Pain greeted me before consciousness fully returned. Every inch of my body throbbed in dull, persistent waves. I tried to move but winced as fire shot through my ribs. The memory of boots connecting with my side flashed behind my closed eyelids.
I was alive. Somehow.
Slowly, I forced my eyes open, blinking against the soft golden light that filled the room. This wasn't the cold basement I called home. This wasn't anywhere in Silvermoon territory.
Silk sheets whispered against my skin as I shifted slightly. The bed beneath me was impossibly soft, cradling my battered body like a cloud. Gauzy curtains in deep burgundy draped from a canopy above, casting the chamber in a warm, protective glow. The walls were paneled in rich, dark wood, adorned with tapestries depicting ancient wolf legends.
This was a room meant for someone of importance. Not a wolfless omega.
"You're awake."
The deep voice startled me, and I jerked upright, immediately regretting the movement as pain lanced through my side. A large figure moved from the shadows near the window, and my breath caught in my throat.
Alexander Kane. The Lycan Prince of the Shadowmoon Pack.
He stood tall and imposing, golden-brown hair falling just past his shoulders, amber eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. His jaw was clenched tight, a muscle ticking in his cheek. His aura—powerful, ancient, royal—filled the room like a physical presence, making it hard to breathe.
The last thing I remembered was him standing over the broken bodies of the rogues who had attacked me. The rogues my sister had sent.
"Where am I?" My voice came out as a rasp, my throat dry and raw.
"Shadowmoon territory. My private chambers." His words were clipped, controlled, as if he was holding something back. "You're safe here."
Safe. The word sounded foreign to my ears. When had I ever been safe?
"Why?" I whispered, confusion clouding my mind. "Why would you help me?"
Something flickered in his amber eyes—an emotion I couldn't name—before his expression hardened again.
"Your injuries were severe," he said instead of answering my question. "You've been unconscious for two days."
Two days. Marcus and Grace would be completing their mating ceremony by now. The thought sent a fresh wave of pain through me that had nothing to do with my physical injuries.
The door opened, and two figures entered. A tall man with sharp features—Alexander's Beta, I realized with a start—and a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and healing hands.
"This is James, my Beta," Alexander confirmed my thoughts. "And Elara, our head healer."
"Your ribs are bruised, not broken," Elara said, approaching the bed with gentle movements. "The cuts on your face will heal without scarring, but you need rest."
James stood slightly behind Alexander, his gaze assessing but not unkind. "The rogues have been... dealt with," he said to his Prince. "They confirmed what we suspected."
Alexander's jaw tightened further, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. The anger radiating from him was palpable, but somehow, I knew it wasn't directed at me.
"Your own sister," he growled, the words barely human. "Your own blood."
Shame washed over me. Of course he knew. Everyone probably knew by now—how pathetic Emily Watson had been rejected and left for dead. How her own sister had paid rogues to finish her off or worse, sell her to the Rogue King.
I lowered my gaze, unable to bear the weight of their stares. "I should go," I whispered, though I had nowhere to go. "I don't belong here."
"No."
The single word held the weight of a royal command. Alexander moved closer, and to my surprise, he picked up a cloth from a basin beside the bed. The fabric was warm and smelled of healing herbs as he handed it to me.
"You were never meant to be an omega," he said, his voice low and certain.
I stared at him, confusion and shame swirling together as I clutched the warm cloth. How could he possibly know what I was meant to be? How could anyone?
For the first time in my life, someone was showing me kindness without ulterior motives. And it was coming from the most unexpected source—our pack's greatest enemy.
What did Alexander Kane want from me? And why did his amber eyes hold such conflicted emotions when he looked at me?
I had a feeling the answers would change everything I thought I knew about myself.
