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.

Ana POV

The rain was pouring down, masking my scent and my footsteps.

I knew the West Wing. It was the old Luna's quarters. The most secure part of the estate.

I shouldn't have been able to get there. But the guards were lax. Who worries about a dying, wolf-less cleaner?

I climbed the trellis on the side of the house. My fingernails tore, bleeding onto the white wood, but I didn't feel it.

I reached the balcony on the second floor. The curtains were drawn, but a sliver of golden light escaped.

I peered inside.

It was a bedroom fit for a queen. Silk sheets. Crystal chandeliers. And there, sitting at the vanity, brushing her long blonde hair, was Kinsley.

She looked healthy. vibrant. Alive.

She was humming a tune. The same tune she used to hum when we were children, right before she would pinch me or steal my toys.

I pushed the balcony door. It was unlocked.

I stepped inside, dripping wet, smelling of death and rage.

Kinsley saw me in the mirror. She didn't scream. She didn't look scared.

She smiled.

"Took you long enough," she said, turning around. "I bet Courtland five hundred dollars you'd die before you figured it out."

"You..." I choked out. "You're alive."

"Obviously." She stood up, smoothing her silk robe. "And you look terrible, Ana. Really. The silver mines did wonders for your complexion."

"Why?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Why did you do this?"

"Because you were always the special one!" Kinsley snapped, her face twisting into ugly jealousy. "The White Wolf. The healer. Even when Courtland was blind, he liked your quiet presence more than me. I had to get rid of you. And faking my death was the perfect way to make him hate you forever."

She walked closer to me. "And it worked, didn't it? He tortured you. He destroyed you. For me."

I lunged at her.

I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze.

But I was weak. So weak.

Kinsley sidestepped me easily. She stuck out her foot, and I tripped, crashing face-first into the plush carpet.

"Pathetic," she laughed.

The door opened.

"Kinsley, I told you to keep the drapes—"

Courtland walked in. He stopped. He saw me on the floor. He saw Kinsley standing over me.

He didn't look surprised that I was there. He looked annoyed that his secret was out.

"She knows," Kinsley said, pouting. "Can we kill her now, Courtland? Please? She smells."

I looked up at Courtland. "You knew," I whispered. "You knew she was alive this whole time."

"Of course I knew," Courtland said coldly. "I hid her. To protect her from the enemies you attracted."

"You sent me to the mines... for a murder that never happened."

"You tried to kill her!" Courtland argued, his voice rising. "Pushing her? That was real. Just because she survived the fall doesn't mean you aren't guilty."

"I never touched her!" I screamed.

Kinsley giggled. "Details, details."

She walked over to Courtland and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Baby, since she knows, can I have her? I need a new maid. My Omega is too clumsy."

Courtland looked at me. At the blood on the carpet from my chin.

"She is dying, Kinsley. She's useless."

"She can scrub floors. She can be my pet," Kinsley pleaded. "Please? It would be poetic justice. The killer serving the victim."

Courtland sighed. "Fine. But keep her out of sight."

"Oh, I will," Kinsley grinned. She looked at me with pure malice. "There's a closet in the basement. The one where we keep the silverware. That will be her room."

Two guards came in and dragged me away.

They threw me into the closet. It was tiny, windowless, and filled with silver platters and goblets. The air burned my skin instantly.

Hours later, the door opened.

Kinsley stood there holding a dog bowl filled with scraps of meat and gristle.

"Dinner time," she sang. She placed the bowl on the floor. "Eat."

"I am not a dog," I said, huddling in the corner.

"Eat!" She used a Voice of Command. It wasn't Alpha level, but she had a glamour spell that mimicked it.

My body betrayed me. Hunger betrayed me.

I crawled forward. I lowered my head. I ate from the bowl like an animal. Tears mixed with the grease.

"Good girl," Kinsley laughed.

Then, I heard a gasp from the doorway. A small, broken sound.

I froze. I looked up.

Standing in the hallway, holding a mop, was a teenage boy. He was thin, pale, with eyes that looked just like mine.

Aspen.

He was staring at me—his big sister, the former pride of the family—eating garbage from a dog bowl at the feet of the woman I supposedly killed.

"Ana?" he whispered.

My heart shattered into a million pieces.

"Aspen... don't look," I begged, trying to cover my face with my dirty hands. "Don't look at me."

Kinsley smiled, placing a hand on Aspen's shoulder.

"Look closely, boy," she whispered to him. "This is what happens to wolves who disobey me."