Kimberly POV:

Graves dragged me back into his orbit with a legal summons. Pack Law Section 4: Mandatory Attendance. If I didn't show at the Charity Gala, I’d be declared a deserter.

I wore black armor—high-necked, long-sleeved.

Graves met me at the door. He looked haggard. The forty-million-dollar loss had stung.

"Smile," he hissed, gripping my bruised arm. "Harrison is watching."

Alpha Harrison. A lecherous old moneybag from the North.

"Harrison," Graves smoothed his voice. "You remember Kimberly? We’re looking for liquidity. Perhaps Kimberly could give you a private tour of the gardens? She’s very... accommodating."

My stomach turned. He was pimping me out to cover his losses.

"I’m not property, Harrison," I said icily. "And I bite."

I yanked my arm free and headed for the restroom.

Alex was there, applying lipstick. She looked like death warmed over—grey skin, tremors. The Rogue Rot was eating her alive.

"You look terrible," she rasped.

"And you smell like a corpse," I countered.

Alex laughed, a brittle sound. She stepped closer. "Enjoy your freedom, Kimberly. Graves thinks selling you to Harrison is punishment. I have a better idea."

"Your kidneys," she whispered, eyes gleaming. "Rogue Rot causes organ failure. I need a transplant. A high-vitality donor. An Alpha bloodline."

"You're delusional."

"Graves already agreed," she smiled. "He thinks it's 'silver poisoning.' He’d do anything to save me."

A chill went down my spine. This wasn't just a threat. It was a plan.

Kimberly POV:

I was heading for the exit when the world exploded.

CRASH.

The massive crystal chandelier plummeted into the center of the ballroom. Dust and glass shards sprayed everywhere.

"Alex!" Graves roared.

He tore the metal frame aside. Alex lay there, untouched by the heavy iron, but clutching her side, screaming. There was blood, but it smelled wrong—stale, theatrical.

"My side!" she wailed.

"It's a rupture!" Dr. Evans, clearly bribed, shouted over the chaos. "Her core is destabilizing! The silver poisoning... she needs an immediate Essence Graft! We need a donor with White Wolf ancestry!"

It was absurd. Essence Grafts were forbidden blood magic. But Graves wasn't thinking. He was panicking.

His eyes locked on me.

"You," he snarled. "You did this."

"I was by the door, Graves! Check the magic residue!"

"Save her!" Graves commanded the doctor.

"We need the Luna," Evans said, sweating. "She's the only match."

"No," I whispered, backing away. "Graves, this is insanity. She has Rogue Rot, not silver poisoning! She's stealing my life force!"

"I Command you!"

The Alpha's Command hit me like a sledgehammer. My motor functions cut out. I was a prisoner in my own flesh.

"Take her," Graves ordered the Enforcers.

I couldn't scream as they dragged me out. I couldn't fight as they strapped me to the gurney. I could only watch Graves holding Alex's hand, whispering comforts to the parasite while he sentenced me to mutilation.

"Proceed," he said cold-heartedly.

The darkness took me.

Kimberly POV:

Waking up felt like I’d been hollowed out with a rusty spoon. My qi, my essence, was dangerously low. My White Wolf was comatose.

I checked the chart. They had taken a kidney and a liter of spinal fluid. Essence harvesting.

Three days had passed.

I ripped the IVs out. I didn't care about the blood. I had to leave before they came back for seconds.

I took a cab to the penthouse. The smell of Alex’s victory—strawberries and my own stolen power—was suffocating.

She was on the sofa, glowing. Literally glowing. My essence was keeping her young.

"You survived," she said, disappointed. "Your blood is potent, Kim. I feel like a goddess."

Graves walked in from the balcony, wearing swim trunks. "You should be in the hospital."

"I'm here for my things."

"Graves, baby," Alex cooed, brushing past him. "Let's swim."

She threw herself into the pool. She splashed pathetically. "Help! My cramps!"

It was a performance a toddler would find insulting. But Graves dove in like a golden retriever.

He hauled her out. "You stood there?" he accused me. "You’d let her drown?"

"She's a werewolf, Graves. We don't drown in four feet of water."

"Get out," he spat. "You’re a monster."

Something inside me finally died. The last ember of hope.

I walked to the terrace. Below lay the garden of Moon Orchids I’d planted for our wedding.

I summoned the last dregs of my void magic.

Burn.

White fire erupted from my palm. The garden incinerated instantly, turning to ash.

"Consider it a divorce gift," I said to the glass.

I grabbed the cooler box from under the floorboards—my frozen child—and walked out. I didn't look back.