The lobby air turned into concrete in my lungs. I couldn't inhale. I couldn't think. The image of Sebastian—alive, breathing, holding another woman's hand—burned into my retinas like a solar flare.

I turned and ran.

My heels skidded on the polished marble as I shoved past a confused valet, bursting through the side doors into the hotel's sprawling gardens. The cool night air hit my face, but it didn't help. My chest heaved, a ragged, suffocating rhythm. Every step I had taken for the last five years, every tear I had shed over an empty casket, every night I had screamed his name into the void—it was all a lie.

"Ella! Stop!"

Strong arms wrapped around my waist, halting my frantic flight before I could collapse into the rose bushes. I thrashed for a second, panic blinding me, until the scent of rain and pine penetrated the fog.

Corbin.

I sagged against him, my legs turning to jelly. He held me up, his chest a solid wall against my trembling back.

"He's not a ghost, Corbin," I gasped, the words tearing out of my throat like jagged glass. "He didn't die in the ambush. He faked it. He chose them."

I felt Corbin stiffen. A low, dangerous growl vibrated through his chest, a sound so primal it made the leaves on the nearby bushes shiver. His aura flared, hot and protective, wrapping around me like a shield.

"He did what?" Corbin’s voice was deadly calm, but his eyes were storms of shifting obsidian.

"He ran away," I sobbed, clutching the lapels of his tuxedo. "He let me bury him so he wouldn't have to reject me."

Corbin’s grip tightened on my arms, grounding me. "I'm going to tear his throat out."

"No," I shook my head frantically. "Not here. Not at the Gala. I just... I can't breathe. I need water."

Corbin hesitated, looking torn between comforting me and hunting down the man who had destroyed my life. "Stay right here. Do not move. I’ll get you water, and then we are leaving. To hell with the Council."

He squeezed my hand once before sprinting back toward the terrace bar. I leaned against a stone fountain, trying to force oxygen into my blood.

*Is that the broken toy Daddy threw away?*

The child’s wolf voice echoed in my memory, a chilling reminder that I wasn't crazy. That little girl knew. They all knew.

"Ella."

The voice came from the shadows of the trellis. I froze. My heart hammered against my ribs, not with love, but with a terrifying mixture of rage and trauma.

Sebastian stepped into the moonlight. He didn't look guilty. He didn't look like a man who had destroyed a woman's soul. He looked annoyed.

"You're making a scene," he said, adjusting his cufflinks. "I expected more dignity from you after all this time."

I stared at him, my mouth agape. "Dignity? You've been dead for five years, Sebastian! I mourned you! I wanted to die with you!"

He sighed, stepping closer, invading my personal space. "It was a mercy, Ella. Kyla was pregnant. If I had rejected you publicly, the bond snapping would have destroyed you. I staged the ambush to spare you the pain of a rejection ceremony. I did it for you."

The audacity stole my breath. He was twisting his cowardice into a noble sacrifice. He had left me to rot in grief not to save me, but to save himself the embarrassment of breaking a fated bond for a mistress.

"You are a monster," I whispered.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. The air around us grew heavy, dense with the crushing weight of an Alpha's command. "Watch your tone, Ella. I am an Alpha now. You will show respect."

The command slammed into my mind, an instinctual urge to bare my neck and submit. My knees buckled slightly under the pressure. It was the same aura I used to find comforting, now weaponized to silence me.

*Broken toy. Broken toy.*

The child’s malicious thought resurfaced, sharp and clear. It acted like an antidote to his venom. He didn't see me as a person; he saw me as a loose end to be tied up.

I locked my knees. I grit my teeth. I looked him dead in the eye and refused to bow.

"I am not your pack member, Sebastian," I hissed, fighting the crushing weight of his aura. "And you are not my Alpha. You are a fraud."

His composure cracked. He took a threatening step forward, his hand raising as if to grab me, when a sickly sweet voice cut through the tension.

"Bastian? There you are."

Kyla emerged from the path, her hips swaying in a tight red gown that cost more than my car. She walked right up to Sebastian and placed a possessive hand on his chest, her fingers splaying over his heart as if to check it was still beating for her.

She looked at me, her eyes raking over my trembling form with disdain. She sniffed the air, wrinkling her nose as if she smelled garbage.

"Is she bothering you, honey?" Kyla asked, her voice dripping with faux concern. She turned her gaze to me, a smirk playing on her lips. "You look unwell, dear. Shaking like a leaf. Are you sure you're stable enough to be running an event of this magnitude?"

She stepped closer, dropping her voice so only I could hear. "The Council doesn't hire hysterical women, Ella. If you can't handle seeing an old flame, maybe you should go back to playing the grieving widow. It suited you better."

She knew. She had known for five years. While I was weeping over a grave, she was laughing in his bed.

The scent hit me before I even opened the double doors to the Grand Ballroom. It wasn't the fresh, clean fragrance of expensive blooms; it was the sharp, grassy smell of sap and destruction.

I pushed the doors open and stopped dead. My clipboard clattered against my hip.

The centerpiece arrangement—a ten-foot-tall architectural masterpiece of white hydrangeas and imported orchids that had cost more than my first car—was decimated. It looked like a lawnmower had been taken to it. Petals were scattered across the dance floor like snow, stems were snapped, and the water vases were overturned, soaking the carpet.

"Miss Harris!" The boom of Elder Marcus Steele’s voice made me flinch. The Head of the Council marched toward me, his face a mottled red that matched his tie. "Care to explain why the gala venue looks like a war zone six hours before opening?"

"I... I don't know," I stammered, stepping over a crushed orchid. "I checked this room at midnight. It was perfect."

"Perfect?" Steele swept his arm across the wreckage. "This is incompetence, plain and simple. If you cannot control your vendors, perhaps you aren't fit to coordinate a birthday party, let alone the Moon Goddess Gala."

"It wasn't the vendors," I said, my voice shaking as I knelt to pick up a shredded stem. The cut wasn't clean. It was jagged.

"Oh no! Look at the pretty flowers!"

A gasp came from the corner near the stage. I looked up to see Kyla standing there, hand over her mouth in mock horror. Beside her, little Oaklyn was clutching her stuffed bear, her eyes wide and innocent.

"It's such a shame," Kyla said, her voice dripping with syrup as she walked toward us, her heels avoiding the puddles with practiced ease. "Sebastian will be so disappointed. He was saying just last night how... overwhelmed you seemed, Ella. Maybe the pressure was too much?"

I gritted my teeth, standing up to face her. But before I could speak, that high-pitched, static whine pierced my skull again.

*Mommy let me use my claws,* the voice giggled in the center of my mind. It was Oaklyn’s wolf, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. *Rip, rip, rip. The flower lady is in trouble now.*

My blood ran cold. I looked at the child. She was smiling at me, a sweet, angelic smile that didn't reach the predator lurking behind her eyes. They had done this. The mother gave the order, and the child was the weapon.

"I am removing you from the lead position effective immediately," Steele barked, pulling out his phone. "I'll call in the reserve team from—"

"You will do no such thing, Marcus."

The deep, authoritative rumble silenced the room. Alpha Corbin Rice strode through the debris, his presence filling the cavernous space. He didn't look at the flowers; he looked straight at Steele.

"Alpha Rice," Steele stiffened, adjusting his glasses. "This is an internal Council matter."

"It's a security matter," Corbin corrected, stopping beside me. He radiated a heat that chased away the chill of the damp room. He pointed to the shredded remains of a lily. "Look at the edges, Marcus. That wasn't a fall or a vendor error. Those are claw marks."

Steele squinted, leaning down. "Claws?"

"Unless your Event Coordinator grew fur and claws overnight," Corbin said, his voice dangerously low as he cast a side-glance at Kyla, "this was sabotage. Someone let a shifted wolf into this room."

Kyla’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. Oaklyn hugged her bear tighter.

"Sabotage?" Steele straightened up, looking pale. "Here?"

"I suggest you check the security cameras before you fire the best coordinator on the West Coast," Corbin said firmly. He reached out and placed his hand on the small of my back. His palm was large and warm, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle against my spine. It was a possessive, grounding gesture that claimed me without a word.

"I... yes. Of course," Steele muttered, clearly flustered by the Alpha’s intensity. "Ella, get a cleanup crew. We have four hours."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Thank you," I whispered to Corbin.

"Don't thank me yet," he murmured, leaning close to my ear. "Look at the door."

I followed his gaze. Sebastian was standing in the entranceway. He wasn't looking at the destroyed flowers, or his wife, or his child. He was staring at Corbin’s hand on my back. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek, and his eyes burned with a dark, suffocating jealousy that made the air feel thin.

***

By the time the afternoon sun hit its peak, the ballroom was restored, but my nerves were frayed. To "smooth over tensions" and distract the gathered Alphas from the morning's disaster, the Council had ordered a mandatory pre-Gala mixer at the hotel pool.

I wanted to hide in my room, but as the coordinator, I had to be present. I compromised by wearing a high-necked, black cover-up over my swimsuit that reached my knees. I sat at a shaded table in the corner, clutching a tablet like a shield, pretending to check guest lists while the elite of the werewolf world mingled in the water.

"Marco! Polo!"

Oaklyn’s shrill voice echoed off the concrete. She was splashing violently in the shallow end, while Kyla lounged on a poolside chaise nearby. Kyla was impossible to miss. She wore a neon pink bikini that was little more than string and fabric, her oiled skin gleaming under the California sun. She posed, arched, and laughed too loudly, clearly trying to draw the eyes of every Alpha in the vicinity—specifically one.

"Bastian! Come put lotion on my back!" Kyla called out, waving a bottle of sunscreen.

Sebastian stood near the deep end, a drink in his hand. He wore swim trunks, his chest bare, revealing the scars of battles fought and the muscles of a powerful wolf. He didn't move toward her. He didn't even turn his head.

From behind my sunglasses, I watched him. And to my horror, I realized he wasn't ignoring her because he was distracted by business. He was ignoring her because he was watching me.

His gaze was heavy, physical, like a touch I couldn't brush off. He tracked my movements as I reached for my iced tea, his eyes tracing the line of my throat. It wasn't the look of an ex-mate. It was the look of a starving man seeing a feast through a window.

Kyla noticed. Her smile dropped like a stone. She sat up, following Sebastian’s line of sight until it landed squarely on me in my corner of shadows.

I shivered despite the heat. The flowers were just the beginning. I could feel the storm coming, and I was standing right in the center of it.

The California sun felt like a spotlight, but the heat coming from across the pool was far more intense. Sebastian hadn't stopped staring at me. It was a heavy, suffocating gaze that ignored his wife, his child, and the fifty other high-ranking wolves in the vicinity.

I shifted in my chair, pulling my cover-up tighter around my throat. Kyla’s laughter had died down, replaced by a silence that felt sharper than a blade. I risked a glance in her direction. She wasn't looking at Sebastian anymore. She was looking at two massive men in the shallow end—Ironclad Deltas, their shoulders as wide as doorways.

She gave a barely perceptible nod.

"Heads up!" one of the men roared.

A volleyball slammed into the concrete inches from my feet, bouncing with violent force. Before I could even flinch, the water erupted.

"My bad!" the second Delta shouted, lunging out of the pool ostensibly to retrieve the ball. But he didn't stop at the edge.

He was three hundred pounds of wet, shifting muscle, and he didn't stumble—he aimed. His shoulder checked me with the force of a freight train. The air left my lungs in a whoosh, my chair tipped backward, and gravity took over.

I hit the water hard.

The shock of the cold was instantaneous. I plunged into the deep end, the chlorine stinging my eyes. Instinct screamed at me to kick, to paddle, to shift—anything. But my wolf... she was gone. Buried under five years of grief and the fresh trauma of seeing Sebastian, she was curled into a tight, trembling ball in the back of my mind. She offered no buoyancy. No strength.

My heavy cover-up tangled around my legs like a shroud. I opened my mouth to scream, but water rushed in, filling my throat. Panic, cold and absolute, seized my limbs. I was sinking. The surface seemed miles away, a shimmering ceiling of light I couldn't reach.

*This is it,* I thought, the darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision. *I survived his death only to drown at his party.*

Then, the water exploded again.

Through the bubbles and the blur, a dark shape shot toward me. Strong hands gripped my waist, bruising and desperate. I was hauled upward, breaking the surface with a gasp that tore at my throat.

"I've got you. Breathe, El. Breathe!"

Corbin.

He was soaked, his white dress shirt clinging to his chest, his hair plastered to his forehead. He didn't drag me to the ladder; he lifted me effortlessly, carrying me bridal style out of the pool as if I weighed nothing. He stepped onto the pool deck, water streaming from his expensive slacks, his chest heaving.

The music had stopped. The chatter had died. Every eye was on us.

"Oops," the Delta who had pushed me sneered, treading water near the edge. "Slippery deck, huh?"

Corbin didn't look at me. He looked at the man in the water. And then, he let out a sound that made the glass on the tables vibrate.

It wasn't a shout. It was a growl—low, guttural, and laced with enough Alpha dominance to force the weaker wolves in the crowd to their knees. The air around us crackled with ozone and rage. Corbin’s eyes, usually so warm, were glowing a lethal, incandescent amber.

"Get out," Corbin commanded, his voice shaking with restrained violence.

The Delta’s smirk vanished. He shrank back against the tiles.

"If you or anyone from your pack touches her again," Corbin snarled, projecting his voice so it echoed off the hotel walls, "I will not file a complaint. I will wipe the Ironclad Pack from the Council registry myself."

Silence stretched, taut and terrified. Even Sebastian, standing on the far side of the pool, looked pale. Corbin tightened his grip on me, shielding my shivering body from their stares, claiming me in front of everyone.

"I... I need to change," I chattered, my teeth clicking together. The adrenaline was fading, leaving me nauseous.

"I'm taking you to your room," Corbin said, turning his back on the Ironclad wolves.

"No," I whispered, pushing weakly against his chest. "I can't run away. I have to finish the event. Just... let me dry off in the locker room. Please, Corbin. Don't let them see me break."

He hesitated, searching my face, then nodded once, his jaw set. He set me down gently near the changing rooms but stood guard at the entrance like a sentinel.

I stumbled into the women's locker room, the heavy door shutting out the noise of the party. It was cool and quiet inside. I grabbed a towel from the stack, wrapping it around my trembling shoulders, trying to wring the pool water out of my hair.

My ear throbbed where the water pressure had hit it, but the real pain was in my chest. They wanted to hurt me. Kyla wanted me gone, and she didn't care how.

The door creaked open behind me.

"I'm fine, Corbin," I called out, wiping my eyes. "Just give me a second."

"Corbin isn't here."

The voice was small, high-pitched, and terrifyingly sweet.

I spun around. Standing by the row of lockers was Oaklyn. She was still in her little swimsuit, her curls dripping wet. She wasn't holding her bear this time. Her hands were empty, hanging loosely at her sides.

"Oaklyn?" I stepped back, my back hitting the cold tile wall. "You shouldn't be in here alone. Where is your mother?"

The little girl didn't answer. She took a step toward me, her bare feet silent on the wet floor. She tilted her head, studying me with an intensity that belonged to a predator, not a child.

"Daddy likes you too much," she said. It wasn't a question. It was an accusation.

"I... I knew your daddy a long time ago," I stammered, my heart hammering against my ribs. "We were friends."

"Mommy says friends don't look at each other like that," Oaklyn whispered. She took another step.

Suddenly, her face contorted. Her jaw unhinged slightly, a sickening pop echoing in the tiled room. Her blue eyes were swallowed by black pupils, and her fingernails elongated, curving into sharp, jagged claws.

She wasn't fully shifting—she was too young for that—but the wolf was pushing through, violent and uncontrolled.

"Oaklyn, stop!" I raised my hands.

She lunged.

It was a blur of motion. She snapped her jaws at my face, a guttural snarl ripping from her small throat. I jerked my head to the side, but not fast enough.

*Snap.*

Pain flared hot and sharp at the top of my ear. A lock of my wet hair floated to the floor, severed cleanly. I gasped, clutching the side of my head, feeling the warm trickle of blood against my cold fingers.

Oaklyn landed on her feet, spitting the hair from her mouth. She looked up at me, blood on her teeth, smiling that same angelic smile.

Then, the static screamed in my mind, louder than ever before. Her wolf’s voice crashed into my consciousness, raw and hateful.

*Die, spare part!* the voice shrieked in my head. *Die so Daddy can be ours again!*