My body was burning from the inside out. It started as a dull ache in my stomach, a heaviness that I attributed to grief and stress, but by midday, it had evolved into a searing fire. My hands shook so violently I could barely hold a glass of water, and a cold sweat drenched my clothes despite the chill in the guest room.
Dr. Helena had prescribed these "recovery supplements" the moment I woke up. *To help your human side adjust,* she had said with a tight, professional smile. *To manage the trauma.*
I stared at the small paper cup on the nightstand. Two white pills and a dark, viscous liquid that smelled faintly of licorice. I picked up the cup, my nose wrinkling. Werewolves have heightened senses, even without their wolves, but mine were dull. Still, something about the smell triggered a primal warning bell deep in my brain. It wasn't just medicinal; it was wrong.
I took a tiny sip. The bitterness hit my tongue instantly, sharper than bile, followed by a numbing sensation that spread to my lips. I spat it back into the cup, my heart hammering against my ribs.
*Supplements don't numb your mouth.*
I poured the mixture into the potted plant by the window—a wilting fern that looked as miserable as I felt—and tucked the pills into my pocket. If I was right, I needed proof.
Getting to the pack library was a gauntlet. I had to dodge pitying glances from the cleaning staff and sneers from the warriors guarding the hallways. The library was usually empty this time of day; most wolves preferred the training grounds or the forest. I slipped inside, the scent of old paper and dust offering a brief comfort.
I went straight to the restricted section on herbology. As Luna, I had memorized the codes years ago. My fingers trembled as I punched them into the keypad. *Please still work.* The lock clicked open.
I pulled down a heavy leather-bound volume: *Toxins and Remedies of the Old World*. I flipped through the pages until I found it. The illustration was unmistakable—a dark root that oozed a black sap when cut.
*Suppression Root. Used to dampen the connection between wolf and human. In high doses, causes lethargy, muscle atrophy, and eventual organ failure.*
And right below it: *Wolfsbane. Lethal in large quantities. In small doses, it weakens the wolf spirit, preventing shifting and healing.*
I leaned back against the bookshelf, the book heavy in my lap. They weren't just trying to keep me weak. They were killing my wolf. Dr. Helena wasn't healing me; she was finishing what the accident started.
A cold fury replaced the fear. I wasn't just a rejected mate; I was a target.
I needed to confront Maddox. He had to know. He was the Alpha; he wouldn't allow his pack healer to poison a member of the pack, even a wolfless one.
I tracked his scent—pine and rain, now tainted with Daphne’s vanilla—through the corridors. It led me away from the Alpha office and toward the pack hospital’s VIP wing. My stomach twisted. Was someone hurt?
As I rounded the corner to the waiting room, I froze. The double doors were thrown open, and the room was filled with balloons. Blue and pink balloons. A banner hung crookedly across the nurses' station: *Future of Silverclaw*.
Maddox stood in the center of a cheering crowd of Deltas and high-ranking warriors. He looked... happy. Happier than I had seen him in years. His face was flushed, his eyes bright. And his hand—his large, protective hand—was resting possessively on Daphne’s stomach.
She was glowing, basking in the adoration of the pack. She looked up at him with wide, teary eyes, feigning humility.
"This pup," Maddox’s voice boomed, silencing the room, "will be the strongest Alpha this pack has ever seen. A true heir."
The words were a physical blow. A true heir. As if Seven didn't exist. As if our son wasn't enough.
"Maddox!" The scream tore from my throat before I could stop it.
The room went dead silent. Every head turned toward me. Maddox’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by a scowl of annoyance. Daphne’s hand went to her mouth in a theatrical gasp.
"Maya," Maddox growled, stepping in front of Daphne as if to shield her from me. "What are you doing here?"
"She's poisoning me!" I shouted, holding up the pills I had saved. "Dr. Helena—she's giving me Wolfsbane! Look at this!"
A ripple of murmurs went through the crowd. Dr. Helena stepped forward from the back, her face a mask of calm concern. "Alpha, the poor dear is confused. Those are standard iron supplements. Her trauma... it makes her paranoid."
"Paranoid?" I surged forward, but two warriors grabbed my arms, hauling me back. "Test them! Just test the damn pills, Maddox!"
"Enough!" Maddox roared, his Alpha aura flaring, pushing everyone back. He looked at me with cold, hard eyes. "You are disrupting a sacred moment, Maya. You are hysterical."
"I am dying!" I screamed, fighting against the warriors' grip. "She is killing my wolf!"
"Your wolf is already dead," he said cruelly. "Get her out of here. Take her back to her room and lock the door until she calms down."
The warriors dragged me backward. I watched as Daphne leaned into Maddox, whispering something in his ear. He nodded, wrapping his arm around her, turning his back on me completely.
I didn't go back to my room. I couldn't. If I stayed, I was dead.
I waited until the guard outside my door was distracted by a shift change, then I slipped out the window. It was a two-story drop, but I landed in the bushes, scratching my arms and face. Pain didn't matter. Survival did.
I ran toward the borderlands. If I could reach the Red River Pack, Alpha Thomas might help me. He owed my father a debt.
The moon was high, casting long, skeletal shadows through the trees. I was panting, my human lungs burning, my legs heavy. Without my wolf, I was slow. So painfully slow.
I heard the snap of a twig before I smelled them.
Three rogues stepped out from behind the trees, blocking the path. They were filthy, their clothes tattered, their eyes glowing yellow in the dark. They didn't look like random wanderers. They looked like they were waiting.
"Well, look what we have here," the middle one sneered, a scar running down his cheek. "The lost Luna."
"Let me pass," I said, my voice steady despite the terror gripping my heart. I pulled the silver kitchen knife I had swiped from my waistband. It was small, pathetic against three shifters, but it was all I had.
The rogue laughed. "Cute toy. But we're not here to play."
He lunged.
Instinct took over. Not wolf instinct, but muscle memory from years of self-defense training Maddox had insisted on. I dropped low, dodging his claws, and slashed upward. The silver blade caught his thigh, sizzling as it cut through flesh. He howled in pain.
The second rogue attacked from the side. I spun, kicking him hard in the knee, hearing a satisfying crunch. But the third one was faster. He slammed into me, pinning me to the forest floor. His breath smelled of rot and dried blood.
"Die, bitch," he snarled, raising his claws to tear out my throat.
I didn't think. I jammed the knife into the soft spot under his jaw, twisting it with every ounce of strength I had left.
He gurgled, blood spraying over my face, and collapsed on top of me. I shoved his heavy body aside, scrambling backward, chest heaving. The other two, seeing their leader dead, hesitated.
I grabbed the dead rogue's phone—it had fallen from his pocket in the scuffle. The screen was cracked but lit up with a new message.
I stared at the text, the blood on my hands turning cold.
*She's heading to the North Border. Make it look like an accident. Payment sent. - D*
Daphne.
She wasn't just replacing me. She was hunting me.
