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Chapter 1 A Shifter School Elodie's POV Silver Eclipse doesn’t operate like any ordinary school. It belongs to shifters—seething with adolescent hormones, ruled by a social order where cheerleaders and football players sit at the top, and everyone else scrambles for scraps below. And then there’s me. I rank lower than an omega, hunted daily by those superior beings who run the halls. The teachers turn their backs, too afraid of losing status or position if they step in. I survive alone in a world that punishes weakness and never lets you forget what you are. I move through the familiar corridors, my long brown ponytail swinging behind me, eyes scanning constantly for the next threat. The school day bleeds toward its end and I’ve somehow avoided any attack—a rare victory. But I still haven’t crossed paths with darling, precious Riona of the Ruina Hollow Pack, the Alpha’s daughter and cruelty dressed up as a homecoming queen. No secret exists between us. We’ve despised each other since childhood. I can’t stomach people who lack compassion, especially toward those who have nothing. I reach for my locker door to shut it when soft footsteps creep up behind me. A grim smile touches my mouth. I dodge left—just in time—and the metal door slams against empty air instead of crushing my hand. In the same motion, I spin and drive my elbow hard into my attacker’s gut. He doubles over, wheezing. “Ouch.” The groan belongs to none other than Karson, captain of the football team. I smirk and kick him in the shin for good measure. He hisses, his eyes bleeding toward black with rage. “Bitch,” he growls, straightening until he towers over me, contempt etched across his face. I lift an eyebrow and let my gaze drag slowly over him as his fists clench. “Interesting. I’m not the one standing there in pain, bitch,” I fire back. “Maybe reconsider your choice of words.” He slams his palm against the locker beside me, glaring. I stay still. Composed. Nothing infuriates him more than discovering his caveman act doesn’t make me flinch. “You’re nothing but a useless, pathetic mutt,” he snarls, crossing his arms and grinding his teeth. I shrug, indifferent. I’ve survived worse words than his. “Then why waste your time on me?” I taunt, offering him a wide grin as his control finally cracks. His hand strikes the locker again before he storms off, muttering under his breath. I choke back a laugh. A small crowd has gathered; they study me with quiet condemnation, whispering and exchanging glances, no doubt casting me as the villain who tormented poor Karson. I return my books to the locker and close it, turning the lock with care. The weekend stretches ahead, and I’ll spend every hour of it slaving inside the Ruina Hollow packhouse. I force the bitterness down. I need the money if I ever plan to escape this miserable hellhole. I haul my backpack onto my shoulder and head outside, crossing the carpark with quick strides, my threadbare sneakers carrying me toward escape. Chaos swirls around me—cars peel onto the road, eager students racing toward freedom, while the cheerleaders and football players linger in clusters, trading gossip. “Oy, loser.” The voice hits me from behind. My heart stutters. The gate sits only feet away. I almost made it. I take another step. “Mutt,” she screams. My body stiffens. I turn, resigned. I should have known today’s peace couldn’t last. Riona stands encircled by her posse, flipping her blonde hair over one shoulder and giggling at whatever expression she finds on my face. She performs for her audience, every gesture calculated. I roll my eyes and let boredom settle over my features. She looks triumphant as she waits. Sipping her coke, she fiddles with the straw and steps closer, flanked by two cheerleaders who wrinkle their noses like they smell something foul. “Whatever you want, say it faster,” I snap. “I have to get back to the packhouse.” I glance at my battered wristwatch, letting dismay show. “Oh, am I delaying the poor little slave omega?” Riona drips sarcasm, and the crowd around her laughs on cue. “Whatever.” My voice drops low. “I’m too busy for this shit.” I turn my back and instantly feel her grip clamp around my arm, nails pinching deep into flesh. A bruise already blooms beneath her fingers. “Let go, Riona,” I warn through clenched teeth, anger climbing hot and fast. Her eyes widen. “Or what, Elodie?” She sounds gleeful. “What’s a pathetic, wolfless shifter going to do? My parents will punish you regardless.” She scoffs. I know they will. I try once more to reach whatever reason she might possess. “Please let go.” I speak each word slowly, deliberately. She digs her nails in deeper. I stare back, face stone. Disappointment flickers across her features at my lack of reaction, and she releases my arm with a huff. “You know,” she says, her tone breezy and conversational, “I don’t understand why my father didn’t just kill you when you were a child. But I do know this—if you don’t shift by eighteen, the pack will throw you out. We can’t keep someone useless.” She delivers it like casual cruelty comes naturally to her. “Can’t keep someone who can’t defend herself.” A slow smile spreads across my face. “So what if they do?” Her shock registers immediately. “Any pack besides this one sounds like an upgrade.” “How can you be so ungrateful?” She hisses, indignation flashing in her eyes. “Ungrateful?” I echo the word. “I serve a pack that starves me, beats me, humiliates me every single day—and you think I should feel grateful?” I sneer. “You’re exactly as stupid as you look.” She reacts without thinking, flinging her drink full into my face. The liquid soaks me, trailing cold down my clothes. A shout tears out of me. My temper snaps completely, consequences be damned. “You’re nothing but a spoiled, rotten little bitch, Riona Corvyn!” My voice carries across the carpark; students freeze and gape, watching the scene explode before them. “If your parents weren’t the Alpha and Luna, nobody would protect you—and everyone would finally have the guts to tell you exactly what a horrible human being you are. You think you’re untouchable? Wait until the real world gets its hands on you. Let’s see how far being the Alpha’s daughter gets you when rogues attack or a battlefield looms. I hope you die, you arrogant little bitch,” I scream. “And I hope you rot in hell.” I flip her off and spin around, my backpack shoved over my shoulder as I stomp toward the gate. Students scatter out of my path. “You’ll—you’ll pay for this,” Riona gasps, finally finding her voice. I throw a narrow-eyed glance over my shoulder, still seething. “Go run to your mummy and daddy. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” “Fuck you, Elodie!” Her voice splits the air, shrill and piercing. I laugh. “No thanks. You’re not my type.” And I leave her there, spluttering and screaming obscenities at my back. The second my boots touch the pack house floor, Alpha Renwick’s voice cuts through the air, summoning me straight to his study. A quiet exhale tugs at my chest. I know exactly what waits behind that closed door. Riona beats me home without a doubt, rushing to her parents to whine and twist every detail of our run-in into a petty grievance. I drop my bag beside the entrance, shoulders set, and march toward the third floor. The study’s halls are familiar; I linger there often, always for some pointless, manufactured trouble. I pause outside the door, rap my knuckles once against the wood, and roll my eyes behind my lashes. Another round of her fabricated lies unfolds ahead. I wonder what sob story she spins this time, if she feigns fresh tears to sway her father. Riona is a natural performer, I’ll grant her that much. It’s a shame her parents never see through every hollow act she puts on. “Come in.” Alpha Renwick’s tone is sharp, unyielding. I push the door open, step inside soundlessly, and seal it shut at my back. My head dips in a formal, obligatory nod. “Alpha Renwick.” I hold no foolish delusions to disregard pack authority. He holds every shred of power here; he can break me apart in an instant, and no soul in the territory dares intervene. I purposefully ignore Riona, perched in a chair off to the side, her expression thick with smug satisfaction. Alpha Renwick’s eyes narrow into sharp, unforgiving slits where they lock onto mine. My jaw tightens, bracing for the inevitable. The one-sided interrogation kicks off now. He clears his throat, the sound heavy with unspoken censure. “Did you insult Riona and humiliate her in front of the entire school crowd?” he demands flatly. Chapter 2 In the Pack House Elodie's POV I flick a quick glance toward Riona. Her features soften at once into a solemn, wounded mask. I steady my demeanor, keeping every flicker of irritation off my face. “Not the entire crowd,” I reply evenly, tone unrushed. “It was well after the final bell rang.” His brow darkens, anger creeping into his posture, and I hold my ground, calm and unwavering. “I never mean to shame your daughter, Alpha Renwick.” Every word rings true—until she chooses to needle me first, pushing every boundary I hold. Riona sits straighter the second his gaze flicks to her, quick to interject. “She’s lying through her teeth. She targets me on purpose, hurls cruel names, knowing I cannot fight back without facing consequences.” Alpha Renwick’s scowl deepens, sharp and unforgiving. “Did you call her a crude, degrading name?” he presses, voice dropping low with stern disapproval. I have no room to deny it. I sift through the sharp exchange earlier, clear that I snap that insult and harsher words besides. She earns every last one with her reckless, loose behavior, but I know better than to voice that truth to her father. No parent bears hearing such ugly truths about their child. The man likely still believes his daughter stays innocent and untouched. A harsh reality waits to shatter that illusion someday. I hold no judgment toward women owning their own autonomy, but flaunting and gossiping about intimate encounters crosses every line of basic decency. I tilt my head in unapologetic acknowledgment. “I did speak that word to her, Alpha Renwick.” I answer without fuss, without guilt. It makes no difference what I say; he will always side with his daughter over a stray like me. Shock flashes across his face, as if he expects me to argue, to twist the truth, to beg for leniency. “She cursed me, told me to burn in hell,” Riona cuts in sharply, then drags her voice into a dramatic, tearful wail. “She screamed so many other awful things too.” The Alpha lifts a hand, cutting her theatrics short. “Enough, Riona.” His snarl brooks no pushback. “I am granting Elodie the courtesy of speaking for herself.” I meet his gaze head-on, unflinching. “She throws a full cup of coke all over me first. I lose my temper after that.” I state it plainly, detached, no extra emotion laced in my voice. Alpha Renwick freezes, caught off guard by the plain admission. “That’s a lie!” Riona shrieks, rising half out of her seat. “She’s making up excuses to save herself right now.” “Believe whatever you wish,” I retort dryly, sharp edge in my tone. “We all know your mind is already made up regardless.” “Elodie Raelen.” The Alpha’s voice drops to a dangerous hiss. “You will speak with proper respect, or you will regret the outcome.” I press my lip between my teeth, holding back every sharp retort burning on my tongue. Frustration bleeds thick across his features. Riona surges to her feet, urgent and indignant. “Father, you cannot truly believe her over me! You know she thrives on trouble. She’s hated me for months, and she makes it obvious to everyone around us. Ask her—she won’t even deny it.” The Alpha pins me with a heavy, grave stare. “Do you harbor hatred for Riona?” He waits, impatient, demanding a direct answer. I blink, feigning genuine confusion. “Is there any reason I should not?” Riona lets out a triumphant, mocking laugh. “There! You hear that? I told you so!” Alpha Renwick slams both palms hard against his desk, the sound echoing loud through the room. “I said enough, Riona.” His roar shakes the air. Her face bleeds pale, and she falls instantly silent. I fight the tiny, satisfied smirk tugging at my mouth, keeping my expression neutral. His eyes turn dark, challenging, as he studies me without mercy. “We have given you chance after chance to integrate into this pack with honor. We feed you, clothe you, house you. We grant you steady work and steady pay. We even ease your training requirements, out of quiet consideration for your fragile medical condition.” My muscles stiffen at the pause in his words, at the thinly veiled pity in his tone. “Most packs show zero mercy toward weak members like you. They cast strays out as outcasts, or eliminate those who cannot fight to defend their kind. Yet you spit on our kindness at every turn. You defy our rules. You dismiss every favor we extend to you.” His voice turns icy, unforgiving. I stand silent, absorbing every cold word. I know this lecture by heart. I am meant to bow in gratitude for ragged secondhand garments, for meager scraps of food that barely sustain a child, for endless omega labor that drains me from sunrise to sunset. My so-called salary only circles back to pay for those threadbare clothes and stale rations. The bitter irony stings sharp. Survival should be a birthright, not a reward I have to beg for. “Your blatant disrespect and disdain for this pack will no longer be tolerated.” He snarls the words while I stand mute, unbroken. “A few days alone in the dungeon will teach you how fortunate you truly are. You will reflect on how much kinder we are than other ruthless packs, who would never grant you such grace. When you are released, you will apologize to Riona without argument.” He finishes with a sharp, scowling glare. I scoff internally, silent and unyielding. I will never apologize to her. I’d rot in the dungeon first before I bow and beg that girl for forgiveness. He lifts an eyebrow, sensing my unspoken defiance. Riona stifles a giddy giggle, then flinches when he shoots her a cold, cutting look that silences her at once. A fog drifts over his eyes, and I recognize the shift at once—he mind-links the pack warriors to come collect me. “Riona, you may leave.” He waves her off. She huffs a quiet, disappointed whine, robbed of the full spectacle of my punishment. “You’ve witnessed her reckoning. Go tend to something worthwhile now.” She scowls deep but obeys, lowering her neck in submission to her father before walking out. She glares daggers at me over her shoulder; I offer a cold, tight smile in return. She leaves the door ajar. Two pack warriors step into the doorway at once. Alpha Renwick jerks his chin toward me, gaze heavy and unkind. “Take her to the dungeons.” His voice is gruff, final. “You know the protocol.” One warrior strides forward, fingers clamping tight around my upper arm. The grip bites hard, already bruising my skin beneath the fabric. I refuse to flinch, refuse to give them the satisfaction of seeing my pain. I offer no resistance as they yank me toward the door, their pull so brutal it nearly dislocates my shoulder. The Alpha watches every second, never lifting a finger to curb their harsh handling. The second warrior shoves my back hard as we trudge toward the stairs leading down to the basement cells. “Useless mutt,” the warrior behind me snarls, shoving me again. I stumble forward, barely catching myself before I slam face-first into the floor. I straighten my spine, unbowed, and grip the stair railing tight when another shove comes. I descend the dungeon stairs fast, controlling my pace to stop them from sending me tumbling down the concrete steps. At the bottom landing, the first warrior seizes my arm again, marches me to the nearest cell, and shoves me inside without mercy. I crash down onto a thin, worn mattress, frayed at every edge. He slams the cell door shut and spits on the ground, the saliva narrowly missing my shoulder. I twist my face into a grimace of disgust. “Pathetic, weak waste of space,” he sneers, staring at me with unmasked contempt. The second warrior barks out a cruel laugh. “We ought to put you down and leave you here to rot.” I hold his stare, stone-faced and unshaken. He glares a moment longer, then turns on his heel and storms away, leaving one guard to stand watch outside my cell. I settle back on the thin mattress and close my eyes. They think cold punishment will break my spirit. They think isolation will strip me of my pride. They think they can carve me into the obedient, docile puppet they crave. But they are wrong. No torture, no cruelty, no harsh judgment will ever bend me. I stay Elodie Raelen, unbroken, unapologetic, an orphan with a steady, unyielding pride. I will never, not in a lifetime, call this cruel Ruina Hollow pack my home. Chapter 3 Keep Alive Elodie's POV The guard keeps his eyes fixed on me as I lie motionless on the mattress, staring at the ceiling. I offer him nothing—no discomfort, no fear—just the heavy stillness of someone bored past caring. I know it eats at him. The second guard has disappeared; probably fetching food, I figure. My stomach growls, and I rub it without thinking. Eventually they'll toss me stale bread or some such consolation, though I can't guess when. They might not wish to keep me alive, but they fear Alpha Renwick's fury too much to let him find my corpse. Cowards. I roll onto my side and let out a long breath. The dungeon door groans open, and my body goes rigid. At first I assume it's only the missing guard returning, but then I catch two distinct sets of footsteps approaching, and I prick my ears. I sniff the air. Wolf or no wolf, my hearing remains sharp, my sense of smell keen—I can still untangle pack scents from one another. A groan escapes me when Riona's cloying floral stench floods the space. What brings her down here? Come to gloat, no doubt. I scowl. If she expects to provoke me, she's in for disappointment. I push myself upright and peer through the bars. Riona and the guards huddle close, voices dropped so low even I can't catch a syllable. I watch them, narrow-eyed. The blond guard lunges toward the cell door and wrenches it open before I can process what's happening. He tackles me to the ground before I can move or fight back, forcing my arms behind my back as I finally start to thrash. The other guard advances and lowers the long chain dangling from the ceiling. Cuffs snap around my wrists. Then they haul me upward and hook me onto the chain. They smirk. I press my lips into a thin line. So this is the game, I think, biting down on my lip. Riona means to exceed what little authority she possesses as the Alpha's daughter. The chain pulls taut. My legs dangle well above the ground, arms stretched so brutally I nearly feel my shoulders tear from their sockets. I swallow the scream clawing up my throat. Riona saunters into the cell, a heavy leather whip cradled in her hands. She smirks. I glare back, stone-faced, refusing to offer even a flicker of fear. I jerk my body toward her, and she stumbles backward, just beyond reach. "My father might not have seen fit to punish you," she purrs, "but that doesn't tie my hands." I spit. It lands on her clothes, and she shrieks, scrubbing at the fabric like I've soiled her very soul. "You're disgusting," she cries. One of the guards steps forward and backhands me across the face. My head snaps sideways from the blow, blood welling hot and metallic on my lip. I narrow my eyes at all of them. "You do realize this is illegal," I hiss, and then I kick out, connecting squarely with the blond guard's groin. Satisfaction floods through me. He doubles over, cupping himself, fury twisting his features. "You bitch," he howls, and the other guard drives a fist deep into my stomach. I wince, swinging wildly from the chain. Riona glares. She turns to the guard still upright and jerks her chin toward me. "Rip her shirt off," she commands, voice flat as ice. I brace. Claws slice through fabric—shirt and bra together—leaving my skin bare before them. I stare at the three of them, daring them to continue. I will not cry. I will not beg them to cover me. My silence burns through Riona. She screams in frustration and brandishes the whip. She circles behind me. "God, I hate you," she snarls. The whip cracks. Fire erupts across my back—a pain so immense I can only hiss through clenched teeth, fighting for breath. She strikes again, and my spine arches involuntarily. I grind my molars and endure. My refusal to make a sound only feeds her rage. The guards stand back, eyes wide, watching her unspool her fury across my skin. Each stroke splits flesh; blood spatters the floor. Whack, whack, whack. She delivers the blows in rapid succession, each harder than the last. I force the air from my lungs, battling the tears. I've been whipped before. But never by her hand. It's illegal—Riona has no right to punish anyone before she officially becomes Alpha. My body trembles with the effort of holding the scream inside. My eyes sting, tears threatening to betray me, but I refuse to let them fall. Whack, whack. She doesn't relent. The whip cracks again and again until I feel flayed open, blood pulsing from the wounds. Control begins to slip. The agony claws at my composure, the room tilting and swimming. My vision blurs. My breaths come shallow. "Scream, damn you!" she shrieks, her voice bouncing off stone. "Scream and beg me to stop!" I clamp my jaw tighter. She pants now, exhausted by her own violence. The guards exchange nervous glances. My heart hammers—and then begins to slow. I wheeze. Panic spikes through me as instinct recognizes what's coming. "Stop." The blond guard's voice cracks with alarm. He steps closer, studying me—blood trickling from my lip. "Riona, stop already. That's enough. Look at her." She ignores him and lands several more blows. My chest constricts. Breathing becomes a battle. The guard swears. My heart, racing moments before, now falters, my vision clouding as my body goes slack. "For fuck's sake, can't you see she's having an attack?" He rips the whip from Riona's grip while she struggles against him. "If she dies, we all die." This reaches her. She freezes, eyes going wide. I wheeze. The other guard fumbles with my cuffs and lowers me to the floor. "What do we do?" he whispers. "If we take her to the hospital wing, the Alpha will know everything." Riona laughs, the sound ugly. "Who cares if she dies? Trust me—my father pretends to care, but it doesn't actually matter. Leave her here. If she lives, nothing happens. If she dies..." She shrugs, casual. "The pack loses a useless member." The guards stare at her in disbelief. I stare up at them, each breath arriving like it might be my last. I cough, still clawing for air. The guards mutter to one another and then rise. Consciousness flickers—barely holding. My chest feels cinched shut. It's a miracle I'm breathing at all. My heart is surrendering. Through hazy vision, I watch Riona press the whip into the blond guard's hands and kiss his cheek. Then she glides up the stairs as if nothing happened. My hand grips my chest. My eyes burn. Every breath costs me. The cell door slams shut with a sound so final I gasp. The guards turn their backs, hiding the weapon, erasing their part in this. The room spins. I feel my life loosening its grip. Will I die down here? Has Riona finally gotten what she always wanted? Resentment floods through every nerve. Even through the unbearable pain that shoots across my body with the slightest movement, I roll myself over, trying to open my airway just a fraction more. I'm so close to leaving this pack and every miserable soul in it behind. So close to seizing my own future. I rub my chest, urging my heart to keep fighting. If I die now, the pack will be rid of me—but I'll never taste the life I'm desperate to claim. Breathe, damn you, Elodie, I tell myself, weak as a kitten. Breathe and keep your heart beating. Dying means letting these bastards win. I refuse to hand them that victory. Riona will face her reckoning, and I will be the one to deliver it. Breathe and live long enough to have your revenge. Breathe. Chapter 4 Game On Elodie's POV Agony blurs into raw, endless pain. For days, I cling to the thin thread of my slipping consciousness. I drift in a fog as guards force stale bread and murky water past my lips, the only sustenance keeping my breath steady and my racing heart from collapsing entirely. This is the worst flare-up my condition has ever thrown at me, all thanks to Riona’s cruel, unrelenting provocation. Bit by bit, what little strength I have seeps back. I push myself upright and fix a cold glare on the guards loitering at their table. They keep their heads bowed, pretending I do not exist. They are lucky I survive this. My back throbs sharply; dried blood crusts over open wounds, sticking tight to my skin. I wince, dreading the sting of cleaning it away, and shudder at the thought. My body remains half-exposed. I silently pray no infection settles in my injuries. I brush a finger near my back and hiss, the light touch sending sharp, shooting pain through every muscle. Without my wolf to speed recovery, healing drags slow, and the ache lingers nonstop. The cell door scrapes open. A guard steps inside, his face twisted with unmasked disgust. He grabs me roughly under the arms, hauling me to my feet without a single word of warning. A small, involuntary cry escapes me. He drags me toward the back corridor where the communal showers stand. The second guard watches on, lazy amusement clear in his eyes. My body is drained of all fight, so I offer no resistance. The guard halts abruptly. I stare back at him blankly. He rolls his eyes. “Strip the rest of the way,” he grunts. I bend stiffly, tug off my remaining pants and underwear, and kick the fabric aside. The guard tosses me a plain bar of soap and jerks his chin toward the shower unit with its push-button faucet. “Clean yourself thoroughly,” he snaps. “Luna Fenna orders you to serve her and her guests dinner tonight in the formal dining hall.” I press the button, bracing instantly for the bitter cold water that crashes down from the overhead nozzle. My muscles lock tight. The frigid water rips over my wounded back, peeling away crusted blood and igniting fresh, burning agony across my skin. I swallow back every scream and scrub my skin clean, well aware of my sharp, stale body odor after days locked in the cell. I lather soap through my hair and wash every inch of myself until I am spotless. I shiver violently, biting hard into my lip, relieved to see barely any fresh blood swirl down the drain. My wounds are finally scabbing over, and the simple relief of feeling clean anchors me steady. A towel slams into my chest. I catch it, cut the water off, and wrap the thin fabric tight around my trembling body. My teeth chatter nonstop. I grip the towel firmly, burning with humiliation at bathing under the guards’ watchful eyes. Still, it is better than the alternative—them touching me to clean my skin. I shut everything out, focusing only on the task, pretending their leering gazes do not exist to endure the degradation. The towel brushes my tender back, and I hiss in sharp discomfort. The guard shoves me harshly toward the cell. My knees buckle weak, and I shoot him a sharp, unyielding glare. “Hold on,” the blonde guard calls out, irritation edging his tone. “You forgot to hand her clothes.” “Right.” The other guard mutters the word without an ounce of remorse. “Shame,” he mumbles under his breath. I flinch at the cold remark. The blonde guard tosses a bundle of fabric my way. I catch it, staring down in bewilderment. I would never wear something so shameless, so demeaning, not in a lifetime. I have never been forced into such humiliating garments before. This has to be a sick joke, some cruel prank the guards concoct to break me. “Real funny,” I scoff, narrowing my eyes in open contempt. “But I’m not putting this on. Not ever.” The blonde guard leans back in his chair, hands folded behind his head, a cruel, gleeful smirk spreading across his face. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart,” he drawls, “but you don’t get a choice. Luna Fenna personally picked this out. It’s your new permanent uniform. She wants every pack member to see you’re nothing but a lowly packhouse servant now.” “Everyone already knows my place,” I snap, anger flaring hot in my chest. “I don’t need degrading clothes to prove it.” He lifts an eyebrow while the other guard snorts in amusement. “I’m just following orders. Take it up with the Luna if you’ve got the nerve,” he says lightly. “Either way, you wear the outfit, or you stay naked. No other options.” My eyes fly wide. The second guard chuckles darkly. “I don’t mind either way,” he drawls, raking his eyes lewdly up and down my frame with a sick, twisted grin. “Her body’s fun to look at.” Nausea curdles sharp in my throat. Disgusting pervert. I never forget his earlier threats. I storm back into the cell, yank off my towel, and ignore the low, hungry growl the guard lets slip. I dress slowly, frustration coiling tight in my chest. This is the Luna’s new low, another petty power play to break me. Punishment for daring to speak against her precious Riona. I pull on the lacy underwear, the thin braid, and slide the sheer white pantyhose up my legs. The leering guard tracks every single movement, his breath heavy and ragged. The blonde guard looks away, at least possessing a shred of basic decency. I pull the short dress over my head and wriggle it into place. The fabric squeezes tight across my chest, restricting every breath. The hem barely hits my knees, the flimsy material leaving nothing to the imagination. Every piece of the set is sheer, lacy, designed only to objectify. I struggle to fasten the tight ribbon lacing up the back. The guard steps into the cell, ties it rough and quick, and lets his palm linger too long against my lower back before stepping out and slamming the door shut. The blonde guard stands and walks over, pressing a pair of low thin heels into my shaking hand. I stare down at the outfit in dread. The Luna knows exactly what she is doing. This costume draws every unwanted gaze, meant only to shame and degrade me. She cannot force me to wear this forever, can she? I sink onto the thin mattress, the dress bunching awkwardly around my thighs. The guard chuckles, his gaze dropping shamelessly to my chest. “French maid look suits you perfectly,” he sneers. “All omegas should dress like this.” I roll my eyes hard. “It’s repulsive,” I snarl. “It objectifies women, degrading and offensive in every way.” “Take it up with Luna Fenna then,” the blonde guard retorts, grinning unapologetically. “I’m sure she cares about some omega’s hurt feelings.” The other guard bursts into loud laughter. I slam the heels hard against the concrete floor, fury blazing through me. I glare at the demeaning uniform, tempted to rip every stitch to shreds. But that will only fuel the Luna’s cruelty. I need to play this smart. A sharp, cunning grin tugs at my lips. If she wants to play dirty games, I will play right back. She will hate how this ends. I hum softly under my breath. Soon, I walk free to serve dinner. The games begin now. I will not be broken. I will win this war, and the Luna will learn never to underestimate me. I giggle sweetly at the thought, tilting my head with an innocent face as the guards stare at me in confusion. To defeat cruel enemies, you have to think outside their small, cruel boxes. I will not bow. I will not surrender. I will stand defiant against every unfair rule, every humiliating insult, every petty punishment the Luna throws my way. Chapter 5 Honor Her Elodie's POV Luna Fenna's glare rakes over me. "My god, could you walk any slower?" she snarls. I teeter forward on the unfamiliar heels, plates balanced in careful hands, eyes fixed straight ahead. "Apologies, Luna. I'm not accustomed to these shoes," I answer, voice dripping honey. Her gaze drops to my attire with a grunt. Alpha Renwick frowns. "Whose idea was it to dress Elodie in such an... ahem... interesting costume?" "Mine," Luna Fenna says, waving a dismissive hand. "I wanted her to stand apart from the rest of the pack. A uniform befitting her station." I arrange their plates before them, bending deliberately low across the Alpha so he catches a generous view of my cleavage. He coughs and finds sudden interest in the far wall. Luna Fenna's expression sours. I press my smirk deep down. Something tells me she never imagined I'd wear the costume with quite so much boldness—but I'm not finished. Riona studies me with naked contempt as I serve her meal, nose lifted, eyes rolling skyward. "You look like a hooker," she declares flatly. "Riona," Luna Fenna hisses, "that's wildly inappropriate." Across the table, Rylan—the Beta's son—sits rigid, gaze trailing the curve of my backside. "Oh, please, Mother." Riona folds her arms. "Look on the bright side: at least Elodie can use that outfit to supplement her income." "Riona, enough!" Alpha Renwick's voice cracks like thunder. I seize another plate and make my way toward Rylan. That settles it—the little viper deserves every ounce of what comes next. I know she's sweet on Rylan. Most girls are. The Beta's son commands attention without trying: footballer, warrior, those broad shoulders, sandy-blond hair, and startling blue eyes that reduce girls to stammering fools. Riona is no exception. I feel her stare drilling into me as I saunter toward him, smile wide, bending forward so the creamy expanse of my chest fills his view. Riona sucks in a sharp breath. Rylan's gaze lingers, hungry. "I hope you brought your appetite." I purr the words, reaching across to fill his water glass. He watches me with naked hunger. I lean close, lips brushing his ear. "Enjoy your meal, Rylan." Color rises to his cheeks. "Elodie, could you, um, fetch the, um, condiments?" Alpha Renwick's voice wavers. He refuses to meet my eyes. "Of course, Alpha Renwick." I retrieve the bottles with calm grace and set them before him, bending so my skirt begins its slow climb upward. Luna Fenna's face flames scarlet as she glowers. I blink at her, radiating innocence. She lit this fuse—I'm merely letting it burn. Let's see who emerges victorious this time. A strangled noise escapes the Alpha's throat. I turn, brace my hands against the table, and let my skirt hitch above my knees. My smile could win pageants. "Is there anything else you require?" False eagerness laces every syllable. Alpha Renwick's complexion deepens to an unhealthy puce. "I'm quite all right, thank you, Elodie." He speaks hastily, then fixes his wife with a hard stare—she looks seconds away from an aneurysm. I choke back my laughter and prance back toward Rylan, bending to murmur against his ear. "Anything you need?" He clears his throat. "Perhaps more water." He indicates his empty glass, eyes glinting. Reaching across him for the jug forces my backside directly into his sightline, and he chokes mid-bite on whatever fills his mouth. I pour and hand him the glass. "Here, Rylan." Sympathy softens my voice. "You must have tried to fit a bit too much in your mouth." He splutters. Riona's gasp cuts through the air. "Stop flirting with him!" Her voice climbs to a shrill demand. "You're deliberately trying to seduce him." I arrange my features into careful confusion. "I'm only being hospitable, making certain everyone has what they need." I speak slowly. "Is there something you require, Riona? If I've neglected you, please—feel free to speak up." "Yes, she's merely responding to our requests, Riona. It's terribly unladylike to accuse her of intentions she doesn't harbor. Try to remember you're an Alpha's daughter." Her father's tone carries steel. Luna Fenna's lips curl upward while her eyes freeze over. I pivot toward her, gushing. "Luna Fenna, I must say—this dress is truly lovely. Thank you so much for providing it as my uniform." She blinks, wrong-footed. She never expected gratitude. I barrel forward, voice cloying, eyes bright with feigned delight as I smooth the fabric down my hips. Riona's confusion deepens. "Ever since I started wearing it, I've received so much more attention from pack members. Some of the boys actually speak to me now. They're far kinder than I'm used to." I pause, letting the silence stretch. The Alpha goes very still, his focus shifting toward his wife. "I worried this dress might attract the wrong sort of notice, you see. But I know as my guardians, you and Alpha Renwick would never do anything that might invite untoward attention toward me. That would violate the pack's laws and principles." My voice brightens with venomous cheer. "Wouldn't it?" Silence crashes down. You could hear a coin strike the floor. Luna Fenna's jaw works soundlessly as she scrambles for a response, fully aware that anything she utters will damn her, her husband already glaring daggers. "Well, the thing is—" she starts, voice thin, but Alpha Renwick cuts her off, a vein pulsing in his neck. "Elodie." His voice drops to something almost gentle; a soft smile touches his mouth. "I fear Luna Fenna has done you a disservice. It's a fine enough dress, but I find it rather unbecoming, and frankly, it does you no favors. Would you mind disposing of it? I believe your usual attire—jeans, sweatpants, a simple shirt—serves your work in the packhouse perfectly well." I let my face fall into careful disappointment. "But it's the first new thing I've received since I came to work here." "I understand. And since Luna Fenna organized this uniform and made the error, she will personally replace it with two new pairs of jeans." He fixes his wife with an iron stare. Luna Fenna's mouth opens in protest, then snaps shut. Resignation settles over her features. I want to dance across the room. Instead, I bow my head with perfect deference. "As you wish, Alpha Renwick." I move to bend forward again, but he interrupts. "Actually, go and change now, if you don't mind, Elodie. Bring the dress and—ahem—the other items here." His frown deepens. Confusion flickers through me. An omega slips into the room carrying jeans and a plain shirt, pressing them into my hands. I vanish into a nearby bathroom and change quickly, leaving the undergarments in place. I gather everything and return, silently handing the bundle to the seething Alpha. He accepts it, strides across the room, and hurls the entire lot into the fireplace. Gasps ripple through the room. "I never want to see such an outfit worn in this packhouse again," he snarls, turning to face the room with fury etched across his features. "Fenna—next time, I won't be nearly so lenient." "Why do you even care?" Riona bursts out, frustration twisting her face. "Who cares about this little slut? You're far too nice to her." Alpha Renwick wheels on her. "Leave. Now. And never question my authority again. Fenna—you too." Riona's mouth gapes open before she rushes from the room. Luna Fenna studies her husband with a searching look, then follows. Rylan sighs, rises, dips his head, and exits in the opposite direction. Only the Alpha and I remain. Perhaps I pushed too far. "I apologize for my behavior," I begin, but he shakes his head. "I'm far from a perfect Alpha, but even I recognize when my wife has crossed a line and abused her authority." His voice roughens. "Starting tomorrow, you'll have a room in the packhouse—on the Omega's floor—instead of that shabby cabin on the outskirts. You've reminded me that as a guardian, I bear certain responsibilities toward you. Tonight, sleep on the couch in the living room." He leaves without another word. I stare after him, half-convinced he's been possessed or I've slipped into a dream. Never—in a million years—would I have imagined stepping foot inside a room in the packhouse, let alone sleeping in one. Even if it's only the omega quarters. I practically dance toward the living area, my spirits soaring. Sometimes, it's hard to believe Alpha Renwick shares blood with Riona. Only sometimes. Chapter 6 The King King Caspian's POV I set the invitation flat on my desk, sharp green eyes narrowing with quiet irritation as I glance across at Beta Jareth. My oldest friend leans back in his chair, one leg crossed loose over the other, blue glints dancing in his gaze, completely relaxed in my presence. “Another useless gathering call,” I mutter, half tempted to toss the card straight into the flames. An eighteenth birthday celebration for some random she-wolf holds zero appeal. It feels like nothing short of a deliberate slight against my time. Jareth snatches the invitation from my grip, scans the words quickly, and grins lightheartedly. I roll my eyes. “Let me guess,” I say dryly. “You’re eager to go.” He huffs a laugh, raking a hand through his reddish-brown hair. “Am I really that easy to read?” “Absolutely,” I reply flatly. “I know how desperate you are to stumble across your fated mate.” He lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug, unbothered by my blunt tone. “You’re not the only one who ought to be searching,” he counters, tone turning earnest. “You’re twenty-five, Alpha King. The pack kingdom needs a future heir. It’s your sworn duty to secure a successor.” I snap a sharp look his way. “Do you think I’m oblivious? I’m already seeing Celestia. I handle my responsibilities perfectly well.” Jareth exhales a long, weary sigh. “Your wolf, Vaelen, can barely stand her company. You never soften around her, never look like a man with a heart tied to another. Why force a political bond when you could wait for your real fated mate?” My expression darkens into a scowl. “Time is not on my side, as you just said. If a true mate was out there for me, I would have found her already. Every passing year makes Vaelen more volatile, harder to restrain. Without a chosen bond soon, he will turn feral—and leave our entire kingdom without a ruler.” My voice drops, grave and unyielding. My wolf is far stronger than any ordinary Alpha’s, yet that power comes with a cruel price. Without a mate’s tether or a marked chosen partner, Vaelen’s instincts unravel slow and steady. Eventually, I lose all human reason, trapped permanently in my beast form. It is a fate I refuse to accept. Jareth’s jaw tightens. He knows no other heir stands ready to take my place. My people depend on me to hold the kingdom steady. “I just wish you could find your real other half,” he murmurs. “Not her.” No secret exists about his disdain for Celestia, and the feeling burns entirely mutual between them. I push the thought aside, mood grim. I reach to take back the invitation, but he lifts it just out of my reach, teasing. “Just this once,” he presses, earnest now. “Attend the party. Loosen up. Enjoy one last night of freedom before you lock yourself into a lifeless political bond.” I study him, weighing the idea. I rarely attend trivial social functions, deeming them empty distractions. Still, the request clearly matters to him. I sigh and extend my hand. “I’ll go. But you drop the endless lectures about Celestia. She is not as terrible as you make her out to be.” “I’ll try my best,” he quips, handing over the card with obvious reluctance. I roll my eyes and lean in to read the script clearly. “Riona Corvyn, of the Ruina Hollow Pack,” I read aloud, nose wrinkling faintly. I glance up at Jareth, mild curiosity stirring. “What do I need to know about Ruina Hollow? I’ve never set foot there.” “Compared to our kingdom, it’s small, unremarkable territory,” he answers evenly. Naturally. My Leonas Kingdom stands as the largest, most powerful pack realm in the entire supernatural world. “Their Alpha and Luna keep the peace, by all reports, but lack drive and tactical ambition. They never push for more power, never stir trouble. You’ve never needed to step in to discipline them or enforce royal laws.” I tap the card, impatience edging my tone. “What of the girl, Riona Corvyn? She is their Alpha’s daughter, obviously. What is her reputation among the packs?” Jareth huffs a short, knowing laugh. “Word travels fast. She’s a spoiled, entitled pack princess, widely disliked by her own members. Whispers circulate that she mistreats her omega staff, though no solid proof ever surfaces to confirm the claims.” I lift a sharp eyebrow. “You hold this information back until now?” I growl faintly. He shifts, looking faintly guilty. “I looked into the rumors long ago. Nothing stuck to her name. Besides, most Alpha fathers spoil their daughters rotten. It’s nothing new.” “And you still insist I attend?” I ask, tone incredulous. His cheeks flush pink. “Go for me. I haven’t left the packhouse in months, haven’t had a moment of real fun. I might even meet my mate tonight.” He blinks, pulling out an exaggerated puppy-eyed plea. I regard him coolly. “That behavior is unbecoming of my Beta.” “Not even a little,” he grins, unashamed. “I’m desperate. Even a single night of decent company would do. No she-wolf here holds my interest anymore.” “You mean you’ve already romanced every available female in the pack and burned every bridge,” I state plainly. “That too,” he agrees without embarrassment. “You’re hopeless. As my second-in-command, you ought to set a proper example.” “I’ll behave perfectly,” he promises, batting his eyes playfully. I scoff internally—sure he will do no such thing. I glare down at the invitation, resolve hardening. “Fine. I will attend. I’ll use the night to inspect Ruina Hollow’s structure, assess their weaknesses, and gauge their Alpha’s competence. If he lacks the strength to lead, I’ll replace him. It saves me a separate trip later.” “Always business before pleasure,” Jareth grumbles. I shoot him a sharp look. “Be grateful I’m agreeing at all. I still have final legislation to draft, and it’s going to ruffle countless Alpha feathers.” I exhale, leaning back heavy in my chair. “Every Alpha will seethe,” Jareth agrees, grinning faintly. “Good. That outdated law should’ve been torn down generations ago. I respect your courage.” I smile grimly. “Wait for the backlash before you praise me. Once this order goes out, tempers will flare across every pack territory.” Jareth smirks, pushing to his feet and stretching lazily. “That’s what makes it worth it. A king no one resents is no king at all.” I glance down at the half-written document spread across my desk and groan quietly. Jareth slips toward the door, a mischievous, satisfied grin on his face, already celebrating his small victory. I barely register him leaving, my focus fixed on the official draft. The title alone makes my expression harden. This law will shatter long-held traditions, enraging every old-fashioned leader. For too long, the forced breeding program has enslaved she-wolves against their free will, stripping them of autonomy, dignity, and choice. It is barbaric, degrading, and unforgivable. I will end it. No more silent suffering. No more powerful elites preying on vulnerable lower-ranked females. Our kind is better than this. I vow to make it true. The Abolishment and Disbandment of the Breeding Program. All enforcement ceases immediately across every pack realm. Any leader refusing compliance faces severe, immediate royal consequence. I only need to finish the clauses, seal it with legal witness signatures, and distribute the order nationwide. I resolve to complete every last line before the party begins. I straighten in my seat, fingers hovering over my work, silently hoping Celestia does not choose today to interrupt my focus.