Ericka POV:

I woke up in the hospital again. My body felt heavy, like it was filled with lead. The monitor beside me beeped erratically.

The door opened, and Hailie walked in. No Caleb this time. Just her.

She walked to my bedside and leaned close. "You're hard to kill, aren't you?"

"Why..." I croaked. My throat was raw from the Wolfsbane.

"Because you're in the way," she whispered. She reached out and pressed her thumb directly onto the burn wound on my arm from the silver water.

She dug her nail in.

"AHHH!" I screamed, instinctively shoving her away. I was weak, but adrenaline gave me a moment of strength.

Hailie threw herself backward, crashing into the medical tray. "Help! She's attacking me!"

The door flew open. Caleb. Of course.

He saw Hailie on the floor, surrounded by scattered instruments, and me with my arm outstretched.

"Enough!" Caleb roared. The windows rattled.

He marched over to me, ripped the IV line out of my arm-blood spurted onto the sheets-and yanked me out of bed.

"I am done with your tantrums, Ericka. I am done with your jealousy."

"Caleb, she hurt me! Look at my arm!"

"Silence!" Use of the Alpha Command again. My jaw snapped shut.

He dragged me barefoot through the hospital corridors, out the back exit, and into the woods. He didn't stop until we reached the Ancestors' Tomb.

It was a sacred place, a circle of ancient stone markers where the past Alphas were buried. The ground was covered in sharp white gravel.

"Kneel," he commanded.

My knees hit the sharp stones. I cried out as the jagged edges sliced into my already damaged skin.

"You have disgraced this pack," Caleb said, his voice echoing in the silent graveyard. "You have dishonored your ancestors. You will stay here, on your knees, and beg for their forgiveness until the moon is high."

"Caleb, please... it's cold..." I was wearing only a thin hospital gown. The wind was biting.

"Then freeze," he said coldly. "Maybe the cold will kill the rot inside you."

He turned and left me there. Alone.

I knelt there for hours. The sun set, and the temperature dropped. My knees were a bloody mess, the gravel embedded in my flesh. I shivered so hard my teeth chattered.

I looked at the graves of the great Alphas. They seemed to judge me, too.

I tried, I told them silently. I gave my wolf to save the Beta. I loved my Alpha. I did everything right.

But it didn't matter.

When the moon finally rose, high and full, I couldn't feel my legs anymore. I dragged myself across the gravel, leaving a trail of blood, toward the edge of the cemetery where the old Groundskeeper lived.

The old man, a human who knew nothing of pack politics, looked at me with horror.

"Child! What happened?"

I pulled a crumpled wad of cash from my pocket-money I had hidden in my shoe, the only thing I had left.

"Please," I whispered, my lips blue. "I need to buy something."

"Hospital? Ambulance?"

"No," I shook my head, pressing the money into his hand. "A stone. A blank tombstone."

"What for?"

I looked back at the imposing Pack House in the distance, where lights were on, where Caleb was probably warm and with Hailie.

"For me," I said. "I need it ready by tomorrow."

Because I knew. I could feel the silver in my veins, the wolfsbane in my lungs, and the broken heart in my chest. I wasn't going to survive another week. And I refused to be buried in an unmarked grave like a rogue. I would bury myself.

Ericka POV:

I survived the night in the graveyard, but I left a piece of my soul among the cold stones.

The next day, I wasn't returned to my cell. Instead, Caleb had me dressed in a flimsy cocktail dress that barely covered the bruises on my knees and arms. He dragged me to the marina.

"We are going on the yacht," Caleb announced, his hand gripping my elbow tight enough to cut off circulation. "The neighboring Alphas are visiting. I want them to see how merciful I am. I keep a traitor alive."

"Merciful?" I whispered. "You are killing me slowly."

"Silence," he growled.

The yacht was a floating palace of white fiberglass and chrome. Music pumped from the speakers, and waiters circulated with trays of champagne. Hailie was there, of course, wearing a stunning red gown that clung to her curves. She looked like a Luna. I looked like a ghost.

The sea was rough. Dark clouds gathered on the horizon, mirroring the turmoil inside me. The yacht rocked violently as we hit open water.

I stood by the railing, gripping the cold metal to keep from collapsing. My lungs burned with every breath-the aftereffects of the Wolfsbane sauna were permanent.

"Enjoying the view?" Hailie appeared beside me. No one else was looking; the party was in full swing on the upper deck.

"Leave me alone, Hailie."

"You look terrible," she smirked, leaning against the rail. "Like a corpse that forgot to lie down."

Suddenly, the boat lurched as a massive wave hit the side. I lost my footing on the slick deck.

"Whoops!" Hailie cried out.

But she didn't help me. She shoved me.

I tumbled over the railing. The dark, churning water rushed up to meet me. The shock of the cold was instant. It paralyzed my muscles. Saltwater flooded my nose and mouth, stinging the raw sores in my throat.

Splash!

Another body hit the water nearby.

I surfaced, gasping, trying to tread water with limbs that felt like lead. I saw Hailie floating a few yards away. She was perfectly fine, a strong swimmer, but she was flailing her arms and screaming.

"Caleb! Help! My leg! Cramp!"

"Hailie!" Caleb's voice roared from the deck above.

He dove in. His form was perfect, powerful. He sliced through the water like a torpedo.

Caleb... I tried to call out, but a wave slapped me in the face, filling my mouth with brine. Help me... please...

I saw him surface between us. He looked at me. Our eyes met across the choppy waves. I saw the recognition, the mate bond flaring one last time, begging him to save the other half of his soul.

Then he looked at Hailie.

"Save me, Alpha!" Hailie shrieked.

Caleb turned his back on me.

He swam to Hailie, wrapped his arm around her waist, and began towing her back to the yacht's ladder.

I stopped kicking.

The realization hit me harder than the freezing water. He chose. He chose the lie over the truth. He chose the snake over his mate.

My body, weakened by silver and abuse, gave up. I sank.

The water above me turned from white foam to dark green, then black. It was peaceful down here. The burning in my skin stopped. The ache in my heart dulled.

I closed my eyes, ready to let the ocean take what was left of Ericka Reid.

But I didn't die. My hand brushed against something rough-a barnacle-encrusted buoy tied to a fishing net. Instinct took over. I clung to it, gasping for air as the waves tossed me.

Moments later, blinding lights swept the water. The Coast Guard, responding to the distress call the yacht sent out for Hailie, spotted me clinging to the debris.

They hauled me up. I woke up on the deck of a patrol boat, vomiting seawater and blood.

A paramedic was shining a light in my eyes. He looked grim.

"Miss? Can you hear me?"

"Let me go," I rasped. "Let me die."

"We can't do that. We're taking you to the city hospital."

Later, in the sterile white room of the ICU, the doctor came in with a clipboard. He wasn't a pack doctor. He was human. He didn't know about wolves or silver.

"Miss Reid," he said softly. "Your lungs... they are destroyed. It looks like severe chemical pneumonitis combined with some kind of heavy metal toxicity. And your immune system has collapsed."

"How long?" I asked, staring at the ceiling.

He hesitated. "Two weeks. Maybe less. I'm so sorry."

Two weeks.

I didn't cry. I felt a strange sense of relief. The countdown had finally started.

Ericka POV:

I checked myself out of the hospital the next morning. The doctors tried to stop me, but I had nothing left to lose. I had to go back. Not to beg, but to finish things.

I dragged my dying body back to the pack hospital, intending to confront Hailie one last time. I needed to know why she hated me so much.

I found her room. She was "recovering" from her near-drowning, surrounded by flowers.

But before I could enter, I heard voices.

"Is she dead?" It was my mother's voice.

"Coast Guard picked her up," Hailie's voice replied, annoyed. "She's like a cockroach."

"Damn it," my father grumbled. "If she comes back, it's going to be a PR nightmare. We should have just let her drown."

"Don't worry," Hailie laughed. "Caleb hates her. He thinks she pushed me. He's talking about a public execution if she returns."

"Good," my mother said. "Fitz needs to secure his position as Beta. Ericka is just a stain on our reputation now. A Wolfless freak."

I stood frozen in the hallway. My own parents. The people who raised me. The people I gave up my wolf to save-my sacrifice allowed Fitz to be strong, allowed our family to stay in power. And they wanted me dead.

I pushed the door open.

The room went silent. My parents looked at me with pure loathing. Hailie just smiled.

"Get out," I told my parents. My voice was a whisper, but it carried a weight I didn't know I possessed. "Get out."

They sneered and brushed past me. "Don't expect us to pay for your funeral," my father spat as he left.

I was alone with Hailie.

"Why?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe for support.

Hailie sat up, checking her nails. "Because I'm a Rogue, honey. And your pack? It's the strongest. I want it. I want the power, the money, the status."

"You're a Rogue?"

"Born and raised," she grinned, her eyes flashing a dull, muddy brown. She dropped the act completely. "I used a witch to mask my scent. I forged the letters. I poisoned your IV drips with silver while you were in a coma. And Caleb? He's so stupid. A little tear, a little cleavage, and he does whatever I want."

I pulled my phone from my pocket. The screen was recording.

"Got it," I said.

Hailie's face went pale. Then, it twisted into a demonic rage.

"Give me that!"

She lunged at me. I was weak, but I sidestepped. She crashed into the wall.

Suddenly, she screamed. A bloodcurdling shriek.

"Help! She has a knife!"

Hailie grabbed a vase and smashed it against her own head. Blood trickled down her forehead. Then, she ran to the window, opened it, and threw herself out onto the terrace below. It was only a second-story drop-easy for a wolf, even a weak one.

"Hailie!" Caleb burst into the room.

He looked at the open window, then at me holding my phone.

"You pushed her," he said. It wasn't a question.

"Caleb, listen to this-" I tried to hold up the phone.

He slapped it out of my hand. It skittered across the floor and under the bed.

"I am done listening to your lies!"

He grabbed me by the hair. Pain exploded in my scalp. He dragged me out of the room, up the stairs, all the way to the hospital roof.

The wind was howling up here. He pushed me to the edge.

"You like making people fall?" he snarled, his eyes glowing red with Alpha fury. "Let's see how you like it."

He grabbed a coil of rope left by maintenance workers. It was woven with silver threads-used for restraining feral wolves.

He tied it around my ankles. The silver burned instantly, eating into my flesh.

"Caleb, please! She's a Rogue!"

"Shut up!"

He shoved me over the edge.

I fell. The rope snapped taut, jerking my ankles with agonizing force. I swung there, upside down, five stories above the concrete. The blood rushed to my head. The silver burned my legs.

"Think about what you've done!" Caleb yelled from above. "If Hailie has a single scratch, I will cut this rope!"