Isabelle POV

The crystal goblet felt heavy in my hand, the dark red wine inside swirling like the blood spilled in the woods last night.

"To the future of the Blackwood Pack," Genevieve murmured, her voice as smooth as silk. She took a delicate sip, her scent of winter roses and expensive perfume filling her lavish private sitting room.

I forced a smile and clinked my glass against hers. "To the future."

A flicker of unease gnawed at the edge of my conscience. The plan had been to ruin Seraphina's reputation, to make Kael reject her. But the hired Rogue... the brutal attack on a pregnant female... it was a line I hadn't fully prepared to cross.

Genevieve noticed my hesitation. Her sharp, calculating eyes pinned me down. "Do not let misplaced pity cloud your judgment, Isabelle. You are looking at this like a weak human, not a Luna." She set her glass down, her tone hardening. "That wolfless Omega was a parasite. The mongrel in her belly would have been a permanent stain on our pure bloodline. I simply cleansed our legacy."

Her words acted like a potent venom, paralyzing my guilt and replacing it with a intoxicating rush of ambition. She was right. Seraphina didn't belong here.

"Kael's soul is bleeding from the Rejection," Genevieve continued, stepping closer to touch my shoulder. "His inner wolf is in chaos. He needs an anchor. Go to him now. Be his comfort, and the Luna title is yours."

My heart raced. I nodded, leaving the sitting room and heading straight for the Alpha's office.

Before pushing open the heavy mahogany doors, I paused to unbutton the top two buttons of my silk blouse, ensuring the curve of my cleavage was perfectly visible. I took a deep breath, projecting my sweetest, most inviting scent, and walked in.

The air inside was suffocating. Kael's usually crisp scent of cedar and winter wind was soured by a raw, violent agony. He sat behind his massive desk, his head buried in his hands, fingers gripping his dark hair. I could practically feel his inner wolf, Fenrir, thrashing and howling in the confines of his mind, devastated by the severed mate-bond.

"Kael?" I whispered, walking around the desk. I perched on the edge of the polished wood, leaning in close so my perfume would wrap around him. "I'm so sorry you're hurting. I'm here for you. Whatever you need."

I reached out, letting my fingers brush against his tense shoulder.

He flinched, pulling away as if my touch burned. He lifted his head, and the emptiness in his eyes sent a chill down my spine. He wasn't looking at me; he was staring right through me.

"Thank you for your loyalty, Isabelle," he said, his voice mechanical, completely devoid of the Alpha heat I craved. "But I need to be alone."

Frustration flared hot in my chest. Even gone, that pathetic Omega's ghost still had its claws in him. The mate-bond was a stubborn, wretched thing.

Suddenly, Kael stiffened. His eyes glazed over for a fraction of a second—a Pack mind-link.

"Rogues spotted near the western border," he growled, his Alpha instincts momentarily overriding his grief. He stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor. Without another glance in my direction, he stormed out of the office, the heavy doors clicking shut behind him.

I let out a breath of pure annoyance, sliding off the desk.

Then, the screen of his phone, left carelessly on the leather blotter, lit up.

My eyes darted to the display. The name Seraphina flashed across the screen.

My blood ran cold. I snatched the phone before the screen could lock. I knew Kael's passcode—I had watched him type it a hundred times, pretending not to look. My fingers flew across the keyboard, unlocking the device.

My eyes scanned the glowing text.

I was attacked. I'm in the hospital. The baby... our baby is gone.

Panic seized my throat. If Kael saw this... if his Alpha protective instincts were triggered by the loss of his pup, he would tear the city apart to find her. He would ask questions. He would find out about the Rogue. He would find out about us.

The panic quickly morphed into a vicious, protective malice. I had come too far to let that wolfless bitch ruin my future with a pity plea.

My fingers flew across the keyboard, mimicking the cold, ruthless tone Kael had used since the Rejection.

Stop the lies, Seraphina. I don't care about your games. You are dead to me.

I hit send.

I watched the little 'delivered' notification pop up. Then, with methodical precision, I deleted the entire conversation—incoming and outgoing. I even cleared the "recently deleted" folder. I wiped her existence from the device entirely.

I set the phone back on the desk, exactly where Kael had left it. The office was dead silent, save for the steady ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Seraphina POV

Two days. That was how long it took for my body to heal enough to be discarded, and for my soul to bleed out completely.

Standing at the hospital billing counter, I stared at the sleek black card Kael had given me months ago. Stop the lies, Seraphina. I don't care about your games. You are dead to me. The text he sent two nights ago echoed in my hollow chest, a phantom blade twisting in my heart. Using his money meant accepting his narrative—that our murdered pup was just a trick.

I shoved the card back into my pocket and pulled out a thick envelope of cash, my entire life savings from my days as a Pack secretary. The human clerk's eyes widened in pity as I paid the astronomical bill in full. I was penniless, but I was free. The last chain binding me to Kael Blackwood was severed.

Walking out into the biting wind, the sterile hospital scent faded. I thought of the money, of the Pack House, of Genevieve Blackwood. The Moon Goddess never blesses a traitor's womb. Her venomous whisper before the attack played in my mind. It wasn't just a cruel taunt; it was a confession. Genevieve had orchestrated the Rogue attack. She murdered my baby to keep her precious Alpha bloodline pure. A dark, vicious hatred took root where my grief had been. I swore to the Goddess, I would make her pay.

By nightfall, my exhaustion was bone-deep. I dragged myself to the cheapest motels on the city's edge. The first two claimed they were full the second they saw my ID. At the third, a dingy place smelling of stale smoke, the manager didn't even pretend.

"Mr. Blackwood put the word out," he muttered, avoiding my eyes. "No legitimate business in this city will take you in. We don't want Pack trouble."

I was a wolfless Omega, exiled and now hunted by the very Alpha who was supposed to protect me.

With nowhere to go, I collapsed onto a freezing park bench. My fingers numb, I pulled out my phone and searched my name. The results were a tidal wave of filth. Rogue's whore. Wolfless parasite. Articles and Pack forums accused me of faking a pregnancy to trap the Alpha. My photos were plastered everywhere, drowning in vicious comments. Kael was letting them crucify me. His silence was his endorsement. My heart turned to absolute ice.

A muffled scream shattered the quiet night.

I bolted up, my instincts overriding my exhaustion. The sound came from a dark, trash-littered alley nearby. I crept closer and saw a massive man—reeking of the sour, metallic stench of a Rogue—trying to drag an elegantly dressed elderly woman toward a rusted sedan.

"Hey! Let her go!" I screamed, stepping into the dim streetlight.

The Rogue paused, sniffing the air. A cruel smirk twisted his scarred face as he registered my scent. "A wolfless little bitch. Go away, before I gut you too." He pulled a hunting knife, the blade glinting in the dark.

I had nothing left to lose. As he lunged, underestimating my desperate rage, I grabbed a heavy metal trash can lid. I swung it with every ounce of strength I possessed, smashing it directly into his face. He stumbled back, stunned. I shoved him hard. His head cracked sickeningly against the car door, and he crumpled to the asphalt, out cold.

Panting, I dropped the dented lid and rushed to the trembling woman. "Are you okay? We need to get out of here before he wakes up."

She didn't seem to hear me. Her wide, tear-filled eyes were locked on my face. Slowly, a trembling hand reached up, her soft fingers brushing my cold cheek. The sheer reverence in her gaze made my breath hitch.

"Agnes?" she breathed, her voice breaking with a miraculous, agonizing joy. "My beautiful girl... I knew you were alive."

Seraphina POV

"Agnes?" the woman breathed.

I froze. "Ma'am, I'm not—" I started, but she wasn't listening.

Her trembling hands cupped my face, her Lycan instincts latching onto some phantom scent she believed was mine. Behind us, tires screeched. The Rogue had regained just enough consciousness to scramble into his rusted sedan and peel out of the alley, leaving behind a thick cloud of exhaust and his sour, metallic stench.

Before I could pull the delirious woman to safety, the temperature in the alley plummeted.

A sleek black Porsche slid to a halt under the flickering streetlight. A man stepped out, and the sheer force of his aura drove the breath from my lungs. His scent—a potent mix of ancient leather and the heavy, ozone-rich soil right before a thunderstorm—flooded the narrow space. It was suffocating, a primal power that dwarfed any Alpha I had ever met. He was a Lycan.

He took in the scene in a fraction of a second: his weeping grandmother, the lingering stench of the Rogue, and me—a wolfless Omega standing over her.

His icy blue eyes locked onto mine, blazing with absolute disgust. "What did you do to her?"

His voice wasn't just an Alpha's Command; it was a crushing weight that rattled my bones.

"I didn't—he attacked her, I saved—"

"Save your breath," he snarled, stepping between us and shielding the old woman. "A wolfless stray reeking of Rogue. Don't insult my intelligence."

"Agnes! Don't leave Agnes!" the old woman sobbed, reaching out for me as he gently but firmly guided her into the passenger seat.

He ignored her pleas. He didn't even look back at me. The Porsche vanished into the night, leaving me shivering in the garbage-strewn alley, condemned for a crime I didn't commit.

The next twenty-four hours proved that Kael Blackwood's cruelty knew no bounds.

I dragged myself from one apartment complex to another. The moment the human landlords saw my ID, their polite smiles vanished, replaced by flimsy excuses. *Blacklisted.* Kael wasn't just exiling me from the Pack; he was using his billionaire influence to ensure I starved in the human world.

The last shred of my broken heart calcified. I didn't just hate Genevieve anymore. I hated Kael. I hated the entire Blackwood bloodline. My grief was gone, forged into a weapon of cold, hard hatred.

By nightfall, I finally found a dilapidated, unlisted motel on the city's absolute fringe. It smelled of black mold, cheap bleach, and despair. I paid in cash, locking the flimsy door of room 114 behind me. The room was barely larger than a closet, featuring a squeaking mattress and a wobbly desk, but it was a roof.

I had just sat on the edge of the bed when a heavy, deliberate knock echoed through the thin wood of the door.

My blood ran cold.

I crept forward, holding my breath, and pressed my eye to the peephole. Standing under the flickering neon light of the walkway was the Lycan from the alley. His broad shoulders filled the frame, his expression unreadable.

Panic seized my throat. Kael's ban was absolute—which meant this monster had tracked me down himself. He was either a hitman hired by the Blackwoods, or he had come to execute me for the "Rogue attack" on his grandmother.

I backed away slowly, my bare feet silent on the stained carpet, and curled my trembling fingers into tight fists.