Everyone in the Shadow Creek Pack said I was a jinx born to be a slave.

On my eighteenth birthday, my fated mate, Alpha Paxton Meyer, stripped me of my clothes and forced me into the silver-lined dungeons.

For three long years, I rotted in the dark, my skin blistering from the heavy iron walls.

He told the entire world that I was a traitor who burned down the pack orphanage.

But it was a lie—he only needed a scapegoat to protect his beautiful mistress, Chloe Russell.

I thought he would leave me to die in the dark, but today, the iron doors groaned open.

They didn't give me food; instead, they dragged me into the sterile white halls of the clinic.

I was slammed onto a cold steel operating table, my wrists and ankles locked with heavy leather straps.

Dr. Marcus Webb pulled out a massive, mechanical chest spreader made of dull, pure silver.

"Is she prepped for the surgery, doctor?" a chilling, familiar voice echoed from the door.

It was Paxton, his arm wrapped tightly around Chloe's waist, looking at me like I was a slaughtered animal.

"If we don't transplant her Luna Heart into Chloe within the hour, Chloe's wolf will fail entirely," the doctor murmured.

My fated mate smiled coldly, stepping closer to my paralyzed body.

"Don't worry, Chloe baby," Paxton whispered, his voice dripping with love for the woman who stole my life. "The wolfsbane will keep her completely frozen so she won't feel the blade slicing her ribs open."

I screamed inside my mind, but my vocal cords were frozen by the fire of the poison.

Then, the door clicked open again, and a tall, broad teenage boy walked into the room.

It was Arlo—my own flesh and blood, the son I gave birth to fourteen years ago.

He looked at my tear-streaked face, his eyes showing nothing but disgust.

Arlo stepped up to the table, leaned down, and spat directly onto my pale cheek.

"Traitorous bitch," my own son snarled, reaching out to gently take Chloe's hand. "Don't worry, Mom. You're going to be okay now after we rip her out."

My soul shattered into ash at that single word—Mom.

"Do it now, doctor," Paxton commanded, pressing the silver scalpel against my sternum.

***

The heavy iron door of the dungeon scraped against the concrete floor.

Rough hands instantly seized my arms, hauling me upward. Two guards dragged me down the sterile white corridor of the Shadow Creek Pack Hospital, their grips bruising my skin. They hurled me onto the cold steel table inside Operating Room 4.

Thick cowhide belts slammed over my wrists and ankles, locking me down against the metal surface.

"Secure the restraints tighter," a guard ordered, yanking the leather strap across my right wrist.

Dr. Calder hovered above me, his gloved fingers tapping a large syringe. Beside him, resting on a metal tray, sat a pure silver chest retractor. The harsh surgical lights blinded me.

"Hold her still," Calder muttered to the guards.

The needle pierced the vein in my arm. I tried to thrash, but the icy burn of concentrated wolfsbane flooded my system. My muscles locked instantly. Paralysis gripped my throat, trapping my voice behind my teeth. I could only stare upward, trapped in my own rigid body.

The automatic doors slid open.

Paxton walked in. My mate. The Alpha of Shadow Creek.

He did not look at me. His arms were wrapped securely around a fragile woman leaning heavily against his side. Chloe.

"Is the preparation complete?" Paxton asked, his tone stripped of warmth.

"The wolfsbane has taken full effect, Alpha," Calder replied, bowing his head. "She cannot move. She cannot make a sound. Her nervous system is suppressed."

Chloe coughed, a weak, pathetic sound, and clutched Paxton's shirt. "Paxton, I am scared. Will it hurt her?"

"Do not waste your pity on her," Paxton sneered, finally casting a glance my way. Disgust twisted his features. "She poisoned you. This is her punishment, and your salvation."

He stepped closer to the operating table, his shadow falling over my face.

"Begin the procedure," Paxton ordered the doctor. "No anesthesia. I want her to feel every second of it when you rip out her Luna heart. Chloe needs the transplant today."

My jaw strained against the paralysis. A scream battered against my closed throat. My mate was going to carve out my heart while I was fully awake.

Footsteps echoed from the hallway. A teenager stepped into the harsh light of the room.

Arlo. My fourteen-year-old son.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I turned my eyes toward him, begging silently. Help me, Arlo. Look what your father is doing.

Arlo stopped at the edge of the surgical table. He stared down at me, his face a mask of cold indifference. There was no love in his eyes, only pure contempt.

"Arlo," Chloe whispered, reaching a pale hand toward him. "You should not be here. It is too gruesome for you."

Arlo ignored me and took Chloe's hand, squeezing it gently. "I wanted to make sure you were okay, Mom."

The word struck me harder than any physical blow.

He turned his gaze back to me. He leaned over, his face inches from mine.

"You deserve this," Arlo spat.

A glob of warm saliva landed on my cheek.

My own son. The boy I had carried, birthed, and protected. He stood shoulder to shoulder with the woman who ruined our family, calling her mother while I lay bound for slaughter.

The betrayal tore through the mate bond, snapping the final frayed threads of my connection to Paxton and Arlo. A strange heat ignited deep within my core, burning away the icy grip of the wolfsbane.

Calder picked up the silver scalpel.

"Make the incision," Paxton commanded, turning his back to shield Chloe from the sight.

The blade sliced into the pale flesh of my chest.

Instead of normal crimson, the blood welling from the wound glowed with a bizarre, golden fluorescence. The bright metallic liquid coated the silver blade, hissing faintly against the metal.

Calder stumbled back, dropping the scalpel onto the tray with a loud clatter. "Alpha! Her blood--"

He never finished the sentence.

The golden bloodline, dormant in my veins since birth, erupted into a violent frenzy. The sheer force of the awakening shattered the paralysis. My bones cracked and shifted as I forced a partial transformation.

Thick, razor-sharp claws burst from my fingertips.

I slashed upward. The heavy cowhide belts snapped like cheap string.

"Grab her!" Paxton roared, shoving Chloe behind him.

I swung my arm, the back of my clawed hand catching Calder squarely in the chest. The impact sent the doctor flying across the room. He crashed into the glass medicine cabinet, shattering it into a thousand glittering pieces before crumbling to the floor.

I ripped the remaining straps from my legs and vaulted off the table.

Blood poured down my chest, the golden glow pulsing with every beat of my damaged heart. The pain was blinding, but the rage was stronger.

Paxton lunged for me, his eyes flashing with his wolf's fury. "You are not leaving this room alive, Elena!"

I did not fight him. I spun toward the exterior wall.

Lowering my shoulder, I sprinted at full speed and slammed into the double-pane reinforced glass window. The heavy glass spider-webbed, then exploded outward into the stormy night.

Rain lashed against my face as I plummeted from the second floor. I crashed through the thick canopy of the pack border jungle, branches tearing at my hospital gown and skin. I hit the muddy ground hard, rolling to absorb the impact.

Thunder cracked overhead, masking the shouts coming from the broken window above.

I dragged myself up, clutching my bleeding chest. The golden blood seeped through my fingers, washing away in the torrential downpour. I had to keep moving. If Paxton caught me, he would finish the job.

I stumbled through the dense brush, my vision blurring, my lungs burning. Every step threatened to be my last.

The trees broke, revealing the churning waters of the border river. The riverbed was a mess of slick mud and jagged rocks. My legs gave out. I fell to my knees in the freezing mud, gasping for air.

A shadow detached itself from the tree line.

I froze.

A pair of heavy, black iron-clad military boots planted themselves directly in my path, blocking any chance of escape.

Rainwater ran off the dark metal, pooling in the mud around the thick soles.

I clutched my chest tighter and slowly tilted my head up.

My gaze tracked up long legs clad in dark tactical gear, past a broad chest wrapped in a wet trench coat, until I met his face.

I stared straight into a pair of cold, falcon-like deep eyes.

The freezing mud sucked at my bare knees. I stayed rooted to the riverbed, my chin tilted up to meet the icy, falcon-like stare of the man towering over me.

Rain slicked off his dark tactical gear. The silver insignia of the Lycan High Court gleamed on the collar of his trench coat. Behind him, a dozen heavily armed enforcers emerged from the shadows, their rifles trained on the opposite bank.

"Get up," the man commanded. His voice cut through the storm, low and devoid of pity.

I planted my palms in the muck and pushed. My elbows buckled instantly. My chest tore open wider, the fresh incision screaming in agony as golden blood spilled down my ribs.

Vicious barking erupted from the tree line on the opposite bank. The hounds were closing in.

"Target sighted! She is at the river!" a guard shouted over the roar of the water.

Flashlights sliced through the darkness, painting the churning rapids in jagged beams of white.

Paxton broke through the brush, flanked by a dozen Shadow Creek elites. His chest heaved under his soaked shirt. When his gaze locked onto me kneeling in the mud, his upper lip curled, exposing his elongated canines.

"There you are, you treacherous bitch," Paxton snarled.

He took a step toward the water, but stopped when the flashlight beams illuminated the towering figure standing right in front of me.

Forest Hoffman. Supreme Enforcer.

Paxton's posture stiffened. The feral rage in his eyes shifted into calculated arrogance. He waved a hand, signaling his guards to hold the hounds back.

"Enforcer Hoffman," Paxton called out, projecting his Alpha tone across the rushing river. "Step aside. You are harboring a fugitive of my pack."

Forest did not shift his stance. He kept his hands resting loosely on his tactical belt. "This is High Court territory, Alpha Paxton. Your jurisdiction ends at the water's edge."

"She is my wife," Paxton shot back. He stepped closer to the churning rapids, the water lapping at his boots. "And a violent felon. She set fire to the pack orphanage tonight. Dozens of pups are in the burn ward because of her. Hand her over."

Lies. All of it.

My throat burned with the effort to scream. Paxton was framing me to justify tearing out my heart. He needed a legal excuse for the execution, a story to feed the pack while he gave my life to his mistress.

"Is that so?" Forest asked. He glanced down at me, his expression unreadable.

"She is dangerous," Paxton continued, his tone projecting fake sorrow. "The madness took her. She attacked our Luna, poisoned our supplies, and tried to murder our son. I must bring her back to face justice."

Forest crossed his arms over his broad chest. "The High Court handles all felony arson cases involving pack infrastructure. If she is guilty, my tribunal will sentence her."

"This is an internal pack matter!" Paxton yelled, his facade cracking. "She belongs to Shadow Creek. Give her to me!"

I had seconds before Paxton crossed that river and dragged me back to the operating table. I forced my right hand up from the mud. The golden blood still oozed from the open wound on my chest, coating my fingers in a bizarre, glowing luminescence.

I reached out and dragged my nails across the toe of Forest's black military boot.

The golden liquid smeared against the dark leather, glowing faintly in the gloom.

Forest's gaze snapped to my hand.

"Clan Tribunal Asylum Request," I rasped. The words scraped like sandpaper against my raw throat. "I invoke the ancient code."

Paxton roared from the opposite bank. "Shut her up! She has no right to invoke anything! She is a convicted criminal!"

"I request asylum," I whispered again, my vision tunneling.

"You are in no condition to speak," Forest muttered, his voice a low rumble above me.

The agonizing fire from the silver cuffs on my wrists flared, digging straight to the bone. The golden glow of my blood flickered, then dimmed. My muscles gave out entirely.

I collapsed forward, my cheek hitting the side of Forest's boot.

Strong hands gripped my shoulders before I could slide completely into the river. Forest hoisted me up, his grip firm but careful. He did not toss me aside.

He stared at the golden streak of blood I had left on his footwear. Then his eyes tracked up to my wrists. The silver shackles had burned through my flesh, exposing the white bone beneath the charred edges.

His jaw tightened. A muscle jumped in his cheek. He looked at the mangled skin, then back across the river.

"Captain," one of the enforcers behind Forest stepped forward, lowering his rifle slightly. "She is bleeding out. That looks like pure silver poisoning. We need a medic."

"Hold the line," Forest ordered his men, his eyes never leaving Paxton. "No one crosses."

"She is lying!" Paxton yelled over the thunder, his patience snapping. "She is a murderer! Bring her to me, Hoffman. That is an order from an Alpha!"

Forest shifted his weight, pulling me flush against his armored chest. The cold metal of his gear sent a shock through my failing system. "The High Court takes orders from no Alpha."

"I will not let you take her!" Paxton lunged into the rushing water. His elites followed, splashing into the shallows, their claws extending. Water sprayed around their waists as they pushed against the current. "She belongs to me!"

"Take one more step," Forest said.

Forest drew his weapon in a single fluid motion. The massive silver-alloy pistol leveled directly at Paxton's forehead.

The Alpha froze mid-stride. The rushing water swirled around his knees.

"This woman has invoked the Tribunal," Forest stated. His tone carried no anger, only absolute authority. "She is now under the exclusive jurisdiction of the Supreme Court."

Paxton bared his teeth, the veins in his neck bulging. "You are making a mistake, Enforcer. Shadow Creek will not forget this insult. You are protecting a monster."

Forest cocked the hammer of the pistol. The sharp metallic click echoed louder than the storm.

"Cross the border and die," Forest told him.

Silence fell over the river, broken only by the pouring rain.

Paxton stared down the barrel of the gun. The elites behind him exchanged nervous glances, slowly backing out of the water. No pack wolf survived a bullet from a Supreme Enforcer's weapon.

Paxton's fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. He glared at me, limp and bleeding against Forest's coat.

"You think you won, Elena?" Paxton shouted.

I could not answer. The darkness was pulling me under, numbing the pain in my chest.

Forest adjusted his hold on me, tucking my head beneath his chin to shield my face from the biting rain. "Stand down, Alpha. Go back to your territory."

Paxton spat into the river. He turned his back to the water and yanked a black walkie-talkie from his belt.

He pressed the transmission button, his voice carrying over the rushing current.

"Notify everyone to execute Plan B," Paxton ordered. "I will make sure not even the High Court can protect this bitch."

A thick manila folder slapped against the mattress, missing my bandaged shoulder by an inch.

"Explain the orphanage fire," Forest demanded.

I stared at the glossy photographs spilling from the file. Charred timber, scorched toys, the ruined shell of the Shadow Creek Pack orphanage. The sterile white walls of the High Court infirmary offered no comfort. The sharp scent of winter pine radiating from Forest only sharpened the chill in the room.

"I didn't start it," I rasped, my throat still raw from the silver collar they had used on me before the river.

Forest leaned against the edge of the metal desk across from the bed. He crossed his arms, the silver insignia on his dark uniform catching the overhead light. "Alpha Paxton provided sworn testimonies. Four witnesses saw you carrying gasoline near the east wing."

"Four witnesses on his payroll," I countered. I pushed myself up against the pillows. The fresh stitches in my chest pulled tight, sending a sharp spike of pain through my ribs. "He needed a distraction. A felony to justify executing me without a trial."

"Arson is a capital offense," Forest stated, his voice a low, flat rumble. "Dozens of pups are in the burn ward."

I let out a harsh, broken laugh. The sound scraped my vocal cords. "Paxton doesn't care about pups. He cares about covering his tracks. Look at the date on the fire report."

Forest didn't move. "Three years ago."

"Exactly. Three years of missing funds," I said. I swung my bare legs over the edge of the bed. The cold floor shocked my heels. "I was his Luna. I managed the internal affairs of Shadow Creek. I knew every dime that flowed through that territory."

"Get back in bed," Forest ordered, stepping forward.

"Give me a laptop," I demanded, meeting his cold, falcon-like stare. "You want proof? I'll give you the motive for my execution."

Forest studied my face. His gaze dropped to the fresh spot of red blooming through the white gauze on my shoulder. He uncrossed his arms, grabbed a sleek black tablet from the desk, and tossed it onto my lap.

"Show me," he said.

My fingers trembled as I tapped the screen. "There is a hidden offshore registry. Account 8492-B. I found it last month before Paxton locked me in the dungeon."

"A pack Alpha bypassing the central banking guild is a severe violation," Forest noted. He stepped closer, his imposing frame blocking the fluorescent light. "If you are lying to stall your execution, I will carry out the sentence myself."

"I am not lying," I shot back, navigating to the encrypted banking portal. "Paxton siphoned five million dollars from the pack's infrastructure budget. He didn't spend it on the orphanage."

"Where did it go?"

"Black-market wolfsbane," I said, looking up at him. "And banned silver torture devices. The exact tools he used on me tonight."

Forest's jaw tightened. A muscle jumped beneath his left eye. He pulled a heavy encrypted radio from his tactical belt. "Get Chief Auditor Miller up here. Now."

The heavy steel door flew open less than a minute later. A tall man with wire-rimmed glasses and a thick laptop under his arm strode into the infirmary.

"Captain," Miller said, nodding to Forest before casting a wary glance at me.

"Access the central financial mainframe," Forest instructed, pointing to the desk. "Trace an offshore ghost account. 8492-B."

Miller set his laptop on the metal surface and connected a secure hard drive. His fingers flew across the keyboard. "Routing through the High Court servers. It is heavily encrypted, sir. Shadow Creek military-grade firewalls."

"Break it," Forest ordered.

"They are using a rotating cipher," Miller muttered, his eyes darting across lines of scrolling green code. "I need a backdoor."

"Try port 994," I said.

Miller paused and looked at Forest for permission. Forest gave a sharp nod.

"Port 994 is usually reserved for internal security feeds," Miller argued, typing the command anyway.

"Paxton leaves it open for his private communications," I explained, leaning forward. "He thinks he is smarter than the central guild."

The screen flashed green.

"We are in," Miller announced. "I need the beneficiary signature authorization to unseal the ledgers."

"Chloe," I said. "Check the name Chloe."

Miller typed the name. A progress bar appeared in the center of the screen, a bright red line creeping toward the right edge.

"Paxton is arrogant, but he isn't stupid," I told Forest, keeping my eyes glued to the loading bar. "He didn't put his own name on the illegal purchases. If the High Court ever audited him, he needed a fall guy. He used his mistress."

"If this account holds five million in contraband, the Alpha loses his rank," Forest said, his tone deadly serious. "And the mistress goes to a subterranean cell."

"That is exactly where they belong," I replied.

The progress bar hit 50%.

The silence in the room stretched, thick and suffocating. The only sound was the rapid clicking of Miller's keyboard and the steady beep of my heart monitor.

75%.

Forest rested his hands on the desk, leaning closer to the monitor.

100%.

The screen flashed white, then populated with hundreds of transaction logs.

Miller stepped back, pushing his glasses up his nose. "You were right. Five million dollars. All routed through shell companies in the Northern Territories."

Forest traced a finger down the lines of data. "Read the purchase orders."

"Fifty liters of concentrated wolfsbane," Miller read aloud, his voice dropping. "Five pure silver chest retractors. Ten sets of silver-infused cowhide restraints. Specialized surgical equipment."

"Scroll to the bottom," I instructed, my nails digging into the mattress. "Show him the authorization seal."

Miller scrolled past the final transaction. A digitized stamp glowed in the center of the screen. A stylized rose intertwined with a wolf's fang.

"Chloe's personal seal," I stated, staring at the symbol that had haunted my marriage for years. "Every single purchase was authorized by her."

Forest stared at the glowing red seal. He reached for the keyboard, his large hand hovering over the keys to download the evidence to a secure drive.

His fingers froze.

A jarring, high-pitched alarm shrieked from Miller's laptop. The transaction logs vanished, replaced by a solid black screen.

"What did you do?" Forest snapped, glaring at the auditor.

"Nothing!" Miller frantically tapped the trackpad. "It is a forced override. A global broadcast from the Shadow Creek internal network. They bypassed our firewalls."

The black screen flickered.

A live video feed sprang to life, pinning itself to the top of the High Court's secure channel.