The fever burned through me like wildfire, each wave more intense than the last. My body trembled uncontrollably as I lay on the thin mattress in the servants' quarters—a far cry from the luxurious bed I once shared with Reed. Ten years of suppression had weakened my wolf beyond recognition, but this... this was something else entirely.

"Sylvia?" Elena's voice echoed in my mind through our pack link. "Your vitals are dropping. I need to come treat you."

"No," I whispered, my teeth chattering. "Reed will punish you if he finds out."

"He can punish me all he wants," Elena replied fiercely. "You're dying."

I closed my eyes, feeling the mate bond—once vibrant and strong—now fraying like an old rope. Each broken strand sent physical pain radiating through my body. "Please, Elena. Just a little longer."

With the last of my strength, I reached out through the mate bond to Reed.

*Reed... I need help...*

His response came almost immediately, but not with the concern I desperately needed.

*What now, Sylvia?*

*I'm sick. The fever won't break. Please... can Elena come see me?*

There was a pause, and I could feel his irritation pulsing through our weakened bond.

*Elena is busy inspecting the new training facility. We can't waste resources on a hypochondriac Omega.*

*But I—*

*Enough. Hailey needs Elena's expertise for something that actually matters. Stop being dramatic.*

The link severed abruptly, leaving me alone with my burning skin and racing thoughts. Hypochondriac Omega. The words stung worse than any physical pain.

Hours passed, and the fever only intensified. My stomach cramped with hunger, but there was nothing left in my small room. I hadn't eaten since yesterday morning—not since Reed had taken the last of my food to feed to his prized hunting dogs.

"I need... to eat," I whispered to myself, forcing my legs over the edge of the bed.

Every movement was agony. My muscles screamed in protest as I dragged myself across the floor, leaving a trail of sweat and tears behind me. The pack house was quiet this time of evening—most wolves would be finishing their dinner or preparing for patrol.

The kitchen was empty when I arrived, though the lingering scents of roasted meat made my mouth water painfully. I searched desperately through the cupboards and refrigerator, finding nothing but scraps and leftovers.

Then I saw it—a plate covered with aluminum foil, sitting prominently on the counter. Steam rose from beneath the foil, carrying the rich aroma of venison. My favorite.

My hands shook as I lifted the corner of the foil. Perfectly cooked venison steak, thick and juicy, with herbs and butter melting into the meat. I recognized it immediately—Nicholas's dinner. My son's meal.

"I just need... a small piece," I whispered to myself, my conscience warring with my survival instinct.

I took a bite, closing my eyes as warmth spread through my frozen limbs. Just one bite became two, then three. The meat was so good—better than anything I'd tasted in months.

"Sylvia!"

Hailey's voice cut through the kitchen like a knife. I spun around, meat still in my mouth, to find her standing in the doorway with perfect makeup and immaculate clothes.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, her eyes wide with mock horror.

"I was hungry," I managed, my voice barely audible.

"That's the future Alpha's dinner!" Hailey shrieked, loud enough for half the pack to hear. "How dare you steal from your own son?"

"I wasn't stealing," I protested weakly. "I just needed—"

"You needed to disrespect the pack hierarchy?" Hailey interrupted, stepping closer. "To weaken the future Alpha by taking his strength?"

Heavy footsteps sounded outside the kitchen, and suddenly Nicholas burst through the door, his golden eyes—so like mine—flaring with anger.

"What's going on?" he demanded, his small frame puffing out with authority.

"Your mother is stealing your dinner," Hailey said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "The very food that will make you strong enough to lead this pack someday."

Nicholas's gaze fell on the half-eaten venison, then to me. There was no recognition in his eyes—no concern for his trembling, feverish mother.

"Drop it," he ordered, his voice unnaturally deep for an eight-year-old.

When I didn't immediately obey, his expression hardened. I watched in horror as he straightened his spine and lifted his chin—a perfect mimic of Reed's authoritative posture.

"DROP IT AND KNEEL, OMEGA!"

The Alpha command hit me like a physical blow. My knees buckled instantly, my body responding to the supernatural compulsion before my mind could resist. The plate clattered to the floor as I collapsed, my forehead touching the cold tile.

"Nicholas," I gasped, tears streaming down my face. "It's me... it's your mother..."

Without hesitation, he turned to the doorway where Marcus, the pack Gamma, now stood watching.

"Gamma," Nicholas said formally, "this Omega has stolen from the future Alpha. Arrest her."

Something inside me—something that had been bending for ten long years—finally snapped.

The cold metal of the shackles touched my wrists, and something inside me—something that had been bending for ten long years—finally shattered.

"By order of the future Alpha," Marcus announced formally, his eyes not quite meeting mine. "You are under arrest for theft of pack resources."

I looked up at my son, still towering over me with that unnatural authority in his stance. My vision blurred with tears, but through them, I could see Hailey's satisfied smirk in the background.

"Nicholas," I whispered, my voice breaking. "It's your mother."

His small face remained impassive, though I caught the slightest flicker of confusion in his eyes. "An Omega who steals from the future Alpha is no mother of mine."

Something cracked inside my chest—not just my heart breaking, but something deeper. The mental block I'd built ten years ago, the one that had kept my wolf suppressed and hidden, suddenly fissured.

A strange sensation spread through me, like ice melting or chains falling away. I felt my wolf—dormant for so long—stirring.

"Get up," Marcus ordered, tugging at the shackles. "We need to get you processed."

But I didn't move. Instead, I began to laugh—a hollow, terrifying sound that seemed to echo from somewhere beyond myself.

"Sylvia?" Marcus stepped back, his brow furrowing. "What's wrong with her?"

"I don't think there's anything wrong with her anymore," Hailey said, her voice suddenly uncertain.

The air in the kitchen grew heavy, charged with static electricity that made everyone's hair stand on end. I felt heat radiating from my core, spreading outward through my limbs.

"No," I whispered, not to them but to myself. "Yes."

My fingers moved without conscious thought, tracing ancient symbols in the air—symbols I hadn't drawn in a decade. The counter-incantation fell from my lips like a forgotten melody suddenly remembered.

"By blood and bone, by moon and throne,

I release what was bound, what was drowned.

Rise now, sister, rise now, wolf.

No more chains, no more loss,

No more hiding who we are."

The effect was immediate and devastating. Power surged through me, raw and primal. My vision sharpened, colors intensifying until the world looked almost painfully vivid.

"Wh-what's happening?" Nicholas stumbled backward, his small frame suddenly looking even smaller.

I didn't answer. I couldn't. My wolf was rising, clawing her way to the surface after ten years of forced slumber.

The first shockwave of my Golden Royal Aura exploded outward from my core, shattering the kitchen windows into glittering shards. The tile floor cracked beneath my knees, spiderwebbing outward in a perfect circle.

"KNEEL."

The word wasn't spoken—it was felt, a command so powerful it bypassed hearing entirely and went straight to the primal part of their brains.

Marcus dropped first, his knees hitting the floor hard enough to crack tile. Then Hailey, her perfectly manicured nails scrabbling desperately at her throat as if she could physically push away the command.

Nicholas fought it longest—his Alpha blood giving him a momentary resistance—but even he couldn't withstand the power of a Royal Lycan. He collapsed beside Hailey, his small body trembling.

Reed appeared in the doorway just as the second wave hit. His eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

"Sylvia?" he gasped, but whatever else he meant to say died on his lips as my aura crushed him to his knees.

I stood slowly, feeling power coursing through me like liquid gold. My eyes burned molten yellow in the reflection of the shattered glass.

"Mother?" Nicholas whimpered, finally recognizing me—truly recognizing me—for the first time in years.

I stepped over Reed without a word, my bare foot leaving a smoking imprint on the tile. No one moved as I walked out of the kitchen, through the pack house, and into the night beyond.

The cool air felt like freedom against my skin. I didn't stop walking until I reached the border of Silver Pine territory, where the scent markers faded into neutral ground.

There, beneath the moon that had witnessed my decade of suffering, I pulled a small communication device from beneath a loose stone—one I'd hidden years ago for emergencies.

"Emergency frequency alpha-nine-niner," I said into it, my voice steady and commanding. "This is Princess Sylvia Carpenter of the Royal Lycan Court. Authorization code: Moonrise Ascendant."

The response came almost instantly. "Princess acknowledged. Extraction team en route. ETA twelve minutes."

I smiled, feeling truly alive for the first time in ten years.

Within the hour, black helicopters bearing the Royal Crest descended from the night sky. Elite warriors in tactical gear poured out, forming a protective circle around me.

They knelt in perfect unison.

"Princess Sylvia," the lead warrior said, head bowed. "We are honored to serve."

Behind us, I could see the Silver Pine border guards watching in confusion and growing fear as they realized what was happening.

"Take me home," I commanded, my voice carrying on the night wind.

As the helicopter lifted off, I caught one last glimpse of my former pack—the place where I had buried my true self for far too long.

They were on their knees still, where my aura had left them. And somewhere in that pack house, my son was learning his first lesson about the true nature of power.

The helicopter touched down on the royal landing pad, its blades slicing through the night air. I stepped out, my legs still weak but my spine straighter than it had been in a decade. The familiar scent of home—ancient stone, moonflowers, and the distinctive aroma of Lycan magic—washed over me.

"Princess Sylvia."

The voice cut through the rotor noise like a blade. I turned to see him—my father, the Lycan King—standing at the edge of the landing zone. His imposing figure was silhouetted against the palace lights, but I could see his face clearly in the moonlight.

"Sire," I whispered, my voice catching.

He closed the distance between us in three long strides. When he reached me, his eyes—the same golden yellow as mine—widened in horror.

"Moon Goddess," he breathed, his hand gently touching my cheek. "What have they done to you?"

I couldn't answer. The sight of him—the father I'd abandoned for a mate who never deserved me—broke something inside me. Ten years of suppressed emotion flooded out at once.

"Father," I choked out, falling into his arms.

His embrace was gentle despite his strength, as if he feared I might shatter. "My daughter," he murmured into my hair. "My lost princess."

I felt him inhale deeply, taking in my scent—the stench of rejection that clung to me like a second skin. His body tensed, and when he pulled back, his eyes blazed with fury.

"The bond sickness," he growled. "It's critical. How long have you been like this?"

"Years," I admitted. "It got worse after..."

I couldn't finish the sentence. Saying aloud that my own son had commanded me to kneel might break me all over again.

"Enough," my father declared, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of royal command. "Summon the Royal High Healers. Now."

---

Pain became my constant companion in the days that followed.

The Royal High Healers worked tirelessly, pouring ancient Lycan magic into my broken body. The bond sickness had eaten away at me for so long that even their powerful magic couldn't provide an easy fix.

"Your body is remembering," the Head Healer explained as I writhed in agony on the ceremonial table. "The Lycan genes you suppressed are reasserting themselves."

My bones cracked and reshaped. My muscles tore and reformed. My skin blistered and healed—all while I remained conscious, forced to endure every excruciating moment.

"Where's Queen?" I gasped through gritted teeth, referring to my wolf.

"Here," came a voice in my mind—stronger and clearer than I'd heard in years. "I'm taking back what's ours."

Queen's presence surged through me, no longer the whimper of a suppressed wolf but the roar of a predator reclaiming her territory. With her return came memories—training sessions in the royal courtyard, hunts through ancient forests, the weight of the crown that had been mine by birthright.

"Revenge," Queen growled. "We want revenge."

"Patience," I whispered back, even as my nails lengthened into claws and my canines descended. "Strategic dismantling, not mindless violence."

The Healers stepped back as my body completed its transformation. Where once stood a gaunt, weakened woman was now a Lycan Princess in her full glory—tall, powerful, with golden eyes that could command armies.

---

"The annual Alpha Summit," my father announced one evening as we dined in the private royal chamber. "Every Alpha in the territories will attend."

I looked up from my plate, where I was devouring a meal fit for three wolves. "Including Reed?"

"Especially Reed," my father said, his smile sharp as a blade. "We've sent him a special invitation."

He slid a parchment across the table. I read it carefully, noting the formal language and official seal.

"'The Royal Lycan Court requests the presence of Alpha Reed Cunningham and his pack for a commendation ceremony,'" I read aloud. "What commendation?"

"That's the beauty of it," my father replied, swirling his wine. "He'll think it's about him—about his leadership. His arrogance will blind him to the true purpose."

I traced the embossed lettering with my fingertip. "And what is the true purpose?"

"Justice," Queen growled inside me.

My father's eyes met mine across the table. "Justice comes in many forms, daughter. Sometimes it's a blade to the heart. Other times..." He paused, his smile widening. "Other times it's watching someone destroy themselves with their own hubris."

I nodded slowly, feeling the first stirrings of anticipation. "When does the Summit begin?"

"Three days," he replied. "Plenty of time for Reed to prepare his acceptance speech."

I could already imagine Reed's reaction—his chest puffed out with pride, Hailey preening beside him as they interpreted the invitation as validation of everything they'd stolen from me.

Little did they know what awaited them at the Summit.