My bare feet slammed against the jagged forest floor, tearing open on roots and rocks. I didn't feel the pain. The adrenaline from my partial shift was fading, replaced by the icy, creeping paralysis of the wolfsbane still in my veins. My breath tore through my throat in ragged gasps.
*Get her!*
Paxton’s Alpha command exploded in my head through the pack mind-link, a psychic shockwave that made my knees buckle. *Do not let her cross the border! She is a traitor!*
I pushed harder, ignoring the sickening throb of my freshly relocated shoulder. Howls tore through the night air—Shadow Creek trackers. They were fast, but desperation made me faster. Through the dense pines, I heard the rushing roar of the Whitewater River. The boundary.
Just as the tree line broke, a massive brown wolf lunged from the brush. *Arlo.* I knew his scent anywhere—pine needles and rain, just like his father. His jaws snapped shut inches from my heel, his teeth clicking with lethal intent. My own son was hunting me.
The heartbreak was a physical blow, but I couldn't stop. I hurled myself off the muddy bank and plunged into the freezing, violent currents of the river.
The ice-cold water knocked the air from my lungs. The current violently dragged me downstream, tossing me against submerged rocks. I fought with everything I had left, my weakened wolf clawing at the surface until my fingers dug into the rocky soil of the opposite bank. Neutral territory. The Lycan Council's land.
I dragged my soaked, battered body out of the water, coughing up river weed and blood. I didn't get far.
My vision blurred, focusing on a pair of heavily armored black boots planted firmly in the mud. I tilted my head up. A towering man stood over me, his aura so suffocatingly powerful it forced my inner wolf to bare her neck in submission. High Enforcer Forest Hoffman.
"Mine," a voice roared over the rushing water.
I flinched. Paxton stood on the Shadow Creek side of the river, his chest heaving, his eyes glowing with unrestrained Alpha fury. Arlo’s wolf paced aggressively beside him, barring his teeth at me.
"Step aside, Enforcer," Paxton snarled. "That rogue is my property. She attacked my pack doctor."
Forest didn't blink. His dark, calculating eyes dropped to me. I was shivering violently, the soaked hospital gown clinging to my frail frame.
I forced myself to my knees. My throat burned, but the words of the ancient laws were carved into my soul. "I invoke the Lycan Clause of Sanctuary," I rasped, my voice barely carrying over the wind. "I accuse Alpha Paxton Meyer of conspiracy to murder a mate."
Paxton scoffed loudly. "She's insane! She's been rotting in the dungeons for treason!"
Forest’s gaze drifted to my wrists. The torn leather straps had rubbed away the dirt, exposing the raw, blistering burns of pure silver. His jaw tightened. The scent of my terror and the undeniable stench of wolfsbane bleeding from my pores told the truth.
In one fluid motion, Forest drew a massive silver-alloy firearm from his holster and pointed it directly at Paxton’s chest.
"The sanctuary is granted," Forest's voice boomed, deep and implacable. "Cross that river, Alpha Meyer, and I will put a bullet through your skull."
The Enforcer's estate was a fortress of dark stone and sterile efficiency. Within an hour, I was lying on a soft, clean bed in their medical wing. The contrast to the dungeon was jarring.
A female healer carefully cleaned my wounds. When she cut away the ruined hospital gown, I heard a sharp intake of breath from the doorway. Forest stood there, his arms crossed over his broad chest. His eyes tracked the horrific roadmap of silver burns, the protruding ribs from years of malnutrition, and the fading bruises of my imprisonment.
"Conspiracy to murder a mate is a heavy accusation," Forest said, his tone measured, though his eyes burned with a dangerous intensity. "Alpha Meyer claims you burned down the orphanage. He says you’re a violent traitor."
"He's lying," I said, my voice steady despite my exhaustion. "He needed me dead to harvest my Luna Heart for his mistress."
Forest raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "A Luna Heart transplant? That's a myth. And even if it wasn't, I need proof to bring down a sitting Alpha, Elena. Not just the word of an exiled mate."
I sat up slightly, wincing as the healer bandaged my shoulder. The naive, loving Luna was dead. The woman left behind was cold, sharp, and ready to ruin them all.
"Check the Cayman accounts," I said softly.
Forest froze.
"Before he locked me away, I managed the pack's books," I continued, holding his piercing gaze. "Account number 8492-B. You'll find three years of embezzled pack funds, funneled directly into an offshore shell company under Chloe Russell's name. It's how he bought the black-market silver for his dungeons. Follow the money, Enforcer. It will lead you right to the murder plot."
Forest stared at me for a long moment, the skepticism melting into a predator's respect. He tapped his earpiece.
"Get me the financial records for Shadow Creek," he ordered. "Now."
