Chapter 1

“Miss Blackwood, I can only hold the plot until tomorrow afternoon.”

The woman from Moonrest Memorial Park spoke gently, but there was no flexibility in her voice. “We’ve had several rogues asking about prepaid burials this month. The plot you chose is far from the main path, but it’s the cheapest one left.”

“I understand.” Leaning against the drafty window of my metal shack, I swallowed the coppery taste rising in my throat. “I’ll pay the deposit by tomorrow.”

She hesitated, probably hearing the rattle in my breathing. “Your Silver Lung sounds advanced. You should see a healer before you worry about a grave.”

I smiled without answering.

Silver Lung was the kind of disease wolves whispered about. Silver particles ate through the lungs, suppressed our healing, and eventually forced the wolf spirit into dormancy. Caught early, Pack-level treatment could slow it for years.

I had no Pack and no money.

When the call ended, my phone returned to PackAid, the fundraising platform wolves used when they couldn’t afford private healers. Strangers had donated nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars over the past two months.

I needed one more dollar before I could withdraw any of it.

That dollar had arrived this morning.

The donor was Adrian Blackwood—my brother, and the Alpha of Blackwood Pack.

His comment sat at the top of the page.

[Let me know when you actually die. I’ll pop the champagne.]

I read it three times. It didn’t hurt as much as it should have. Maybe my heart had already broken beyond repair the night he ordered me off his land.

I tapped the withdrawal button, but the page refreshed before the request went through.

Serena Hale had posted a public comment.

[Aria, stop pretending you’re sick just to get Adrian’s attention. Come home and apologize. He has always left the door open, and the Pack is willing to forgive you.]

Replies appeared almost instantly. Someone asked how an Alpha’s sister could possibly be unable to afford treatment. Another recognized me as the wolf Adrian had cast out. Several warned donors that if my own brother believed I was lying, everyone else should be careful.

The messages wishing me a speedy recovery disappeared beneath accusations of fraud.

I didn’t defend myself. I simply submitted the withdrawal request again.

Wind rattled the sheet-metal roof. I pulled an old wooden box from beneath the bed. It held no money, only a moonstone bracelet engraved with the Blackwood wolf crest.

It had belonged to my mother, and when Adrian banished me, it was the only thing I took.

My wolf rarely stirred anymore, but whenever I touched the bracelet, she whimpered deep in my mind as if she could still smell our mother—and the home we’d once believed would always be ours.

I opened a courier app and posted a job.

[Deliver one bracelet to the white oak on the north side of Blackwood’s family cemetery. Payment: fifty dollars.]

My mother was buried beneath that tree. As a banished rogue, I couldn’t enter Blackwood territory, much less be buried beside her. Before I died, I wanted the bracelet to go home, even if I never could.

Once the request was posted, I gathered the medicine bottles scattered across the table. Two pain pills remained. I broke one in half, stared at it, then put it back.

There was no point wasting it because I wasn’t deciding whether to die. I had already decided. I was only waiting for the last thing tying me here to be settled.

Two hours later, PackAid called.

“Ms. Aria Blackwood, your fundraiser has been reported by a verified source. Withdrawals are temporarily suspended.”

My fingers tightened around the phone. “Who reported me?”

The representative paused. “The complainant submitted proof of blood relation and Pack authority. He is Adrian Blackwood, Alpha of Blackwood Pack.”