The cramps woke me again at three in the morning.

I curled onto my side in the narrow bed, pressing my palm against my lower abdomen where the pain twisted deep. It had been like this for weeks now. Sharp. Relentless. The kind of ache that made my bones feel hollow.

I told myself it was stress. That living in Dusthowl for three years as Trevor's mate—cooking, cleaning, caring for a pack that barely looked at me—had worn me down. That was all.

But tonight, something felt different.

Selene stirred faintly in the back of my mind. My wolf. She had been silent for so long I had almost forgotten what her voice sounded like. Now she pressed forward, weak and thin, like a whisper through fog.

*Something is wrong,* she breathed.

I sat up slowly, pushing the blanket aside. The pack house was quiet. Trevor was supposed to be on patrol tonight. Gia would be asleep in her room down the hall with Toby. The healer's quarters were on the first floor, tucked behind the kitchen.

I had been to Calvin Vance's office a hundred times. He was the one who gave me my monthly tonics—fertility supplements, he called them. Vitamins to help me stay strong. To help me conceive.

Except I never did.

Selene growled softly. *Go.*

I slipped out of bed and pulled on a sweater. My bare feet made no sound on the wooden floor as I crept down the stairs. The house smelled like stale coffee and pine cleaner. I moved through the kitchen, past the sink I had scrubbed that afternoon, and stopped in front of the healer's door.

It was locked.

I pulled a hairpin from my pocket. My hands shook as I worked it into the keyhole, twisting until I heard the soft click. The door swung open.

The room was small and cluttered. Shelves lined the walls, packed with glass jars, dried herbs, and leather-bound journals. A desk sat in the corner beneath a narrow window. Moonlight spilled across the surface, illuminating a stack of papers and an open logbook.

I crossed the room and opened the medicine cabinet.

Rows of brown glass bottles stared back at me. Each one labeled in Calvin's neat handwriting. *Feverfew. Chamomile. Valerian root.*

And then I saw it.

A bottle near the back, half-empty, with a handwritten label: *W. Extract—Concentrated.*

Wolfsbane.

My breath caught. I pulled the bottle from the shelf and turned it over in my hands. The liquid inside was dark, almost black. I set it on the desk and reached for the logbook.

The pages were filled with dates, names, and dosages. I flipped through them, scanning the entries until I found my own name.

*Sophia Martin—Monthly tonic. 5ml W. Extract per dose. Suppress shift. Prevent conception.*

The words blurred. I read them again. And again.

*Suppress shift.*

*Prevent conception.*

Selene howled inside my mind. It was a sound so broken, so full of rage and grief, that I had to press my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

They had been poisoning me.

For three years, Calvin Vance had been feeding me wolfsbane. Enough to keep my wolf weak. Enough to make sure I never got pregnant. Enough to keep me compliant.

I grabbed the logbook and the bottle and shoved them into the pocket of my sweater. My legs felt unsteady as I left the healer's quarters and climbed the stairs. I needed to confront Trevor. I needed answers.

The Alpha suite was at the end of the hall. The door was ajar.

I pushed it open.

The room was dark except for the faint glow of the bedside lamp. Trevor was in bed. But he wasn't alone.

Gia was tangled beneath him, her dark hair spilling across the pillow. Trevor's mouth was pressed against her neck. I saw the mark there—fresh, glistening, still red. A mating mark.

Right beside the faded scar of his dead brother's claim.

Gia's eyes opened first. She looked at me over Trevor's shoulder, and a slow, satisfied smile spread across her lips. Then she gasped.

"Trevor," she whispered. "Someone's here."

He pulled back sharply and turned. His eyes widened when he saw me standing in the doorway.

"Sophia—"

"Don't," I said. My voice didn't sound like my own. It was cold. Flat. "Don't say my name."

He climbed off the bed and grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the chair. Gia sat up slowly, pulling the sheet around her chest. She didn't look ashamed. She looked triumphant.

"How long?" I asked.

Trevor didn't answer.

"How long have you been sleeping with her?"

"Sophia, you don't understand—"

"How long?"

He exhaled sharply. "Since before you came here."

The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. Selene whimpered.

"And Toby?" I asked. My voice cracked. "Is he yours?"

Trevor looked away.

"Answer me."

"Yes," he said quietly. "He's mine."

I pulled the logbook from my pocket and threw it at his feet. "And this? You've been poisoning me for three years?"

He stared at the book. He didn't pick it up.

"It was necessary," Gia said from the bed. Her voice was light. Almost cheerful. "You were too strong, Sophia. Your wolf, your bloodline—it would have complicated things."

"Complicated things," I repeated. I looked at Trevor. "Where is my money?"

His jaw tightened.

"My trust fund. The account my father set up for me. Where is it?"

Gia laughed softly. "Gone."

I turned to her.

"We used it to keep this pack afloat," she said. She stretched lazily, like a cat in the sun. "The mortgage. The repairs. Toby's school fees. It's all gone, sweetheart."

Selene snarled inside my mind. The mate bond—the thing I had once thought was sacred—felt like a noose around my throat.

I looked at Trevor one last time.

"I'm leaving," I said.

He stepped forward. "You can't—"

"Watch me."

I turned and walked out of the room. My hands were shaking. My chest felt tight. But I didn't cry.

I went back to my room, pulled a cloth bag from the closet, and began to pack. The healer's records. A handful of photographs. The silver bracelet my mother had given me the day I left Silvercrest.

Selene whispered in my mind. *Home. We go home.*

I nodded.

Yes. We were going home.

I didn't sleep. I sat on the edge of my bed until the sky turned grey, staring at the healer's logbook in my lap. The words kept running through my mind like a curse: *Suppress shift. Prevent conception.*

When the sun came up, I changed into clean clothes and walked downstairs. The pack house was already awake. I could hear voices in the kitchen, the clatter of dishes, someone laughing. Normal. Like nothing had happened.

I knocked on the door of Trevor's office and waited.

"Come in," he called.

I pushed the door open. Trevor was sitting behind his desk, a mug of coffee in one hand, his laptop open in front of him. He looked up when I entered. His expression didn't change.

"Sophia," he said. His voice was calm. Too calm. "Close the door."

I did. Then I crossed the room and set the logbook on his desk.

"I want my money back," I said.

He glanced at the logbook but didn't touch it. "We've been over this."

"No. We haven't." My voice was steady. "You stole from me. You poisoned me. You lied to me for three years. I want every dollar returned to my account. And then I'm leaving."

Trevor set his mug down slowly. He leaned back in his chair and studied me. "Where are you going?"

"Silvercrest."

"Your mother's pack."

"My pack," I corrected.

He smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "You think they'll take you back? After you abandoned them to come here?"

"I didn't abandon them. I followed my mate." The word tasted bitter in my mouth. "I thought the Moon Goddess blessed me. I was wrong."

Trevor stood. He was taller than me. Broader. He walked around the desk and stopped a few feet away, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to look at him.

"You're not leaving," he said.

I met his gaze. "Yes. I am."

His jaw tightened. "Sophia, I didn't want it to come to this. But you're being unreasonable."

"Unreasonable?" My voice rose. "You marked another woman. You drained my inheritance. You had your healer feed me wolfsbane so I couldn't conceive—"

"Enough."

The word hit me like a shockwave.

Trevor's voice changed. It dropped lower, turned sharp and commanding, vibrating with a weight that made the air feel thick. His Alpha tone. I had heard him use it on pack members before—warriors who questioned orders, Omegas who stepped out of line. But never on me.

Until now.

"Kneel," he said.

The command slammed into me. My knees buckled. My body wanted to obey. It was instinct, primal, wired into every wolf's DNA to submit to the Alpha's voice. The pressure built in my chest, crushing down on my ribs. My vision blurred at the edges.

I felt myself sinking.

And then Selene screamed.

It wasn't a whisper this time. It was a raw, feral snarl that tore through my mind like claws raking stone. My wolf—poisoned, skeletal, barely alive—threw herself against the command with everything she had left.

*No,* she howled. *Not again. Never again.*

I dug my nails into my palms. The pain helped. I focused on it, used it to anchor myself. My legs shook. Blood dripped from my nose, hot and copper, but I stayed standing.

Trevor's eyes widened.

"Sit down," he said, louder this time. The Alpha tone thickened. "Forget what you saw. Go back to your duties."

Selene snarled again. The mate bond twisted inside my chest, trying to force submission, but she clawed at it, shredding it thread by thread. My whole body trembled. Sweat ran down my back. My knees felt like they would give out any second.

But I didn't kneel.

Trevor stared at me. His hand flew to his throat, fingers scratching at his skin. It was a nervous tic I had seen before, whenever something didn't go the way he planned. He took a step back.

"How—" he started.

The door opened.

Gia walked in. She looked fresh and rested, wearing a cream-colored sweater and jeans. Her dark hair was pulled into a neat ponytail. She glanced at me, then at Trevor, and smiled.

"Oh good," she said lightly. "You're both here."

I wiped the blood from my nose with the back of my hand. "Get out."

Gia's smile widened. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, arms crossed. "I don't think so, sweetheart."

"This doesn't concern you," I said.

"Actually, it does." She tilted her head, studying me like I was a bug pinned to a board. "You're planning to leave. To run back to Silvercrest and tell your mother's pack all about the terrible things we did to you. Poor little Sophia, poisoned and betrayed."

I didn't answer.

"Here's the problem," Gia continued. Her voice stayed light, almost cheerful. "If you do that, I'll make sure every Alpha on this continent knows you're a thief."

I blinked. "What?"

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She unfolded it slowly and held it up. It was a bank statement. My name was at the top. Below it, rows of transactions—withdrawals, transfers, all marked as *unauthorized*.

"I've already prepared the records," Gia said. "Treasury funds. Pack emergency reserves. All stolen by you over the last two years. If you leave, I'll send these to every pack council from here to the coast. No one will believe you. No one will take you in."

My stomach twisted. Selene growled weakly.

"You're lying," I said.

Gia laughed. "Am I?" She folded the paper and slipped it back into her pocket. Then she twisted the gold bangle around her wrist, turning it slowly until the metal bit into her skin. She didn't flinch. "You can try to run, Sophia. But you won't get far. And when you come crawling back—because you will—we'll be waiting."

She pushed off the door and walked past me, brushing my shoulder as she left. The door clicked shut behind her.

I stood there, blood drying on my upper lip, my whole body shaking.

Trevor didn't say anything. He just watched me.

I turned and walked out.

Trevor didn't call it house arrest. He called it "rest."

"You're not well," he said the morning after I confronted him. He stood in the doorway of my room, arms crossed, his face blank. "You need time to recover. To think clearly."

"I'm thinking clearly," I said.

He reached out and took my phone from the nightstand. I lunged for it, but he pulled it back, holding it above my head like I was a child reaching for a toy.

"You'll get this back when you're better," he said.

Then he left. I heard the lock click from the outside.

For the first two days, I paced. The room was small—just a bed, a dresser, and a narrow window that looked out over the pack training grounds. I could see wolves running drills in the morning, sparring in the afternoon. Life went on. Normal. Steady.

No one came to check on me.

Gia's Omega servants left trays of food outside my door three times a day. Plain oatmeal. Dry toast. Watered-down soup. I ate because Selene needed the strength, not because I wanted to. The trays were always gone when I woke up the next morning, replaced with new ones. Silent. Efficient.

On the third day, I heard voices in the hallway. Two women, whispering.

"Is it true?" one asked. "That she stole from the treasury?"

"That's what Luna Gia said," the other replied. "She's unstable. Dangerous."

"I always thought she was strange. Too quiet."

"Quiet ones are the worst."

They laughed softly and moved on.

I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at my hands. These were the same wolves I had cooked for. The same wolves whose children I had healed when they scraped their knees or caught fevers. I had spent three years pouring everything I had into this pack, and now they believed I was a thief.

Selene whimpered. *They never saw us.*

No. They hadn't.

The only one who came was Toby.

It was always late at night, long after the pack house had gone quiet. I would hear his small footsteps in the hallway, soft and hesitant. Then his voice, barely a whisper, would slip through the gap beneath the door.

"Miss Sophia?"

The first time, I didn't answer. I pressed my hand over my mouth and tried not to cry.

The second time, he tried again.

"Miss Sophia, are you angry with me?"

I crawled off the bed and knelt by the door. I pressed my palm flat against the wood.

"No, sweetheart," I said quietly. "I'm not angry with you."

"Mama said you're sick. She said you might go away."

My throat tightened. "I'm okay, Toby. I promise."

"Can I come in?"

"Not right now."

There was a long pause. Then I heard a soft rustling sound. He had sat down on the floor.

"I brought Mr. Woolly," he said.

Mr. Woolly. The stuffed wolf I had knitted for him during my first month in Dusthowl, back when I still believed Trevor loved me. Back when I thought this place could be home.

"That's good," I said. My voice cracked. "You take care of him, okay?"

"Okay."

He stayed there for a while, humming softly to himself. Then his footsteps pattered away.

I stayed on the floor, my forehead pressed against the door, and let myself cry.

On the fifth day, Trevor unlocked the door.

"Get dressed," he said. "We're leaving in an hour."

I looked up at him from the bed. "Leaving?"

"Supply run. Neighboring territory. You're coming with us."

"Why?"

He didn't answer. He just turned and walked out, leaving the door open.

I didn't trust it. But I also didn't have a choice.

I pulled on jeans and a sweater, tied my hair back, and followed him downstairs. Gia was waiting by the front door, Toby's hand clutched in hers. She smiled when she saw me.

"Good morning, Sophia," she said brightly. "Feeling better?"

I didn't answer.

Trevor led us out to the truck. It was an old pickup, rusted at the edges, the bed loaded with empty crates. He opened the passenger door and gestured for Gia and Toby to climb in. Then he looked at me.

"Back seat," he said.

I climbed in and buckled my seatbelt. Toby turned around and waved at me, clutching Mr. Woolly to his chest. I tried to smile.

The drive was long. We passed through dense forest, the road narrow and winding. Trevor didn't speak. Gia hummed softly, scrolling through her phone. Toby fell asleep against her shoulder.

When we finally stopped, it was at a rest area near the territorial border. The parking lot was empty except for a semi-truck idling near the far edge. Trevor killed the engine and climbed out.

"Wait here," he said.

Gia nodded. I stayed in the back seat, watching through the window as Trevor walked toward the truck. The driver stepped out, a broad-shouldered man with a greying beard. They shook hands. Talked. Trevor gestured toward the crates in the pickup bed.

Then I smelled it.

Rotten meat. Wet fur. Blood.

Selene's head snapped up. *Rogues.*

I turned toward the tree line. At first, I saw nothing. Then the shadows moved.

Five wolves. Maybe six. Their pelts were matted and scarred, their eyes yellow and wild. They slunk out of the forest, low to the ground, teeth bared.

Gia saw them too. She gasped and grabbed Toby, yanking him awake.

"Trevor!" she screamed.

He spun around. The rogues lunged.

Everything happened fast. Trevor shifted mid-run, his clothes tearing as his ashen-grey wolf burst forward. The truck driver scrambled back into his cab and slammed the door. Gia threw open the passenger door and dragged Toby out, running toward Trevor.

I fumbled with my seatbelt. My hands were shaking. The buckle wouldn't release.

One of the rogues veered toward the pickup. It was massive, its ribs showing through its filthy coat, saliva dripping from its jaws. It circled the truck, growling.

I finally got the seatbelt off and reached for the door handle.

Then Trevor was there.

He wasn't in wolf form anymore. He had shifted back, his chest heaving, blood streaking his shoulder. He grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the truck.

"Trevor—"

He shoved me.

Hard.

I stumbled backward, my feet skidding on the gravel. The rogue's head snapped toward me. Its eyes locked onto mine.

Trevor scooped Toby into his arms and ran for the semi-truck.

The rogue lunged.

I tried to dodge, but I wasn't fast enough. Its claws raked across my shoulder, tearing through fabric and skin. Pain exploded down my arm. I hit the ground hard, gravel biting into my palms.

The rogue loomed over me, its breath hot and rancid.

Selene screamed. *Fight. FIGHT.*

But I couldn't shift. The wolfsbane was still in my system, still choking her, still keeping her caged.

The rogue's jaws opened wide.

And then something hit it from the side.