eyebrow. "Property, Alpha? Or mate?"

"Rejected mate," Cason corrected coldly. "She belongs to our pack until we decide what to do with her."

They approached the gates, only to be stopped by four burly guards.

"This is private property," one growled. "Trespassers aren't welcome."

"We're here for one of ours," Cason replied, letting his Alpha aura flare. "A runaway Omega named Nola Simpson."

The guards exchanged glances. "Can't help you."

Cason's patience wore thin. "I'll make this simple. Either you let us in to retrieve what's ours, or I report this operation to the Council."

As they argued, a voice drifted through the partially open door—the auctioneer's voice, growing more animated with each word.

"Coming up next, gentlemen, is something special. A rare, unblemished female with unusual markings. Bidding starts at fifty thousand."

Cason froze, his blood turning to ice. He knew that voice—it was Nola's.

Without waiting for permission, he shoved past the guards and burst through the door, his warriors close behind him.

---

Inside, the warehouse was packed with wolves from every territory. Cason pushed through the crowd, following Nola's scent until he reached the front row.

There she was—locked in a silver cage, her neck encircled by a burning collar. Her eyes widened when she saw him, hope flaring briefly before dying as she saw the coldness in his gaze.

"Nola," he said, his voice carrying across the suddenly silent room.

Kiana materialized beside him, her face twisted with calculated concern. "Cason, thank the Moon Goddess you found her! I told you she ran away."

She leaned close, her voice dropping to a whisper that only he could hear. "Look at her, Cason. She must have come here willingly to sell herself as a whore."

Cason's expression hardened as he looked at Nola—really looked at her. She was dressed in the same clothes she'd worn when she disappeared, but now they were torn and dirty. Her eyes were wide with fear and something else... betrayal.

"Is this true?" he demanded. "Did you come here willingly?"

Nola shook her head frantically. "No, Cason, please—"

"She's lying," Kiana hissed. "Just look at her."

Cason approached the cage, his eyes cold as he stared at the girl he'd once thought was his mate.

"You are truly worthless," he said, each word a dagger to my heart.

He turned his back on me, addressing Viktor with a curt nod. "I've seen enough. She's not worth retrieving."

As he walked away, a hulking figure stepped forward—a scarred rogue who'd just placed the winning bid.

"Then I'll take her," he growled, his yellow eyes gleaming with triumph. "She's mine now."