Alicia’s POV

The invitation came on heavy parchment, sealed with silver wax stamped in the ancient crest of the Lycans. My hands trembled when I held it. The Lycans were the most elusive of our kind, rare, powerful, ancient. They did not mingle, they did not host, they did not waste their time on gatherings. For centuries they had kept to their own kind, observing us from a distance.

And yet, here was an invitation.

I knew why. The Thorndike Pack, my father’s pack, had always maintained a careful, respectful alliance with them. And as his daughter, I was expected to appear.

Still, my wolf stirred uneasily when I thought of it. Because I knew Stephen—William—would be there. The Alpha of Varrenhare Pack could hardly ignore such a summons, and of course he would drag Sophia to his side, playing the role of the doting husband.

My wolf snarled in my chest.

That night, I slipped into a gown unlike anything I had worn since Stephen’s death—or supposed death. Midnight silk clung to my body like water, hugging my curves, the back plunging low to reveal smooth skin that shimmered in moonlight.

The Lycans’ gathering was held in a great hall carved from stone, torches casting silver flames along the walls. Their aura filled the air, ancient, heavy, suffocating. Wolves hushed in reverence as the Lycans moved, silent and poised, their eyes glowing faintly even in human form.

When I entered, heads turned. My wolf lifted her chin, and I did the same.

I felt his eyes before I saw him.

Stephen.

His jaw slackened, his eyes drinking me in as if I had stolen the air from his lungs. For a heartbeat, the mask of “William” slipped, and I saw him—my Alpha, the one who had once promised to love me like fate itself.

Then Sophia’s hand curled around his arm, her lips trembling, her body pressing into his as if she were too weak to stand. The lie was disgusting, but he let it hold him. He didn’t move toward me.

I tore my gaze away.

The night proceeded with the usual pleasantries, exchanging words of respect, bowing heads to the Lycans who rarely showed themselves. But as with all wolf gatherings, tradition demanded more than pleasantries.

Two Alphas stepped forward to duel. They shed their clothes and shifted into massive wolves, snarls shaking the hall as their paws scraped the stone. Excitement rippled through the crowd, and the bidding began.

Wolves wagered gold, furs, jewels. Betas pushed forward heirlooms, warriors placed blades. Voices rose in a frenzy of competition.

And then my voice cut through them.

“I will bid,” I said.

All eyes turned to me.

From my clutch, I pulled it out—the bloodstained moonstone ring. The ring that Stephen had meant to give me the night of the cliff. The one I had found lying in blood, pressed against my palm as I wept.

Gasps echoed through the hall.

“This,” I said, holding it high, my voice steady though my chest ached. “The engagement ring of my deceased fiancé. The Alpha who was meant to be my mate. I offer this to the fight.”

The weight of my words sank into the silence. I felt Stephen’s eyes on me, burning, his fury trembling through the bond we once shared.

I didn’t care.

I placed the ring on the table for the weaker Alpha. The crowd roared in disbelief. To wager something so precious on someone destined to lose was madness. And that was the point.

The fight began, claws clashing, fur bristling.

And as expected, the weaker Alpha fell. The crowd erupted, the victor howled, and my ring was claimed.

I smiled. Chin high, heart bleeding, I turned and walked away.

The air shifted. He was there, blocking my path. Stephen—William—his face hard, his eyes blazing.

“Why did you do that?” he demanded. His voice was low, strained. “That was my brother’s ring. The symbol of his promise to you. How could you throw it away?”

I looked at him coldly, my wolf steady. “Because I’ve moved on. Your brother is dead. His promises are buried with him. The ring means nothing now.”

His mouth opened, but no words came. For once, Stephen Varrenhare—the Alpha who always had an answer—was speechless.

I left him standing there.

But Sophia didn’t let me leave.

She caught me in the hallway, fury twisting her perfect features. “You bitch,” she hissed, shoving me hard against the wall. “You think you’re so clever? Acting like some sorrowful widow in front of everyone. Stealing their pity, their eyes.”

Her nails dug into my arm as she pushed me into a darkened room. The door slammed shut, the lock clicked.

The darkness closed in. No light. No air. No escape.

My chest tightened, panic clawing up my throat. Memories flooded back—ten-year-old me locked in the cellar, it was all hazy, scratching at the walls until my hands bled, screaming for someone who never came.

“No… no!” I gasped, clawing at the door. My wolf thrashed, but the walls closed tighter. The air vanished. The darkness swallowed me whole.

I collapsed.

When they found me nearly an hour later, I was limp on the floor, breath shallow, my dress damp with sweat.

And Stephen? Not a single call. Not a single message. Later I learned Sophia had told him I went out to grieve. And he believed her. Like an idiot.

---

When I returned to the packhouse, the sight that greeted me made my stomach lurch.

A crowd had gathered. Stephen’s parents, Sophia, and him. In the center stood Stephen, holding a set of papers.

My wolf bristled. Then I saw what they were.

Abortion documents.

My body froze.

“How dare you,” Stephen snarled, his eyes blazing. “How dare you destroy the heir of my brother?”

Laughter bubbled bitter in my chest. It was ridiculous. Even now? He was still pretending? Still clinging to this pathetic ‘William’ lie?

Sophia stepped forward, venom dripping from her lips. “You vile woman. You murdered an innocent pup. You never wanted that baby. You just wanted the excuse to play the grieving widow.”

My would-be mother-in-law’s hand cracked across my cheek. “Murderer!” she spat.

The room spun. The betrayal cut deeper than claws.

And then, Stephen’s hand followed. His slap resounded in the silence, and my head snapped to the side.

The sting burned, but my wolf didn’t whimper.

I straightened slowly, tasting blood on my lip. “Why are you so affected, William? Why do you care so much for a child that was never yours? You’re not my alpha. You’re not my fiancé. You’re nothing but his twin.”

His eyes blazed with denial, fury, pain he couldn’t hide.

I didn’t wait for his response. I turned to all of them—his mother, Sophia, the same people who judged me with sharp eyes.

“I am done,” I said coldly. “I want no ties to Varrenhare Pack. My love died with the bloody moonstone ring I wagered tonight. And with him, so did my heart.”

Silence fell. And I walked away.

Alicia’s POV

The sound of a knock pulled me out of my shallow sleep that night. My eyelids were heavy, raw from crying until dawn, but I sat up anyway. My wolf stirred faintly in my chest, restless, uncertain. The door creaked open before I could even answer.

“Licia,” a voice said, low and familiar.

It was William—or at least, that’s who I was supposed to believe he was. But my gut twisted every time I looked at him. His eyes didn’t carry the calm steadiness of William’s gaze. They burned too sharply, too much like Stephen.

He stepped into my chamber, his broad frame filling the doorway. He had the nerve to look weary, disheveled even, as if he were the one haunted by grief.

“I shouldn’t have done it,” he murmured, not meeting my eyes at first. His jaw clenched, his fists flexing at his sides. “I shouldn’t have… struck you. My anger got the best of me.”

I said nothing. My throat was still raw from swallowing back too many words.

He moved closer, voice low but clipped with controlled emotion. “I’m mourning the baby in my brother’s stead. You understand that, don’t you? Stephen would never want you to give up his pup. He would want me—his twin—to protect what’s his.”

My wolf bristled at the way he said protect. Protect? No. He was just lying before my face, even until now.

Still, I didn’t speak. I folded the blanket tighter around me and turned away, staring at the wall.

“Alicia,” he tried again, softer now, almost coaxing. “I regret it. You should rest.”

He reached forward, and before I could pull away, he tugged the blanket higher over me, tucking me in as though I were a fragile child. His hands lingered at the edge of the quilt.

“I heard you like it this way,” he said. His tone was oddly careful, as though he thought playing tender might erase the sting of his slap.

I bit down hard on my tongue until I tasted copper. He was still pretending. Pretending to be William. Pretending like he was dead. All for a damned woman.

When he finally left, the door clicked shut with a finality that made my chest ache. I lay awake for the rest of the night, staring into the dark, too numb even to cry.

The next morning, the walls of the pack house rattled with noise. I jolted awake to shouting, hurried footsteps, and the sound of Sophia’s sobs echoing down the corridor.

When I opened my door, I was met with accusing eyes. Wolf servants, warriors, even the elder maidens all stood gathered, whispering venom under their breaths.

“She burned them.”

“All of it—down to ash.”

“Even the rare herbs we struggled to find.”

My stomach dropped.

Sophia appeared then, draped in her pale robe, tears streaking down her face. She looked pitiful, like a wounded pup clinging to its mother. And yet, when her gaze met mine, there was a flicker, just a flicker, of triumph before she buried her face into the Alpha’s chest.

“She… I saw her,” Sophia wailed. Her voice cracked like that of a toddler’s tantrum. “I saw Alicia destroy my medicine with my own eyes.”

My lips parted in shock. “That’s a lie!” I shouted, but my voice was drowned by gasps, growls, and whispers.

The Luna mother turned on me, eyes wide with horror. “How could you? You attempted to end Sophia’s life by burning all her medicines? Evil child! Have you not done enough?”

Murderer. That was the word that floated around the hall. It clung to me like shackles.

I wanted to claw the truth out of Sophia’s throat. I wanted to scream until the roof caved in. But before I could, the Alpha—Stephen, wearing William’s name like a stolen pelt—raised his hand. The room fell silent.

His expression was grim, cold. “Lock her in her room. No food. No water.”

My wolf snarled in my chest, but I was frozen. Two servants grabbed my arms before I could move, their grips iron-strong.

Sophia’s sobbing grew louder, more dramatic. She clung tighter to him, shaking her head. “Please, Alpha… please don’t punish her. She’s grieving. She only lost her mate. She didn’t mean it. Don’t do this to her. I’m fine—we’ll find other herbs. Please, let her go.”

Her voice was gentle, saintly. The perfect act.

But Stephen’s jaw tightened. He looked down at her with mock concern, then back at me with stone eyes. “No, Sophia. Alicia must learn. Her behavior is dangerous, alarming. She wished to hasten your illness by destroying your medicines.”

My chest heaved with rage. “You liar!” I spat. “You know I didn’t touch them!”

“Take her,” he ordered.

I was dragged across the hall, kicking and thrashing, but the warriors were stronger. They slammed me into my chamber, locked the door, and left me in silence.

For two days, I had nothing. No food. No water. No one came.

The first night, I clawed at the door until my nails cracked. By the second, my throat was so parched I couldn’t scream anymore. My wolf whimpered inside me, weak from hunger.

I lay on the cold floor, trembling, seething. Tears burned hot down my cheeks.

I will make him pay.

I will make him feel tenfold the hunger, the helplessness, the rage he has made me feel.

It was the only thought that kept me alive.

On the second night, the lock clicked. The door creaked open.

Two wolf servants stood there, their faces stern. “Get up.”

I blinked at them, dazed. “What—”

“Alpha’s orders,” one said. “Sophia wants you to cook dinner.”

My body trembled as they dragged me down the corridor. My legs felt like sticks of brittle wood.

The kitchen reeked of firewood and raw meat. They shoved me toward the counter. “Cook,” they barked.

I swallowed hard. My stomach twisted painfully at the sight of food. My body wanted to collapse. But the warriors loomed close, ready to force me if I refused.

My hands shook as I picked up the knife, slicing vegetables, stirring broth. Every movement was heavy, hollow. The dishes I prepared were the ones I used to make for Stephen—meals he once praised with a smile that used to mean something.

Now, all I could taste was bitterness.

When the stew simmered and the roasted meat was plated, I caught my reflection in the pot’s surface. Hollow cheeks. Bloodshot eyes. A ghost of who I used to be.

And in that moment, I swore silently to myself:

This was not the end.

They could starve me, beat me, chain me. But I would not break.

And one day… he would learn what it meant to be locked in hunger.

Alicia’s POV

I laid the last dish on the long wooden table with trembling hands. My arms ached from exhaustion, and my chest felt like it was carrying boulders. Still, I forced myself to move, to serve, to endure. The scent of roasted venison and seasoned roots filled the room, the very meal Alpha Stephen always loved.

Even in my broken state, I cooked it for him. Even after everything, I thought maybe, just maybe, the taste of home, the food I always prepared with love, would remind him of me.

He sat at the head of the table, his eyes hard as stone. But when his gaze flickered toward the spread, I caught it, a fleeting softness. He looked at the food as though he missed it, as though memory clawed at him. My heart squeezed painfully, but I didn’t allow hope to rise.

“Sit,” my mother-in-law commanded sharply.

I was about to occupy one of the chairs when she started talking again. “Not there. On the floor.”

I gasped. Mouth opened. I couldn’t believe what I just heard. I tried to look at Stephen, hoping he would not let me experience such lowness, but he didn’t care.

I swallowed hard, feeling my stomach boil in hunger.

Reluctantly, I lowered myself to the ground. Not at the table. On the floor. Like a mutt. Like I was less than the lowest omega.

The humiliation stung, but my body was too weak to fight. My stomach churned with emptiness, gnawing at itself. I pressed my lips together, swallowing down my pride. This wasn’t the first time I had been forced to bow lower than anyone else in this pack… but never had it been Stephen and his family demanding it.

I reached for the plate set before me on the floor and began to eat, each bite scraping against my dignity.

A sudden cough broke the tense silence.

“Alpha—!” Sophia’s voice rang out. She coughed again, this time speckled with blood. Her pale hand shot to her mouth, her eyes wide with trembling fear. “I—I’m poisoned!”

Gasps filled the hall. The warriors jumped to their feet. All eyes swung toward me—me, the woman eating from the floor, the one Sophia had always marked as her enemy.

I froze, food half-chewed in my mouth, as Sophia collapsed dramatically into the arms of another wolf.

Stephen’s chair screeched against the floor as he shot up, his face thunderous. He stormed forward and kicked the plate from my hands, sending food scattering across the ground.

“You dare?” His voice was laced with fury, his aura pressing down on me like a crushing mountain. “You didn’t learn your lesson, Alicia. And now you’ve stooped low enough to poison food?!”

My body flinched at the blow of his words more than the scattering food. “No! I didn’t—”

He didn’t listen. His eyes burned with betrayal.

“Take Sophia to the hospital wing!” he barked. “Now!”

Warriors rushed to obey. In the chaos, as bodies shuffled around her, I caught Sophia’s face for the briefest moment. Her lips curled into the faintest smirk—sharp, triumphant, venomous.

My blood ran cold.

She planned this. She did this.

And yet, Stephen didn’t see it. He didn’t even hesitate.

“Wolf elites!” Stephen’s voice cut through the panic like a blade. His gaze swung back to me, cold, unyielding. “Punish her. Lock her in the Death Garden.”

The blood drained from my face. My knees buckled.

“No…” My voice cracked, tears springing to my eyes. I scrambled forward on my knees, my palms pressed against the floor in desperation. “Alpha, no! You can’t. You know what that place does to wolves. Anyone who enters—”

“Silence!” His command reverberated through the hall, suppressing even my wolf’s whimper inside me.

My chest heaved. I stared up at him, broken. “Please… listen to me! I would never poison her. You know me. You know my wolf couldn’t—”

His jaw clenched. His eyes, once my haven, looked at me as if I were nothing but filth.

And then I knew.

He wouldn’t believe me.

Not over her.

The warriors grabbed my arms and dragged me across the ground. My pleas turned into screams, then into sobs. No one listened.

When the iron gates of the Death Garden opened, I felt it immediately—the suffocating aura of decay, the death-flowers that strangled wolves’ spirits. My wolf whimpered, shrinking back inside me. The moment my bare feet touched the soil, my body sagged, weak and sluggish.

The gates slammed shut behind me.

My breaths came shallow, my chest tightening as if invisible hands were squeezing me. My vision blurred, but I forced myself to move, to cling to a single thought: survive.

In desperation, I slipped my hand into my pocket, pulling out the burner phone I had hidden there for weeks. My father’s voice answered within seconds.

“…Alicia?”

I struggled to keep my voice steady. “Change of plans,” I rasped, my throat raw. “Burn the Death Garden. Make it look like… make it look like I died here.”

“Alicia—”

“Do it.” My eyes burned with tears as my legs gave out beneath me. “If Stephen wants me gone so easily… then let him believe it. Let him carry the guilt of throwing me to my death. Let him regret.”

My father’s wolves came swiftly, shadows slipping through the night. I was barely conscious when strong arms lifted me, when smoke filled my lungs, when flames devoured the cursed garden behind me.

A lifeless body, already prepared, was left to burn. And around its charred neck, they placed the necklace Stephen had once given me—the one I used to treasure as proof of his love.

Now, it would be proof of my death.

And the beginning of his torment.

Stephen’s POV

The door burst open, and my Beta stumbled in, breathless.

“Alpha!” His face was pale with horror. “The Death Garden—it’s burning! The fire was too

huge. We couldn’t rescue her. We found a body… too burnt to recognize. But…” He swallowed hard. “It had her necklace. The one you gave Alicia.”