I pushed through the revolving glass doors of the arrivals terminal, pulling my single suitcase behind me. The damp autumn wind hit my face, carrying the scent of pine and wet asphalt. Home. Or at least, it used to be.

I was only here for Grandpa Edward. He turned eighty tomorrow. Out of the entire Hawthorne Pack, he was the only one who never looked at me with disgust.

Three men blocked the crosswalk, forming a solid wall of muscle and hostility between me and my waiting town car.

My older brother, Derek Hawthorne.

My childhood best friend, Noah Sterling.

And Tristan Blackwood. The fated mate who let me rot in the dark.

"You actually had the nerve to show your face," Derek said. He didn't offer to take my bag. He just glared, his arms crossed tight over his chest.

"Hello to you too, Derek," I replied, keeping my voice perfectly level. "Move out of my way."

Noah stepped forward, blocking my path to the sedan. "Why did you come back, Elena? Do you know what your arrival is doing to Lillian?"

"I assume she's breathing," I said. "Which is more than I can say for myself the last time you all locked me in a room."

Noah flinched, but quickly recovered his righteous anger. "She was shaking all morning. Mom and Dad had to call the pack doctor to give her a sedative. You know how fragile she is."

"Lillian Frost is not my sister," I reminded him. "And her fragility is an act you all bought. I don't care about her panic attacks."

Tristan finally moved. He closed the distance between us, his tall frame looming over me. Three years ago, his proximity would have sent a rush of warmth through my veins. The mate bond used to sing for him. Now, looking at his sharp jaw and cold eyes, I felt absolutely nothing.

"You're going to march straight to the packhouse," Tristan ordered. "You will get on your knees and apologize to Lillian for what you did at your coming-of-age ceremony."

I laughed. A short, sharp sound that startled all three of them. "Get on my knees? Are you insane?"

"You ruined her life!" Derek shouted, drawing stares from passing travelers. "You bullied an orphaned girl because you were jealous Mom and Dad loved her more!"

"I never touched her," I stated, repeating the same truth I had spoken three years ago. "But you all made your choice. You tossed me into the confinement cell. You knew I had severe claustrophobia. You left me in the pitch black for an entire night, screaming until my throat bled."

"You needed to be punished," Tristan said, though a flicker of unease crossed his features. "You needed to learn a lesson."

"Oh, I learned it," I told him. "I learned that my family, my best friend, and my mate were worthless."

Tristan's eyes flashed gold. He reached out and grabbed my upper arm, his fingers digging into my jacket. "Listen to me very carefully, Elena. You will apologize to Lillian today. If you refuse, I will stand up at the Alpha's banquet tomorrow and publicly sever our mate bond."

He waited for my reaction. He expected tears. He expected me to beg.

"I'll let the entire werewolf world know that you are still a vicious, malicious girl," Tristan threatened, his voice dropping into a low growl. "You'll be an outcast. Even that European pack you married into won't want you once they hear the truth."

I stared at the hand gripping my arm. Then I looked up into Tristan's eyes.

"The moment you chose to believe her three years ago, I stopped being the Elena you knew."

I violently wrenched my arm out of his grasp. The sudden movement caught him off guard, and he stumbled back half a step.

"Sever the bond, Tristan," I challenged, my voice ringing clear over the noise of the airport traffic. "Do it tonight for all I care. We haven't been mates since the night you let them lock that door."

I turned my back on him. The driver of the sedan had already opened the rear door. I slid into the leather interior and pulled the door shut myself, sealing them outside.

Through the tinted glass, I watched them. Noah was shouting something, gesturing wildly. Derek looked furious. But Tristan just stood there, staring at the car, his fists clenched at his sides.

My phone buzzed against my leg.

I pulled it from my pocket. A video call from Kael Nightfang.

The heavy, suffocating anger in my chest evaporated the second I saw his name. I swiped the green icon.

Kael's face filled the screen. His striking silver eyes immediately scanned my face, searching for any sign of distress.

"You landed," Kael said.

"I'm in the car," I replied, the tension bleeding out of my shoulders.

"Mommy!" A high-pitched voice shrieked. The screen shifted, and my two-year-old daughter, Aria, squished her chubby cheeks against the camera lens. "You went on the big plane!"

A massive, genuine smile broke across my face. "I did, baby. Were you a good girl for Daddy?"

"I ate all my pancakes!" Aria announced proudly.

Kael chuckled, gently pulling the phone back so I could see them both. He sat in his massive leather office chair, our daughter perched happily on his lap. He was the heir to the Nightfang Pack. The man my grandfather had arranged for me to marry to get me away from this toxic town. Everyone here thought it was a cold, political transaction.

They didn't know Kael had loved me from afar for years. They didn't know he spent every single day of our marriage proving that I was worthy of being cherished. He made me the happiest Luna in Europe.

"Are you okay, Elena?" Kael asked, his tone shifting. He read my micro-expressions better than anyone.

"I'm fine," I promised, softening my gaze. "Just tired from the flight."

Outside the window, Tristan stepped closer to the glass. He couldn't hear the conversation, but he could see my face.

He saw the radiant smile. He saw the pure, unfiltered love shining in my eyes.

Tristan's jaw went slack. The arrogant anger melted off his face, replaced by a sudden, jarring shock. He pressed a hand against the tinted window, as if trying to reach through the barrier. For the first time, the reality seemed to crash into him. I wasn't the broken, desperate girl crying for his attention anymore. I had a family. I had a life. I was completely, irrevocably gone from his world.

The driver pulled away from the curb, leaving Tristan standing in a cloud of exhaust.

"Elena," Kael murmured through the speaker, drawing my attention back to the screen.

"Yes?"

"You didn't really think I was going to let you handle the Hawthorne Pack all by yourself, did you?"

I blinked. "Kael, we talked about this. You have the pack summit—"

"The summit is handled," Kael interrupted smoothly. A dangerous, thrilling smirk curved his lips. "Aria and I just boarded the private jet. We'll be landing in your hometown in exactly five hours."

I stepped into the Hawthorne Pack manor’s grand ballroom. Crystal chandeliers cast a harsh glare over the elite werewolf families gathered for Grandpa Edward’s eightieth birthday.

The music stopped. Conversations died.

I kept my chin high, the silk of my emerald gown brushing against the marble floor. Whispers erupted around me, spreading like wildfire through the crowd.

"Is that Elena?" a woman muttered to my left.

"She looks completely different," a man replied. "Not like a runaway at all."

"She walks like a Queen," another voice whispered.

I ignored them. I scanned the room until I found the only person who mattered.

"My beautiful girl!" Grandpa Edward called out from the head table. He pushed himself up from his chair, opening his arms wide.

I crossed the room and hugged him tight. "Happy birthday, Grandpa."

"Look at you," he beamed, patting my cheek. "A true Luna. Europe has treated you well."

"It has," I agreed. "Kael sends his regards. He and Aria are flying in later."

"Good, good," Grandpa chuckled. "I want to meet my great-granddaughter."

A delicate sniffle broke the moment.

Lillian stepped out from the shadow of a towering ice sculpture. She wore a pristine white lace dress, looking every bit the fragile porcelain doll this pack worshipped.

"Sister," Lillian whispered.

A single tear rolled down her cheek, followed immediately by a violent sob. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as if my mere presence physically wounded her.

Derek materialized instantly. He shoved his shoulder in front of Lillian to shield her from me.

"What did you do to her?" Derek demanded, his voice echoing in the quiet room.

"I literally just walked into the room, Derek," I stated.

Tristan and Noah flanked them a second later, forming a protective wall around the weeping girl.

"Can't you go five minutes without causing a scene?" Tristan asked. His jaw tightened as he glared at me.

"Me?" I laughed. A dry, humorless sound. "Is it my fault she's crying?"

The surrounding guests went dead silent.

Noah pointed an accusing finger at my chest. "She's terrified of you. You know what you did to her three years ago."

"I didn't do anything then, and I'm not doing anything now," I replied. "If she wants to cry over my mere existence, that sounds like a personal problem."

"Apologize to her," Derek ordered.

"No."

"You are a guest in this house," Tristan warned, stepping closer. "Act like one."

"I am a Hawthorne," I corrected him. "And a Luna of the Nightfang Pack. Speak to me with respect, Tristan, or don't speak to me at all."

Tristan’s eyes flashed gold. He opened his mouth to argue, but Grandpa Edward slammed his cane against the floor.

"Enough!" Grandpa barked. "This is my birthday. We will have peace, or I will throw you all out."

Derek scowled but wrapped an arm around Lillian, leading her toward a nearby table. Tristan and Noah followed, casting disgusted glances over their shoulders.

The string quartet started playing again, attempting to cover the awkward tension.

I turned away from them, my stomach churning.

A waiter in a crisp black vest paused beside me, offering a silver tray. "Red wine, Miss?" he asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Thank you," I said.

My throat felt like sandpaper from the flight. I took the crystal goblet and drank deeply. The liquid tasted oddly metallic, resting heavy on my tongue.

I frowned, staring at the dark red liquid.

"You shouldn't have spoken to Tristan that way," a voice said.

I turned to see Lillian standing there, holding a small plate of appetizers. She had wiped her tears, though her eyes remained artificially red.

"Leave me alone, Lillian," I warned.

"I just want us to be a family again," she pleaded, stepping uncomfortably close.

Suddenly, the room tilted. The chandelier lights smeared into blinding streaks of yellow and white. My fingers went completely numb.

My heart hammered against my ribs. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead.

"Sister, maybe you should eat something—" Lillian reached out.

My knees buckled.

The crystal goblet slipped from my grip.

It shattered against the floor. Dark red wine splashed violently across Lillian's pristine white dress, staining the lace like fresh blood.

Lillian gasped, covering her mouth. Then, the waterworks truly began.

"It's okay!" Lillian cried out, her voice echoing over the music. "Please don't be mad at her! Sister didn't mean to do it!"

"You spiteful bitch," Derek snarled, rushing back to her side.

Tristan lunged forward. His hand clamped around my wrist like a vice. "You haven't changed at all, have you?"

I tried to yank my arm away, but my muscles felt like lead. "Release me."

"Always trying to humiliate her," Tristan sneered, his grip tightening until my bones ground together. "You just couldn't stand seeing her happy."

"The wine," I stammered, my tongue thick and clumsy. "It was drugged. I feel..."

Noah scoffed loudly. "Drugged? You threw your drink at her and now you're playing the victim?"

I looked around the circle of faces. Disgust. Anger. Judgment.

Not a single ounce of belief.

"I didn't throw it," I whispered. My eyelids drooped.

"We all saw you do it, Elena," Noah said. "Stop lying."

"She did it on purpose," Derek insisted, dabbing at the red stains on Lillian's dress with a napkin. "She waited until Lilly was close and just dumped it on her."

"I'm fine," Lillian sobbed, clutching Derek's shirt. "She just startled me. Don't yell at her, please."

Her defense only fueled their rage.

"Enough!" Alpha William—my father—barked, pushing through the crowd. He didn't even look at me. He looked at the stain on his adopted daughter's dress.

"Dad, I didn't—" I started.

"Silence," William commanded. "You have disgraced this family for the last time."

"Someone put something in my drink," I insisted, fighting to keep my eyes open. "Look at me. Look at your actual daughter."

William finally met my gaze. His eyes held nothing but contempt. "My daughter wouldn't act like a feral rogue."

"Take her to the guest quarters on the third floor," William ordered two pack guards. "Lock the door. She will not ruin this banquet."

The guards grabbed my arms, hauling me backward.

"Dad, please," I slurred.

He turned his back on me.

My pulse roared in my ears, drowning out the string quartet. The edges of the room darkened.

Through my blurring vision, I saw Lillian huddled against Tristan's chest. She lowered her head, pretending to hide her face in his jacket.

But as the guards dragged me away, she tilted her chin just enough for me to see.

A cruel, triumphant smile stretched across her lips.

My vision faded to black, the drug finally pulling me under.

But Kael was coming.

And when my husband landed, this pack would burn.

The lock clicked shut.

I slumped against the mattress, my limbs filled with wet sand. The drug pulled at my consciousness, dragging me downward into a heavy fog.

I patted my dress pocket.

Empty.

They took my phone. Kael wouldn't know where to find me in this sprawling manor.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway.

The brass knob turned.

Tristan stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

"You look pathetic," Tristan muttered.

He crossed the rug, stopping at the foot of the bed. He wore a tailored suit, but his tie was loosened, hanging unevenly around his collar.

"Get out," I slurred. My tongue felt too large for my mouth.

"Don't be difficult, Elena. I told the guards to leave us."

He sat on the edge of the mattress. The springs groaned under his weight.

"I haven't forgotten you," he murmured, his voice dropping into that low timbre he used to reserve for our private moments. "Three years, and I still think about the bond."

I stared at the ceiling. "There is no bond."

"Stop lying to yourself." He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek.

I jerked my head away. The sudden motion made the room spin, my stomach lurching violently.

"Just apologize to Lillian," Tristan urged. "Go downstairs, tell her you're sorry, and we can fix this. We can be mates again."

I let out a dry, raspy laugh. It sounded like scraping metal.

"Did you hit your head?" I asked.

Tristan's jaw tightened. "I'm offering you a way out of this mess. Your father is ready to banish you completely."

"I don't care about William." I forced myself to sit up, leaning heavily against the headboard. "And I don't care about you. We are finished. We have been finished since you let them lock me in the dark."

"I was protecting the pack's unity," Tristan reasoned, leaning closer.

"You were protecting her," I shot back.

"She was weak. You were strong. You could handle the confinement."

"I screamed until I coughed up blood, Tristan."

He flinched, looking away for a fraction of a second. "You're just being stubborn. You always were."

"Do you even hear yourself?" I asked.

"I hear a mate who is lost," Tristan said.

"I'm not lost. I'm married."

Tristan sneered. "To some European suit your grandfather found? That isn't real. You did it to make me jealous."

"I did it to survive."

"You don't love him."

"I love him more than I ever loved you."

His eyes flared gold. The rejection stung his Alpha pride.

"You think running off to Europe makes you better than us?" Tristan demanded.

"It makes me free of you."

"You're mine," he growled.

Tristan lunged. He pinned my wrists to the mattress with one hand, his grip bruising my skin.

"Get off me!" I yelled.

The drug kept my muscles useless. I thrashed, but it was like moving underwater.

"Once I mark you, this little rebellion ends," Tristan whispered against my neck. His canines elongated, scraping against my collarbone.

A terrifying, crushing weight slammed into the room.

The air vanished.

The heavy oak door ripped off its hinges. It smashed into the far wall, splintering into jagged shards.

Tristan froze.

A towering figure stood in the doorway.

Kael.

His silver eyes burned with a lethal, icy fury. The sheer force of his Alpha aura flooded the space, forcing the oxygen out of my lungs.

It hit Tristan like a freight train.

Tristan gasped, releasing my wrists. His knees buckled under the immense pressure, slamming into the hardwood floor. He choked, clutching his throat as he stared up at the man invading the room.

Kael didn't speak.

He crossed the room in two strides.

His fist connected with Tristan's jaw. The sickening crack of bone echoed off the walls.

Tristan flew backward, crashing through the wooden vanity. Glass shattered, raining down over his limp body.

Kael didn't spare him a second glance.

He shrugged off his dark trench coat and wrapped it securely around my shivering shoulders.

"I've got you," Kael murmured, lifting me into his arms as easily as if I weighed nothing.

"You came," I whispered, resting my head against his chest.

"I told you I would."

He carried me out of the room, stepping over the ruined door.

We descended the grand staircase. The music from the ballroom drifted up to meet us.

Kael didn't slow down. He marched straight through the arched double doors and into the center of the banquet hall.

The string quartet screeched to a halt.

Hundreds of elite werewolves turned to stare.

Lillian gasped, clinging to Derek's arm.

Alpha William stepped forward, his face flushed with anger. "What is the meaning of this? Put my daughter down!"

Kael ignored him. He scanned the crowd, his silver eyes locking onto every pack member, every elder, every guest.

"Remember this moment," Kael's voice boomed. It wasn't a shout. It was a command that vibrated through the floorboards.

Silence blanketed the room. No one dared to breathe.

"From today on," Kael announced, his tone laced with absolute authority, "Elena Hawthorne is my wife. She is the only Luna of the Nightfang Pack."

Whispers erupted, then died instantly as Kael's aura spiked again.

"Anyone who dares to hurt her," Kael continued, his gaze drifting lazily to William, "is making an enemy of the entire Nightfang Pack."

William's angry flush vanished. His skin turned a sickening shade of gray.

"Nightfang?" Derek stammered, taking a step back.

Lillian shrank behind Derek, her wide eyes darting between me and the monstrously powerful Alpha holding me.

William opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat. He recognized the man standing in his ballroom. He recognized the ruin staring him in the face.

"Alpha Nightfang," William finally choked out, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "There has been a misunderstanding. Elena is my daughter. We were simply disciplining her."

"Disciplining her?" Kael repeated, his voice dangerously soft.

"She attacked Lillian," Derek interjected, stepping up beside his father. "She threw drugged wine on her."

Kael tilted his head. "My wife doesn't need parlor tricks to deal with pests."

"It's the truth!" Noah shouted from the crowd. "We all saw it!"

"Then you are all blind," Kael stated.

"The only misunderstanding," Kael added smoothly, turning his attention back to William, "is you thinking your pack will survive this night."

Kael turned on his heel, carrying me toward the exit.

"Wait!" Lillian cried out, rushing forward. "You can't take her! She assaulted me!"

Kael paused. He didn't look back at her.

"If my wife wanted to assault you," Kael stated, "you wouldn't be standing there to complain about it."

He resumed walking.

But a new voice echoed from the entrance, freezing everyone in their tracks.

"Nobody is leaving."

Grandpa Edward stood in the doorway, leaning heavily on his cane, but his eyes were fixed on the shadows behind Kael.

"Because the real thief hasn't confessed yet."