Aveline’s POV

The summons arrived on thick parchment, its surface rough beneath my fingertips, sealed with silver wax impressed with the ancient Lycan crest. My hands shook as I broke the seal. The Lycans were legends among our kind—rare, old beyond memory, powerful enough that even Alphas spoke their name with caution. They did not attend gatherings. They did not entertain outsiders. For generations, they had remained distant observers, watching the rest of us from the shadows.

And yet, they had called for us.

I understood why well enough. My father’s pack—Thorndike—had always maintained a measured alliance with them. Respectful. Careful. As his daughter, my presence was expected, whether I welcomed it or not.

Still, my wolf shifted uneasily at the thought.

Because I knew he would be there.

Alaric—Theo, as he now called himself—could never ignore a Lycan summons. And he would undoubtedly arrive with Elowen clinging to his arm, playing the devoted husband, basking in stolen legitimacy.

My wolf growled low in my chest.

That evening, I dressed in something I hadn’t dared wear since the night Alaric “died.” Midnight-colored silk flowed over my skin like liquid shadow, molding to my body, the back cut daringly low, baring skin that caught the moonlight with every step. It felt like armor and defiance woven into one.

The Lycan gathering took place inside a vast stone hall, its walls carved directly from the mountain itself. Torches burned with pale, silvery flames, casting shifting shadows. Their presence filled the space—ancient, overwhelming, pressing down on every wolf who dared breathe too loudly. When the Lycans moved among us, even in human form, conversations died. Their eyes glowed faintly, watching everything.

As I entered, attention followed.

My wolf lifted her head proudly. So did I.

I felt his stare before I saw him.

Alaric froze when his gaze landed on me. His expression cracked—just briefly—his breath hitching as though I had knocked the wind from him. For one fleeting moment, the false skin of “Theo” peeled away, and there he was. My Alpha. The man who once swore he would love me harder than fate ever could.

Then Elowen latched onto his arm.

She leaned into him, trembling theatrically, fingers clutching his sleeve as though she might collapse without his support. It was repulsive. And he let her hold him there. He didn’t take a step toward me.

I looked away.

The evening unfolded as tradition demanded—formal greetings, respectful bows, careful words exchanged with beings who rarely showed themselves. But no wolf gathering ended with courtesy alone.

Two Alphas stepped forward to challenge one another. Clothes were discarded. Bones snapped. Massive wolves emerged, snarls reverberating against stone. The hall came alive with excitement.

The wagering began.

Gold changed hands. Furs were thrown onto tables. Warriors offered blades, Betas prized heirlooms. Shouts rang out, fevered and hungry.

Then I spoke.

“I will place a wager.”

The room stilled.

Every gaze turned toward me.

From my grasp, I withdrew the moonstone ring—the one smeared with blood, the one I had clutched while screaming beneath the moon. The ring Alaric had meant to give me on the cliff.

A sharp intake of breath rippled through the crowd.

“This,” I said, lifting it high, my voice calm despite the ache tearing through my chest, “was the engagement ring of my late fiancé. The Alpha who was meant to be my mate. I stake it on this duel.”

The silence that followed was heavy, stunned.

I felt Alaric’s stare like fire against my skin—rage, disbelief, something raw vibrating through the remnants of a bond I no longer acknowledged.

I didn’t flinch.

I placed the ring before the weaker Alpha. Murmurs erupted into shocked exclamations. To wager something so irreplaceable on a likely loss was insanity.

That was precisely the point.

The fight erupted—claws tearing, bodies slamming into stone.

As expected, the weaker Alpha fell.

The victor claimed my ring amid roaring cheers.

I smiled—sharp, brittle—lifted my chin, and walked away with my heart bleeding quietly inside my chest.

The air shifted.

He stood directly in my path.

Alaric—Theo—blocking me, his expression dark, his eyes burning with emotion he could no longer mask.

“What was that?” he demanded, his voice tight with restrained fury. “That ring belonged to my brother. It symbolized his promise to you. How could you discard it so carelessly?”

I met his gaze without warmth. My wolf stood steady beside me.

“Because that chapter is finished,” I replied evenly. “Your brother is dead. Whatever he promised died with him. The ring holds no value anymore.”

His mouth parted, but nothing came out. For once, Alaric Vandolph—the Alpha who always controlled the room—had nothing to say.

I walked past him.

But Elowen stopped me.

She ambushed me in a corridor, rage twisting her flawless face. “You pathetic bitch,” she spat, slamming me into the wall. “You think you’re clever? Parading your grief to steal attention? Feeding on everyone’s sympathy?”

Her nails bit into my arm as she shoved me into a side room. The door slammed shut. The lock clicked.

Darkness swallowed me.

No windows. No light. No escape.

My chest seized as panic surged upward, old memories crashing in—being ten years old, trapped in a cellar, scratching at the door until my fingers bled, screaming for help that never came.

“No—please—no,” I gasped, pounding at the door.

My wolf bucked wildly, but the walls felt like they were closing in. Air vanished. Darkness pressed in.

I crumpled to the floor.

When they found me nearly an hour later, my body was slack, breath shallow, sweat soaking my gown.

And Alaric?

Not one call. Not one message.

Later, I learned Elowen had told him I’d gone off alone to mourn—and he believed her without question.

---

When I returned to the packhouse, the scene waiting for me made my stomach twist violently.

They were all there—Alaric, Elowen, his parents. A small crowd had gathered. Alaric stood at the center, gripping a stack of papers.

My wolf bristled.

Then I saw what they were.

Termination forms.

My body locked in place.

“How dare you,” Alaric roared, his eyes blazing. “How could you destroy my brother’s heir?”

A hollow laugh bubbled up inside me. Even now—he was still pretending. Still hiding behind that miserable lie.

Elowen stepped forward, her voice dripping venom. “You’re disgusting. You slaughtered an innocent life. You never wanted that pup. You only wanted the drama of being a widow.”

His mother struck me hard across the face. “Murderer,” she hissed.

The room spun.

Then Alaric hit me.

The sound cracked through the silence, my head snapping sideways. Pain flared—but my wolf did not whine.

Slowly, I straightened, blood metallic on my tongue.

“Why does this concern you so deeply, Theo?” I asked quietly. “Why grieve a child that was never yours? You are not my Alpha. Not my fiancé. You’re nothing more than his so-called twin.”

His eyes flared—denial, fury, agony all tangled together.

I didn’t wait for his answer.

I turned to all of them.

“I’m finished,” I said coldly. “I sever every tie to Vandolph Pack. Whatever love I had died tonight—along with the moonstone ring I gave away. And with it, my heart followed.”

No one spoke.

I walked out.

Aveline’s POV

A knock echoed through my room that night, dragging me out of a thin, restless half-sleep. My eyes burned, swollen from crying until the sky had lightened, but I forced myself upright anyway. Somewhere deep inside, my wolf shifted uneasily, unsettled and alert.

The door opened before I could even answer.

“Aveline,” a familiar voice murmured.

Theo.

Or rather, the man everyone insisted was Theo.

But every time I looked at him, something inside me recoiled. His stare wasn’t distant or subdued like a grieving twin’s should be. It was sharp—too intense, too alive. It was Alaric’s gaze wearing another name.

He stepped fully into the room, his broad shoulders nearly filling the doorway. He looked exhausted, hair slightly disordered, face shadowed—as if he were the one crushed beneath sorrow.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on the floor. His jaw tightened, fingers curling and uncurling at his sides. “I never should’ve raised my hand against you. I lost control.”

I didn’t respond. My throat felt scorched, packed tight with words I refused to give him.

He came closer, his tone firm but carefully restrained. “I’m grieving the child in my brother’s place,” he continued. “You know Alaric would never have wanted that pup gone. And as his twin, it’s my responsibility to guard what belonged to him.”

My wolf bristled violently at the word guard.

Protect? No. This was nothing but another lie, delivered straight to my face.

I said nothing. I simply pulled the blanket closer and turned toward the wall, cutting him out of my sight.

“Aveline,” he tried again, softer now, coaxing. “You need to rest. You’ve been through too much.”

Before I could stop him, his hands lifted the blanket higher, tucking it around my shoulders as if I were something fragile, breakable. His fingers lingered at the edge of the fabric.

“I heard this helps you sleep,” he added quietly.

I bit into my tongue until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

He was still pretending. Still playing the role. Still hiding behind a dead man’s name—all for her.

When he finally left, the click of the door closing felt like a weight settling on my chest. I stared into the darkness until morning, numb, unmoving, unable even to cry.

---

I woke the next day to chaos.

Shouting rattled the walls. Feet thundered down the corridors. Elowen’s sobs echoed through the packhouse like a siren.

When I opened my door, I was met with hostile stares. Servants. Warriors. Elder maidens. All gathered, whispering with sharp mouths and sharpened eyes.

“She destroyed them.”

“Burned everything.”

“Even the rare ones we nearly died collecting.”

My stomach dropped.

Elowen appeared moments later, wrapped in a pale robe, tears streaking her cheeks. She looked pitiful—small, broken, clinging to sympathy like a lifeline. But when her gaze met mine, I saw it.

Triumph.

She buried her face against the Alpha’s chest.

“I saw her,” she sobbed loudly. “I watched Aveline burn my medicine. Every last bit.”

My breath caught. “That’s not true!” I shouted, but my words were swallowed by gasps and angry murmurs.

The Luna mother spun toward me, horror twisting her face. “How could you do something so cruel? You tried to kill her by destroying her treatment? Haven’t you caused enough harm already?”

The word murderer drifted through the room like poison smoke.

I wanted to tear the truth from Elowen’s mouth. To scream until the walls cracked. But before I could move, the Alpha raised his hand.

Silence fell instantly.

His expression was cold, merciless. “Confine her to her room. No meals. No water.”

My wolf roared inside me, but my body froze. Two servants seized my arms before I could react, their grips brutal.

Elowen’s crying intensified. She clutched him tighter, shaking her head weakly. “Please, Alpha… don’t punish her. She’s grieving. She lost her mate. She didn’t mean it. I’m fine—we’ll replace the herbs. Let her go.”

Her voice was gentle. Virtuous. Convincing.

But Alaric’s jaw hardened. He looked at her with false concern, then turned to me with eyes like stone. “No. Aveline’s actions are dangerous. She intended to worsen your condition by destroying your medicine.”

“You know that’s a lie!” I screamed. “I never touched them!”

“Take her away,” he said flatly.

They dragged me down the corridor as I kicked and fought, but the warriors were stronger. They threw me into my room, locked the door, and left.

For two days, no one came.

No food.

No water.

The first night, I clawed at the door until my nails split. By the second, my throat was so dry I couldn’t scream anymore. My wolf whimpered faintly, weakened by hunger.

I curled on the floor, shaking, fury burning hotter than the tears streaming down my face.

I will make him suffer.

I will make him feel every shred of this hunger, this rage, this helplessness.

That promise kept me breathing.

On the second night, the lock turned.

The door opened.

Two servants stood there, faces unreadable. “Stand up.”

I blinked at them, dizzy. “What…?”

“Orders from the Alpha,” one replied. “Elowen wants you to prepare dinner.”

My body shook as they hauled me through the halls. My legs felt hollow, barely holding me upright.

The kitchen stank of firewood and raw meat. They shoved me toward the counter. “Cook.”

My stomach twisted violently at the sight of food. My knees nearly buckled. But the warriors hovered close, daring me to refuse.

My hands trembled as I took the knife, slicing, stirring, moving through the motions. I cooked the same meals I once made for Alaric—dishes he used to praise with a smile that once meant everything.

Now, they tasted like ash.

When the stew finished simmering, I caught my reflection in the polished metal of the pot.

Sunken cheeks. Red-rimmed eyes. A stranger staring back.

And in that moment, I swore silently:

This was not how my story ended.

They could starve me. Strike me. Lock me away.

But they would not break me.

And one day—

he would understand what it meant to be trapped in hunger.

Aveline’s POV

I set the final platter onto the long oak table, my fingers shaking so badly I nearly dropped it. Every muscle in my arms screamed in protest, and my chest felt crushed beneath an invisible weight. Still, I straightened, forcing my body to obey. Serving, enduring—that was all I was allowed to do now.

The aroma of roasted venison mixed with herbs and slow-cooked roots drifted through the hall, rich and familiar. It was the dish Alpha Alaric had always favored.

Even like this—hollowed out, starved, stripped of dignity—I had cooked for him. Somewhere deep inside, a foolish thought lingered: maybe the scent, the taste, the meals I once made with devotion would stir something in him. Maybe it would remind him of the woman who used to sit at his side.

He occupied the seat at the head of the table, posture rigid, expression carved from ice. But when his eyes flicked briefly toward the food, I saw it—a momentary crack. A shadow of longing. As if memory reached for him despite himself. My heart clenched painfully, though I refused to let that fragile spark turn into hope.

“Sit down,” my mother-in-law snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut.

I moved toward one of the chairs, but she spoke again before I could lower myself.

“Not there. On the ground.”

I froze. My breath caught, lips parting in disbelief. Surely I had misheard. I lifted my eyes toward Alaric, silently pleading—begging him to stop this, to say something, anything. He didn’t even look at me.

I swallowed, my stomach twisting violently with hunger.

Slowly, unwillingly, I sank to the floor.

Not beside the table. Beneath it. Reduced to eating at their feet—like a stray, like something unworthy of a chair. Less than even the lowest omega.

The shame burned hotter than any wound, but my body was too drained to resist. Hunger gnawed mercilessly, hollowing me out from the inside. I pressed my lips together, forcing myself to endure. I had been humiliated before in this pack… but never by Alaric. Never by the people who once called me family.

A plate was placed before me on the floor. I reached for it and began to eat, every bite scraping raw against what remained of my pride.

Then a sharp cough shattered the heavy silence.

“Alpha—!”

Elowen’s voice rang out, brittle and panicked. She coughed again, harder this time, red staining her lips. Her hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide with terror. “I—I’ve been poisoned!”

The hall erupted. Gasps, chairs scraping back, warriors leaping to their feet. Every gaze swung toward me—toward the woman crouched on the floor, the one Elowen had always painted as her enemy.

I froze, food still in my mouth, as she crumpled dramatically into another wolf’s arms.

Alaric shot up so fast his chair shrieked against the stone. His fury was a physical force as he strode toward me and kicked the plate from my hands. Food scattered across the floor like debris.

“How dare you?” His voice thundered, his Alpha aura crushing down on me until it was hard to breathe. “You didn’t learn anything, Aveline. Now you’re vile enough to poison a meal?!”

I flinched as if struck. “No—I didn’t!” I cried, my voice breaking.

He didn’t hear me. His eyes blazed with betrayal.

“Take Elowen to the infirmary,” he ordered sharply. “Immediately!”

Warriors rushed to comply. In the chaos, bodies shifting around her, I caught one fleeting glimpse of Elowen’s face. Her lips curved—just barely—into a thin, victorious smile.

Ice flooded my veins.

She planned this. Every bit of it.

And Alaric… Alaric never questioned it.

“Elites,” he called, his voice slicing through the noise. His gaze returned to me, merciless. “Deal with her. Throw her into the Death Garden.”

The world tilted. My legs gave way beneath me.

“No…” My voice shattered. Tears spilled freely as I crawled forward, palms flat against the floor. “Alpha, please—don’t. You know what that place does. Wolves don’t survive it—”

“Enough!”

His command slammed down, silencing not only me but my wolf, who whimpered and retreated inside.

My chest rose and fell in broken gasps. I looked up at him, desperate. “Please listen. I would never poison her. You know me. You know my wolf—”

His jaw tightened. The eyes I once trusted, once called home, regarded me like dirt beneath his boots.

That was when it sank in.

He would never choose me.

Not over her.

Hands seized my arms. I was dragged across the floor, my pleas dissolving into screams, then into hoarse sobs. No one intervened.

When the iron gates of the Death Garden creaked open, dread washed over me instantly. Rot and decay saturated the air, the cursed flowers radiating a deathly pressure that crushed a wolf’s spirit. Mine whimpered in fear, curling inward. The moment my bare feet touched the soil, weakness flooded my limbs.

The gates slammed shut.

My breathing turned shallow, my chest constricting as though unseen hands were closing around my heart. Darkness threatened my vision, but I forced myself to move, clinging to one single instinct:

Survive.

With shaking fingers, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the burner phone I had hidden for weeks. The call connected almost immediately.

“…Aveline?” my father’s voice answered.

I swallowed, forcing strength into my tone. “We need to change the plan,” I rasped. “Burn the Death Garden. Make it look like… make it look like I died here.”

“Aveline—”

“Do it,” I insisted, tears spilling as my knees finally gave out. “If Alaric wants me gone so badly, let him believe it worked. Let him live with it. Let him regret.”

The rescue came swiftly—shadows moving through the night. I barely registered the arms lifting me, the smoke filling my lungs, the fire roaring behind us as flames consumed the cursed garden.

A body—already prepared—was left behind to burn. Around its charred neck, they placed the necklace Alaric had once given me. The symbol of a love I once believed in.

Now, it would mark my death.

And the beginning of his punishment.

...

Alaric’s POV

The door slammed open as my Beta staggered inside, breathless and pale.

“Alpha!” he gasped. “The Death Garden—it caught fire. The flames were uncontrollable. We couldn’t save her.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “We found a body… burned beyond recognition. But—”

He hesitated.

“She was wearing Aveline’s necklace. The one you gave her.”