My room wasn't in the main hallway. It was down a narrow flight of stairs, near the kitchen-the servants' quarters.

I opened the door, expecting my few belongings.

The room was empty.

'Closet open. Drawers hollow.'

"No."

I ran back out and collided with a maid carrying laundry.

"Where are my things?" I demanded.

"Madam Cecil..." the maid whispered, looking around fearfully. "She ordered them cleared out. She said... trash belongs in the dumpster."

'My mother's photo. The only thing I had left.'

I sprinted toward the back exit, to the industrial dumpsters.

There, spilling out of the green metal bin, were my clothes. Covered in coffee grounds and slime.

And there, lying in a puddle of grease, was the silver frame. 'Glass shattered. Photo soaked, my mother's smile distorted by oil.'

I fell to my knees, snatching the photo up, trying to wipe it clean, but the grease just smeared.

"Mom," I choked out. A sob ripped through my throat.

"Pathetic."

I froze.

Damian stood on the patio steps. Cecil stood beside him, smirking.

"I told you," Cecil said. "I'm redecorating. We need the room for Hadley's shoes. We can't have clutter."

"Clutter?" I stood up, clutching the ruined photo. "This was my life!"

"Your life is what we say it is!" Cecil snapped. "We fed you! We clothed you!"

"I saved his life!" I screamed, pointing at Damian.

"Enough of that lie!" Damian roared. 'His Alpha Voice hit me like a physical blow.'

I stumbled back. My heel caught on a crack.

I fell hard.

The back of my cheap dress snagged on the sharp metal edge of the dumpster.

'RRRIIIP.'

'Fabric tore. My back was exposed to the night air.'

For a second, silence.

Then, Hadley screamed. "Oh my god! What is that?"

I scrambled to cover myself, but it was too late.

The moonlight shone directly on my back.

'It wasn't a normal burn scar. It was a roadmap of agony. The claws of the rogue had been dipped in dark magic poison. The flesh was twisted, purple and black, a raised, grotesque web covering my spine.'

It pulsed with a faint, necrotic energy. The mark of my sacrifice.

Cecil recoiled. "It's hideous! You're a monster!"

"A cursed mark," Hadley whimpered, burying her face in Damian's chest. "Damian, don't look! It's bad luck!"

I looked at Damian. I waited for him to defend me. To recognize the wound I took for him.

Damian stared at my back. His expression twisted.

'He looked nauseated.'

"Cover yourself," he muttered, turning away. "It's repulsive."

The words hit harder than the poison.

'Repulsive.'

"It's... it's a mark of honor!"

The voice came from the shadows. Keith, a perimeter guard, stepped forward.

"Alpha, please," Keith said, shaking. "She got that scar pulling you from the West Wing. I saw the medical report-"

"Silence!" Damian barked. "Are you questioning your Alpha? Or are you sleeping with this... thing?"

Keith went pale. "No, Alpha. But-"

"Get out of my sight, Ariana," Damian spat. "You're polluting the air. And take your trash with you."

I pulled the torn fabric together.

'The shame was a cold fire. But beneath it, the White Wolf stirred.'

"I'm leaving," I said hollowly. "But I'm taking Rodriguez."

Rodriguez. The old gardener. My adoptive father. The only person who loved me.

"Fine," Damian waved his hand. "Take the old cripple. One less mouth to feed."

I walked away. I didn't look back. 'I couldn't let them see the tears. Or the hatred.'

I found Rodriguez in his small room. He was packing, hands trembling.

"Lia," he wheezed. "I heard shouting."

"We're leaving, Papa," I said, grabbing an old oversized coat from a hook-Keith's coat-to cover my back. "Now."

"Where will we go?" he asked, coughing.

"Away."

I helped him up. 'He was light as a bird. Pack neglect had withered him away.'

We made our way to the courtyard. I had an old sedan, a rusted piece of junk.

I helped Rodriguez into the passenger seat. He was pale, sweating profusely.

"My chest..." he gasped, clutching his heart.

"Hold on, Papa."

I ran to the driver's side.

Damian was there. Leaning against the hood.

"Going somewhere?"

"Move, Damian," I said, panic rising. "Rodriguez is having a heart attack. I need to get him to a doctor."

Damian looked into the car. 'Zero concern.'

"That jacket," Damian said. "That's Keith's."

"I'm cold! My dress is torn!"

"Take it off," Damian commanded. 'His eyes darkened with twisted, possessive jealousy.' "You smell like another male. It's disgusting."

"Are you insane? He's dying!"

"Take. It. Off."

I ripped the jacket off and threw it on the ground, standing shivering, back exposed.

"Happy? Now get off my car."

Damian didn't move. He dangled my keys in front of my face.

"Hadley is shaken by your display," he said casually. "She needs a vehicle to go shopping tomorrow. She likes the vintage look of this scrap heap."

"You have ten luxury cars! Give me my keys!"

"No."

He threw the keys.

'They sailed through the air and landed with a 'plop' in the ornamental fountain.'

The water was black, filled with algae and sludge.

"If you want to leave," Cecil called from the porch, wine glass in hand, "you can swim for it."

Rodriguez groaned. His head slumped.

"Papa!"

I jumped into the fountain.

'Freezing. Stench of rot.' I gagged, wading through waist-deep sludge, feeling the bottom.

"Look at her," Cecil laughed. "A sewer rat in her natural habitat."

I found the keys. I waded out, dripping filth.

I ran to the car. "I got them, Papa!"

I jammed the key into the ignition.

Nothing.

I looked out the window.

Cecil stood there with a kitchen knife. She had slashed all four tires.

"Oops," she smiled. "Looks like you're stuck."

'My world stopped spinning.'

"Please," I begged, falling to my knees in front of Damian. 'Dignity was gone.' "Please. Use your car. Take him to the hospital. I'll be your slave. I'll never leave. Just save him!"

Damian looked down at me. Slime-covered, bleeding, crying.

"You should have thought of that before you embarrassed me," he said.

"He's dying!"

"Everyone dies, Ariana."

From the car, a long, rattling exhale.

Then... silence.

I scrambled to the passenger seat.

"Papa?"

I shook him. 'Dead weight.'

I placed my hand on his chest. Stillness.

I tried to push my 'Vitality' into him. I screamed internally for the White Wolf power.

'But I was drained. I had given it all to Damian.'

Rodriguez was dead.

I turned around.

Damian checked his watch. "Well, problem solved. No need for the hospital now."

'Something inside me snapped. Not a sound, but the breaking of the final chain.'

The White Wolf woke up. And she was screaming for blood.

The Pack Hospital was a joke, but protocol demanded the body be taken there.

I sat on a metal stool. Rodriguez lay on a gurney under a sheet.

Dr. Evans, a beta who had always looked down on me, clicked his pen.

"Cause of death: Heart failure," he muttered.

"He could have been saved," I said. 'My voice was robotic.' "If we had used the regeneration pod."

"The pods are for ranked wolves only," Evans said. "Not for gardeners."

The door banged open.

Damian strode in. 'He looked annoyed, as if death was an inconvenience to his schedule.'

"Are we done here?"

"Yes, Alpha," Evans bowed.

Damian looked at me. Wet, crusted with sludge, smelling terrible.

"Go clean yourself up," Damian ordered. "Hadley twisted her ankle walking down the stairs. She needs a massage."

I slowly turned my head.

"A massage?"

"Yes. You have good hands. It's the least you can do after upsetting her."

'My father lay dead five feet away, and he wanted me to massage his mistress.'

I stood up. I walked over to Damian.

"What?" he asked. "Don't get too close, you stink."

'Smack!'

I put every ounce of strength into the slap.

'It cracked like a gunshot.'

Damian's head snapped to the side. A red handprint blossomed.

Dr. Evans gasped.

Damian turned back. Shock morphed into murderous rage.

"You..." he growled. "You dare strike your Alpha?"

"You are a murderer," I said.

"He was old!" Damian roared.

He grabbed my wrist and slammed my hand down onto the metal medical tray.

"You need a lesson," he hissed. "You need to learn respect."

He grabbed a heavy silver scalpel from the tray. 'He didn't stab me, but he pressed the flat of the pure silver blade against the back of my hand, pinning me to the table.'

"AHHH!"

The scream ripped out of me. 'Silver burns werewolves like acid.' Liquid fire injected into my veins. The smell of searing flesh filled the room.

"Look at it!" Damian yelled.

I looked.

But I didn't just see the silver burn.

I saw the hundreds of tiny, faded white scars on my arm. 'Track marks from five years of needles.'

'Drain the blood. Save the Alpha.'

"Does it hurt?" Damian whispered, sadistic pleasure in his voice. "Good. Maybe this will remind you of your place."

I stopped screaming.

'The pain was blinding, but it cleared my mind completely.'

I looked at the silver. Then at Rodriguez.

'Pack Law says an Alpha can punish an insubordinate Omega.'

The Law protected him.

I didn't need a lawyer.

I needed a King.

"Get out," I whispered.

Damian released the pressure. He stepped back, straightening his suit.

"Tomorrow," he said, breathing heavily. "We will complete the Marking Ceremony. I don't care if you want it or not. You are property."

He walked out.

I stared at my burned hand.

I walked over to the phone on the wall. Dr. Evans cowered in the corner.

I dialed the number.

"We are here," Anderson's voice came through. "I felt your pain, Lia. I felt the silver."

"He's dead, Anderson," I said, devoid of emotion. "Rodriguez is dead."

'Silence on the other end. Terrifying silence.'

"I am at the gates," the Lycan King said. "And I am bringing hell with me."