The moon hung like a cold silver coin in the night sky as I crept through the shadows of the Blood River Pack house. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a countdown to either freedom or death.
"Be quiet," I whispered to myself, my fingers trembling as I reached for the small pouch of scent-masking herbs I'd stolen from the healer's supplies earlier that day.
The corridor smelled of pine and wolf—Knox's scent still lingered from his evening patrol. I pressed myself against the wall, holding my breath until the scent faded. Only then did I dare move again.
Madeleine's return had changed everything. I'd heard them talking at dinner, their voices casual as they discussed my fate.
"Once the proxy mating is officially dissolved, we can sell her to the mining packs," Knox had said, his voice like ice. "They always need Omegas for the underground work."
My sister had laughed—actually laughed. "Just make sure she's gone. I don't want to see her pathetic face every time I turn around."
So here I was, standing at the edge of the Blood River cliff, the raging waters below a black abyss that promised either escape or oblivion. I'd spent hours in the pack library, searching for any loophole that might save me. The "Severance of Proxy" contract was my last hope—a legal document that would nullify my position as Knox's stand-in mate.
I laid my outer clothes on the rocky ground, drenching them in the scent-masking herbs before tearing strips from my inner shirt to create a makeshift pen. My hand shook as I wrote:
"I, Kyra Scott, hereby renounce all claims and obligations to the Blood River Pack and its Alpha. This proxy mating is null and void."
I placed the contract atop my pile of clothes, then took a deep breath. The wind whipped my hair across my face as I stepped to the edge.
"For once," I whispered to the moon, "I choose my own fate."
Then I jumped.
The fall seemed to last forever. The icy water hit like concrete, driving the air from my lungs. Pain exploded through every cell of my body as the current seized me, tumbling me through its depths. My survival instinct kicked in, fighting against the paralysis of terror.
*Swim!*
My arms flailed against the current, seeking purchase in the darkness. Something struck my head—a rock, perhaps—and stars burst behind my eyes. The world tilted and spun as I was dragged downstream, my consciousness fading with each passing second.
*Let go,* a voice inside me whispered. *It's easier to let go.*
But something deeper refused. Something primal that wouldn't surrender.
*Not yet.*
---
Darkness.
Then pain.
A throbbing ache pulsed through my skull as consciousness returned in fragments. The scent of antiseptic and healing herbs filled my nostrils, along with the unmistakable smell of wolf.
"She's waking up," a female voice said softly. "Alpha Ian, should I—"
"No," a deep voice interrupted. "Let her rest."
I forced my heavy eyelids open. White ceiling. Unfamiliar room. A woman with kind eyes checking monitors beside my bed.
"Where..." My voice cracked, my throat raw.
"You're safe," the woman said, offering a cup of water. "I'm Dr. Elena Hayes. You're in the Silver Creek Pack's medical facility."
Silver Creek. I'd heard of them—a smaller pack known for their healing springs and progressive leadership.
"How did I...?"
"Alpha Ian found you washed up on our riverbank," Dr. Elena explained. "You had a severe head wound and hypothermia. You've been unconscious for nearly two days."
Fragments of memory flickered through my mind—water, darkness, pain. But nothing before that. Nothing about who I was or how I'd ended up in the river.
"My name is..." I started, then stopped. My name. It should have been simple, but my mind remained stubbornly blank.
"Don't worry," Dr. Elena said gently. "Head trauma can cause temporary memory loss. It might come back gradually."
The door opened, and a man entered. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and eyes that seemed to see right through me. Power radiated from him in waves—an Alpha's aura.
I instinctively curled into myself, a whimper escaping my lips before I could stop it.
"It's okay," he said softly, stopping several feet from my bed. "I won't come closer."
But I couldn't stop shaking. Couldn't stop the terror that clawed at my throat at the sight of him.
To my shock, he lowered himself to his knees beside the bed, his head bowed slightly.
"I'm Ian Cole," he said, his voice gentle. "Alpha of Silver Creek Pack. You're safe here."
Safe. The word meant nothing to me. I'd learned long ago that safety was an illusion.
"Why are you kneeling?" I whispered, confused by his posture.
His eyes met mine, warm and patient. "Because you're afraid of me. And I want you to know that I won't hurt you."
My body didn't believe him. Every instinct screamed that I should bow my head, bare my neck, show submission. But something deeper—something buried beneath the fear—whispered that this Alpha was different.
Who was I? And why did this man's presence both terrify and intrigue me?
