Juliet POV

The crisp morning air was suffocating, thick with the tension of gathered wolves. Outside the grand gates of the Palmer Packhouse, a fleet of black bulletproof SUVs idled, their engines a low, menacing hum. The Royal Pack escorts stood like statues, radiating lethal discipline.

Beside the lead vehicle sat Prince Bryce in his wheelchair. His face was deathly pale, his eyes swirling with a gloomy, bitter darkness that dared anyone to pity him.

"Get in the car, Juliet," a burly Warrior growled, grabbing my bruised arm to shove me forward.

I dug my heels into the gravel, my blood running cold with absolute resolve. "No."

Alpha Harold stepped out from the crowd, his eyes flashing with a dangerous warning. "I, Alpha Harold, command you to get in that transport," he boomed, unleashing the full, crushing weight of his Alpha's Command.

The heavy pressure rolled over the crowd, forcing weaker wolves to lower their heads. But as the command hit me, a strange, icy resilience flared deep within my veins. The invisible weight shattered against my mind. I stood tall, completely unaffected.

Harold’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief.

I turned my gaze directly to the crippled prince. "Prince Bryce!" I shouted, projecting my voice so every Pack member present could hear. "I will not marry you. My father and Alpha Heir Braydon are playing you for a fool. They forged a death warrant against my mother to force me—a 'wolfless' Omega—to take the place of his precious daughter, Charlize. All so she can marry Braydon and become the future Luna Queen!"

A collective gasp ripped through the courtyard. Bryce’s head snapped toward Braydon, his dark eyes igniting with sudden, lethal fury.

"Shut your mouth, you lying bitch!" Braydon roared.

His golden Inner Wolf aura exploded outward. Before I could even brace myself, he lunged. His heavy leather boot slammed into my ribs with the force of a freight train. I flew backward, crashing hard onto the unforgiving gravel. The metallic taste of fresh blood flooded my mouth.

Harold immediately seized the chaos. He projected his gray wolf aura, trying to blanket the murmuring crowd in his authority. "Do not listen to this insane girl!" he shouted, feigning the heartbreak of a betrayed father. "Her mother, Estelle, is a greedy, arrogant woman who plotted to have Juliet seduce the Alpha Heir! This is nothing but a pathetic, jealous tantrum!"

Some of the Pack members began to sneer at me, easily swayed by their Alpha's scent.

I spat a mouthful of blood onto the stones and slowly pushed myself up. My ribs screamed in agony, but my hands were steady as I reached into my pocket. I pulled out the heavy parchment sealed with Harold’s wax crest.

"Then explain this," I rasped, tossing it directly at Bryce’s feet.

Bryce snatched the decree from the ground. His eyes rapidly scanned the forged charges of my mother mating with a Rogue. His knuckles turned white, the paper crinkling under his furious grip. With a roar of pure disgust, he hurled the crumpled parchment directly into Harold’s face.

"You dare humiliate me with this trash?" Bryce snarled, his voice dripping with venom. "You think I’m a crippled fool you can just toss your garbage to, Harold? I will not accept this insult. Luna Queen Augusta will hear of this treachery." He shot a deadly glare at his brother. "And Braydon, I will remember this."

As the Royal escorts tensed, a strange sensation prickled the back of my neck. It wasn't the suffocating pressure of an Alpha. It was something far more terrifying. A faint, intoxicating scent drifted through the chaos—violent thunderstorms and dark cedar.

My newly awakening senses—sharper than any normal wolf's—pulled my attention upward. High above, on the secluded balcony of the Packhouse's side wing, stood a man cloaked in shadows. Lycan King Ezekiel Scott.

Even from this distance, his abyssal black eyes were locked onto me.

*“Should we intervene, My King? Prince Bryce is humiliated,”* a Warrior beside him whispered.

Through the ringing in my ears, my enhanced hearing caught Ezekiel’s cold, rumbling reply. *“No. Let's watch the show.”*

His gaze bore into me, stripping away my defenses. I saw a flicker of dark amusement in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of my defiance against the Alpha's Command. But his next whispered words chilled me to the bone.

*“She has spine. But in the face of absolute power, stubborn weaklings always die the worst deaths.”*

He was right. I had won this battle, but as Bryce spun his wheelchair around and barked orders for his men to leave, I knew the real slaughter was about to begin.

Juliet POV

The heavy tires of the Royal Pack's bulletproof SUVs crunched against the gravel, breaking the suffocating silence. Bryce didn't spare us another glance as his guards loaded his wheelchair into the lead vehicle. Braydon peeled out seconds later, his suffocating golden aura lashing out in a humiliated rage that rattled the Packhouse windows.

The grand, farcical wedding procession had evaporated.

Elder Edwina stepped out onto the porch, her wooden cane thumping ominously against the floorboards. She released the oppressive, stale scent of an aged she-wolf, her sharp eyes sweeping over the gossiping crowd. "Show's over. Return to your duties," she snapped.

As the Pack members scattered, a sleek, unassuming black sedan rolled slowly past the gates. The tinted rear window lowered just an inch. Inside sat Ezekiel Scott, the reclusive, top-tier Lycan King. His deep, unfathomable gaze locked onto my bloodied form for a fraction of a second before the window glided up and the car vanished down the road.

*Did you see her face? She's a dead woman walking,* a voice whispered through the Pack's Mind-Link.

*Luna Queen Augusta will skin her alive for humiliating the royals,* another replied.

*Clang.*

The heavy iron gates of the Palmer Packhouse slammed shut, cutting off the whispers.

Before I could even catch my breath, a brutal hand twisted into my hair. Alpha Harold dragged me across the courtyard and hurled me onto the freezing cobblestones. His gray wolf scent exploded in a violent frenzy.

He kicked me squarely in the ribs. I bit down on my tongue, tasting fresh copper as my vision blurred. My fingers twitched, brushing against the fabric of my pocket where the jagged, Silver-laced whip barb rested. My operative instincts screamed at me to drive it straight into his jugular.

"You useless, wretched mistake!" Harold roared, raising his foot for another crushing blow.

"Stop, Harold," Edwina's cold voice sliced through his rage. She hobbled down the steps, her eyes devoid of any grandmotherly warmth. "Beating her to death here serves no purpose. Prince Bryce is already on his way to the palace. The Luna Queen's wrath will fall upon our Pack."

Harold froze, his chest heaving. "Then what do you suggest, Mother?"

"We play the victims," Edwina said smoothly, looking at me like I was a piece of rotting meat. "We hand her over. We tell Augusta that this wolfless Omega went completely insane, that she forged the decree herself out of jealousy. Let the Luna Queen execute her. Her blood will wash our hands clean."

Carmen stepped up beside Harold, a vicious smile twisting her lips. "A brilliant plan, Elder."

"You bitch!" a shrill voice shrieked.

Charlize burst from the Packhouse doors, reeking of cloying, sweet roses. Her face was contorted in pure, unadulterated hatred. Her secret lover had been humiliated, her grand plans delayed. She threw herself onto me, her manicured hands slapping my bruised face left and right. "You ruined everything! You ruined Braydon!"

I didn't just take it. I was done being their punching bag.

With a surge of adrenaline, I twisted my hips and violently bucked her off. Charlize hit the cobblestones with a shriek. Before she could scramble away, I lunged. I pulled the blood-crusted Silver barb from my pocket and slashed it diagonally across her left cheek.

*Hiss.*

The sound of burning flesh was instantaneous. Charlize let out a bloodcurdling, agonizing scream as the Silver seared through her skin, guaranteeing a permanent, unhealable scar.

"My baby!" Carmen shrieked in absolute horror. "Get her off! Pull her off!"

Two burly Warriors grabbed my arms, hauling me backward. Carmen rushed forward and slapped me so hard my ears rang, but I just spat a mouthful of bloody saliva at her designer shoes and let out a dark, breathless laugh.

"Touch me again," I whispered, my eyes locking onto Harold's with the cold, dead stare of a reaper, "and I'll make sure the Luna Queen knows exactly whose idea that forged decree was. I'll drag this entire family to hell with me."

Harold's face paled, his fists trembling with a mix of fury and genuine unease. "Drag this animal to the Pack Shrine," he ordered the Warriors, his voice shaking. "Leave her on her knees before the Alpha statues until the royal summons arrives."

They dragged me by my arms, leaving a trail of my blood across the courtyard. They threw me onto the hard wooden floor of the cold, dimly lit Shrine and slammed the heavy oak doors shut.

Outside, my newly awakening White Wolf hearing picked up Edwina's hushed, venomous whisper to Harold. *"If by some miracle she survives the palace today, we announce she died of a sudden illness in three days. She does not live to see the weekend."*

I knelt before the towering stone statues of the Moon Goddess and the past Alphas, my breathing shallow. I reached into my torn pocket, my fingers brushing against something metallic that definitely wasn't the Silver barb.

I pulled it out. My breath hitched.

It was a sleek, leather-bound roll. Inside rested my custom-made, microchipped gold needles from my past life—a three-thousand-dollar set I used for advanced nerve block procedures. How they had crossed over with my soul, I had no idea.

But the moment my bloodied fingertips touched the cool gold, a strange, profound warmth pulsed up my arm. It resonated deep within my chest, awakening a dormant, ancient energy. My White Wolf's Healer bloodline was answering the call.

I gripped the needles tightly, my eyes fixed on the cold stone face of the Moon Goddess. Let the Luna Queen summon me. I was ready.

Juliet POV

I knelt in the dim Pack Shrine, the cool gold of my needles grounding me. Over an hour had passed. The agonizing burn of the Silver in my back was a constant, suffocating fire, but my mind remained razor-sharp.

"Kneel straight, you wolfless trash," a voice sneered from behind me.

Before I could brace myself, a heavy boot slammed into my injured spine. White-hot pain exploded behind my eyes. It was Dori, Edwina's Omega servant, trying to earn favor by tormenting a bleeding girl.

My operative instincts bypassed my physical exhaustion. I spun, dropping low, and swept her legs out from under her. Dori hit the hard wooden floor with a shocked gasp. In a fraction of a second, I was on top of her, my bloody knee driving ruthlessly into her elbow joint.

"Alpha Harold will—" she choked out, her eyes wide with sudden terror.

I pressed my knee down harder, leaning in until my face was inches from hers. My eyes were dead, devoid of any hesitation. Dori whimpered. Her weak, cowardly Inner Wolf shrank back, instinctively terrified of the lethal, cold-blooded intent radiating from a supposed wolfless Omega.

At 3 PM, the heavy Shrine doors creaked open.

Carmen walked in, followed by a stern woman in a pristine, dark uniform—Gail, the Luna Queen's head official. Seeing the Royal escort, Carmen immediately rushed toward me, her face twisting into a mask of fake, maternal heartbreak.

"Oh, Juliet, look at you," Carmen cooed, reaching out to adjust my torn collar.

Under the fabric, her manicured nails dug viciously into my raw Silver wound. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming as the metal toxicity flared.

"You will die on Royal grounds today," Carmen whispered, her voice barely a breath, masked by her nauseating, cheap perfume.

I didn't flinch. I channeled the searing, soul-tearing pain directly into my right arm, raised my hand, and delivered a brutal, bone-rattling slap across her face.

*Smack.*

The sound echoed sharply through the Shrine. Carmen crashed to the floor, clutching her rapidly swelling cheek in absolute disbelief.

"If I die, I'm dragging you to hell first," I said coldly, looking down at her.

Standing by the door, Gail’s eyes widened. A flicker of profound shock broke her stoic facade. She clearly hadn't expected a battered, wolfless girl to possess such a terrifying, unyielding aura.

By sunset, the black bulletproof SUV came to a halt outside the towering iron gates of the Royal Pack. The white marble path stretched endlessly toward the inner palace, lined with heavily armed Warriors.

"The Luna Queen demands a Penance Walk," Gail announced, her voice echoing in the crisp evening air. "Kneel every three steps. Bow your head to the stone every nine."

It was a blatant, humiliating display of power. I stepped out of the vehicle, my legs trembling from severe blood loss.

*One, two, three. Kneel.*

The hard stone bit into my shattered knees.

*Nine. Bow.*

My forehead struck the pristine marble, leaving a smear of fresh blood. The pain was blinding, but my White Wolf's faint, dormant healing energy pulsed just enough to keep me conscious. I brushed the leather roll in my pocket, my mind calculating every variable. *Prince Bryce, you better be in that palace. You are my only way out of this slaughterhouse.*

By the time I reached the Luna Queen's palace, darkness had fully fallen.

"Wait here," Gail ordered coldly.

I was left kneeling on the freezing marble porch. Half an hour dragged by. The night wind bit into my open wounds, but I kept my spine rigid, refusing to shiver.

Through the heavy oak doors, a terrifying, intoxicating scent bled into the cold air. Violent thunderstorms and dark cedar. Lycan King Ezekiel. Just breathing it in made my dormant wolf stir with an ancient, inexplicable reverence. The sheer weight of his presence inside that room was suffocating.

Finally, the heavy doors creaked open. Gail stepped out, her eyes lingering on my blood-soaked, battered form with something akin to quiet disbelief.

"The Queen will see you now," she said.

I forced my numb legs to stand, squared my bleeding shoulders, and stepped over the threshold.