Charlotte POV:
The eviction notice was taped to the door of the penthouse when I returned.
By Order of the Alpha: Vacate immediately.
I didn't care about the furniture. I didn't care about the jewels. I just wanted my mother's things. She had been a true Luna, kind and strong, before the sickness took her. Her sketchbooks were the only reason I became a designer.
I rushed inside.
The living room was a wreck. Clothes were strewn everywhere. And there, by the fireplace, stood Kalia.
She was holding a stack of old, leather-bound notebooks. My mother's journals. Her original designs.
"What are you doing?" I screamed, dropping my cane and lunging forward.
Kalia turned, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "Oh, these? They're trash. Just like you. We need space for my new wardrobe."
She tossed them into the fire.
"No!"
I threw myself at the fireplace, reaching into the flames. I didn't feel the heat. I grabbed the books, patting out the fire with my bare hands. The edges were charred, the leather smoking.
Ruined. Years of history, turned to ash in seconds.
I looked up at her. She was laughing.
"You should have seen your face," she giggled.
Something snapped inside me. It wasn't a thought. It was an instinct, primal and raw.
I stood up. I stepped forward. And I swung my hand.
My palm connected with Kalia's cheek with a sound like a gunshot.
It wasn't a human slap. It carried a weight, a force that shouldn't have been possible for a wolfless girl. Kalia flew backward, crashing into the coffee table. Glass shattered.
She lay there for a second, stunned. Then, she touched her cheek. A trickle of blood ran down her chin.
"You... you hit me!" she shrieked.
The door burst open. Bryant rushed in, flanked by two enforcers. He saw Kalia on the floor, bleeding among the glass shards.
"Charlotte!" he roared.
He didn't ask what happened. He didn't look at the burnt journals in my hands. He just saw his mistress hurt.
"Hold her!" he commanded the guards.
The warriors grabbed me. One twisted my arm behind my back, forcing me to my knees. The pain in my healing leg was blinding, but I bit my tongue to keep from screaming.
Bryant helped Kalia up. He checked her face, his eyes filled with tender concern.
"Are you okay, baby?"
She sobbed, pointing a shaking finger at me. "She's crazy, Bryant! She tried to kill me! Look at my face!"
Bryant turned to me. His face was a mask of cold fury.
"You dare touch my Luna?"
"She burned my mother's journals!" I yelled, tears finally streaming down my face.
He didn't care.
"She is your superior," he spat. "And you need to learn your place."
He looked at Kalia. "Hit her back."
Kalia's eyes lit up. She wiped the blood from her lip and walked over to me. I was defenseless, held down by two grown men.
She smiled. It was the ugliest thing I had ever seen.
She slapped me.
Her hand was heavy, reinforced by her wolf strength. My head snapped to the side. The taste of copper filled my mouth.
"Again," Bryant ordered.
She hit me again. And again.
My ear rang. My vision blurred. Blood dripped from my nose onto the expensive carpet.
"That's enough," Bryant said finally. Not out of mercy, but because he was bored.
He looked down at me. "Get your things and get out. You're moving to the old caretaker's shack on the edge of the territory. If I see you near the main house again, I'll have the guards break your other leg."
They released me. I collapsed onto the floor.
I watched them leave. Kalia was clinging to his arm, whining about her bruised cheek. Bryant was soothing her, promising her ice and diamonds.
I wiped the blood from my mouth.
I packed the charred remains of my mother's books. I took nothing else.
As I limped out into the rain, heading toward the slums of the pack lands, I didn't feel pain anymore.
I felt only the cold, hard resolve of a wolf waiting for the kill.
