Chapter 1

Betty’s POV

"Get on your knees, wolfless freak, or I will break your legs myself."

Madeline’s voice sliced through the damp, heavy air of the Blue Claw storage pavilion. She was balanced on the balls of her patent-leather heels, her pink lips curved into a cruel, perfect line. In her manicured hand, she gripped a heavy bolt of silk, emerald green and thick with dust.

"I don't take orders from you, Madeline," I said. My knuckles ached as I squeezed the edge of a plastic crate filled with silver tinsel. My pulse hammered a steady, violent rhythm against my ribs. "The Luna gave me a task. I am finishing it."

"The Luna is my mother. That makes her my servant, and you beneath both of us." Madeline stepped into my space. The sickly sweet stench of her perfume - vanilla mixed with the chemically floral rot of alpha-blood arrogance - flooded my nose. She leaned close, her breath hot against my cheek. "Tomorrow night, the whole territory watches you fail. Two years in a row. You are a parasite on our budget, Betty."

My throat tight, I forced my eyes to stay locked on hers. Deep inside my chest, a dark, heavy weight shifted. A low, silent vibration echoed through my bones. My wolf. She was there, hidden behind a brick wall of my own making, her claws digging into my lungs.

Too weak, her voice whispered in the back of my mind, a jagged scrape of sound. We are still too weak to tear her throat out. Wait.

"I am the top warrior of this pack," I muttered, my voice flat, stripped of all the hot rage that wanted to choke me. "I took the test. I beat every delta your father put in front of me."

"You beat them because they felt sorry for you." Madeline laughed, a short, sharp bark that lacked any real warmth. She reached out, her sharp nails digging directly into the meat of my shoulder, twisting the fabric of my grey training shirt. "A warrior without a wolf is just a target. A shield for real wolves to hide behind. Who would want a mate with gross, thick muscles and no beast inside her? If you even have a mate bond, you won't feel it. I wonder if it will even hurt when he rejects you."

I did not flinch. I did not move an inch. "We will find out tomorrow, won't we?"

"Find out what?"

The heavy oak doors of the pavilion swung open with a loud, metallic groan. My mother stood in the threshold, her arms loaded with a massive cardboard box that smelled of stale cardboard and heavy wax. Next to her was Luna Imelda, her silver hair pulled into a tight, neat bun that pulled the skin of her forehead taut.

Madeline dropped her hand from my shoulder instantly, her face shifting from a vicious sneer to a wide, innocent smile in a fraction of a second. "Nothing, Mrs J! We were just discussing the decorations for the Lycan guests."

"The Lycans?" The word popped out of Madeline's mouth like a gasp. She practically bounced on her toes, her eyes wide with a sudden, greedy light. "The royal line? Is the Prince coming?"

Luna Imelda set her box down on a folding table with a dull thud. Her eyes flicked to me, then to Madeline, her expression tight with a exhaustion she couldn't hide. "Three Alpha lines and ten Lycan lords, Madeline. The entire high court is crossing the border tonight."

The air in the room instantly grew cold. Every wolf in the world knew the Lycan law. Their females were gone, dead decades ago from a witch’s blood-curse that took the Queen and her daughters in a single night of black magic. They were predators without a soft edge, brutal kings who ruled the northern forests with iron claws.

"Betty," Imelda said, her voice turning crisp as she pulled a rolled piece of parchment from her apron pocket. "You are the top warrior. You know the boundary lines better than the scouts. You will handle the Lycan quarters. I want them in the northern guest mansion, away from the main house."

"But Mom!" Madeline whined, her voice rising to a high, grating shriek. "That is my job! I am the princess of this pack! I should be the first one to greet the lords!"

"You have other duties, Madeline," Imelda said, her tone cutting off any further argument. She didn't look at her daughter. Instead, she looked directly at my mother, a long, heavy gaze that passed between them like a secret note. "Betty needs to be occupied tonight. It is her last night before..." She trailed off, her mouth snapping shut.

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with things left unsaid.

I looked at my mother. Her hands were trembling against the side of her linen skirt. She wouldn't look me in the eye.

"The Alpha is turning me rogue tomorrow at midnight, isn't he?" I asked, the words raw and dry as sandpaper in my throat. "Because I haven't shifted."

My mother’s head snapped up. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, her lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. She gave a single, agonizing nod. "He has to, Betty. A twenty-year-old wolfless female is a liability the pack cannot carry during the mateball. The other Alphas will think we are weak."

"Mom, I need to tell you something," I started, stepping toward her, my hands open. "About my wolf. She is - "

"We know, Betty," my mother interrupted, her voice cracking as she turned her back to me, gripping the edge of the table. "The Alpha knows too. Your wolf is stalled. She is a broken thing. Knowing changes nothing. The law is the law. Go do your work."

The rejection hit me like a physical blow to the sternum. I stumbled back a half-step, my boots scraping against the concrete floor. My wolf let out a sharp, pathetic whine in my skull, then fell dead silent.

I didn't say another word. I grabbed the parchment list from Imelda’s hand and walked out into the cold afternoon air, my legs moving on pure survival instinct.

Ten minutes later, I was in the Beta quarters, standing before Beta Kennedy’s heavy mahogany desk. The room smelled of old paper and the sharp, minty tang of her tea.

"The mansion is reserved for the Titan-Shell pack, Betty," Kennedy said, her brow furrowing as she looked over her ledger. "Alpha Theo is bringing five of his executioners. You cannot move them to the common packhouse. Theo hates crowds."

"The Lycans will kill him if he gets in their way, Kennedy," I said, leaning over the desk, my palms flat against the polished wood. "Ten Lycan warriors need space. If they feel crowded by normal Alphas, their auras will choke every omega in a three-mile radius. Put Theo in the blue wing. He can deal with it or leave."

Kennedy went pale, her tongue darting out to wet her dry lips. "The blue wing? The Luna’s family wing?"

"Do it," Imelda’s voice came from the doorway. She walked in, her boots clicking sharply on the hardwood. "Betty is right. We cannot risk a border war because Theo wants a view of the lake. Move the Cobalt Mountain pack to the western villa. Let the Alphas fight it out in the training arena the morning after the ball to exhaust their energy."

"An arena fight?" Kennedy looked between us, her hand shaking as she marked the ledger. "With Lycans present?"

"They like blood," I muttered, turning toward the door. "I am going to the mansion now to set the linens. I am taking Audrey and young August to help."

"Betty," Imelda called out just as my hand hit the brass doorknob. "Come to the main hall at eight tonight. Your father and mother will be there. We will have a final dinner."

A final dinner. Like a prisoner on execution eve.

"I will be there," I said, and slammed the door behind me.

The drive to the northern guest mansion was silent. August, who was only twelve and still smelled like a pup, sat in the back seat of the yellow utility jeep, holding three heavy boxes of green linens. His mother, Audrey, sat in the passenger seat, her eyes fixed on the dark, thick pine trees lining the dirt road. The mansion sat on a high ridge, a massive three-story structure of grey stone and black glass, completely isolated from the rest of the territory.

We worked for two hours in total silence. I handled the master suites on the third floor, dragging heavy mattresses into place, my muscles burning from the effort. Every movement was a distraction from the clock ticking down in my head. Twenty-four hours left. Then I would be a rogue, hunted by my own father.

A sharp, piercing shriek tore through the quiet house.

It came from the front lawn. It was Audrey.

I dropped the pillowcase in my hand and bolted down the grand staircase, taking three steps at a time. My heart shoved hard against my ribs. I ripped the front door open, my hand flying to the silver hunting knife strapped to my thigh.

On the gravel driveway, Audrey was on her knees, her arms wrapped tightly around August, hiding his face against her chest. Both of them were shaking violently, their necks fully exposed, bared in absolute, terrified submission.

Standing five feet away from them was a giant.

He was easily six-foot-six, his frame thick with solid, dense muscle that made our pack warriors look like children. He wore a heavy, charcoal-grey coat that hung open, revealing a black combat vest beneath it. His hair was black as ink, cropped short against a harsh, scarred jawline.

But it was his scent that made my knees wobble. It wasn't the clean, pine smell of our pack wolves. It was a suffocating, heavy wave of burnt ozone, wet earth, and raw, metallic dominance that crushed the air right out of my lungs.

A Lycan.

He didn't have his hands on his weapons. His palms were up, his fingers spread wide, but his eyes were fixed on the two omegas on the ground with the intensity of a hawk watching mice.

I stepped off the porch, my boots crunching loud on the gravel. I put myself directly between the giant and the sobbing omegas, my hand still gripping the hilt of my knife. My knees were shaking so hard I could barely stand, but I forced my chin up, staring straight into the dark, shadowed hollows of his face.

"Get back into the jeep, Audrey," I ordered, my voice cracking slightly before I hardened it. "Take August. Now."

Audrey didn't wait. She scrambled backward, dragging the boy with her, their car doors slamming shut a second later.

The giant didn't move a muscle. He didn't even blink. His eyes shifted from the jeep and locked onto mine. They weren't brown or black. They were a bright, terrifying gold, glowing with a predatory fire that seemed to pierce right through my skull.

"You are in private pack territory, sir," I said, my hand tightening on my knife until my fingers turned white. "The ball does not begin until tomorrow. Who authorized your arrival?"

The Lycan tilted his head, a slow, deliberate movement. A dark, amused smile tugged at the corner of his lips, revealing the white, sharp edge of a canine tooth that was far too long to be human. He stepped forward, a single, massive stride that brought him right into my guard. The heat radiating off his body was like a furnace.

"I don't need authorization to walk through my own hunting grounds, little wolf," he rumbled. His voice was a low, gravelly vibration that shook the gravel beneath my boots. He leaned down, his face inches from mine, his gold eyes burning down into my soul. "And you smell exactly like my missing property."