Harper POV:

I returned to the mansion—a sprawling mausoleum of glass and steel. My hands shook, but my mind was razor-sharp.

I went straight to my study and pulled out my hidden laptop. I navigated to the Inter-Pack Relations portal.

Application for Rogue Status.

Going Rogue was a death sentence for most. No protection, no money, hunted by everyone. But for me, it was the only exit door.

I filled out the form with my left hand.

Reason for leaving: Irreconcilable differences.

The system flashed: Processing time: 10 Days.

Ten days. The exact countdown to the Royal Moon competition deadline.

I peeled off the black leather glove. The skin was scarred, twisted, pale. The silver from Gianna's dagger hadn't just cut flesh; it had poisoned the nerves. My fingers were stiff, frozen in a permanent, useless claw.

"I will be your hands," Bennet had said back then. Lies. He wanted me crippled.

The thwup-thwup-thwup of a helicopter rotor cut the air. He was back.

I hid the laptop under a loose floorboard and composed my face.

Bennet walked in smelling of lake water and her.

"Harper!" He flashed that charming Alpha smile. "Why didn't you come? I waited."

"Migraine," I lied flatly. "My hand was throbbing."

His expression shifted to performative concern. He crossed the room and pulled me into a hug. I held my breath, trying not to gag at the scent of Gianna clinging to his shirt.

"My poor broken bird," he cooed. "I have something to help. Come."

He flew us over the territory to a cliff overlooking the ocean. A new structure stood there.

A glass house. Isolated. Beautiful. Empty.

"The Golden Cage," Bennet said proudly, helping me down. "I built it for you. It's safer here. No stairs. No sharp edges. Just you and the view."

It was a prison.

He pulled out a ring. A massive yellow diamond.

"Happy Anniversary," he said, sliding it onto my left ring finger.

A sharp sting bit into my skin. Not the electric spark of a Mate bond, but a chemical burn.

"It hurts," I tried to pull it off.

"Leave it," Bennet commanded, his voice dropping into the Alpha register. My muscles locked up against my will. "The band releases a micro-dose of Wolfsbane. It'll keep your wolf sedated. Helps with the phantom pains."

He was actively poisoning me to keep me weak.

"And," he tapped the stone, "it has a tracker. So I never lose my favorite possession."

His phone buzzed. He glanced at it, eyes softening in a way they never did for me.

"Border patrol issue," he lied. "I have to go."

"Stay here," he kissed my forehead. "Enjoy your new home."

He lifted off, leaving me alone on the cliff. The wind whipped my hair, and the ring burned like a brand.

A movement near the tree line caught my eye. A Rogue wolf, thin and ragged, trotted out. It looked at me, then turned and ran freely into the forest.

I looked at the glass walls. That starving Rogue had more freedom than the Luna of Blackwood.

Ten days. I just had to survive ten days.

Harper POV:

The ring was heavy, a physical anchor. Two days had passed.

I sat at the desk, staring at the yellow diamond. Bennet thought I was just an artist, but architecture required engineering. I knew how mechanics worked.

I grabbed a pair of fine-point tweezers and a magnifying glass from my drafting kit. I examined the underside of the setting.

There. A small runic inscription. It wasn't just a tracker. It was a transmitter.

"He's listening," I whispered.

But transmitters work on frequencies. And if the receiver channel is open...

I used the tweezers to bridge the tiny gold contacts on the inner band. A burst of static hissed, followed by tinny voices.

"...hate the color, Bennet. It's too drab."

Gianna.

"I'll have it repainted," Bennet replied. "Anything for my queen."

I walked to the balcony. Across the valley, miles away on the opposite cliff, a glint of glass caught the sun.

I grabbed the binoculars. There it was. An identical glass house. But where mine was beige and clinical, that one was filled with gold and crimson.

Gianna was walking on the terrace. Bennet was beside her.

"I want to be announced," Gianna's voice crackled through the ring. "The Anniversary Ball is in two days. I want to stand by your side."

"Not yet," Bennet sighed. "Harper is... necessary. Her family's trust fund unlocks on her 25th birthday next week. I need her signature to transfer the assets to the pack accounts. If I dump her now, the council freezes the money."

"So we wait a week?" Gianna scoffed.

"We wait until the ink is dry. Then... I'll have her committed. Mental instability due to her injury. She'll go to the asylum, and you take your place as Luna."

I lowered the binoculars.

He wasn't just going to leave me. He was going to lock me away in a padded room and steal my inheritance.

My nausea turned into cold resolve.

I went back to the desk. I pushed aside the useless trinkets and pulled out a fresh sheet of drafting paper.

I picked up a charcoal stick with my left hand.

It was awkward. The lines were shaky. But I closed my eyes and imagined the Royal Moon Pack. I imagined a building that didn't trap light, but amplified it.

I began to draw.

Slash. Curve. Shade.

My left hand moved with desperate focus. I drew for hours, ignoring the hunger, ignoring the Wolfsbane fog.

I kept the ring on. I needed him to hear the silence. I needed him to think I was staring at the wall, waiting for him.

"You won't break me, Bennet," I whispered, too soft for the microphone to catch. "You're just sharpening me."

Harper POV:

The Alpha's Ball was a spectacle of excess. Velvet drapes, roasted meat, and the suffocating scent of pheromones.

I wore a high-necked silver gown Bennet chose. It covered my scars and my prosthetic glove. He kept a possessive hand on my spine, steering me like a trophy.

"Doesn't she look lovely?" he boasted to a visiting Beta. "Fragile, but elegant."

I smiled, a porcelain mask. "Thank you, Alpha."

From the corner of my eye, I saw her.

Gianna was dressed as a high-end server, wearing a Venetian mask that hid nothing. Her dress was cut scandalously low. Every time she passed Bennet, she brushed against him.

"Security check," Bennet whispered. "Stay here."

He walked toward the private meeting rooms. Gianna waited a beat, then followed with a tray of champagne.

I counted to ten. Then I moved.

The hallway was quiet. As I approached the conference room, the scent hit me. Artificial Heat. Chemical and overpowering.

I cracked the heavy oak door.

Gianna was on the mahogany table. Bennet was over her, eyes glowing crimson.

"Mark me, Alpha," she moaned.

"You're a bad girl, Gianna," Bennet growled.

Pain ripped through my chest. The Mate Bond, biologically intact despite his rejection, screamed. It felt like a rusty hook dragging through my heart.

I stumbled back. My heel caught the carpet runner.

I crashed into a decorative pedestal. A crystal vase shattered.

Crash!

The door flew open. Bennet stood there, shirt unbuttoned, disheveled. Gianna peeked from behind him, smirking.

"Harper?" Bennet looked panicked for a second. Then his eyes hardened. "You clumsy fool."

Gianna stepped out. She saw the shards on the floor and her eyes lit up. She lunged forward, feigning a trip.

"Oh no!"

Bennet moved with Alpha speed. He caught Gianna.

But in doing so, he shoved me.

I fell backward. My right hand—my good hand—landed squarely on a pile of broken crystal.

The flutes were rimmed with silver.

"Ahhh!" I screamed as the silver-coated glass sliced into my palm. Smoke hissed from the wound.

The pain was blinding. Worse than fire.

My head hit the marble floor.

Through the haze, I saw Bennet holding Gianna, checking her for scratches.

"Are you okay, my love?" he asked her.

He didn't even look at me.

I lay in a pool of my own blood, the silver burning my skin.

"Clean this up," Bennet told a guard, gesturing to me like I was spilled wine. "Take her to the infirmary. She's ruining the mood."

As darkness took me, I realized the bond was dead. He had killed it. And tonight, he had finally set me free.