I dislocated my shoulder breaking free from that hellish ward. The first thing I did when I stumbled into liberty?

Filed for a donation.

The guy behind the desk looked at me with pity swimming in his eyes.

"Emily, we're obligated to tell you this is a special donation. Your body will be used to test a new silver nitrate compound-specifically calibrated to dissolve lycanthropic cells. By dawn, there might not even be a sliver of bone left."

I pressed a hand to my aching shoulder, the cracked bones making every word feel like it was scraping through a busted fan.

I forced a smile, uglier than a sob.

"Couldn't ask for a better deal."

I didn't have much time left anyway. Might as well do something for the great pack.

My medical chart screamed the truth in big, ugly letters: Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis. Most folks know it as ALS, the freezing disease.

I got the short end of the stick-complications sparked a lung infection. Three weeks, tops, is what the healers gave me.

The guy's eyes softened even more.

"Thank you for your contribution to the pack's research. This payment's a small token. Please, take it."

My hands wouldn't stop shaking as I reached for the cash.

Side effect of all those nerve meds they pumped into me.

No controlling it. I planned to donate every cent to the pup shelter, swing by the pack's burial grounds one last time to settle my heart, then I'd be ready to face the end.

I staggered out the door and immediately spotted them-three wolves lurking behind a jagged boulder, waiting to pounce.

"There she is!" one barked.

"Little stray, you thought you could run? We'll shock you 'til you drop!" another growled.

I bolted, shoulders screaming with pain, blood and fear flooding my senses.

My body twitched with terror as I barreled into the nearest building, the one crawling with enforcers.

I was moving too fast, too desperate.

I slammed right into someone.

The chest I crashed into was solid as stone, leaving me dizzy.

Amid the chaos of gasps and shouts, a familiar, icy scent hit me-a scent I'd know anywhere.

Then his voice, low and sharp, cut through the noise. "

Emily."

Three years since I'd last seen him, and Damian Wolfe looked even more like the untouchable alpha he'd become.

His sharp, elegant features were colder now, his eyes carrying that same distant chill. But the way he looked at me? That was new.

Pure disgust, laced with hate.

My heart twisted so hard I thought it'd snap.

Tears burned my eyes. "Damian," I whispered.

The wolves chasing me faltered when they saw him, their bravado crumbling.

Damian's gaze stayed locked on me, his face a mask of ice.

"Who gave you permission to crawl back here?"

I dropped my head, silent.

He didn't know. Of course he didn't.

That rich pup had me thrown into the mental hospital, where I'd been tortured for Three years.

His eyes flicked to the wolves behind me, then to the cash strewn across the ground. One of them jumped, pointing a claw.

"Damian, this gutter rat filched our savings!"

Damian let out a cold, bitter laugh.

"Emily, you've sunk this low?"

I gripped my spasming hand, desperate to shake my head.

"Damian," a silky voice interrupted.

A she-wolf glided forward, her curves practically purring as she hooked her arm through his. She looked at me, feigning surprise.

"Emily!?"

My blood turned to ice.

Brielle Monroe. The she-wolf who'd made my life a living nightmare.

Back then, when my parents died and the grief crushed me, I flunked my exams and ended up in a dead-end school. That's when the torment started.

Ripped books, desks littered with used needles, shredded uniforms, bathroom floors sticky with spilled chemicals.(

I spiraled into depression, and Brielle was the monster at the center of it all-the she-wolf I feared and hated most.

Until Damian, the wolf I grew up with, found out.

He dropped out of his fancy school, transferred to mine, and tore through everyone who'd hurt me.

Brielle was forced out, and I could finally breathe again.

When the nightmares from the bullying came back, Damian was there, whispering, "I'm here," over and over, holding my hand, guiding me back to the light.

Ten years back: Moonlit mating, fangs brushing lips.​

Eight years: Clawed ecstasy, howls merging.​

Six years: Swore the blood oath-pack, forever.​

Three years: I torched his wolf-sister.

Now his fangs seek my throat.

And now, the wolf I loved more than anything was standing side by side with the she-wolf I despised.

Mates.

"Sorry, Damian, didn't mean for this stray to ruin your day. We'll drag her out of here!" one of the wolves snarled, lunging forward.

Before I could react, he clamped jaws on my forearm, fangs grazing bone, and shook me like a ragdoll.

"You gutter-scum thief! Snatched our cash like a rabid dog and thought you could scurry off? I'll tear your throat out before you blink!" he bellowed, veins bulging in his neck like writhing serpents.​

I shrieked-a sound halfway between a wounded animal and a dying bird-as my legs buckled beneath me. The ground rushed up like a vengeful fist, slamming into my ribs with a sickening crunch that made stars explode behind my eyes.

"Let me go! That's my money!" I shouted, voice cracking.

"Pfft! You, with cash like that? Don't make me laugh!" he spat.

I tried to fight back, but he grabbed the back of my neck, pressing down hard.

It was like flipping a switch-my body froze, trembling uncontrollably, my face drained of color.

That grip, that pressure. it was the same feeling I got right before the shocks in the mental hospital.

My body had learned to fear it, conditioned to shut down.

The wolf, satisfied I'd gone still, started dragging me away, cursing under his breath.

The thought of going back to that place-those silver-lined walls, the endless howls muffled behind iron doors-sent a howl of desperation clawing up my throat, tears boiling over like molten lead down my cheeks.

"Enough!" Damian's voice cut through the air, sharp and cold as a winter storm.

His icy gaze swept over the wolf, who stiffened under it.

Damian fished a check from his pocket and flicked it at my feet like it was trash. "Cash it and vanish. Don't make me hose you off Wolfe turf like the mongrel you are."

The wolf dropped me like I was trash, scrambling to pick up the check before hightailing it out of there.

Before I could catch my breath, Damian's grip closed around my wrist, yanking me into the pack office building.

My chest screamed with pain, my head spinning as he shoved me against a wall.

His presence loomed over me, dangerous and suffocating.

"Emily," he growled, his voice dripping with venom.

"All these years, and you're living like some mangy stray?"

My heart felt like it'd been stabbed, the pain sharp and immediate.

"This. Is. Your. Reckoning."

Those hate-filled eyes burned into me, and for a moment, I wanted to scream the truth, to let it all spill out.

But I couldn't. I'd promised Kathleen I'd keep her secret, let her leave this world pure.

Three years ago, Kathleen and I were kidnapped.

She shielded me, and they dragged her away.

When I saw her again, her legs were broken, her face ruined. I set the place on fire, carried her on my back, ready to escape. But at the last moment, she grabbed my hand, tears streaming down her scarred face.

"Emily, get out. Live well." she'd whispered.

"I want to stay clean in the eyes of my mate, my brother."

She pushed me out and let the flames take her.

Kathleen wanted to stay pure.

Damian, the pack's golden wolf, deserved to stay pure too. I'd been through the filth of that place, marked by it.

I wasn't fit to be his mate anymore. One of us being tainted was enough.

So when Damian found me, eyes red with grief, clutching me and begging, "Emily, where's Kathleen? Why didn't she make it out?"

I forced a smile, tears flooding my face.

"She's dead. They said only one of us could live. I chose me, so she had to go."

I'll never forget the look in his eyes-shock, rage, despair all at once.

Damian's hands clamped onto my shoulders, his grip so tight it felt like he'd crush my bones.

"Emily, tell me the truth! Tell me it's a lie!" he'd roared.

But I gave him nothing.

Just silence.

The Wolfe pack wanted me dead.

Damian locked himself away for three days and nights, then handed me a one-way ticket out of the pack's lands.

His voice was raw with hate as he said, "Never show your face to me again."

He asked his rich pup friend to make sure I left.

What he didn't know was that his friend, to "avenge" him, locked me in a mental hospital for Three years.

The pain in my wrist was sharp, like a spike driven through it.

I looked up at Damian, his eyes wild like a cornered beast, and forced a bright, bitter smile. "This is my reckoning? Kathleen's gone, and I'm still standing, aren't I?"

His face darkened.

He lunged, his hand clamping around my throat, squeezing so hard I couldn't breathe.

My face paled, my body betraying me with choked, whimpering gasps.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, unstoppable.

Just when I thought Damian would choke the life out of me, he let go.

I collapsed like a gutted fish, coughing so hard my ribs screamed.

Through the blur of tears, I saw him crouch down, his voice cold as a blade.

"Wolfe territory doesn't tolerate strays who outstay their welcome. I'll make sure you regret ever lifting your head here."

He reached for me again, but his hand froze midair, hesitating.

Then, in a flash, he grabbed my collar and yanked.

The fabric tore with a sharp rip, and his voice exploded.

"What the hell is this!?"

Beneath the fresh red marks from his grip, a deep, black-purple welt coiled around my throat, swollen and threatening.

I swallowed the metallic taste of blood, my trembling hand flying to cover it.

That scar was a gift from the mental hospital, carved into me over years of torment.

They called it "choke therapy."

Day after day, they'd cinch a leather belt around my throat, twist it till my vision blurred, and growl, "Scream it, Emily. You're a filthy lycan filth who taints every inch of Wolfe land with your stench!You will never worth Damien."

For the first two years, I refused to say the last part, even if it killed me.

By the third year, I was numb, reciting it like a broken record: "Emily. is a filthy lycan filth who taints every inch of Wolfe land with your stench!You will never worth Damien"

Damian's hand brushed the scar, and my trembling got worse, my body betraying me.

Tears fell, but I was still smiling, a twisted, broken thing.

"You know how it is other packs," I said, my voice steady despite the shaking. "They're into some wild stuff. Way more thrilling than anything with you."

His eyes blazed with fury.

He grabbed me, dragging me into a lounge and throwing me onto a bed.

I shivered, forcing words out. "You think this is fair to Brielle?"

He laughed, cold and cruel. "You think you're worth her worry? She's carrying my pup. You're just a tool to burn off steam."

The words hit me like a sledgehammer.

I shut my eyes, my heart ripping apart, and stopped fighting.

No lingering touches that felt like devotion, no whispers that might've been kind-only the weight of him, deliberate and hungry, proving he meant every word, moving in a rhythm that blurred pain .

"Is this how they choked you?"

It wasn't until dawn that he pulled away, not sparing me a glance.

"Clean this up," he said, voice like ice.

"Tonight, you're serving drinks."

He slammed the door behind him.

I came to later, my body trembling as I knelt on the floor, picking up the mess of torn fabric and bloodstains.

I crawled to the bathroom, clothes in rags-only the top I'd clawed to keep stayed whole.​

That one piece, I'd fought for tooth and nail. Only made Damian rage harder, his punishment bloodier.​

I peeled off the tattered fabric slow, deliberate. What I'd hidden, guarded with my life? Now laid bare.