They said rogues attacked at dawn.
I didn’t think much of it at first—I was training hard, sweat dripping down my brow, focus locked. But then the call came. Just a name. Susie. My sister.
I dropped everything.
By the time I made it back to the pack house, my legs felt like lead, lungs on fire. But I kept going.
The hospital wing buzzed with hushed urgency. I shoved past nurses, shouting, “Where is she?”
One nurse stepped back, startled. “Room at the end of the hall. Alpha Tommy—”
I didn’t hear the rest. I was already there.
The door slammed open under my grip. And then—I froze.
Susie lay still on the bed, colorless, motionless. Her chest barely rose. I stumbled forward, heart hammering.
“Her wounds…” the doctor said quietly. “She was thrown to the rogues.”
“Thrown?” I echoed, numb.
“She didn’t stand a chance. Deep lacerations. Bruised lungs. She’s fading fast.”
My gaze sharpened. “Who did this?”
The answer came without hesitation. “Monica.”
My vision tunneled.
Alpha Tommy’s mistress.
I clenched my fists. “There must be a way. Something—anything!”
“There is,” Tommy said, stepping into view. His tone was too calm.
I turned to him. “Tell me.”
“Your blood,” he said simply.
I didn’t think twice. “Take it.”
Even as the needle slid into my arm, I didn’t flinch. I barely noticed the growing dizziness, the chill creeping into my limbs. The bag filled too fast.
“Enough,” the doctor warned.
“Another bag,” Tommy ordered coldly.
“Alice can’t—”
“I said do it.”
By the time the second bag was full, my vision blurred. I collapsed into the chair, breath shallow. My voice was barely a whisper. “She’ll make it, right?”
Tommy touched my cheek. “Rest.”
That lie sounded almost tender.
Darkness swallowed me.
---
When I woke, pain was the first to greet me.
A dull throb in my chest. I opened my eyes to a too-bright light. Confused. Dizzy. Then it hit me—
Susie.
I jerked upright. The bed beside me—empty. Pristine. Untouched.
“No…” I stumbled out of bed, ripping the IV from my arm. My voice cracked. “Susie?”
Silence.
Then, from the hallway—voices.
“Alpha, Monica’s stable. The transfusion worked.”
Monica?
Another voice—hesitant. “And the girl?”
Tommy’s voice, colder than ice. “She’s dead. That blood was always meant for Monica.”
My knees buckled. I clutched the doorframe, bile rising.
“Does Alice know?”
“She’ll believe whatever I say. She always does.”
The world spun. I staggered back, trembling.
He’d lied. Used me.
Susie was gone—and I had poured everything I had into saving the wrong woman.
His woman.
Tears blurred my vision, rage and heartbreak colliding inside me.
He played me.
And I had let him.
Tommy’s voice ricocheted through my skull, each syllable cutting fresh grooves as though barbed wire were being dragged across my heart. Instinctively, my hands balled tight, half‑moons blooming in my palms where nails dug deep. Anger—white‑hot and caustic—pressed against the foggy weakness settling over my limbs. I yearned to burst in, stare him down, and ask how a wolf who once vowed to protect could turn so monstrous.
I lurched toward the door, prepared to fling it wide, and that was when my body betrayed me. Liquid fire raced along every vein, scorching muscle and marrow alike. The corridor twisted, the world pitching off its axis, and before a gasp could clear my throat, gravity dragged me under.
I slammed into the floor.
Unforgiving tiles bit into my skin, sending bolts of pain up my spine. Air escaped in a harsh wheeze; every shallow inhale tasted of iron. The dizziness spiraled, the ceiling and walls whirling together in cruel circles. I stretched a trembling arm, groping for a chair, a wall, discarded linens—anything to anchor me. Nothing greeted my grasp.
Time blurred. Seconds, perhaps hours, bled together while I lay sprawled, unseen and unmissed. The pack’s bustle continued somewhere distant; not a single footstep paused, not one voice asked if I still breathed. My pulse thundered—not from injury, but from blistering rage. That fury became fuel.
With a ragged grunt, I wedged elbows beneath me, then palms, every muscle shrieking. Teeth clenched, I dragged myself forward, inch by painstaking inch, toward the exit. I would not die on the tiles that had soaked up Susie’s blood, nor beneath a roof that had already labeled me expendable.
Somewhere inside these walls Tommy lurked, undoubtedly tending to the she‑wolf who had stolen everything. Monica. Even thinking the name tasted of poison. Bracing against plaster, I hauled upright on quaking legs and hobbled down the passage. Each shuffle felt like stepping on shattered glass, yet fury kept me moving.
I had to see them with my own eyes.
Crossing the threshold of the recovery suite, I nearly reeled. Tommy stood at a canopied bed, arms folded, golden gaze tender upon the patient. Monica reclined in a cocoon of satin, pallid but serene, as if calamity itself existed only to pamper her. A queen clothed in stolen grace—mine, and Susie’s.
Sensing me, Monica’s lashes fluttered. A languid, victorious smile unfurled. She lifted her hand with theatrical ease, letting lamplight waltz across an enormous diamond now nesting on her ring finger. The sight punched the air from my lungs. An engagement ring—while my sister lay in the ground.
Shock hadn’t settled before Tommy turned, face carved from ice.
“You… you murdered Susie!” I rasped, voice splintering.
“Alice?” he replied, faux‑innocence dripping.
“I despise you,” I hissed.
His tone stayed arctic. “You should feel fortunate, Alice. Your blood revived the woman who truly matters.”
“You swore you’d save my sister!” The words ripped free.
Unmoved, he shrugged. “Monica offers far more to this pack than Susie ever could.”
Nausea churned. “More valuable? She hurled Susie to rogues!” The accusation split the air. Tommy merely sighed, as if humoring a child.
“Monica suffers from a rare ailment,” he said, voice eerily gentle. “The healer told me only one cure existed—your blood.”
The floor seemed to pitch. My blood. He’d orchestrated carnage for that?
He stepped closer, gaze locked. “I tried persuasion first, wanted you to volunteer. When you wouldn’t, I forged another path.”
Then the axe fell. “I ordered Monica to deliver Susie to the rogues.”
Frost spread through my veins. Breath halted. My world shattered. All I managed was a tremulous whisper: “You let her die? You traded my sister’s life for hers?”
Monica, admiring her jewel, offered a mocking pout. “Spare us the dramatics, Alice. Your sister was never Luna material.”
Something primal cracked. I lunged, intent on shredding that smug grin. Before claws met flesh, Tommy’s iron grip closed around my wrist.
“Enough,” he growled. “You will not touch her.”
Eyes that once warmed for me now glittered like frozen amber. “Understand, Alice—Monica is my future. She is this pack’s only future.”
I wrenched free, panting. “Was I ever anything but a walking blood bank?”
He answered with a careless smirk. In that moment I knew: to him I had never been mate nor partner—only resource.
Despair wrapped barbed wire around my ribs. The room narrowed, walls pressing inward; air wouldn’t reach my lungs. I staggered back, vision swimming, heart battering. Susie—gone. Alpha—betrayer. Home—rubble. Reason—extinct.
I don’t recall slipping out of the compound. What I do remember is thunderous water guiding me. Moonlight silvered a cliff’s jagged lip, wind tearing at my hair, spray rising from the abyss. Below, black water churned, violent and inviting.
One step, and pain would cease. No more treachery. No more ghosts. I inhaled, body tipping forward—
“Child.”
A voice older than the forest sliced the wind. I spun, heart thundering.
An elder wolf—robes billowing, hair the hue of frost—regarded me with eyes that housed centuries. “You cannot discard a gift you have yet to comprehend,” he intoned.
I clenched aching fists. “I have nothing left.”
He studied me, then stepped closer until moonlight etched deep lines of wisdom in his face. “Your blood is sacred,” he murmured, reverent yet grave. “But woven into that holiness is a binding hex.”
My breath caught. “A hex?”
He nodded slowly. “Your life‑blood can heal, yet it can also destroy. To some it is miracle; to others, weapon. And to those obsessed with power, it is worth any atrocity they can devise.”
A chill sharper than night air seeped into my bones. Questions swarmed. What curse? How deep did this abyss go? Had tonight merely opened the first door to a darker labyrinth?
I swallowed, the waterfall’s roar pounding in my ears.
The nightmare, I feared, had only just begun.
The sage’s warning drummed in my skull hour after hour: “Your lineage is miracle and menace at once.” Sleep abandoned me; I lay staring at the ceiling, muscles limp, thoughts whirling like a storm. If my blood truly contained that kind of force, then the moment Monica absorbed it she should have been unshakably tethered to me—not to Tommy. Why, then, did she still worship the Alpha? I refused to drown in questions. I would dig out the truth.
Long before sunrise’s first ember, I slipped into Tommy’s private library, heart battering my ribs. The room smelled of dust, leather, and secrets. Candle stubs guttered on high shelves, casting restless shadows across ancient tomes. I rifled page after page, scroll after brittle scroll, until my fingertips brushed a cracked manuscript, its lettering almost erased by age. I inhaled hard as the text revealed itself: a forbidden rite, steeped in blood‑magic, designed to bend any transfusion recipient into unquestioning obedience. My stomach lurched—Monica’s devotion was no romance; it was sorcery shackles welded by Tommy’s hand.
Worse horrors waited below the incantation. A list. Name after name—an entire ledger of she‑wolves bearing uncommon blood types. Every entry concluded the same way: sacrificed, drained, erased. My fist crumpled the parchment, rage shaking my arms. I had never been cherished; I had simply been slotted in line for slaughter.
The healer’s earlier instructions resurfaced: “You must rebuild your strength.” I choked down the acrid tonic she had left, its bitterness scorching my throat. Then I retreated to my chamber and stayed there, motionless, mourning in silence. They buried Susie without me—no notice, no farewell, no dignity—while the pack prepared to toast Monica’s continued heartbeat.
A thunderous crash yanked me from half‑sleep. My door swung wide, and Tommy swaggered in, golden eyes alight with mirth. “Sulking all afternoon, little wolf? Poor manners. Tonight matters—you’ll attend Monica’s fête.”
I pushed to a seated position, bones leaden, voice iced over. “Leave this room.”
His smirk deepened as he advanced. “Miss it? The whole pack will celebrate. Magnificent affair.”
Fingernails carved crescents into my palms. “My sister was placed in the ground today.”
With theatrical exasperation he sighed. “And Monica nearly perished yesterday. Your blood spared her. Shouldn’t that count for something?”
I glared, bile rising. He delighted in twisting the knife. “Dress yourself, Alice,” he ordered. “I expect to see you downstairs.” Resisting him now would bring only punishment—I needed time, not vengeance yet—so I obeyed.
The banquet hall glistened under chandeliers; laughter ricocheted across polished walls. Candlelight gilded the revelers’ faces—wolves who once called me pack, now clinking goblets like no tragedy had stained our territory. Susie might never have walked among them.
At the room’s heart stood Tommy and Monica. His hand rested at her waist with practiced tenderness that made my skin crawl. Draped in silvery silk, she positively glowed, fingertips skating across his chest as she whispered conspiracies into his ear. Then she pivoted—directly toward me.
A sly, triumphant curl lifted her lips.
My lungs stalled when I noticed the necklace gracing her throat: Susie’s pendant, the keepsake I’d gifted my sister on her last birthday. The hall blurred; roaring filled my head; my fingers shook uncontrollably.
“You’ve gone sheet‑white, Alice,” Monica purred, canting her head as though inspecting a wilting flower. “Feeling faint? Or does witnessing reality simply sting?”
Tommy emitted a leisurely chuckle. “Easy, dear. Don’t bruise her tender feelings.”
Every heartbeat knocked like a drum of war inside my chest. Betrayal, humiliation, and grief crashed together in a tidal wave. My hands rose by their own will. His gaze narrowed—too late. I hooked nails beneath the brand marking me as his and tore. Agony flared, molten and bright, yet I refused to cry out. Warm blood tracked down my collarbone, painting my gown.
Silence knifed through the revelry.
Then amusement rippled from Tommy, a deep, sardonic laugh that set the crowd snickering. Monica blinked, momentarily startled, before dissolving into high, brittle giggles while clutching his arm.
“Symbolic theatrics?” Tommy drawled, shaking his head. “You were never my equal, Alice. Just a rare vein I had to keep pumping.”
Monica lifted her manicured hand, diamond flashing like ice. “Sweetheart, did you truly picture yourself on his throne? How precious.”
The onlookers roared approval; some tossed handfuls of glittering confetti. I scanned those faces, desperate for a single ally, any soul who still remembered mercy.
I found none.
Lowering my bloodied hand, I spoke, voice steadier than steel. “Rejoice while you can, Alpha. This celebration will sour sooner than you dream.”
Monica scoffed, swirling her wine. “Oh? And what grand feat will you attempt?”
Wordlessly I pivoted, spine straight, dignity intact. No pleading, no tears. They’d stolen everything—sister, sanctuary, future—yet they had gifted me purpose in return.
I would repay them in kind.
