Zora POV:

They didn't just want my life; they wanted my name.

While I was being prepped, stripped of my clothes and put into a thin, humiliating hospital gown, my phone buzzed incessantly on the side table. It was the Pack Forum.

I picked it up with trembling fingers.

*Breaking News: The Truth Behind the Potions.*

There was a post from Laila's account. It claimed that I had been blackmailing her, forcing her to include my "flawed" theories in her work, which was why the Academy had flagged her recent paper for plagiarism. She spun a tale of a jealous, non-shifting sister who wanted to drag the pack's genius down into the mud.

The comments were a landslide of hatred.

*"Useless Omega."*

*"She should be banished."*

*"Why is she even still in the pack?"*

The door opened, and Simon didn't walk in-he stormed in. He didn't speak. He grabbed my arm, his grip bruising, and dragged me out of the room.

"Simon, stop! I can't walk fast!" I cried out, stumbling. My bare feet slapped against the cold linoleum.

"You're going to fix this," he growled, not slowing down. He dragged me like a rogue, like garbage, right into the main waiting area where my family and a few pack elders were gathered.

He threw me onto the floor. I landed hard on my knees, the impact jarring my spine.

I looked up and saw Laila holding a phone. The red light was on. She was livestreaming.

"Tell them," Simon commanded, his voice booming so everyone in the room-and everyone watching online-could hear. "Tell the pack that you lied. Tell them you sabotaged Laila out of jealousy."

I looked at him, searching for the boy who had saved me from a storm five years ago. The boy who had wrapped his jacket around me and promised I was safe. That boy was dead.

Laila started coughing, a delicate, pitiful sound. "I can't breathe," she wheezed, clutching her chest. "Her scent... it's so bitter. It's choking me."

It was a lie. I had no scent left. The poison had stripped it away. But Simon reacted instantly.

"Do it now, Zora! Or I swear by the Moon Goddess, I will throw you into the dungeon. *You can rot in the dark before I let you near a surgery table.*"

*The dungeon meant dying alone, in slow, excruciating agony. The surgery was a guillotine-quick, final. The anesthesia would be my freedom.*

I looked at the camera lens. I looked at the thousands of viewers.

"I..." My voice cracked. "I am jealous of my sister."

"Louder," my father said from the corner, arms crossed.

"I am jealous," I said, my voice dead. "I lied. Laila is the genius. I am... I am nothing."

"And?" Laila prompted, a cruel glint in her eyes.

"And I am sorry."

Laila lowered the phone, ending the stream. She instantly stopped wheezing. She looked at me with a beatific smile, the picture of grace. "I forgive you, Zora. Even though you hate me, I still love you. That's why I'm letting you save me."

"See?" my father said, nodding at the elders. "Laila has the heart of a true Luna. Zora has finally learned her place."

"Good," Simon said. He looked at me with pure disdain. "Get her out of my sight. The surgery starts in ten minutes."

He turned his back on me to hug Laila.

I lay on the floor for a moment, too weak to move. The Mind-Link was buzzing with the collective thoughts of the pack.

*Did you hear her admit it?*

*Disgusting.*

*She deserves to die.*

I closed my eyes, blocking them out.

Laila leaned down, pretending to help me up. Her lips brushed my ear.

"You know," she whispered, her voice like silk wrapped around a razor blade. "Even the Moon Goddess has abandoned you. Simon is mine. He was always mine. And now, your life is mine too."

I pulled away from her, using the wall to stand. I didn't say a word. There were no words left. I just turned and walked toward the operating theater.

Zora POV:

The operating theater was a chamber of horrors for my kind.

It wasn't just the sterile white tiles or the blinding lights. It was the silver. The surgical tools were lined up on a metal tray, gleaming with a deadly luster. For humans, silver was just metal. For werewolves, it burned like acid and halted our supernatural healing.

To cut into a werewolf, you had to use silver-coated blades to stop the skin from knitting back together instantly.

I sat on the edge of the operating table, shivering. The gown offered no warmth.

The clock on the wall ticked. One hour left. Maybe less.

I could feel the Wolfsbane gathering in my chest, a tight, constricting knot. My heart was beating irregularly-*thump... thump-thump... pause.*

Through the glass observation window, I could see the prep room next door. Laila was lying on a plush bed. My mother was fastening a necklace around her throat-the Moonstone necklace. It was an heirloom, supposed to protect the wearer during times of physical stress.

I touched my own bare neck. No necklace. No comfort.

My father walked into the observation room. He looked through the glass, his eyes meeting mine.

I pressed the button on the intercom. "Father?"

He frowned, pressing the button on his side. "What is it? Don't stall."

"If I die on this table," I asked, my voice trembling, "will you howl for me?"

In our culture, the howl was the guide for the soul to find the Moon Goddess. To die without a howl was to be lost in the void.

My father's face twisted in annoyance. "Don't be morbid. You're just giving an essence organ. You aren't dying. Stop trying to manipulate us with pity."

He released the button and turned away.

Tears finally spilled down my cheeks.

The door to my room opened. It wasn't a nurse. It was Simon. He stood at the foot of the table, looking uncomfortable.

"Laila wanted me to check on you," he said stiffly.

"Did she?" I whispered.

"Look," he said, running a hand through his hair. *"When this is over... you can move out of the attic. The guest room on the second floor is empty. It's warmer."*

*He wasn't offering kindness. He was offering a cage with better heating.* He was making promises to a corpse to ease his own conscience.

"Simon," I said softly. "Look at me."

He finally met my eyes. For a second, just a fraction of a second, I saw confusion in his gaze. His wolf was stirring, sensing the finality of the moment, but Simon pushed it down.

"Just get it done," he said, and walked out.

The surgeon, Dr. Petra, entered. She was a Beta, efficient and cold. She didn't know about the poison. No one did.

"Lie back," she ordered.

I lay back on the cold metal. The silver beneath the thin sheet made my skin prickle.

"Anesthesia," Petra said to the nurse.

The mask was placed over my face. I took a deep breath. The gas smelled sweet.

As my consciousness began to fade, the surgeon picked up the silver scalpel.

"Making the incision," she announced.

The silver blade sliced into my skin.

It was the trigger.

My body, already fighting a losing war against the wolfsbane, collapsed under the trauma of the silver. The poison, sensing the breach, exploded from my organs into my bloodstream.

The heart monitor screamed. A single, high-pitched tone.

*Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.*

"She's crashing!" Petra yelled. "Heart rate is zero! Get the defibrillator!"

I couldn't feel the pain anymore. The burning stopped. The cold stopped.

I was floating.

I looked down. I saw my body jerking as they shocked it. I saw the black veins spreading rapidly from the incision site, turning my skin the color of charcoal.

*It's over,* I thought.

I turned my spiritual gaze upward, expecting a light. But there was no light. There was no howl to guide me.

I was dead. But I was still here.

Ghost Zora POV:

Being a ghost wasn't like the stories. There were no chains, no white sheets. I was simply a consciousness, a point of view without the burden of a heartbeat.

I hovered near the ceiling of the operating theater, watching the chaos below with a strange, detached curiosity.

"Stop!" Dr. Petra screamed, throwing the defibrillator paddles aside. "She's gone."

The nurse was trembling. "Time of death: 10:42 AM."

Petra wasn't listening. She had picked up the scalpel again and widened the incision on my corpse's abdomen. Her face went pale, then green.

"Goddess above," she whispered.

"Doctor?" the nurse asked.

"Look at this," Petra hissed, pointing inside my body. "The organs... they're liquefied. It's Wolfsbane. Massive, chronic exposure. She's been rotting from the inside out for months."

I watched my own autopsy. It was gruesome, but I felt nothing.

Then, Petra probed deeper. She gasped, dropping her instrument. It clattered loudly on the silver tray.

"Where is the other one?" she demanded, her voice rising in panic.

"The other what?"

"The other essence!" Petra yelled. "She only has one! And it's shriveled and black! Where is her primary essence organ?"

The nurse shook her head. "I don't know. Her file says she's intact."

"The file is a lie!" Petra looked at my dead face, horror in her eyes. "She didn't have a spare to give. She was living on half a soul. This... this is murder."

Outside the glass, the hallway was quiet. Simon was laughing at something my mother said. He was leaning against the wall, looking relaxed. He thought I was just sleeping. He thought I was sturdy, like a weed that you could step on over and over again.

Petra looked at the clock. Then she looked at the dying, blackened organ inside me.

*"We can't transplant this," Petra said, her voice shaking. "It's necrotic. It's poison. It will kill the recipient."*

*"We have to," the nurse whispered, terrified. "The Alpha commanded a transplant. If Laila dies because we refused to operate, Simon will tear our throats out."*

*Petra hesitated. She looked at the intercom button. She could press it. She could tell Simon the truth right now-that Zora was murdered, that the organ is toxic.*

*But then she looked at Simon through the glass. He was powerful, unstable, and blindly devoted to Laila. If Petra came out with empty hands, she would be the scapegoat.*

*"Laila insisted," Petra muttered, a dark realization crossing her face. "She wanted the White Wolf's power. She thinks she's strong enough to handle anything."*

*Petra's expression hardened. It was a look of malicious compliance. "Fine. She wants the essence? She can have it. If her body rejects the poison, that's on her. I won't die for this family."*

I watched as she cut out the last piece of me. The piece that had kept me alive through five years of hell.

As the knife severed the connection, a memory washed over me, vivid and bright.

*Five years ago.*

*It was raining. I was chained to a bed in a basement. Not our basement-a dirty, illegal clinic in the rogue lands.*

*Laila stood over me. She wasn't sick then. She was desperate. She had no talent, no power, and the Alpha selection was coming up.*

*"Don't worry, Zora," she had said, holding a silver knife. "You're the White Wolf. You're strong. You can survive with one. I need this to be special."*

*She had cut me open while I was awake. She stole my essence to implant into herself, to fake the high-level energy signature of a Luna.*

*When I dragged myself home three days later, bleeding and broken, my mother had met me at the door.*

*"Where have you been?" she had screamed. "Laila just donated her kidney to your father! She saved the Alpha! And you were out whoring with rogues?"*

*They beat me. They threw me out into the rain.*

*And that was when Simon found me. He found me shivering under a bridge. He wrapped his jacket around me. He didn't know who I was. He just saw a girl in pain.*

*"You're safe now," he had said.*

I looked down at Simon in the hallway. He was checking his watch, impatient.

He had saved me then, only to kill me now.

Petra placed my blackened essence into a sterile container. "Take it to the recipient," she whispered. "God forgive us."

I floated through the wall, following the container.

*Go ahead,* I thought, looking at Laila's waiting form. *You wanted to be me so badly? Now you can die like me.*