I woke before dawn. The sky outside my window slowly turning gray. A glance at the clock on my nightstand said I had an hour or so until sunrise. For a second, it felt like any other morning...then the night came back in a rush.

With a heavy sigh, I got out of bed. I knew what I had to do. What 'we' had to do in order to survive the degradation and humiliation from last night. I wasn't naïve enough to think it would end here; it would continue every single time I stepped out of Wane Hall.

I found the least frayed clothes from the few I owned, and then packed the rest.

I looked at the bed I called mine for almost all of my eighteen years, even though it really belonged to the pack. In one sweep, I cleared the sheets and piled them in a heap near the door.

I moved slow, careful not to wake anyone. The kitchen was dark. Stove cold. No voices. No clatter. I stopped at the back door and gave the room one last look.

Cold air hit as I stepped outside. The sky was a dull gray that hinted snow would arrive sooner than later. I hauled the pack high and tight. I cut toward the trail behind the shed. The road would be easy to follow so I went off trail.

Not that anyone would follow. Maybe. Going rogue broke rules. Some alphas dragged you back. Some sent trackers. Some just pretended you didn't exist. I didn't know which kind Silverpine would be.

He is ours, Orielle whispered, sharp and sudden. He will miss me.

No. He chose.

He lied.

He spoke. We both heard it Ori.

She tucked herself down, sulking. I wanted to reach for her. I didn't know how.

The trees thinned. Scrub gave way to the back lots of town.

I stopped and put my backpack on the ground to count my cash; sixty-seven dollars, forty cents. Too bad I didn't wait to go get my paycheck from the library. That money would have been a nice cushion. What I had now, wasn't enough for a room. Maybe enough for a bus. Enough for food if I only got the basics for a few days.

I made my way into town through an alley with a hole in a chain link fence. It housed the back door of a bakery that poured out heat and smelled like yeast. The baker's wife leaned in the doorway.

She didn't know my name, didn't know 'pack'. Didn't know "Wane." Just another girl passing through. Her eyes did a quick assessment then she moved back inside.

That was the best part about town. Humans didn't realize wolves were their neighbors. Just people who worked shifts and paid taxes.

They smell us, Orielle muttered.

They don't care what we smell like. As long as we don't stink.

My stomach pulled tight. I told it to wait.

Outside the alley, around the corner sat a small diner. A large sandwich board already faced the street. Bacon. Eggs. Toast. Pie by ten. Coffee by the pot.

Warmth and smells wrapped me at the door, bacon, coffee, butter, toast, and syrup. The woman behind the counter looked up, then down. Her fingers pressed buttons on the register while she looked at me.

"Morning," she said.

"Morning." My voice worked.

"Table or to go?"

"Table." I replied as I took a seat at the counter.

"What can I get you?"

"Toast and tea." Please came late. "Please."

She nodded.

The waitress brought tea in a little pot, toast on a plate, butter soft at the edges, a little jam packet set off to the side.

"Thank you," I said.

She gave a short nod before adding gently, "You need anything, you ask."

I realized that with my threadbare clothes, backpack, puffy eyes, and in a diner at dawn on a Sunday, I looked like a runaway or someone on the run from something.

I lifted the lid on the pot and took a sniff. Strong. Good. I cupped the pot, letting the heat seep into my hands. It felt good. Butter melted easily into the toast, I wish she's doubled the amount, but it's what I got. The first bite was dry, even with butter.

The bell on the door jingled, and the waitress looked up and told the new customer to sit anywhere.

Orielle pressed close enough to make my breath catch.

Meat.

We can't afford meat.

You starve us.

We're not starving. We're careful.

Lucien would give us meat. Orielle's voice came low, raw. He would feed us.

No. Ori. He's feeding someone else.

Her silence after wasn't acceptance, it felt obstinate.

The hair on my neck lifted. Someone was watching. I couldn't see who without turning.

Silverpine. It had to be. No one else would know me. No one else would care.

Maybe they came to take us home, Orielle whispered, soft, almost hopeful.

No. Not home. We can't go back. I replied a little sharper than I intended.

She went quiet after that.

I forced calm. Finished the scraps of breakfast, and left the amount she wrote on the bill, plus a small tip.

"Thank you," I told the woman.

"Anytime," she said. Her eyes cut to me, then back down. "Keep to this side of the street. Stay away from Pine Street. Ridge boys were out late."

"I'll keep right," I said.

"You keep where you want." Her words were plain, but they carried something like concern. "But you look alone. Alone can be dangerous for a girl."

I stood and nodded. I walked to the door, every step a fight not to glance around the room.

The bell over the door clinked as I pulled it open. Cold air slapped my face, but it was refreshing after the heat of the diner.

I stopped for a second to adjust, make myself steady, eyes scanning the street.

A chair scraped behind me. Footsteps followed, slow and patient.

I felt the hair rise on the back of my neck again.

The watcher was behind me.

My pack felt heavy on my shoulders, I tried to shift the weight a bit... just in case I had to make a run for it. I told myself to keep walking, keep steady. The sound of boots behind me couldn't help but make me feel uneasy.

I didn't get the chance to turn before an engine growled. Headlights swept across the cracked pavement as it made a U-turn. A black SUV slid up next to me and stopped hard enough to leave tracks on the road.

All four doors opened at the same time. Wolves unfolded out of it-broad, heavy, faces that were focused and mean. Their boots hit the ground and flanked me in seconds.

"Soraya Wane," the tallest said. "You're coming with us."

I squared my shoulders, tried to sound braver than I felt. "Why."

"You're wanted for the Alpha's murder."

The words stunned me and I froze.

Hands were on me before I could answer. My pack straps cut deeper as they hauled me forward. I twisted, kicked once, twice. Useless. They tossed me in the back seat like I was freight. Doors slammed, and the locks clicked. The SUV lunged forward.

The man on my right had a white scar under his ear, thin as chalk. The one on my left jiggled his knee like motion kept him from breaking something. The driver's eyes met mine in the rearview-wolf-hard-then slid away.

Nobody spoke.

The air was thick with tension. My mind raced, trying to make things make sense. The Alpha was murdered, and they think it's me?

"Why me? I didn't do anything to anyone. It doesn't make sense. Let me go."

Through the back window, I caught one last sliver of the block-the diner's lit sign, the reflection in the glass, the alley. A shadow peeled itself off the corner and stayed there, just a shape. The watcher? They had to see what happened, maybe they'll follow and save me.

Then the SUV turned and the street vanished.

We left town. Pines stacked up on either side of the road until they felt like walls. The air thickened the closer we got, tension in the car grew.

Gates swung open for us without a word. The Pack House, where just one day ago, I dreamed I'd live in, loomed at the top of the hill. Flags at half-mast snapped in the wind. Pack lined the steps, not moving, not smiling, not anything.

A guard opened my door before I could reach for it. His hand clamped around my upper arm, hard and painful.

"Ouch," I said.

They marched me up past faces staring with contempt and disgust. A woman gasped as I went by as if my mere presence tainted her somehow. A man smiled like he'd won a bet without paying in.

Inside was quiet even though pack members moved about, carrying out their daily tasks.

We didn't stop for the council chamber. We didn't stop for anything. Scar-under-the-ear steered me down a corridor with no windows, then through a big solid door to stairs that went down. We descended down a few flights until the only light came from torches along the stone walls. The air changed to something dank. Not much life lived down here.

At the end of the last hall, a door waited with a steel bar thick as my arm. A guard lifted it with both hands and shoved the door open.

The cell was a square and small. Stone floor, stone walls, a cot with a mattress thinner than the one in Wane Hall, and a bucket right next to the cot. Nothing else.

The scarred man pushed me in. Locked me to the chains on the wall; then the door slammed, a bolt slide, and then nothing but the sound of footsteps retreating.

I stood until the echo of his boots ran out. Then I walked the perimeter of my chain to see my reach. Not much, barely to the bucket.

With nothing else to do, I sat on the cot. The blanket stank like years of other bodies-sweat sunk deep, grime rubbed in, maybe worse. It seeped into my lungs no matter how I tried to hold my breath.

Time dragged. Orielle wouldn't settle. She pushed forward until I heard through her ears...a door thudding shut, something dropped and hushed too fast, a laugh smothered before it could breathe. Life kept moving above us.

She shrank as boots approached, muffling any sounds I might have heard, any clues as to why I was here.

Keys rattled. The bolt slid. Two guards came in. One set a tray inside and left without looking at my face.

Bread. A small wedge of very dry very stinky cheese. Water in a tin cup. I drank. The water tasted like nothing but reminded my throat how. The bread was dry; the cheese was worse. I ate anyway.

I heard voices outside the door. Not private, just low.

"She did it," one said. "Why else cut out in the middle of the night?"

"She's a Wane," the other answered like that solved a math problem. "That's how she repays the Pack's kindness? Fuck her."

The other grunted his response.

The quiet came back heavier.

Orielle nudged up, cautious. He comes?

Tail flick. Hope.

"He already said no," I told the ceiling. "Once was enough."

Wolves don't trust words the way people do. Wolves trust instinct. Orielle knew his wolf called to her. That's all she needed for hope to linger.

Even though I knew better.

Light under the door dulled as time went on, surely someone would be changing the antiquated torch at some point. Somewhere high up, a horn sounded, low and steady Others answered, thinner with distance.

Keys again. The door opened. The Elder, the one who spoke about order at the bonding ceremony, stepped in with two guards.

He looked me over with a sneer on his lips. "Evil, ungrateful child."

He left. The lock turned.

I laid back and stared at the ceiling until it blurred, then blinked it sharp again. It became a game, or at least something to do.

Footsteps approached quietly, as if someone didn't want to be heard until they were right at the door. I didn't bother sitting up. I turned my head to see who would sneer at me next.

Two guards entered and took up space on either side of the doorway.

Lucien stepped in.

Power and anger radiated from him. His Alpha power stretched to all corners of the room. I felt it close in like a blanket, but not a nice fluffy one. One that suffocates.

His eyes were like steel, the gray before a storm breaks. For a heartbeat something pressed under his skin-golden and wild-and then shut down as he shoved it back.

But I saw it, his wolf leaped forward.

Orielle damn near broke through my skin to get to it.

Ori, stop!

No! He's ours!

Lucien stopped an arm's length away as if I was contagious. I scooted upright until I sat facing his looming standing presence.

He didn't speak right away. He looked. He took stock of the room, the sneer on his face suggested my meager accommodations were too good for me.

Then his eyes fell on me. Starting at my feet, he worked his way up until our eyes met. I didn't drop my gaze; I met him head on.

What did I have to lose at this point?

"Why." His voice flat and menacing. It wasn't a question; it was a demand.

"Why what?" I said more than asked.

"Why did you kill my father?"

"I didn't."

"You did."

"I didn't!" The chain rattled as I leaned forward. "I would never. I didn't even know he was dead until your goons yanked me off the street."

My chest heaved now as anger set in. "How did I supposedly kill him? Huh? I don't even know how he was killed."

"Doesn't matter."

"It does matter Asshole. I. Didn't. Kill. Him."

"Don't lie. You ran." His chest rose sharp, and his Alpha power pressed harder. "That's guilt enough."

"You rejected me!" The words tore out of me through gritted teeth, fighting back against him. "That's why I left!"

"Bullshit." His jaw locked, eyes storm-dark.

"It's true!" My throat burned. "You condemned me to ridicule and humiliation the second you said no."

His wolf shoved against his skin, gold flickering in his eyes. He fought it down, but I saw it.

"You feel it," I said, breath shaking. "Don't you dare deny it-I just saw your wolf."

"My wolf only wants to kill yours for what you did," his face hardened. "There is no bond. It's gone. I severed it."

"Bullshit," I snapped back. "It's still here. You can shove it down all you want, but I see it every time your eyes flash. My wolf feels it!"

"She's wrong," his breath came rough, chest heaving. "I chose my mate."

"But your wolf wants me."

Orielle slammed forward inside me, claws out, desperate.

Ours! she screamed, filling me until I had to bite back a sob.

His eyes lit gold again, brighter this time, before he killed it-like crushing something wild under his hand.

"You want it gone?" My voice shook with fury. "Then make it go."

Any awe and hope for a bond I once felt for this man was gone. Only hatred remained.

"Watch me." His voice was wolf-deep, a growl that rattled the stone.

We stood locked, breath harsh, wolves straining for mate, humans straining for denial. The air between us shook with it. Neither of us moved.

A muscle in his cheek jumped. His nostrils flared once. For a second I saw the man without the room, without the guards, without the house or the flags or the dead-just a wolf dragged to heel and not liking who held the leash.

He stepped back. The distance went cold.

He turned for the door. His hand hit the jamb as he passed through.

"No one comes down here but me," he ordered.

"Yes, Alpha," the guards answered together.

He didn't look at me again. He walked out. The door shut; the bolt slid and the lock turned.

Orielle paced once, twice, three times, then curled small and furious and humming.

He felt it, she said, fierce in the quiet. He felt us.

I didn't answer her. I couldn't. I didn't know what else to say. My eternally hopeful wolf. Hoping for a mate that would never be hers.

I pressed my palms flat on my thighs until my hands stopped shaking. I stared at the place he'd stood and tried to get my breathing under control.

"Bastard!" I said yelled. Hopefully it was loud enough for the whole damned Pack House to hear. "I didn't freaking do it!"

Above, I imagined the pack carrying on as it does from day to day while I sat back against the wall and watched the door that only one person was allowed to open.

The one person who chose another mate besides his fated one.

Then I thought about the mate he chose. She was everything I wasn't.

The smiling heiress who got everything she wanted in her life, while I sat here alone. Blamed for something I didn't do, right on the heels of that son-of-a-bitch rejecting me.

How dare they treat me this way. Just because I'm a Wane?

After that moment of anger, I realized how futile the emotion was. It was just as draining as crying all the time.

Instead, I tried to focus on what I thought might happen next. Surely the pack had some type of counsel that would represent me and hear my side of the story. That's how they did things on television, the innocent always went free.

Believing there was someone out there that would believe me, even if they were paid to do so, helped the minutes tick by while I waited.

And waited.