Ava POV:

The Pack House was suffocating. Every corner held a memory I wanted to incinerate.

I moved through the Alpha's suite- our suite, or so I had thought-with a trash bag in hand. I wasn't just cleaning; I was purging.

Harrison's shirts, the ones I used to wear when he was away on business? Trash. The necklace he gave me for my birthday, a cheap silver thing while he bought Brooke diamonds? Trash.

I reached the bedside table. There sat a framed photo of us from five years ago. We were smiling. I looked so young, so hopeful. So stupid.

I didn't put it in the bag. I threw it against the wall.

Crash.

The glass shattered, shards skittering across the hardwood floor.

"What do you think you are doing?"

The growl vibrated through the floorboards. Harrison stood in the doorway, his chest heaving. He had just returned from a run; he was shirtless, sweat glistening on his skin, smelling of ozone and pine.

Usually, that scent made my knees weak. Today, it made me nauseous.

"I'm redecorating," I said coldly, picking up another frame.

"Put that down," he ordered.

"No."

Harrison moved faster than a human eye could follow. He was across the room in a blur, gripping my wrist. His fingers dug into my skin, bruising instantly.

"I am your Alpha, Ava! You do not disobey me!"

"You forfeited that right when you left me to die!" I screamed back, wrenching my arm. I couldn't break his grip. He was too strong.

His eyes flashed amber. The Wolf was near the surface. To an Alpha, defiance from a mate-especially an Omega-triggered a primal, aggressive need to dominate.

"You need to learn your place," he snarled.

He shoved me backward. I stumbled, my legs hitting the edge of the bed, and I fell onto the mattress.

Before I could scramble away, he was on top of me. His weight was crushing. He wasn't hitting me, but he was pinning me, using his mass to force me into submission.

Submit, his wolf projected into my mind. A heavy, dark command.

"Get off me!" I gasped.

"You are mine, Ava. Unmarked or not, you belong to me. You exist because I allow it."

He grabbed a coil of rope from the bedside drawer-something he used for 'play'-but I saw the glint of metal woven into the fibers. Silver wire.

"Harrison, no! That has silver!" I panicked.

He didn't care. He grabbed my wrists and bound them to the headboard. The moment the wire touched my skin, smoke rose. The burning smell of my own flesh filled the room.

"Stop! It burns!" I screamed, tears leaking from my eyes.

"Pain brings clarity," he whispered, leaning down. He buried his face in my neck, inhaling deeply. "You smell like rebellion. I hate it."

He kissed my neck, rough and biting. It wasn't affection; it was a territorial claim. He was trying to mark me with his scent, to cover up the smell of my fear.

My wolf, usually dormant, snarled from the depths of her cage.

Fight him.

As he moved his hand down my shirt, trying to claim what he thought was his property, I lunged upward.

I sank my teeth into his lower lip. Hard.

I tasted copper. Blood.

Harrison roared and jerked back. He touched his mouth, his fingers coming away bloody. To be bitten by an Omega was the ultimate insult.

He raised his hand, his claws extending. For a second, I thought he was going to rip my throat out.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

His phone on the dresser buzzed.

The red haze in his eyes cleared instantly. He looked at the screen. Brooke.

"Brooke?" His voice shifted from a monster's growl to a gentle caress. "What's wrong?"

I lay there, my wrists searing in the silver binds, listening to him.

"A nightmare? I'm coming. Don't cry. I'll be right there."

He hung up. He looked at me, tied to the bed, bleeding from the silver burns, tears tracking through the dust on my face.

"Stay here," he said, wiping the blood from his lip. "Think about what you did."

He turned and walked out.

He left me. Again.

"Harrison!" I screamed, pulling at the ropes. The silver bit deeper, slicing into my wrists.

Silence was my only answer.

Hours passed. The sun went down. The room plunged into darkness. My wrists were raw, the poison pulsing up my arms, making my veins turn black.

I reached out through the bond, just to see. Just to know.

I felt him. He was calm. Happy. I felt the phantom sensation of soft sheets and the smell of vanilla.

He was in bed with her.

I stopped struggling. The physical pain was nothing compared to the hollow, rotting hole in my chest.

I lay in the dark, the smell of my own burnt flesh filling my nose, and I let the hate take root. It was a cold, hard thing. A weapon.

I will kill you, I promised the empty room. I will kill you both.

Ava POV:

I woke up from a fever dream where Harrison stood at the Moon Goddess's altar, his mouth moving in silent vows, but his face kept shifting into a skull.

My wrists were raw, scabbing over with that ugly black tint that silver leaves behind. He had untied me sometime in the early morning, likely when he crept back in to change his shirt, but he hadn't woken me.

I dragged myself to the bathroom. My reflection was a stranger. Pale skin, dark circles under eyes that used to be bright green but now looked like stagnant moss.

I went downstairs. I needed water.

Harrison was in the kitchen. He was cooking. Bacon, eggs, pancakes. The smell turned my stomach.

"You're up," he said, flipping a pancake. He sounded cheerful. Manic, almost. "I made breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," I rasped, leaning against the doorframe for support.

"It's not for you," he said, not looking up. "It's for Brooke. She's having a hard time. The attack triggered her PTSD."

"Her PTSD?" I laughed, a dry, broken sound. "I have a hole in my stomach, Harrison. My wrists are burned because of you."

He slammed the spatula down. "Stop making this about you, Ava! Brooke is a Seer! Her mind is fragile. The trauma blocked her visions. If she can't See, the Pack is blind."

"So she's an asset," I said. "And what am I?"

"You're... difficult," he muttered, plating the food.

"Where is she staying?" I asked, though I already knew.

"The guest room across from ours," he said. "I need to be close in case she has another episode."

Of course. Across the hall. So he could hear her every whimper.

Just then, the kitchen door swung open. Brooke walked in.

She was wearing one of Harrison's oversized t-shirts. My stomach lurched. That was my favorite shirt. The one I wore when I was sick.

"Oh, Ava," she said, her voice breathy and fake. She brought a hand to her mouth. "You look... terrible. Does it hurt?"

"Take off the shirt," I said.

Brooke looked at Harrison, her eyes filling with instant, practiced tears. "Harrison... I didn't know... I just grabbed the first thing I saw..."

"It's fine, Brooke," Harrison soothed her, glaring at me. "It's just a shirt, Ava. Grow up."

He picked up the tray of food. "Come on, let's go eat on the patio. The fresh air will help your visions."

They walked past me. Harrison, the Alpha who demanded strength, waiting hand and foot on a woman who was clearly manipulating him.

"Oh, by the way," Harrison paused at the door. "Get dressed. Something nice. We're taking the yacht out this afternoon."

I blinked. "The yacht?"

"Yes. Just us," he said, his eyes softening slightly, a glimmer of the man I used to love appearing. "We need to talk. To fix this. I know I've been... stressed. Let me make it up to you. A sunset cruise."

A tiny, treacherous part of my heart sparked. Maybe he realized. Maybe he saw how crazy this was.

"Okay," I whispered.

I wore a white sundress, carefully applying makeup to hide the pallor of my skin. I bandaged my wrists and wore long sleeves to cover them.

I drove down to the pier, my heart fluttering with a mix of anxiety and hope.

The Silver Moon , Harrison's yacht, bobbed in the water.

Harrison was waiting on the dock, looking handsome in his deck shoes and linen shirt. He smiled when he saw me.

"You look beautiful, Ava."

He reached out a hand to help me onto the boat. For a second, just a second, I felt the spark. The bond trying to repair itself.

Then I heard the car door slam behind me.

I turned.

Brooke was stepping out of a taxi. She was wearing a bikini top and a sheer sarong, carrying a massive beach bag.

"Hey guys!" she waved, bouncing down the dock.

I froze. I looked at Harrison. "You said 'just us'."

Harrison rubbed the back of his neck, looking annoyed-not at her, but at me for making it awkward. "Her car wouldn't start. She was afraid to be alone at the Pack House because of the Rogues. I couldn't leave a Pack asset unprotected, Ava. Be reasonable."

"Reasonable?" I stepped back. "She's coming on our 'date'?"

"It's not a date, it's a... team building exercise," Harrison said, his voice hardening. "Get on the boat, Ava."

Brooke skipped up to us, linking her arm through Harrison's. "Thanks for letting me tag along, Harry. The water helps me connect to the Moon Goddess."

Harry. She called him Harry.

I looked at the boat. I looked at the water. I should have turned around and driven away.

But the Alpha Command pushed against my mind. Board the vessel.

My legs moved against my will. I stepped onto the deck, feeling like I was walking onto a floating coffin.

"Let's have some fun!" Brooke squealed.

I watched Harrison guide her onto the deck, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back. I stood there, the third wheel in my own marriage, the wind from the ocean feeling colder than ice.

Ava POV:

The yacht cut through the waves, leaving a trail of white foam that quickly disappeared into the dark blue. Just like my dignity.

I sat on the stern, staring at the horizon. Up on the flybridge, Harrison was steering, with Brooke laughing beside him. The wind carried their voices, but not their words.

I tried to reach Harrison through the mind-link.

Harrison? Can we talk?

Silence. Not the silence of an empty room, but the silence of a locked door. He was blocking me.

I focused harder. I could feel a hum of activity on his mental frequency. He was linking. Just not with me.

He was mind-linking her .

My stomach twisted. Mind-linking was intimate. It was a merging of thoughts. To do it with someone other than your mate while your mate was sitting ten feet away was emotional adultery.

"Champagne?"

I jumped. Harrison was standing there. He held two crystal flutes.

"Where's Brooke?" I asked.

"Downstairs changing," he said. He sat next to me, offering a glass. "Ava, I know you're upset. But you have to understand the pressure I'm under. The Council is threatening to downgrade our Pack status if we don't deal with the Rogue threat. Brooke is the key."

"So you sleep with the key?" I asked, taking the glass but not drinking.

Harrison flinched. "I haven't slept with her."

Liar. I smelled her on him. It was faint, buried under his cologne, but it was there.

"Drink," he urged, clinking his glass against mine. "To us. To the future."

I looked at him. His eyes were pleading. I wanted to believe him so badly. I wanted the nightmare to end.

I took a sip.

It tasted sweet, crisp... and then it burned.

Not the burn of alcohol. A scorching, chemical burn that clawed at my throat and seized my lungs.

I dropped the glass. It shattered.

I clutched my throat, gasping for air. My limbs felt heavy, like they were filled with lead.

"Har...ri...son..." I choked out.

He didn't move to help me. He just watched, his face an unreadable mask of regret and determination.

"I'm sorry, Ava," he said softly. "The Pack needs a Luna who can shift. A Luna who carries power. Brooke... she's pregnant."

The world spun. Pregnant?

"It's a male," he continued, his voice sounding far away. "A strong heir. I can't have a weak heir, Ava. I can't."

Liquid Wolfsbane. High concentration.

My vision blurred. Darkness encroached from the edges.

"Sleep," he commanded.

I slumped onto the deck, paralyzed but conscious. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak.

He picked me up effortlessly and carried me down the stairs. He bypassed the master bedroom and went to the crew quarters-the brig. He dumped me onto a narrow cot and locked the door.

I lay there in the dark, my body fighting the poison, my heart shattering into a million pieces.

Hours passed. Or maybe minutes. The engine slowed. The anchor dropped.

I dragged myself to the porthole. We weren't at the marina. We were in a secluded cove.

I saw flashes of light from the upper deck. Chanting.

I forced my paralyzed fingers to claw at the door lock. It was useless.

Then, the door opened.

Brooke stood there. She was wearing a long, shimmering silver gown. Around her neck was a pendant-a moonstone set in twisted white gold.

My mother's necklace. The one I had thought was lost in the Rogue attack three years ago.

"Like it?" Brooke asked, fingering the stone. "Harrison gave it to me. Part of the Luna Ceremony."

"It's... mine..." I wheezed.

"Not anymore," she smiled. It wasn't a sweet smile. It was the smile of a predator playing with food. "You're just a placeholder, Ava. A defective Omega who couldn't give him a pup. I'm carrying the next Alpha."

She stepped into the tiny room, the smell of Wolfsbane and vanilla suffocating me.

"You know," she whispered, leaning down, "I told the Rogues which route your mother was taking that day. She screamed quite a bit before she died."

My blood froze.

"Why?" I managed to whisper.

"Because I needed an opening," she shrugged. "I needed the Pack vulnerable so Harrison would be desperate for a Seer. And you... you were just in the way."

She stood up and smoothed her dress. "Enjoy the brig, honey. Tonight is my coronation."

She slammed the door. The lock clicked.

I lay on the floor, staring at the rivets in the metal wall. The grief for my mother, the betrayal of my mate, the poison in my veins-it all swirled together into a vortex of pure rage.

They thought I was weak. They thought I was broken.

But deep inside, past the Wolfsbane and the pain, something snapped. The seal my father placed on my bloodline cracked.

My eyes burned, not with tears, but with a strange, white heat.

You want a monster? I thought. I'll show you a monster.