A week passed in a haze of grief. I moved through the pack house like a ghost, hollow-eyed and empty. The loss of my pup had carved a void inside me that could never be filled. Luna, my wolf, had grown so faint I could barely feel her presence anymore.

I stood at the window of my small room, watching rain streak down the glass. Each drop seemed to mirror the tears I could no longer shed. My body had gone numb, my mind disconnected from the world around me.

*We need to leave,* Luna whispered, her voice barely audible. *Before they destroy us completely.*

"We will," I promised aloud, my fingers tracing patterns on the cold window pane. "Today."

I pulled my suitcase from beneath the bed and began packing the few belongings I still had. My hands trembled as I folded the clothes Sara hadn't yet "requisitioned" for herself. The door burst open without warning.

Charles stood there, his imposing frame filling the doorway. "What are you doing?"

I didn't look up from my task. "What does it look like? I'm leaving."

"You're not going anywhere." His voice was cold, controlled. "You're my mate."

The word 'mate' from his lips made me flinch. How could he call himself that after everything?

"Reject me," I said, finally meeting his gaze. "I want you to reject our bond."

Something flickered across his face—surprise, perhaps even panic. "You don't know what you're saying. You're still grieving."

"I know exactly what I'm saying." I straightened my spine, finding strength in my desperation. "Reject me, Charles, or I swear I'll tell my father everything."

His face paled. We both knew what would happen if Alpha Andrew discovered how his daughter had been treated. The Moonriver Pack would descend upon Silverclaw like a vengeful storm.

"You're mentally unstable," Charles said, his voice suddenly smooth, reasonable. "The grief has affected your judgment. I won't enable this behavior."

"Then let me go," I pleaded. "Just let me go home."

"No." His eyes hardened. "You're staying here where you belong."

Before I could respond, he turned and called for the guards. Two burly Deltas appeared instantly, as if they'd been waiting just outside.

"Take her to the Omega quarters," Charles ordered. "She needs rest and isolation for her own safety."

"Charles, no!" I backed away as the guards approached. "You can't do this!"

But he could. And he did.

The guards dragged me down winding stone stairs to the basement level of the pack house. The air grew damp and cold as we descended, the walls closing in around us. Finally, we reached a heavy metal door with a small window barred with silver.

"Inside," one guard grunted, shoving me forward.

I stumbled into the cell, my eyes adjusting slowly to the dim light. The walls were lined with silver—a precaution for containing rogue wolves or those who had committed crimes against the pack. Never had I imagined I would find myself imprisoned here.

Charles appeared in the doorway, his face impassive. From his pocket, he withdrew a thin silver collar.

"This is for your protection," he said, stepping into the cell. Before I could react, he clasped it around my neck. The silver burned against my skin, sending waves of nausea through me.

The collar tightened slightly, then settled into place. Immediately, I felt the effect—a heavy fog descending over my mind, cutting off the mental links that connected me to other wolves.

"You'll stay here until you're... stable again," Charles said, his voice distant through the fog. "No one can hear you now. No one can help you."

The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through my prison.

Days blurred into weeks. The cell remained damp and cold, the only light filtering through the tiny window set high in the wall. My meals consisted of scraps brought by a silent guard who wouldn't meet my eyes.

My body weakened rapidly. The Wolfsbane Joint Syndrome, combined with the silver collar and poor nutrition, left me barely able to stand. Luna had gone completely silent within me—not dead, but dormant, conserving what little strength remained.

"Brooke, darling," a voice cooed from outside my cell. "How are you enjoying your accommodations?"

Sara stood at the door, her face pressed against the bars, eyes gleaming with triumph.

"Come to gloat?" I managed, my voice raspy from disuse.

"I came to check on our future," she replied, gesturing to herself. "Charles has been quite attentive since your... confinement. The pack is already accepting me as their true Luna."

I leaned against the wall for support. "He'll never mark you."

"He doesn't need to." Sara smiled cruelly. "Once you're gone, I'll be all he has left. A tragic illness, so sad—the Luna couldn't recover from losing her pup."

The realization hit me like a physical blow. They weren't just imprisoning me—they were letting me die slowly, quietly, where no one would question it.

"You won't get away with this," I whispered.

Sara's laughter echoed down the corridor as she walked away. "I already have, little Alpha's daughter. I already have."

The storm outside mirrored the tempest in my soul. Rain lashed against the tiny window of my cell, each droplet a countdown to my end. I'd lost track of time in this silver-lined prison—days blending into weeks, my body growing weaker with each passing hour.

Luna stirred within me, her presence faint but persistent. *We're dying, Brooke.*

"I know," I whispered, my voice cracking from disuse. The silver collar around my neck burned against my skin, its constant suppression making it impossible to reach out through the mind-link.

A sudden flash of lightning illuminated my cell, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. The lights flickered, then dimmed to a faint glow.

"Please," I murmured, not knowing who I was begging—the Moon Goddess, my father, or just the cruel twist of fate that had brought me here.

Another surge of electricity caused the lights to flash erratically. I felt a momentary loosening of the collar's grip on my mind—just a fraction, but enough.

*Now!* Luna urged with unexpected strength. *Brooke, try now!*

I closed my eyes, summoning every ounce of my remaining Alpha bloodline strength. My father's face floated before me—his proud smile, his unwavering protection. I thought of my mother's gentle hands, of home.

"ANDREW!" I screamed, not with my voice but with my mind, pushing through the silver fog with everything I had. "HELP ME!"

The words tore from my consciousness like shards of glass. I felt something snap inside me as the message hurtled across the distance to my brother.

"ANDREW, PLEASE... SILVERCLAW... DUNGEON..."

Darkness rushed in from the edges of my vision. The last thing I heard was the collar's electronic whine as it regained full power, crushing my brief moment of rebellion.

---

The Silverclaw border patrol never saw them coming.

Andrew's elite warriors moved like shadows through the forest, their black tactical gear blending with the night. My brother led from the front, his massive form radiating fury as he detected my scent—faint but unmistakable—mingled with pain and silver.

"Find her," he growled to his Beta. "I don't care if you tear this territory apart."

The border guards barely had time to raise the alarm before Moonriver's warriors crashed through their line. Andrew didn't bother with diplomacy or demands—he simply moved forward with deadly purpose, his aura so powerful that several Silverclaw wolves dropped to their knees without a fight.

Charles emerged from the pack house, his face contorted with rage. "You have no right to be here!"

Andrew didn't waste time with words. He lunged forward, his partial shift giving him claws and fangs. Charles barely had time to defend himself before Andrew's hand closed around his throat.

"Where is she?" Andrew's voice was deadly quiet.

"Who?" Charles choked out, playing dumb.

"My sister." Andrew's grip tightened. "The Luna you've imprisoned."

Confusion flickered across Charles's face before understanding dawned. "You can't just—"

Andrew threw him aside and stormed into the pack house, following my scent trail. His warriors efficiently subdued any resistance, their movements practiced and lethal.

The dungeon door was thick, reinforced with silver and steel. Andrew didn't hesitate—he simply tore it from its hinges with a roar that shook the entire building.

The sight that greeted him made his blood run cold.

I lay crumpled on the floor, my once-proud body reduced to skin and bone. The silver collar gleamed cruelly around my neck, my wrists raw from struggling against the chains that bound me to the wall.

"Brooke," he whispered, his voice breaking as he rushed to my side.

I stirred at the sound of his voice, my eyes fluttering open. "Andrew?"

His face was a mask of controlled fury as he gently removed the collar, his hands shaking with rage. "I've got you now. You're safe."

He turned to his Beta. "Bring Charles down here. Now."

---

Andrew dragged Charles by the throat into the cell, throwing him to the floor beside me. Charles's eyes widened as he took in my condition—the emaciation, the bruises, the hollow look in my eyes.

"This is what you've done," Andrew snarled, his claws extending. "This is my sister—my blood—treated worse than a rogue."

Charles tried to speak, but Andrew's grip tightened. "You don't deserve to breathe the same air as her."

I watched through half-closed eyes as my brother positioned his claws over Charles's heart. One thrust would end it all—the mate bond would snap, and Charles would die.

"Andrew," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He turned to me, his eyes softening. "What do you need, little one?"

"Take me home," I managed, each word a struggle. "Just take me home."

Something shifted in Andrew's expression—a calculation, a promise. He removed his claws from Charles's chest but didn't release his grip.

"You're lucky she still has compassion," he growled. "But make no mistake—this isn't over."

He lifted me gently in his arms, cradling me against his chest as if I weighed nothing. As he carried me past Charles, he paused.

"Enjoy what's left of your pack," he said coldly. "By tomorrow, the Moonriver alliance will have crushed your economy. Your borders will be closed, your trade routes blocked. You'll beg for mercy you'll never receive."

As Andrew carried me from the dungeon, I heard Charles's broken whisper behind us: "Brooke..."

But I didn't look back. The Silverclaw Pack—and the mate who had betrayed me—faded into darkness as my brother took me home.