Chapter 1

Five years later

Athena

The white dress feels like chains around my neck.

I stare at myself in the mirror of the bridal suite, my reflection wavering through the tears I refuse to let fall. The woman looking back at me is a stranger, hollow cheeks, dark circles carefully concealed with makeup, a smile that doesn't reach my eyes.

The dress Daxon chose hangs off my frame, too big now after months of barely eating, of walking on eggshells, of shrinking myself smaller and smaller until I almost disappeared entirely.

"You look beautiful," whispers Elena, one of the pack's omega females assigned to help me prepare. Her voice is gentle, but I catch the way her eyes linger on the foundation caked thick around my left eye, the way the sleeves of my dress are positioned to hide the fingerprint bruises on my arms.

Beautiful. The word tastes bitter in my mouth. When was the last time I felt beautiful? When was the last time I felt anything other than afraid?

"Thank you," I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

Through the thin walls, I can hear the pack members gathering in the main hall. Their excited chatter grates against my nerves like sandpaper. They have no idea what they're celebrating.

They think they're witnessing the union of their Alpha and his chosen mate. They don't know they're watching a funeral, the death of whatever was left of the woman I used to be.

Elena adjusts my veil, her fingers surprisingly gentle. "The Alpha requested that you wear your hair down," she says carefully. "He said it frames your face better."

Of course he did. Daxon has an opinion about everything. How I should dress, how I should speak, how I should breathe. The hair thing is new, though.

For the past three years, he's insisted I wear it up, professional, not drawing attention to myself. The change makes my skin crawl. What does he want now? What new way has he found to control me?

My fingers trace the silver necklace at my throat—Daxon's "gift" from this morning. It sits heavy against my skin, cold and restricting. Everything he gives me comes with invisible strings attached, invisible chains that bind me tighter to him with each passing day.

The door opens without a knock, and he fills the doorway. Even after three years, Daxon Sullivan still takes my breath away, but not in the way it used to. Now it's fear that steals the air from my lungs.

He's devastatingly handsome in his black tuxedo, his dark hair perfectly styled, his Alpha presence commanding the room. To everyone else, he's the perfect groom. I know better.

"Ladies, could you give us a moment?" His voice is smooth silk, the tone he uses when he wants something.

Elena and the other helpers file out quickly, leaving us alone. I keep my eyes on my reflection, watching him in the mirror as he approaches. He stops behind me, his hands settling on my shoulders, and I have to fight not to flinch.

"Perfect," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "You look absolutely perfect."

The word tastes bitter. Perfect for what? For the show? For his image? Perfect victim?

His hands tighten on my shoulders, not enough to bruise, he's learned to be more careful about visible marks, but enough to make his point.

"I know the past few weeks have been... difficult. But after tonight, everything changes. No more doubt. No more hesitation. You'll be mine completely."

Completely. The word makes my stomach turn. I already feel like I'm disappearing, piece by piece, day by day. What will be left of me after tonight?

"I love you," he says, pressing his lips to the top of my head. The words sound rehearsed, empty. When was the last time he said them and meant it? When was the last time I believed them?

"I love you too," I whisper back, because it's what he expects. The lie tastes like copper in my mouth.

He releases me and checks his watch. "Ten minutes. Don't be late, Athena. And don't disappoint me." The threat hangs in the air between us, unspoken but understood. I nod, not trusting my voice.

After he leaves, I sink into the chair, my legs suddenly too weak to hold me. Ten minutes. Ten minutes until I walk down that aisle and bind myself to him forever. Ten minutes until there's no escape, no hope, no future that doesn't include his fists and his rage and his suffocating control.

My phone buzzes on the vanity. A text from an unknown number: Thinking of you today. You deserve happiness. - A friend

I stare at the message, my heart hammering. Who could have sent this? I don't have friends anymore. Daxon made sure of that, slowly isolating me from everyone who might see the truth, might ask questions, might offer me a way out.

Another buzz: You're stronger than you know.

My hands shake as I delete the messages. If Daxon sees them, if he thinks I'm talking to someone behind his back... I can't even finish the thought. The last time he thought I was "keeping secrets" from him, I couldn't sit properly for a week.

A knock at the door makes me jump. "Miss Morrison? It's time."

Elena peeks in, her smile bright and expectant. Behind her, I can hear the processional music beginning. The moment I've been dreading for months is finally here.

I stand on unsteady legs, smoothing down my dress. In the mirror, the woman staring back at me looks like a ghost. Maybe she is. Maybe I died two months ago in our apartment, bleeding on the bathroom floor, and this is just my corpse going through the motions.

"Ready?" Elena asks.

No. I'm not ready. I'll never be ready for this.

"Yes," I lie.

The walk down the aisle feels like walking underwater. Everything is muffled, distorted, unreal. I see faces in the crowd, pack members smiling, nodding, some of them crying happy tears. They think they're witnessing something beautiful. They have no idea they're watching a woman walk to her own execution.

Daxon waits at the altar, handsome and confident, his smile perfect for the cameras. But I know that smile. I know what it hides. I know what it costs.

The officiant begins the ceremony, his voice echoing through the hall as he speaks of sacred bonds and eternal commitment. The words wash over me like white noise. All I can think about is the silver around my throat, the bruises hidden under my makeup, the baby I lost because I wasn't strong enough to leave.

"Daxon, I have something to tell you....."

I'd been so excited that day, rushing home from the doctor's office with the news that would change everything. We'd been trying for months, and finally, finally, it had happened. I was pregnant. Two weeks along, but pregnant.

I'd found him in the living room, the words had died in my throat when I saw him. Saw them. His secretary, Jessica, bent over our kitchen counter, her skirt hiked up around her waist while my mate—my supposed mate, took her from behind like a rutting animal.

The pregnancy test was still clutched in my hand when he noticed me standing there. Positive. Two weeks along. The family we'd talked about, the future we'd planned, the reason I'd convinced myself to stay despite everything.

"Athena," he'd said, not even bothering to pull out of her. "You're home early."

Jessica had laughed, actually laughed, while adjusting her clothes. "Oops," she'd said, not sounding sorry at all. "I should go."

And then it was just us. Just me, standing in our kitchen with proof of our future in my hands, and him, still half-dressed, looking at me like I was an inconvenience.

"We're having a baby," I'd whispered, holding up the test. Maybe that would make him remorseful. But I've never been more wrong.

His face had gone white, then red, then something darker. "You're lying."

"I'm not. I have the test results, the ultrasound pictures. I just came from the doctor. We're going to have a baby, Daxon. We're going to be parents." I look at him unsure of what I was really feeling.

But I was willing to let whatever I witness slide, for the sake of our family. The family we were about to build. "I was going to wait until after dinner, make it special" I added with a slow voice.

"Special?" He'd laughed, but there was no humor in it.

"You're lying because you think it will make me stay. You think trapping me with a pup will keep me from leaving you."You think I'm stupid enough to fall for that?"

His words slide through my heart. What was he talking about? I thought maybe he was drunk. He's saying all that because he was drunk. Yes.

"Leaving me? Daxon, what are you talking about? We're getting married in two months...." I try reasoning with him. Talking sense into him.

"Two months of pretending I actually want this. Two months of playing happy couple for the pack. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is, pretending to love someone like you?"

The words had hit me like physical blows. "Someone like me?"

"Weak. Pathetic. Clingy. You're nothing, Athena. You're nobody. The only reason I'm marrying you is because it's expected of me, because an Alpha needs a mate. But don't fool yourself into thinking it's because I love you." After three years, this is what I get?

He'd started walking toward me, and every instinct I had screamed at me to run. I backed away from him, my hands instinctively moving to protect my stomach. "You don't mean that. You're just scared about the baby, or nervous"

"I'm not scared. I'm disgusted. The idea of you carrying my child makes me sick."

That's when he'd hit me. Not across the face, he'd learned to be more careful about visible bruises. This time, his fist had connected with my ribs, driving all the air from my lungs. I'd doubled over, gasping, and he'd grabbed my hair, yanking my head back to look at him.

"Get rid of it," he'd snarled. "I don't care how. Just get rid of it."

"No." The word had come out as a whisper, but it had been the strongest thing I'd said in months. "I won't."

His second punch had been to my stomach. The third had been to my back when I'd fallen to the floor. The fourth had been to my ribs again, and I'd heard something crack.

My wolf snarled, trying to release itself but held I it down with everything I had. I didn't want to anger Daxon anymore. I couldn't. I just needed to protect my baby.

I'd curled into a ball, trying to protect the tiny life growing inside me, but it was too late. The cramping had started an hour later. The bleeding had begun that night.

I couldn't walk, there was no one around. I'd lost my baby on the bathroom floor, alone, while Daxon was at the office "working late." The tiny cluster of cells that had been my hope for the future had slipped away from me along with my faith in love, in goodness, in the possibility of happiness.

When he'd come home and found me there, he'd actually looked shocked. "Athena? What happened?"

"You killed our baby," I'd whispered.

For the first time in months, he'd looked genuinely remorseful. "I didn't know. I didn't know you were really pregnant. I thought you were lying, trying to manipulate me." I felt like slapping him across the face, but I couldn't, not when I don't want to break a ribs two more

"I never lied to you. Not once."

He'd gathered me in his arms, carried me to bed, called his pack doctor to come examine me. For three days, he'd been the man I'd fallen in love with—gentle, attentive, horrified by what he'd done.

"I'm sorry," he'd whispered over and over. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I love you, Athena. I love you so much, and I'm going to be better. I promise I'll be better."

I'd wanted to believe him. God, how I'd wanted to believe him. But promises are just words, and words are just air. And air can't protect you from fists.

"Do you, Daxon Sullivan, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, until death do you part?"

"I do." His voice is strong, confident. The voice of a man who's never doubted his right to own whatever he wants.

"And do you, Athena Morrison, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, until death do you part?"

Chapter 2

This is it. The moment of truth. The point of no return.

I look at Daxon, at his expectant face, at the way his eyes promise punishment if I don't give him what he wants. I look at the crowd of pack members, all watching, all waiting, all believing they're witnessing something sacred.

I think about the woman I used to be, before I learned to make myself small. Before I learned that love was supposed to hurt. Before I forgot that I had a voice.

I think about my baby, who never got a chance to live because I was too weak to protect us both.

I think about the rest of my life, stretching out ahead of me like a prison sentence.

I think about the text messages from earlier: You're stronger than you know.

And I realize something. I am stronger than I know. Stronger than he's made me believe. Stronger than the fear he's used to control me.

I open my mouth, and the words come out clear and strong. "I reject you."

The silence that follows is deafening. Three hundred people staring at me in shock, their mouths open, their eyes wide. The officiant looks confused, like he's not sure he heard correctly.

Daxon's face cycles through emotions—surprise, confusion, embarrassment, rage. "What did you say?"

"I reject you, Daxon Sullivan." My voice is steadier now, powered by three years of suppressed fury. "I reject you as my mate. I reject you as my husband. I reject you as my Alpha. I reject this ceremony, this marriage, this life you've built for us on lies and fear."

The silver necklace at my throat grows warm, then hot, then burns against my skin as the magical bond between us begins to sever. Daxon staggers backward, his hand pressed to his chest as he feels it too, the tearing, the breaking, the freedom.

The reaction is immediate and explosive. Gasps echo through the hall. Someone screams. I hear chairs scraping against the floor as people jump to their feet.

Daxon takes a step toward me, his face contorting with rage. "You can't do this. You can't humiliate me like this. Not in front of everyone."

"I just did." The boldness in my voice surprises even me. I've had enough. Enough of his constant disrespect. He'd turned me into someone I couldn't even recognize in the space of three years.

He wasn't always like this. When I first came to London, I focused on studying and working. Then one day, I met Daxon at the grocery store where I was working. It took months before I could agree to go out with him. But he'd been so sweet and loving that I fell in love with him completely.

I was so stupid.

I see his hand move toward me instinctively, the backhand that's silenced me so many times before. But this time, I'm ready. This time, I don't flinch.

"Go ahead," I say quietly, my voice carrying in the shocked silence. "Hit me. In front of all these people. Show them who you really are."

He freezes, his hand halfway to my face, suddenly aware of the hundreds of eyes watching us. His carefully constructed image cracking in real time.

I reach up and grasp the silver necklace at my throat—his claim on me, his mark of ownership. With one sharp yank, I break the chain, feeling my skin underneath burn and blister where it touched me.

"I'm done," I say, dropping the necklace at his feet. "I'm done with you, with this, with all of it."

The pack erupts in chaos. Voices raised in shock, in outrage, in confusion. But I don't hear them. I'm already turning away, already walking back down the aisle, my steps steady and sure for the first time in three years.

.......

In the bridal suite, I strip off the white dress and leave it pooled on the floor like a shed skin. I pull on the jeans and sweater I'd hidden in my bag, real clothes, clothes that feel like armor after months of wearing what he wanted me to wear.

My phone is in my hand before I even realize I'm reaching for it. I scroll through my contacts until I find the number I haven't called in almost four years.

"Orion?" My voice shakes when he answers, the sound of my brother's voice almost breaking the dam I've built around my emotions.

"Athena?" He sounds shocked, confused. "Jesus, is that really you? I haven't heard from you in..."

"I need you to come get me," I interrupt, my words tumbling out in a rush. "I'm heading to Heathrow Airport. I'll text you the flight information."

"Heathrow? What are you doing in London? I thought you were in America. You haven't returned my calls in years, and now you're..."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'll explain everything when I see you. I just... I need to come home. Please."

There's a pause, and I can hear the concern in his voice when he speaks again. "Of course. Of course you can come home. But I'll actually be heading to Scotland with Sarah and the kids tomorrow. We're visiting her parents for the week. I won't get back until next week, but I can call someone..."

"No." The word comes out sharper than I intended. "I don't want anyone else to know I'm coming. Not yet."

"Athena, what's wrong? You're scaring me. What happened?"

I close my eyes, pressing my fingers against my temples. How do I explain three years of hell? How do I tell him that his little sister has been dying slowly, piece by piece, while he had no idea?

"Nothing," I whisper. "I'm fine. I just can't... I can't stay here anymore."

Another pause, longer this time. "Did someone hurt you?"

The question hangs in the air between us, loaded with all the things I've never told him, all the secrets I've kept to protect him from the truth.

"I just need to get out of here," I say instead. "Please."

"Okay." His voice is gentle but firm. "Okay. I'll figure something out. Let me make some calls."

I quickly gather what matters most to me and sneak out, heading toward the airport. Twenty minutes later, my phone rings again.

"I called a friend," Orion says. "He's the only one who can get to you in time. Just call me when you get there."

"Don't worry, I can wait," I say quickly. "I can get a hotel, wait until you get back."

"Athena, you sound like you're about to fall apart. I'm not leaving you alone in an airport or a country that's now strange to you for days. You know what, I can just postpone my trip. I'll pick you up, drop you off, and then join Sarah and the kids."

I want to argue, but I'm too tired, too drained, too broken to fight anymore. "Okay," I whisper. "Okay." If he wants to help, then who am I to refuse? I really need him so badly.

.......

The flight to America is the longest seven hours of my life. I spend most of it staring out the window, watching London disappear beneath the clouds, feeling like I'm leaving behind not just a country but an entire version of myself.

The woman who boards the plane in Heathrow is not the same woman who landed there five years ago. That girl had been heartbroken but hopeful, wounded but still believing in love. This woman is something else entirely, hollowed out, hardened, marked by experiences that changed her on a molecular level.

But she's also free. For the first time in three years, she's free.

JFK Airport is a maze of noise and chaos, but I navigate it on autopilot. My single suitcase feels pathetically small, three years of life reduced to one bag of essentials. Everything else I left behind. The apartment, the furniture, the wedding dress now crumpled on the floor. All of it tainted by his touch, his presence, his violence.

I send a message to Orion telling him I just landed. He responds immediately, saying he's already on his way. I should give him a few minutes.

After ten minutes, I receive another text from Orion, telling me he's here. I scan the arrivals area when I spot the last person I ever expected to see.

My mind and body freeze for what feels like forever.