“Monica? You live here?”
The voice was unmistakable. Cold. Flat. Sharp as steel.
Monica’s eyes flew open.
Her heart slammed against her ribs when she saw Killian standing in front of her, wearing only a pair of shorts after shifting back into human form. In an instant, she understood.
The wolf she had seen moments ago had been him.
“Don’t stand there mocking me because I live here!” Monica shouted, panic still rough in her throat.
Beneath the fear, anger burned hotter.
Killian’s gaze moved casually across the cramped hut, and Monica was certain he looked at everything with contempt. The cracked walls. The worn table. The patched roof.
Now he had fresh material to humiliate her with.
She had never imagined someone like Killian, rich, admired, heir to the Glass Fire Pack, would ever step inside a place like this.
And she was certain he had not come kindly.
Hadn’t he already humiliated her enough?
The memory of his rejection flashed through her chest like a blade.
“We’re tracking a rogue. It came this way,” Killian said, dismissing her accusation as if it bored him.
“Get out.” Monica pointed at the broken door. “I don’t care about your excuses. Yes, now you know. I’m poor. I live in the middle of the forest. Leave.”
Killian’s mouth curved with disdain.
“And then you sell yourself to Daniel for meals while chasing a scholarship?”
The words hit harder than a slap.
There it was.
The cruelty she had expected.
So the story about chasing a rogue was only an excuse. He had not arrived here by chance.
“This is none of your business, Killian!” Monica snapped, fury shaking her voice.
He went still for a moment, drawing one slow breath as if weighing whether she was worth another sentence.
She almost hoped he would stay silent.
“I don’t care if you choose to be Daniel’s toy,” Killian said at last, voice low and dangerous. “But if I discover that rogue is tied to your family, I’ll wipe every one of you out.”
He pointed at her.
The threat was unmistakable.
Before Monica could respond, footsteps pounded outside.
“Killian, something happened to the Alpha!”
Killian gave a short nod.
Then he glanced back at Monica with open scorn.
“You can pretend to be human all you like. Your werewolf scent is obvious.”
He slammed the hut door behind him.
Monica stood frozen.
The rejection.
The humiliation.
The ache she had tried to bury.
It all came rushing back.
And now Killian was accusing her of being some hidden rogue as well.
How could he be so vicious?
So merciless?
And yet girls at the university worshiped him.
“Thinking too much again? You’ve been doing that ever since I came back.”
Her mother’s voice broke the silence and made Monica jump.
She had just entered carrying a basket filled with potatoes and wild berries.
“Is that all you found, Mom?” Monica asked quickly, eager to avoid her mother’s curious stare.
“You know I never pick berries before they ripen,” her mother replied lightly. Then her expression softened. “What’s been bothering you all day?”
Monica forced herself to breathe normally.
“Bad dreams.”
“What kind of dreams?”
Monica hesitated, then answered with practiced ease.
“I dreamed my mate was an Alpha… and he rejected me on our wedding day.”
Her mother laughed.
“That’s only a dream. Maybe your standards are too high. How would an Alpha ever be mated to one of us? We’re poor people in Amberbridge.”
Monica laughed too, though the sound was hollow.
She hated herself for still thinking about Killian.
“Where’s Dad?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Out hunting. Wait… what happened to the door?”
Her mother had finally noticed the damage.
“A wolf came in,” Monica said. “It turned into a werewolf. Maybe a thief. Maybe a rogue. I don’t know what he expected to steal from this place.”
She could not bring herself to say Killian’s name.
“Did he hurt you?”
Her mother grabbed Monica’s shoulders, eyes narrowed with concern.
“No. He only asked strange questions about a rogue, then left.”
The lie came smoothly, though pain still twisted inside her.
“Oh great. More trouble for your father,” her mother muttered.
Monica knew little about her father’s work beyond hunting and planting tubers.
Then Killian’s warning returned to her.
A rogue had been near their home.
Her family was poor, isolated, and defenseless.
If Killian truly had chased one here, they were in danger.
Damn him.
Why had he brought it to their doorstep?
Monica rose from her desk and headed toward the kitchen to warn her mother.
But when she entered, no one was there.
“Mom?”
A knot formed in her chest.
“Did Dad come back?”
Then a violent crash shook the house.
Someone had broken through the front door.
Instinct screamed at her to hide.
Monica dropped to her knees and crawled beneath the kitchen table, pressing a hand over her mouth.
“Where is that bastard?!”
Killian’s voice thundered through the house.
Her pulse went wild.
She had hoped never to hear him again.
“No one’s here, Alpha,” another man said. “Damn it. That coward rogue already ran.”
“No.” Killian’s tone sharpened. “His daughter is still here. I can smell her.”
Footsteps came toward the kitchen.
Then stopped.
“So here you are, little rat.”
A hand fisted in Monica’s hair and yanked her from beneath the table.
She cried out as panic exploded through her.
What was happening?
What did he want?
“You’re the daughter of a murderer, Monica!” Killian roared, dragging her toward the doorway. “My father, a respected Alpha, was killed by yours!”
“I don’t know anything!” she sobbed. “Killian, let me go!”
Tears streamed down her face. Her scalp burned where he gripped her.
“So now you defend him?”
Killian turned sharply.
“Beta, find the man and his wife. They can’t be far.”
He hauled Monica through the forest to the riverbank and shoved her into a small boat.
As it crossed the water, a sick realization struck her.
The Glass Fire Pack had always been only one forest away from her home.
Before now, she had never cared.
She had been human.
Ordinary.
Outside Killian’s world.
When they reached pack territory, Monica saw several people still dressed in black mourning clothes.
Yet none looked at her with pity.
Only hatred.
Killian dragged her behind the mansion to a storage shed.
Inside lay a dark stone cellar, damp and cold.
“Wait here for your death,” he snarled.
The heavy door slammed shut.
Iron bolts locked into place.
“Killian, wait!” Monica shouted. “I need to tell you something!”
“What?”
His voice came through the wood, impatient and icy.
“I have more important matters to handle. Speak quickly.”
Monica rushed to the keyhole.
“My family are ordinary humans,” she pleaded. “My father cannot be the rogue you’re hunting, and he could never have killed your father.”
She hoped reason might still reach him.
Instead, laughter answered from outside.
Harsh. Scornful.
“Your family is rogue blood that slaughtered mine. I was a fool to think you might be innocent.”
“What proof do you have?” Monica cried. “I know my family better than anyone. My father was human!”
But the final bolts slammed shut.
Her voice was swallowed by stone and darkness.
No one heard her.
“All of my elders say the rogue was your father,” Killian said through the door. “Stop lying, Monica. You’re a werewolf too.”
“No!”
“Your bloodline broke the golden laws of our kind. Werewolves do not use silver against each other.”
His voice grew harsher, weighted with old grief.
“For years we believed that forest was cursed. We sent omega after omega, and none returned.”
A pause.
“Now we know why. Your family seeded those woods with silver needles.”
