Elara POV:

The morning light felt like a physical blow against my eyes. I sat up, my head throbbing with a fever that had been building since the sun dipped below the horizon.

Kael was already gone, his scent lingering in the room like the smell of ozone after a lightning strike.

I tried to stand, but my legs gave way, and I collapsed onto the cold stone floor.

Before I could recover, the heavy oak door swung open with a bang. Gia, a low-ranking wolf who had been trying to climb the social ladder for months, stood there with a sneer on her face.

"The King's away, and I'm running the chores today," she sneered. "Get up, Omega. You're cleaning the stables."

I looked up at her, my vision swimming. "I'm sick, Gia. I can't."

She laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. "You're a waste of space. The Alpha only keeps you around as a punching bag."

She stepped forward, her boot connecting with my ribs before I could shield myself. The pain was blinding, a white-hot fire that consumed my consciousness.

She kicked me again, and then again, her laughter echoing off the walls. I tried to reach out with my mind, to call for help, but the Alpha's command from Kael earlier had left my spirit bruised and unresponsive.

I felt my head strike the stone pillar; the last thing I saw was the intricate pattern of the ceiling plaster, swimming like a reflection in disturbed water before the world dissolved into blackness.

When I finally opened my eyes, the room was quiet. I could hear a distant, rhythmic sound.

I crawled to the window, pulling myself up by the heavy velvet curtains. Below, in the courtyard, Gia was tied to the iron rack.

The guards were using a whip tipped with silver dust. Every time it struck her skin, the silver hissed, burning through her fur and flesh.

Kael stood in the center of the yard, his hands clasped behind his back. He didn't look at her. He looked up at my window.

He knew. He always knew.

He walked into the room, his boots clicking rhythmically against the stone. He stopped in front of me, his shadow falling over my broken body.

"You let a low-level wolf beat you half to death," he said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "If the council sees you this weak, they will demand your execution, and I won't be able to stop them."

I looked at him, my eyes burning with unshed tears. "I didn't ask for your help," I rasped.

His hand shot out, but instead of my chin, his fingers closed around the fabric of my sleeve, hauling me to my feet. His wolf was pacing behind his gaze, a restless, hungry beast.

"You are my responsibility, Elara. When they hurt you, they disrespect me."

He dragged me from the floor and pulled me through the cold corridors to his study. The room smelled of old leather and power. He shoved me toward a large stone mortar filled with dark, viscous ink made from crushed wolfsbane petals—a poison to our kind.

"The treaty with the Northern pack needs my seal," he growled. "Grind the ink. Now."

My hands, already bruised and swollen, trembled as I picked up the heavy pestle. The grinding motion was agony, and a half-healed cut on my palm split open. A single drop of my blood fell, a bright crimson star in the black ink.

Kael saw it. A violent, irrational fury flashed in his eyes.

"Useless," he snarled, grabbing me by the arm and hauling me back to my room. "You taint everything you touch."

He reached into his tunic and pulled out a small, ornate jar of ointment. He threw it at me, and it shattered against the wall near my head.

"Fix yourself," he commanded. "The full moon gala is in two days. If you fail to stand beside me, I can't protect you from the elders."

He turned to leave, but stopped at the door.

"Remember," he said, his voice devoid of warmth. "You don't get to die until I say so."

As he walked away, I felt a strange sensation in my chest. A flicker of something that wasn't fear, but a cold, hard resolve.

I looked at the shattered jar on the floor. I would prepare for the gala. I would clean the halls. And when the new moon came, I would make sure he never saw me again—even if that secret warmth inside me had to burn through every lock he'd ever put on my soul.

Elara POV:

The Great Hall was draped in bolts of white silk, the air thick with the scent of expensive incense and the underlying musk of a hundred wolves packed into one space.

I stood in the corner, my hands trembling as I held a tray of silver goblets. The metal felt ice-cold against my fingertips, a constant reminder of my weakness.

Seraphina, my sister, walked into the room on the arm of the Northern Alpha. She wore a dress of midnight blue, her head held high, her scent a cloying mix of jasmine and vanity.

Kael watched her from his throne, his eyes glowing a deep, dangerous red. The jealousy radiating from him was a palpable thing, a low hum in the air that made the hairs on my arms stand on end.

He stood up, his movement so fast it was a blur. He strode across the hall, his eyes locking onto me instead of Seraphina.

He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin. "Here," he barked.

The entire room went silent. I felt the eyes of every pack leader upon me.

He dragged me toward the throne, his grip firm and unrelenting. He didn't care about the whispers, the gasps, or the shock on Seraphina’s face.

He shoved me onto the velvet cushion at his feet. It was a calculated, brutal move. By publicly degrading me, he was signaling to the rival Alphas that I was worthless—a twisted strategy to ensure no one would use me as a political hostage.

A low frequency in his voice vibrated through the floorboards and up my spine, a tidal wave of authority that forced my body to submit, my muscles trembling as his presence flooded my senses.

He wanted to hurt her, to show her that he didn't care, and I was the instrument of his spite.

I closed my eyes, trying to detach myself from the humiliation. This was just another day in the life of an Omega.

When it was over, he stood up, adjusting his tunic without a second glance. He walked toward the balcony, leaving me on the floor, shivering in the cold draft.

I gathered my wits, my body aching, and made my way toward the back exit. I needed to wash the scent of him off me.

I walked toward the garden, the moonlight casting long, jagged shadows across the path.

Suddenly, a hand shoved me hard from behind. I tumbled over the edge of the stone embankment, landing with a sickening splash into the lake below.

The water was freezing, filled with the faint, biting sting of silver ore. I gasped, trying to swim, but my limbs felt weighted down by lead.

I saw a figure standing on the bank, the moonlight reflecting off her pale, cruel features. It was Seraphina.

She watched me struggle, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips.

I reached for the surface, my lungs burning, my vision blurring as the cold took hold.

As I sank into the depths, a strange, blinding white light suddenly flared deep within my chest. The mysterious energy surged through my veins, forcibly pushing the toxic silver out of my system and propelling my heavy limbs toward the surface.

My head broke the surface with a gasp. Rough hands grabbed me, hauling me onto the wet grass before the blackness finally consumed me.

The last thought that flickered through my mind before the darkness took me was a cold certainty: my sister had just made her final mistake. And I would live long enough to make her regret it.