C1

"Take your pathetic paper and get your weak human blood out of my pack's sight," Malcolm Ashford growled, slamming the mahogany desk so hard the silver boundary map rattled.

I did not flinch. I stood straight in the center of the Bloodfang Court, my hands shoved deep into the pockets of my worn coat, staring right into the eyes of the Alpha who had raised me for twenty years. The scent of ozone, wolf sweat, and burning cedar filled the air—the heavy, suffocating aura of a pure-blood mafia territory.

"You are nothing to the Ashford Pack, Darcy," Malcolm sneered, sliding a leather pouch filled with silver coins across the heavy wood. "Five hundred silver marks. Consider it your severance for two decades of taking up space where a real wolf belonged. Once you step past the iron gates of Ravenshire City, your life is your own problem."

I looked at the pouch. A bitter laugh pulled at the corner of my lips. "Five hundred marks? Is that all the mighty Ashford Mafia can spare to buy back their pride, or are the territory debts catching up to you?"

"Watch your tongue, human!" Celeste Ashford barked, stepping up beside her mate. Her eyes flashed a dangerous, predatory amber, her top lip curling back to reveal elongated canines. "You should be begging on your knees for that silver! A human girl raised in the Blackveil District slums wouldn't see five hundred marks in three lifetimes. Sign the blood-oath release and leave before I let the enforcers break your legs."

Standing just behind them, draped in fine velvet and smelling of fresh pine and pack dominance, was Piper Ashford.

Three months ago, the Ashford Pack discovered that the human infant they had brought into their inner circle during the territory wars was a mistake. Piper was their real daughter—a pure-blood werewolf heiress stolen at birth. The moment Piper stepped into the compound, I became an eyesore. A fake. A powerless human leech living off wolf scraps.

Piper stepped forward, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness, though her eyes glinted with sharp malice. "Mother, please, do not be so harsh on her. Darcy has been living like a high-ranking wolf for twenty years. It must be so terrifying for her to realize she has to return to the human gutters." She looked at me, tilting her head with a fake pout. "I heard your biological parents are humans living in the Eastmoor Quarter. A sick grandfather, a useless father, and brothers who fight in underground blood rings just to buy bread. The moment you cross into Redgrave Territory, they will probably sell you to the highest bidder."

I shifted my weight, locking eyes with Piper. The air in the room grew heavy, cold, and still. "Did you spend your whole life in the rogue camps forgetting how to keep your mouth shut, Piper? Or is stupidity just a family trait you inherited from your bloodline?"

Celeste gasped, her claws extending with a sharp clack. "You arrogant little leech!"

"I will sign," I cut her off, my voice dropping an octave, completely stripping the room of its noise.

I stepped up to the desk. I did not read the terms. I did not care about their pack laws, their territory rights, or their blood-lineage clauses. I grabbed the bone quill, dipped it in dark ink, and slashed my name across the heavy parchment in clean, lethal strokes.

Darcy Ellington.

I tossed the quill aside. It clattered against the desk and rolled into Malcolm's lap.

Then, my hand swept over the leather pouch of silver. In one swift, blinding motion, I grabbed the heavy bag and hurled it straight at Malcolm’s face.

The heavy pouch struck his cheek with a loud thwack, scattering silver coins across the stone floor like falling teeth.

"Keep it," I said, my tone as cold as winter iron. "Consider it a down payment on the funeral expenses for the Ashford Pack."

"Darcy!" Malcolm roared, rising from his chair, his body swelling as his inner wolf pushed against his skin, surging with lethal, oppressive Alpha aura.

Any normal human would have collapsed, choked by the sheer weight of a werewolf's dominance pressure. But I just stood there. My pulse did not even spike. My eyes remained dead, cool, and detached.

I turned my back on the Alpha pair and walked out of the Bloodfang Court.

I felt zero regret. Zero attachment.

When they first brought me back from the human settlements four years ago, I had tried so hard to belong. I learned their scents, prepared their specialized herbs to soothe their transformation fever, and used every bit of human cunning I possessed to help Malcolm secure trade routes through the Sterling Heights. I made myself useful. I made myself submissive. I acted like a loyal hound begging for a pat on the head.

And the moment a true wolf walked through the front door, they tossed me into the dirt like broken iron.

As I walked down the grand stone corridor toward the heavy exit gates, heavy footsteps hurried up behind me.

"Darcy! Wait!" Piper caught up, her sweet facade completely melting away now that the enforcers were out of earshot. She blocked my path, tilting her head up with a cruel, triumphant smirk. "You don't really blame me, do you? Blood is blood, Darcy. You never belonged in Ravenshire City's upper packs. Oh, and Callum Prescott asked me to give you a message."

My feet stopped.

Piper’s smile widened, sharp and venomous. "Callum said to make sure you knew about our betrothal ceremony at The Gilded Crown next month. He said he was tired of pretending to care about a weak, scentless human girl. He picked up what you couldn't keep."

I looked down at her. I did not flinch. I did not cry. Something dark and ancient stirred deep within my chest—a quiet, dormant heat that had begun pulsing the moment my blood touched the release parchment.

"Then take him," I whispered, stepping so close her scent of pine spiked with sudden, instinctual panic. "I am glad you enjoy taking the trash I threw away."

Without another word, I brushed past her shoulder, pushed open the iron gates of Ashford Manor, and walked straight into the dark, rain-slicked streets of the Blackveil District.