Eliana POV

The heavy iron shears lay on the damp stone floor, a cold reminder of how close I had just come to losing my face.

Ivonne was trembling on her cot, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "El... she's going to kill us. Jessenia is going to tell Lord Jaren—"

"She won't say a word," I interrupted, my voice eerily calm despite the ice freezing my veins. Jessenia was a coward, terrified of the Alpha's wrath. But my victory was hollow. Jessenia wasn't my real problem. Jaren was.

His Inner Wolf had caught the faint trace of white peach and jasmine beneath my disguise this morning. It was only a matter of time before his predatory instincts pieced the puzzle together. I couldn't stay in the servant quarters, and I certainly couldn't stay in the East Wing. I needed a fortress. A place where even a feral, arrogant Alpha wouldn't dare unleash his Command.

There was only one place in the entire Griffin Pack that fit the description.

I grabbed my harsh lye soap and a handful of wet ash, scrubbing my neck until the skin was raw and burning. I had to bury the scent of my White Wolf bloodline completely.

Minutes later, I hurried into the bustling Pack House Courtyard. My timing was desperate, but perfect. Eileen, the Dowager Luna's Head of Staff, was standing near the fountain. The faint, steady scent of chamomile drifted from her, a stark contrast to the aggressive auras of the Warriors. She was looking for a temporary maid.

I didn't hide in the back like I usually did. I stepped forward, keeping my eyes glued to the cobblestones. I slumped my shoulders, projecting the absolute, non-threatening submission of a Wolfless.

"Excuse me, ma'am," I murmured, my voice soft and deferential. "I am a fast worker, and I know how to keep my head down and my mouth shut."

Eileen paused. I could feel her Beta senses sweeping over me. She inhaled, searching for any deceitful Omega or Alpha traits. All she found was the pungent, eye-watering stench of cheap lye soap and the pathetic aura of a Wolfless girl.

"You'll do," Eileen said briskly, her tone practical. "Three days trial in the Dowager's parlor. Do not speak unless spoken to."

Relief washed over me, so intense my knees nearly buckled. I had made it into the eye of the storm.

By mid-afternoon, I was dressed in a crisp, clean uniform, carrying a silver tray of tea into the Dowager's Parlor. The room was suffocatingly grand. The air was thick with the scent of aged agarwood—Josephine Griffin's signature aura. Even sitting quietly in her armchair, the Dowager Luna radiated an ancient, crushing authority.

I had just set the teacups down when the heavy mahogany doors slammed open.

The intoxicating, violent scent of dark rum and cedar instantly devoured the agarwood. My heart stopped. Jaren strode into the room, his jaw clenched, his golden eyes flashing with a rebellious fire.

Panic seized my throat. I immediately shrank back, pressing myself into the darkest corner of the parlor, praying the shadows and my lye soap would hide me.

"You summoned me, Grandmother," Jaren said, his voice a low, disrespectful drawl as he threw himself onto a velvet sofa.

Josephine’s eyes narrowed, her Inner Wolf bristling at his insolence. "I hear you have elevated a filthy, low-born Omega to your bed. A Breeder named Jessenia."

I held my breath, pressing my spine against the cold wall.

Jaren scoffed, a cruel, dismissive sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "She's a plaything, Grandmother. A warm body to take the edge off the Heat. Nothing more."

The absolute callousness in his voice made my blood run cold. Jessenia thought she had won a prize, but to him, she was less than dirt.

"The Griffin bloodline is not something to be toyed with," Josephine snapped, her Luna aura flaring. "It is time you took a proper Fated Mate, or at least a high-ranking Luna. Princess Esmeralda Wheeler of the Northern Tundra Pack is visiting. You will meet her tonight."

A guttural growl vibrated in Jaren’s chest. His Alpha beast violently rejected the command. "I don't care about your Pack politics, and I certainly don't care about some boring, spoiled pureblood Princess."

He stood up abruptly, his massive frame towering in the room. "I will take whoever I want, whenever I want. And no one—not even you—will dictate my choices."

Without waiting for a dismissal, Jaren turned and stormed out of the parlor, the doors shuddering on their hinges.

I remained frozen in the corner, my hands trembling uncontrollably. Jaren had just defied the highest authority in the Pack without a second thought. He was a monster entirely unbound by rules. If he ever discovered I was the woman he was truly hunting, there would be nowhere left in this world to hide.

Jaren POV

The heavy mahogany doors of my grandmother’s parlor slammed shut behind me, but the suffocating scent of her aged agarwood still clung to my senses. My Inner Wolf was pacing, agitated by her demands for a pureblood Princess. I didn't need a political pawn. I needed the woman who had set my blood on fire.

I strode into my Alpha Suite, expecting the familiar comfort of dark rum and cedar. Instead, a repulsive, synthetic floral stench assaulted my nose.

Jessenia was draped across my leather sofa, wearing a sheer silk nightgown that left nothing to the imagination. She smiled, a trembling, desperate attempt at seduction. "My Lord," she purred, shifting to display the bruises I had left on her arms. "I thought you might need... relief."

My beast snarled in pure disgust. The deception was glaringly obvious now. The woman from that night had tasted like heaven; this Omega smelled like cheap desperation.

"Stand up," I ordered.

She scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide.

"Take it off." I let my Alpha's Command bleed into my voice, heavy and absolute.

Jessenia gasped, her Omega wolf whimpering under the crushing weight of my aura. Her trembling hands reached for the silk straps, letting the gown pool at her feet. I stepped closer, my golden eyes locking onto her bare skin. I didn't care about her body. I stared directly at her collarbone.

Smooth. Unblemished.

There was no bite mark. The deep, bone-crushing puncture my canines had left in the throes of my Heat was completely absent.

A violent, blinding rage ripped through me. I had been played.

"Get out," I snarled, my voice dropping to a lethal, icy whisper.

"Jaren, please, I—"

"Get out before I tear your throat out!" I roared.

Jessenia sobbed in sheer terror, snatching her gown and fleeing the suite.

I poured a glass of dark rum, my knuckles white as I gripped the crystal. The fake was gone, but the real one was still out there.

Through the heavy oak door, my enhanced hearing picked up the frantic patter of footsteps in the corridor. Jessenia had intercepted Elsie, one of the maids.

"What happened?" Elsie whispered.

"It's that little Wolfless rat, Eliana!" Jessenia hissed, her voice venomous with jealousy. "She got herself transferred to the Dowager Luna's parlor this afternoon. She's playing the innocent victim, but I know she's just trying to seduce him! She wants to be close to him!"

*Eliana.*

The glass in my hand shattered, amber liquid spilling over my fingers.

The pieces slammed together in my mind with sickening clarity. The Wolfless maid from this morning. The one scrubbing the floors, reeking of harsh lye soap and wet ash. The one who had buttoned my shirt, trembling like a leaf. When I had leaned in, my nose brushing her collarbone, I had caught it—the faintest, buried trace of white peach and jasmine.

She had hidden the bite mark under the mud. She had masked her scent. She had been right under my nose.

My Inner Wolf let out a low, vibrating growl of pure obsession.

By midnight, the Pack House was dead silent, but my blood was boiling. I prowled the grounds, my instincts dragging me toward the edge of the Dowager Luna's courtyard. The night air was crisp, but then it hit me.

Without the lye soap, without the ash, the scent was undeniable. White peach and jasmine. It was a siren song, pulling me toward the flimsy wooden washroom near the servant quarters.

I didn't knock. I kicked the door. The cheap wood splintered and gave way instantly.

Thick steam rolled out into the cool night. Inside, Eliana gasped, her eyes wide with absolute terror. She scrambled backward in the large wooden tub, trying to sink beneath the soapy water to hide her naked body.

But she wasn't fast enough.

My gaze locked onto her pale, wet skin. Right there, on her delicate collarbone, were the angry, healing puncture wounds of my teeth.

*Mine!* my beast roared, a primal sound that shook the very foundations of my soul.

"My Lord, please—" she choked out, shrinking against the back of the tub.

I crossed the damp room in two strides. I didn't care that she was Wolfless. I didn't care about the Dowager's rules. I grabbed her wet, trembling chin, forcing her to look at me. Her eyes were wide, swimming with desperate tears, but I felt no mercy—only a ravenous, all-consuming hunger.

I crashed my lips onto hers.

The second our skin touched, a violent electric spark exploded through my veins. It was a jolt of pure, agonizing pleasure that stole the breath from my lungs. She whimpered, her small hands pushing weakly against my chest, but I only deepened the kiss, claiming the taste of her.

Eliana POV

The electric fire of his kiss still burned on my lips, melting into the suffocating cold of a silver chain crushing my windpipe.

I jolted awake, gasping for air in the dim light of my small room in the Dowager’s Wing. Cold sweat drenched my thin nightgown. My trembling fingers flew to my collarbone, tracing the phantom ache of Jaren’s bite. It wasn't just a nightmare of my past life's execution; it was a warning.

He knew. The terrifying golden glow of his eyes in the washroom last night and that primal roar—*Mine!*—echoed in my skull. As a Wolfless, I was completely defenseless against his pureblood strength. If I didn't secure an untouchable sanctuary immediately, history would repeat itself. I needed the Dowager Luna.

Later that morning, I stood in the grand parlor, the air thick with Josephine Griffin’s aged agarwood scent. I carefully poured a steaming cup of Chamomile and Moonflower tea—a blend I knew from my past life would soothe an aging Inner Wolf.

Josephine took a sip, her stern shoulders relaxing as a soft sigh escaped her lips. "You have a delicate touch, child," she murmured.

Eileen, the Beta Head of Staff, stepped forward, handing over a parchment sealed with wax. "My Lady, a missive from the Royal Army. Lord Cedric is returning victorious."

Tears of joy welled in Josephine’s eyes. "My eldest grandson... finally coming home." She wiped her cheek, her sharp gaze suddenly pinning me. "Tell me, Eliana. Why hide in an old woman's parlor? Most maids your age would kill to serve in the young Alphas' courtyards."

I immediately dropped to my knees, keeping my head bowed in perfect Wolfless submission. "I only seek peace, My Lady. I wish to earn enough to buy healing herbs for my sick sister, Haley. Your grace is the only blessing I need."

Josephine hummed in approval. "A dutiful, quiet girl. Eileen, she stays with me permanently."

Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived.

For the next few days, I didn't dare step a single foot outside the Dowager's courtyard. I could feel him out there. The suffocating, predatory scent of dark rum and cedar lingered heavily at the edges of the gardens. Jaren was prowling, his Inner Wolf driven to a feral obsession, waiting for me to slip up.

But his patience was notoriously thin.

On the fourth afternoon, the heavy mahogany doors of the parlor slammed open. The intoxicating, violent aura of the Second Alpha Son instantly devoured the room's calm.

I froze, my fingers white-knuckling the silver tea tray.

Jaren sauntered in, throwing himself onto the velvet sofa. His golden eyes locked onto me, stripping me bare with a look so possessive it made my knees tremble.

"Grandmother," Jaren drawled, though his gaze never left my face. "My courtyard is lacking competent staff. I want this one. I'll even pay handsomely for her sister's little herbs."

Panic seized my throat. I dropped to the floor beside Josephine's chair, gripping the rough fabric of my apron. "Please, My Lady," I begged, my voice shaking with genuine terror. "Let me stay and serve you."

Josephine frowned, her Luna aura flaring to push back his oppressive scent. "Absolutely not, Jaren. A pureblood Alpha has no business obsessing over a Wolfless maid. She stays here."

The air in the room plummeted to freezing. Jaren’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking as his beast violently rejected the denial. He stood up slowly, his massive frame casting a dark shadow over me.

As he strode past, he paused. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. The crushing weight of his Alpha aura pinned me to the floor as he whispered, "You can't hide behind her forever, little one... You're mine."

He walked out, leaving me trembling on the rug. The threat wasn't empty. I needed to escape this Pack entirely, and soon. But first, I had to survive the day. Eileen had just ordered me to take the mute maid, Icy, to the outer market's Moonlight Bakery to fetch the Dowager's favorite pastries, and I prayed the short trip to the Pack gates wouldn't cost me my life.