The Alpha Became A Beggar After Putting Me To Cell

I broke three ribs getting out of that hellhole of cell.

The first thing I did when I stumbled into freedom? Signed a agreement for body research.

The guy behind the desk looked at me with pity swimming in his eyes.

"Emily, we're obligated to tell you this is a special body research.

"Your body will be used to test a new silver nitrate corrosive agent-specifically brewed to dissolve lycanthropic cells. By dawn, not even a sliver of your wolf bones will remain."

I pressed a palm to my aching ribs, the cracked bones-still hot with leftover lycanthropic fire-making each syllable drag like claws on stone. I forced a smile, twisted as a snarl. "Couldn't dream up a finer fate."

I didn't have much time left anyway. Might as well do something for the great pack.

My medical chart howled the truth in jagged, blood-red letters: Lycan Atrophy Syndrome.

Most wolves know it as LAS, the rotting curse

. I drew the short straw-complications ignited a silver-induced lung infection.

A month, tops, is what the pack healers grunted.​

The guy's eyes softened, pupils slitting slightly like he smelled my fading wolf scent. "Thank you for feeding the pack's silver research. This coin's a paltry offering. Take it."

My claws twitched uncontrollably as I reached for the coins.

I planned to drop every cent at the pup shelter, slip past the pack's burial stones one last time to nuzzle Kathleen's grave, then let the rot take me.​

I staggered out, and three wolves materialized from the tree shadows, hackles raised.​

"There's the runt!" one snarled, fangs glinting.​

"Thought you could slink away? We'll jam silver rods in your veins 'til you whimper like a cub!" another snapped.​

My fur prickled under my skin, chest heaving with wolfish panic.

The silver shock collars they'd used flashed in my head-my body folded in on itself, twitching, as I crashed into the enforcers' den.

I was moving too fast, too desperate.

I slammed right into someone, my coins scattering across the floor like dead leaves. The chest I crashed into was solid as stone, leaving me dizzy.

Amid the chaos of snarls and yelps, a familiar, frost-bitten scent hit me.​

Then his voice sliced through the noise. "Emily."​

My wolf blood slowing to a crawl in my veins.

Six years since I'd last seen him, and Damian Wolfe looked even more like the untouchable alpha he'd become. His sharp, elegant features were colder now, his eyes carrying that same distant chill.

But the way he looked at me?

That was new.

Pure disgust, laced with hate.

My heart twisted so hard I thought it'd snap.

Tears scalded my eyes, steam curling off them as my wolf heat spiked.

"Damian," I breathed, the word a whimper.​

The wolves at my heels skidded to a halt, their hackles flattening-alpha pheromones hitting them like a physical blow.​

Damian's stare pinned me, his scent sharpened to a warning.

"Who granted you leave to pollute pack lands?"​

I bowed my head, throat tight.

He couldn't smell the stench of my broken wolf spirit.

That pampered pup had locked me away, let them carve obedience into my bones with shock and silver.

His eyes flicked to the wolves behind me, then to the cash strewn across the ground.

One of them lunged forward, jabbing a finger.

"Damian, this rogue filched our pack funds!"​

Damian's laugh rumbled, cold as a winter hunt.

"Emily, reduced to scavenging? How the mighty wolf has fallen."​

I clamped my spasming hand to my side, wolfish panic coiling in my gut-desperate to deny it, but my tongue felt glued to my teeth.

No, no, that money was mine, blood payment for my soon-to-be-sacrificed body.

But the words stayed trapped, choked by the scars on my vocal cords.​

"Damian," a voice purred, rich with omega sweetness.​

A she-wolf slithered closer, her scent cloying with mating pheromones as she looped her arm through his.

Her eyes widened, feigning shock, but her wolfish grin gave her away.

"Emily? You're still. alive?"

My blood turned to ice. Brielle Monroe.

The she-wolf who'd made my life a living nightmare.

Back then, when my parents' scents faded from the pack and grief gnawed at my wolf core, I flunked the moon rituals-ended up in that run-down feeder school, where half-breeds and strays got stuck.

That's when the torment sank its teeth in.​

They dumped wolfsbane in my locker, scrawled "rouge" on my uniform in silver ink, locked me in the bathroom during the full moon, listening to me whimper as my bones ached to shift.​

I spiraled into a fog, my lycanthropic spirit withering-and Brielle was the master of it all, her scent sharp with cruelty, the she-wolf whose snarls still haunt my nightmares.​

Until Damian found out.

He left his purebred academy, transferred to this dump, and unleashed his alpha fury on every last one of them. Brielle slunk away , and for the first time in months, I could draw a breath without tasting fear.

When the nightmares from the bullying clawed back, Damian would curl beside me.

"I'm here," he'd murmur, over and over, his palm pressed to mine-our heartbeats syncing, steadying, guiding my fractured wolf spirit back to calm.​

Ten years ago, under the blood moon, we bared our souls.

Seven years ago, we surrendered to the primal pull, our scents melding into one.

Six years ago, we stood before the pack elders, vowing to bind our fates-swearing the sacred oath to be true mates, forever.​

Six years ago, I let the flames take Kathleen Wolfe, his sister.

The bond snapped, love curdling into venom.​

And now, the wolf whose scent is etched into my very bones stands shoulder to shoulder with the she-wolf I loathe as mates.