Elara

I pushed the kitchen door open. It was filled with caterers and I couldn't find my mother in here as I thought I would.

"Elara."

I heard someone call behind me. I turned slowly, my hands still gripping the fabric of my dress and found her standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and her lips pressed into that familiar thin line of disapproval.

"What are you doing here?" She demanded. "The ceremony is supposed to have started. Everyone is waiting. You need to go to the hall now."

Something inside me snapped. The years of silent obedience, of swallowing my rage, of biting my tongue until it bled... It exploded in an instant.

I crossed the kitchen in furious strides, grabbing her wrist and dragged her toward the staircase. She stumbled behind me.

"Elara! What is the meaning of this? Unhand me this instant!"

I didn't stop. I pulled her up the narrow stairs and into the empty guest bedroom. The room was dark, the faint hum of the reception music drifting up from below.

Margaret yanked her wrist free and glared at me. "You pathetic omega. What has gotten into you? You will ruin everything we've worked for..."

"Shut up," I screamed. Margaret's eyes widened in shock... I had never raised my voice at her before. Not even at anyone.

"What did you say to me?"

I pulled out my phone and thrust the screen toward her face. The picture of Damian and Serena, her perfect daughter, together in the picture. Margaret stared at the image.

Her jaw tightened. A flicker of shock passed over her gaunt features, there and gone in a heartbeat.

Then she composed herself.

"Is that all?" She said flatly. "A man has needs and Serena was simply...accomodating."

"For three years?" My stomach lurched. "If they are so in love... Why can't she marry Damian instead? Why me?"

But I knew the answer... She couldn't afford to see her own daughter that she loves so much marry a human.

"That's a rather dramatic interpretation of.."

"Look at the photo!"

I shoved the photo closer and this time Margaret flinched. She knew. Of course she knew. She had known all along.

"Even if that's true," she said slowly, her voice cold. "The wedding is still happening. We have contracts to sign. Damian's money will save this family and you will do your duty."

My hands were shaking now. I could feel the tears burning behind my eyes but I refused to let them fall.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"No," I repeated, louder this time. "I am not getting married to him. Ever."

I ripped the veil from my hair and threw it at her feet. The lace crumpled against the floor. Margaret's face contorted with rage, her pale skin flushing red.

"You worthless piece of filth," she hissed. "You think you have a choice? You think anyone will take you in? An omega with no pack. No wolf, no skills, no prospects? You are nothing. You are less than nothing. I took you in when your whore of a mother died. I clothed you. I fed you and this is how you repay me?"

"I am not your property," I barked at her, my voice steady despite the earthquake inside my chest. "I am not Damian's property and I am done pretending."

Margaret stepped closer, her fingers reaching for my chin, her signature move, the one she used to force me to look at her while she tore me apart. But I stepped back before she could touch me.

"You think you can survive without me?" She sneered. "You think anyone in the werewolf world will accept a broken omega who can't even shift? They will eat you alive."

I curled my hands into fists. Her words sink into my chest like poison tipped arrow.

"Rachel needs money doesn't she?"

I stiffened. "Don't talk about Rachel."

But Margaret saw the shift in my expression.

"Poor girl doesn't have a family," she smiled. "She is relying on you and you have nothing left to give her and let me tell you, the trust fund is gone."

My chest tightened. She had spent everything? She had promised to hand it over to me if I got married to Damian. She didn't really mean what she said.

"Let me make you a deal," she said. "You marry Damian. You endure one year... Just one year of this marriage. You act like a proper wife and I will personally pay for Rachel's hospital bills in full. Every last cent."

My throat closed. "You are lying. You'll never... "

"You don't trust me. Fine. I'll put it in writing. You have my word, omega."

Margaret's word had never meant anything but the offer hung between us, tempting and absolutely disgusting.

One year. Twelve months of playing the obedient wife. Twelve months of pretending I didn't know what Serena and Damian were doing behind my back.

And Rachel would live.

"I'll do it," the words came out of my mouth before I thought twice about it.

I would do anything for Rachel. I needed Margaret... For now. I had nothing... No one would help me.

"Good girl," she said, rubbing her hands in my hair. "Now fix your makeup and let's get the ceremony started."

She swept out of the room, leaving me alone. I stood there for a long moment, staring at my veil on the floor. I bent down and picked it up and attached it back on my head.

I straightened my shoulders.

One year. I would survive one year. I would get Rachael the money she needed and then I would run. I would run so far and so fast that no one, not Margaret, not Damian, not anyone would ever find me again.

Elara

"Let go," I said, wrenching my arm free from Serena's and turned to face her. "You slept with my fiance and now you're walking me down the aisle like some kind of benevolent sister. Do you have any idea how disgusting you are?"

Serena's smile faltered. Something flickered behind her eyes... Not guilt but surprise. She hadn't expected me to fight back.

She scoffed. "You can hate me all you want but that won't change the fact that you need us. Without Margaret's money, your little friend in the hospital is dead. So walk down that aisle, keep your mouth shut and do what you are told."

I didn't get a chance to answer as the doors swung up. The light of the chandeliers flooded the hallway and the members turned as one to watch me.

I thought about Rachel. I thought about the one year of hell I was about to endure and I told myself it was worth it. It had to be worth it.

I stepped forward.

The aisle stretched forward before me. Guests smiled and whispered and at the altar stood Damian in his tailored black suit, eyes gleaming with smug satisfaction.

He looked like a prince.

He was a monster.

I reached the altar and stood across from him. Serena released my arm and took her place in the front row beside Margaret, who was already dabbing at her dry eyes with a handkerchief.

Damian leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "You look beautiful, darling. Pity it won't last."

"Pity you're a cheater who can't keep his pants up for one day.”

His smile dropped. "What did you say?"

I didn't answer.

"We are gathered here today to witness the union of Damian Thorne and Elara Vance. If anyone has just cause why these people should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace."

For one wild, reckless moment, I imagine myself speaking. I imagined pointing at Serena in the front row and shouting the truth for everyone to hear.

But the words died in my throat.

The elder turned to me. "Elara Vance, do you take Damian Thorne to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, in sickness and health, until death do you part?"

The silence stretched. I felt the seconds ticking by.

My lips parted but no sound came out.

"Elara?"

"Yes, I do," I forced out.

Damian smiled and put the ring into my finger. The events continued and the more I stayed. The more I felt like I was drowning.

"I need to use the restroom," I blurted out.

Before anyone could stop me, I gathered my dress and fled down the aisle.

I found the nearest restroom, locked myself in a stall, and collapsed against the door.

The sobs came then. I had just married a man who was sleeping with my stepsister. I had just signed away a year of my life for the chance to save Rachel. And I had no idea if I was strong enough to survive it.

I pushed myself up and stumbled to the sink. Cold water splashed against my face, washing away the mascara that had started to run. I gripped the porcelain edge and stared at my reflection in the mirror.

The woman staring back at me was a stranger. A sound from the hallway made me freeze.

"...can't believe you did that," That was Margaret. She hissed. "In public. Do you have any idea how many people saw you, Serena?"

"Mother, relax. It's fine. Damian doesn't care. He got what he wanted."

I pressed myself against the wall of the stall and held my breath.

"You were supposed to keep her calm, not antagonize her," Margaret snapped. "She was already suspicious. Now she knows about the trust fund. If she runs..."

"She won't run."

Then Margaret's voice, lower now. "The friend is irrelevant. Once Damian has her committed, the hospital bills won't matter anyway. She'll be in the institution within the month, medicated and compliant. No one will ever hear from her again."

I clapped my hand over my mouth to stifle the scream building in my throat.

"The institution?" Serena sounded surprised. "I thought that wasn't happening until after the year was up."

"Circumstances have changed."

Was this their plan? There was no deal. There was no one year. There was only a cold, sterile institution where they would lock me away and pump me full of drugs until I forgot my own name.

Rachel would die anyway. And I would die too. Just slower. Just crueler.

But not today.

I burst out of the stall, shoved the restroom door open, and ran.

"Elara!" I heard them call. I didn't stop. I ran until my lungs burned and my legs screamed and my dress tore against the sharp edges of the garden gate.

Margaret and Selena chased behind me. I didn't look back.

I reached the fence and scrambled over it, ripping my dress and scraping my palms on the jagged iron. I landed hard on the other side and kept running, my bare feet... I had kicked off the heels somewhere in the garden...sinking into the wet grass.

The rain started to pour. I quickened my pace. I couldn't hear them behind me again.

I heard the motorcycle before I saw it. The roar of the engine cutting through the storm.

I turned. I stumbled. I tried to run... The impact was violent and pain exploded through my body as the motorcycle clipped my side, sending me flying sideways across the wet asphalt.

I landed hard, my head cracking against the ground, my vision swimming with black spots and the flash of lightning.

Above me, the rain continued to fall. The motorcycle skidded to a stop, and I heard voices. It sounded like male. Two voices.

"Fuck, I hit her."

"Check if she's breathing."

"Is she..."

A face appeared above me. Dark eyes, shaved head, rain streaming down his tattooed cheeks. He was massive and terrifying and looming over me like a demon from the storm.

"Stay with me," he growled. "Don't you fucking die on me, you hear?"

Elara

I woke to the sound of beeping. Pain exploded through my left leg the moment I tried to move.

I gasped, my hands flying down to clutch at the heavy bandages wrapped around my thigh. The memory crashed over me slowly... rain, headlights, the sickening crunch of metal against bone.

"You're awake," a voice said beside me. I jerked my head to the side and found him sitting in the plastic chair beside my bed, his massive frame somehow folded into the tiny space. Shaved head. A broken nose that had healed crooked. Tattoos crawled up his arms and disappeared beneath the collar of his leather cut.

"Who..." My voice cracked. I swallowed and tried again. "Who are you?"

"Name's Jax." He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Fury, to the brothers. I'm the one who hit you."

My blood ran cold. "You hit me. You hit me with your motorcycle."

"T'was an accident." His jaw tightened. "You ran out of the dark. I swerved, but I couldn't miss you completely. The doc says you got a fractured leg, a concussion, and some nasty road rash. You'll heal."

I stared at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. The bruises on his knuckles told me he was a man who used his fists. The patch on his cut read Sergeant-at-Arms. The words meant nothing to me, but the weight behind them felt like a threat.

"I have to leave," I said, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. "They'll find me."

"Who'll find you?" Jax studied me for a long moment, his brow furrowed. But before I could respond, the door to my room burst open.

A uniformed man filled the doorway. The Sheriff. Thick mustache. Hands resting on his belt like he was reaching for something.

"Miss Vance," he announced. "I need to take your statement regarding the accident. Protocol requires..."

"She's not giving any statement."

Jax rose from his chair, and suddenly the room felt half its size. The sheriff's hand drifted closer to his holster.

"Step aside, Mr. Maddox. This is official police business."

"She's a minor."

"I'm twenty-four," I blurted out.

Neither man looked at me.

"She's under my club's protection," Jax said flatly. "You want her statement, you come through me. And you don't want to come through me."

The sheriff's face reddened. "You can't just..."

"I can. I am. Get out."

The stare down felt like it lasted for an eternity. Then the sheriff muttered something under his breath, spun on his heel, and stalked out of the room. The door slammed behind him.

I was already moving.

The moment the sheriff left, I swung my legs over the side of the bed. Pain lanced through my fractured leg, white-hot and blinding, but I bit down on the scream that tried to claw its way out of my throat.

I took one step. Then another. My leg buckled beneath me, and I grabbed the IV stand to keep from collapsing.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Jax was on me in two strides, his massive hand clamping down on my arm. I tried to jerk free, but his grip was firm.

"Let go of me!" I thrashed, my free hand slapping uselessly against his chest. "You don't understand. They'll find me. They'll lock me away and I'll never get out and Rachel will die and..."

I was sobbing now, the words tumbling out in a broken rush. Jax didn't let go. He just stood there, holding me upright, his expression unreadable.

"Stop," he said quietly. "Stop fighting. You'll hurt yourself worse."

"I don't care."

"Well, I do."

The door opened again. This time, a new man stepped through... taller than Jax, broader, with salt-and-pepper stubble and ice-blue eyes that pinned me to the spot. His cut read President. His presence filled the room in a way that made Jax seem almost small.

Behind him, two more men slipped through the door. One lean and hawkish, with golden-brown eyes...the other lithe and angular, with silver-gray eyes.

Four of them. Four bikers. And every single one of them was staring at me like I was the answer to a question they hadn't known they were asking.

The eldest stepped forward. I didn't know his name yet, but I could feel it in my bones...this was the Alpha. The one who made the rules.

"Release her," he said to Jax.

"Kade..." Jax started to say but his grip loosened immediately. I stumbled back, my broken leg screaming in protest, and collapsed onto the edge of the bed.

Kade circled me slowly, his ice-blue eyes never leaving my face. He leaned in close, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply. I flinched, expecting violence... expecting everything I had ever known from men in power.

Instead, his eyes flickered gold.

I froze.

"What..." My voice died in my throat.

Kade straightened. His jaw tightened.

"What are you?" he said. "Your scent... it's faint... You're a shifter. A latent one."

I shook my head. "That's impossible. I'm an omega. I can't shift. I've never..."

"You've been suppressed." Kade replied. "Someone blocked your wolf. But the scent is unmistakable. You're one of us. Pack property. Under our sacred laws, you fall under my protection."

Pack property. The words made my stomach lurch. I had escaped one cage only to be shoved into another.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "No. I don't belong to anyone. I don't belong to any pack. I'm not..."

He cut me off.

"You have two choices. Stay here and wait for whoever is hunting you to find you. Or come with us to the clubhouse. You'll be protected there."

Jax stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "She can't walk, Prez. Leg's busted."

"Then carry her."

Before I could protest, Jax scooped me into his arms like I weighed nothing. My broken leg screamed, and I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out.

"Put me down!"

"Not a chance, princess." Jax's voice was rough but not unkind. "You're coming with us whether you like it or not."