Chapter 2

~Maya ~

He steps into the room holding a duffel bag in one fist. My father is the most ruthless Gamma this pack has ever had—everyone says so—but to me, he has always been the one who spoils me, who stands at my back no matter what the rest of them say.

Relief floods me. I move toward him.

The slap takes me entirely off my feet.

There is no warning, just the white shock of Gamma strength against my weak body, and then the floor. My cheek burns. I taste iron. I stare up at him from the carpet, unable to breathe.

"Maya," his voice growls, laced with fury. "I never thought I'd see this day. You not shifting was humiliating enough. Today, you dragged this entire family through the mud."

He drops the bag at my feet. I peek inside and find black pants, a hoodie, oversized sunglasses, and a scarf. A disguise, and not a subtle one.

"Dad, I swear to you, I didn't drug the Alpha." I get my hands under me and push myself up. "Let us look into it. Please. I'm innocent—"

His face twists. He shoves his phone an inch from my face. "Innocent? That's not what this looks like."

It's a video, and it already has millions of views. It shows me and Harvey in the hotel hallway, our faces completely visible. My legs are wrapped around his waist. My dress is shoved up past my hips. His hands roam my body as I press desperately into him.

I want to scream. The shameless, debauched she-wolf in that video isn't me. It can't be me.

I look closer, and a sickening cold drops straight into my stomach. I look completely wasted. I move like a bitch in heat, begging to be used.

I look at the comments, and the remaining color drains from my face.

"Scheming gold-digger."

"How could Gamma Ben raise a slut like this?"

"She's hot though. I wouldn't mind a turn."

"Who knew the former Gamma's daughter was such a hoe?"

I drop the phone onto the bed as if it has burned me.

"Put it on," my dad says, pointing at the clothes. "Now. Before anyone else sees your face."

My hands won't stop shaking as I pull the hoodie over my head, hiding my bruised cheek behind the glasses and the scarf. He's smuggling me out like a criminal who has already been found guilty.

He takes me firmly by the arm, guiding me down a service corridor, past staff members who freeze mid-step and stacks of linen carts. He pushes me into a car idling in the back alley.

The drive is silent, and the silence is worse than shouting. My father’s fury fills the car like smoke, thick enough to choke on. I just stare out the window, the bruise on my cheek throbbing under the scarf, and try not to count everything I’ve lost in one night.

The maids stop to stare and murmur when we pull into the driveway. My mother comes running toward me, her face swollen and wet. "Maya, my baby—"

"Enough, Hailey." My father catches her wrist before she can reach me.

But in the scramble, her other hand finds mine. She presses something small and warm into my palm. Her eyes lock onto mine, and her gaze speaks volumes without a single word: she believes me. She supports me.

"Maya brought this on herself," he growls, steering me toward my room. "You'll stay in there until it's time. Seems we spoiled you too much. From today, all your cards will be frozen until you learn your lesson."

"You believe them too," I say, my voice dropping very low. "Twenty-one years, Dad. You are locking the door yourself—remember that. When the truth comes out, and it will, remember that you didn't even ask."

His hand freezes on the doorknob. For a split second, something crosses his face that might be doubt.

Then, the lock turns from the outside.

I open my hand to find my mother's moonstone pendant, still warm from her skin. It is the heirloom she wears every single day and never takes off. I close my fingers tightly around it, and as I do, a sudden stillness settles over me—cold, steady, and deep in my chest. It gives me the strength I was lacking just moments ago.

I cross to the dresser, pull out the bottom drawer, and take out my roll of cash, my passport, and my bank card. I toss them into the duffel bag together with the pendant, my sketchbooks, canvases, paints, and some basic clothes.

Next, my hand automatically grabs the photo on the nightstand—the one of Derek and me at our engagement party. We were so in love, so happy. I trace his face with my fingertip.

He proposed by hiding the ring in a slice of cake, then kept nudging the plate toward me until I snapped at him. He had finally cracked a smile. "Just eat it. I'm trying to propose, you silly girl." I had dug the ring out of the vanilla sponge with my fork, completely stunned, as he dropped to one knee. "Maya, you're my whole universe. Forever."

Forever. I glance down at the ring still sitting on my finger. The diamonds catch the light the way they always have. They just don't make me happy anymore. I tug at it, but my knuckles are too swollen from the stress and the hangover for it to budge. I am trapped in it, for now.

I glance at the clock nervously. Two hours left until banishment. Two hours until my world is completely shattered.

Suddenly, the lock turns again. The door swings open.

"Change of plan," my dad says, stepping inside my room, his jaw set hard. "The Council has decided. The punishment is waived. The mating ceremony goes ahead—tomorrow morning."

The relief hits me so fast and so hard that my legs nearly give out, but I steady myself against the dresser. Tears of pure gratitude pour over my cheeks. Derek. He fought for me after all. He cleared my name. He still wants me, and I'm not losing my life.

I am so overjoyed by simply getting to keep my life that I don't notice the strange shadow lurking in my dad's eyes, or how he refuses to look directly at me. I'm too far gone in relief to ask the one question that actually matters.

To whom?

And so, I thank the Goddess through my tears, never once guessing that soon my life would become a living hell.