Ana POV

They threw me into the cage like a sack of garbage.

The floor was cold iron, sticky with old blood and excrement. The smell was enough to make my empty stomach heave.

In the cage next to me, a Feral Wolf slammed against the bars. His eyes were yellow and wild, drool dripping from his muzzle. He had lost his human side completely.

Growl.

My Inner Wolf curled into a ball deep in my mind. She was too weak to even project a defensive aura.

I'm sorry, I whispered to her. I'm so sorry.

I reached into my rags and pulled out the only thing they hadn't taken from me—a small, cloudy Moonstone pendant. It was hidden under the photo of Kinsley.

This stone was the source of my latent power. It was what I used to channel energy to heal Courtland's blindness fifteen years ago. Now, it was dim. Dying. Just like me.

"Pathetic."

The voice was sharp and old. I looked up.

Standing outside the cage was Eleanor, Courtland's mother. The former Luna. She wore pearls and a look of absolute disgust.

"Get up," she ordered.

The warriors opened the cage. Eleanor didn't touch me. She used a cattle prod to poke my shoulder. "Move."

She marched me not to the house, but to a small stone building in the garden. The Shrine.

Inside, it was filled with white lilies. In the center was a massive portrait of Kinsley, looking angelic.

"Kneel," Eleanor commanded.

I fell to my knees. The stone floor was unforgiving.

"Apologize to her," Eleanor hissed. She grabbed the back of my hair and slammed my forehead against the floor.

Thud.

Pain exploded in my skull. Warm blood trickled down my nose.

"I... I am sorry you died," I whispered, my voice trembling.

"Louder!" Thud. Again.

"I am sorry!" I sobbed.

The door opened behind us. The air pressure in the room dropped. Alpha Courtland had arrived.

He walked in, holding a small vial filled with a thick, purple-black liquid.

My blood ran cold. I knew what that was. Every wolf knew what that was.

"Mother, leave us," Courtland said.

Eleanor gave me one last kick in the ribs and left.

Courtland stood over me. He looked at the blood on my forehead, and for a second, I saw a flicker of something in his eyes. Pain? But it was gone instantly, replaced by ice.

"You keep asking for your brother," he said, swirling the purple liquid.

"Is he okay?" I gasped. "Please, tell me he's okay."

"He is unpresented. Weak. Like you." Courtland crouched down. "I can let you see him. But there is a price."

He held out the vial.

"Wolfsbane," I whispered.

"Concentrated," he corrected. "This version doesn't kill you. It severs the connection between your human soul and your wolf. Permanently. It also destroys your womb."

I stared at him in horror. "You... you want to sterilize me?"

"You killed my Mate," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "You think I will let you bring more monsters into this world? Your bloodline ends with you, Ana."

"But I am your Mate!" I screamed, the truth tearing at my throat. "If I drink this, you will never have a true heir! You will feel the pain too!"

"I rejected you in my heart five years ago," he sneered. "Now, drink it. Or Aspen goes to the mines in your place."

My heart stopped. Not Aspen. He wouldn't survive a week.

I looked at the vial. It was death. Not of the body, but of the spirit. It meant I would never run again. Never feel the moonlight. Never have children.

"If I drink it," I choked out, "I see Aspen?"

"You have my word as Alpha."

I didn't hesitate. For Aspen, I would burn the world.

I grabbed the vial. My hands shook. I looked at Courtland one last time, hoping to see a shred of the boy I once loved. There was nothing.

I tipped my head back and swallowed the poison.

It tasted like fire and ash.

The reaction was instant. A scream tore from my throat as I felt something inside me—my wolf—being ripped away from my soul. It felt like my spine was being pulled out through my mouth.

I collapsed on the floor, convulsing.

Ana... goodbye... my wolf whimpered, her voice fading into static.

And then, silence.

The beautiful, chaotic noise of the pack mind, the connection to the earth, the strength... it was all gone. I was hollow.

I looked up at Courtland through a haze of tears.

He was watching me, his jaw clenched tight. He rubbed his chest absentmindedly, as if he felt a phantom pain.

"Done," he whispered.

Ana POV

I woke up in a puddle of my own black vomit.

The Wolfsbane had done its job. I felt... light. But not in a good way. Like a kite with its string cut, drifting aimlessly. I was just human now. A broken human.

I was lying on a cot in the Omega quarters. It was a damp basement room.

"Get up, murderer."

A female servant, a young Omega named Sarah, threw a bundle of fabric at me.

"The Alpha is hosting a banquet for a visiting Rogue Leader. He requires entertainment."

I unfolded the fabric. It was a dancer's outfit. Sheer red silk, barely covering anything. It was degrading.

"I can't," I rasped. "I'm sick."

"Alpha's Command," Sarah said simply.

My body moved on its own. Even without my wolf, the Alpha's authority was hardwired into my biology. I dressed, my shaking fingers struggling with the clasps. The silk rubbed against my silver burns, sending sharp stings of pain through me.

I was dragged upstairs to the Grand Hall.

Music was playing. The tables were piled high with roasted meats. At the head table sat Courtland. To his right sat a man who looked like a walking oil slick—Harrison, a notorious Rogue leader.

Rogues were wolves without packs. Usually criminals.

Harrison was tearing into a leg of lamb, grease running down his chin. He stopped when he saw me.

I stood there, shivering in the red silk. I tried to cover my scars, but there was nowhere to hide.

Harrison sniffed the air. "Well, well. What do we have here?"

He stood up and walked toward me. He circled me, sniffing loudly.

"Smells like... old magic," Harrison grunted. "And high blood. Is this a fallen princess, Alpha Courtland?"

Courtland swirled his wine glass. He didn't look at me. "She is a traitor. She is nothing."

"One man's trash," Harrison leered. He reached out and ran a greasy hand down my bare arm.

I flinched, pulling away.

"Feisty," Harrison laughed. He looked at Courtland. "I like her. Let me take her. As part of our trade deal."

My blood froze. To be given to a Rogue was a fate worse than death. They would pass me around until I broke.

"Courtland, please," I begged, forgetting protocol. "Don't."

Courtland looked at me then. His eyes were dead. "You wanted to see your brother? This is how you earn it. Be useful."

He nodded to Harrison. "She's yours for the night."

Harrison grinned, revealing yellow teeth. He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, exposing my neck.

"Let's seal the deal," Harrison growled. He opened his mouth, aiming for my Scent Gland—the spot where Mates mark each other.

If he bit me there, it was a claim. A violation.

Panic exploded in my chest. I couldn't let him. I belonged to Courtland, even if he didn't want me.

I couldn't fight him physically. So I did the only thing I could.

I bit down hard on my own tongue.

My teeth sliced through the muscle. Warm, metallic blood filled my mouth.

The scent of my blood hit the air instantly.

It wasn't just blood. It was Mate Blood. Even with the bond rejected, even with the Wolfsbane, the biology remained.

Crash!

The high table overturned.

Before I could even blink, a blur of motion slammed into Harrison.

It was Courtland.

His eyes were glowing a furious, neon blue. His canines had extended. He didn't look human. He looked like a monster possessed.

He ripped Harrison off me and threw him across the room. Harrison smashed into a stone pillar, bones crunching.

The entire hall went silent.

Courtland stood over me, his chest heaving. He was growling, a low, rumbling sound that shook the floorboards. Mine. Mine. Mine.

He reached out, his hand trembling, to touch the blood on my lip.

Then, clarity returned to his eyes.

The blue faded. He blinked, looking at his own hand, then at Harrison's unconscious body, then at me.

He looked horrified. Not at what he did to Harrison, but that he had protected me.

He grabbed me by the throat, lifting me off the ground.

"What did you do?" he roared. "What witchery is this?"

"I... I didn't..." I gurgled, blood dripping from my mouth.

"You cast a spell!" He threw me to the ground. "You made me attack a guest!"

He was panting, fighting his own instincts. His wolf wanted to lick my wounds. His human side wanted to kill me.

"Get her out of my sight!" Courtland bellowed to the guards. "Throw her in the scullery. If she dies, she dies. But she does not belong to anyone else. She is my prisoner."

Ana POV

For the next three weeks, I became a ghost.

They put me to work as a cleaner. I scrubbed the toilets. I mopped the hallways. I washed the dishes that held the food I wasn't allowed to eat.

My body was failing.

I was coughing up black blood daily now. The Wolfsbane combined with the years of silver poisoning had triggered organ failure.

I dragged my mop bucket down the Alpha wing corridor. My hands were raw and blistered.

"Oops."

An Omega girl, Jessica, kicked my bucket over. Dirty gray water spilled across the floor I had just cleaned.

"Clean it up, traitor," she sneered.

I didn't argue. I didn't have the energy. I knelt down and started soaking up the water with a rag.

Suddenly, pain shot through my chest. I gasped, dropping the rag. It felt like my heart was skipping beats.

"She's faking it," Jessica laughed.

I wasn't. I crawled into a supply closet and curled up, clutching my Moonstone. It was cold now. Dead stone.

Dr. Manning, the Pack Doctor, found me there an hour later. He wasn't cruel like the others, just indifferent. He dragged me to the infirmary and ran a scanner over me. The machine beeped frantically.

"I have to report this," Manning said, gripping his clipboard, his face pale. "Your liver is shutting down. Your heart is operating at forty percent. The Alpha needs to know you're dying."

"No," I grabbed his wrist, my grip surprisingly strong for a dying woman. "You can't tell him."

"Ana, this is fatal. If I don't—"

"If you tell him, he'll think it's another trick," I hissed, desperation clawing at my throat. "He thinks I'm a witch. If he knows I'm dying, he won't see it as a tragedy; he'll see it as a manipulation tactic. He'll banish me to the woods to die alone before Aspen gets back."

Manning hesitated. "But—"

"You swore an oath, Doctor," I wheezed. "Do no harm. Getting me thrown out before I see my brother is harm. You keep your mouth shut until Aspen is safe. Promise me."

He looked at the scanner, then at my desperate eyes. He sighed, defeated. "I'll give you something for the pain. But it won't buy you much time."

"I don't need much," I whispered.

Later that afternoon, I was scrubbing the floor near the Beta's office. The door was slightly ajar.

I heard voices.

Not spoken voices. Mind-Link voices.

Usually, Mind-Link is private. But if wolves are emotional or careless, they can project their thoughts too loudly, like a radio left on high volume. Or maybe, because I was dying, the veil between minds was thinning for me.

I'm telling you, Alpha, the expenses are too high, came the Beta's mental voice. Keeping her hidden in the West Wing requires too many resources.

She demands the best, Courtland's mental voice replied. She is fragile.

Kinsley is getting impatient, Courtland. She wants to come out of hiding. She's tired of playing dead.

I froze. The rag fell from my hand.

Kinsley.

Playing dead.

The world tilted on its axis. My breath caught in my throat.

She can't come out yet, Courtland projected back. Not until Ana is dead. The pack needs to believe justice has been served. Once Ana dies, we can stage a 'miracle' return for Kinsley.

I covered my mouth to stop the scream.

She was alive.

Five years. Five years of torture. My brother's childhood stolen. My wolf killed. My body destroyed.

All for a lie.

Kinsley wasn't dead. She was hiding in the West Wing, living in luxury while I rotted in silver.

Rage, hot and blinding, surged through my dying body. It gave me a strength I didn't know I had.

I stood up.

I wasn't going to die quietly. Not anymore.