Chapter 2

Mina's POV

"Get up, rejected thing, the blood root isn't going to grind itself," Marra barked, slamming a heavy iron pestle onto my workstation.

I didn't look up from the wooden table. My hands were already stained dark brown from cleaning the mortar bowls since dawn. The air inside the healer’s hut smelled like crushed silverleaf and dried bile, but it wasn't enough to mask the bitter scent of my own humiliation.

"I am almost done with the first batch, Marra," I said, keeping my voice level.

"Well, work faster," another apprentice, Taran, chimed in from across the room. He tossed a basket of unwashed herbs right next to my elbow, splashing dirty water over my sleeves. "You aren't the future Alpha’s favorite anymore, Wilhelmina. Your status changed the moment Prince Alaric called you a cow last night. You are just an extra pair of hands now. Double your pace."

"He is right," Marra sneered, leaning over my shoulder. "We don't need a broken wolf dragging down the pack’s healing guild. If you cannot handle the extra chores, find somewhere else to bleed."

I squeezed the stone pestle tightly until my knuckles turned white. The sting of their words burned, but I refused to let a single tear drop. I swallowed the lump in my throat and kept grinding the roots. They wanted to see me break. They wanted me to cry and beg for mercy. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction. My silence was the only shield I had left.

By the time the sun hit its peak, my shoulders ached from the endless scrubbing and hauling. I walked back toward my family house, hoping for a moment of peace, but the heavy tension inside the living room stopped me the moment I pushed the door open.

"We need to pack her things before the royal delegation arrives tomorrow," my mother was saying, her voice filled with an excitement I hadn't heard in years. "Odalys needs the entire upper floor to store her new silk gowns. A future Alpha female cannot be living in a cramped room."

"What about Mina?" my father asked, though his voice lacked any real concern. He was staring at a map on the table, completely focused on the new territory expansion Alaric had promised our family.

"Mina will have to manage," my mother replied coldly.

"Manage where?" I asked, stepping into the room.

My parents both jumped slightly, but neither of them looked at me with an ounce of regret. Odalys sat on the velvet sofa, twisting a silver ring around her slim finger, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips.

"You're back," my mother said, her expression instantly hardening. "Good. We were just discussing the new arrangements. Your sister is marrying into the royal line, Wilhelmina. Our family’s status is rising, and we must look the part."

"So you are throwing me out of my own room?" I asked, looking directly at my father. "After what Alaric did to me last night?"

"Don't use that tone with us," my father warned, finally looking up with a harsh glare. "A rejected wolf with no family backing is not protected the way a bonded wolf is. You have no mate, no rank, and no future claim to this household. We are moving you down to the cellar storage room to make space for Odalys's court attendants."

"The cellar?" The word left my mouth before I could stop it. "It freezes down there during the weak season."

"Then buy more blankets," Odalys purred from the sofa, her eyes shining with malice. "You certainly have enough layers to keep you warm, sister. Prince Alaric made that very clear to the entire pack last night."

My chest tightened so hard I could barely breathe. The cruelty from my own blood was a physical blow, sharper than any rejection Alaric could have delivered. I looked at my mother, waiting for her to defend me, but she just turned her back and began sorting through a stack of luxury fabrics.

"Be grateful we are letting you stay on the property at all," my mother said over her shoulder. "An unmated female is a liability to the pack lineage. You contribute nothing now."

I didn't say another word. I turned around and walked out of the house, slamming the wooden door behind me. I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't let them see how deeply they had cut me.

As I hurried down the gravel path toward the outer courtyard to clear my head, I passed a group of senior warriors sitting near the guard posts. Old Commander Vance was cleaning his broadsword, his weathered face grim as he spoke to the younger fighters.

"Keep the border patrols tight this week," Vance ordered, his voice carrying through the crisp air. "The Bloodcrest pack is already sniffing around our perimeter."

"Why now, Commander?" a young guard asked. "The binding ceremony just ended. We should be at our strongest."

"Rival packs watch for unclaimed, unprotected wolves during the weak season after a rejection," Vance muttered, shaking his head. "An unmated wolf without pack strength is easy prey. The bond snapping leaves a scent of vulnerability in the air. If the savages at the border catch a whiff of a rejected female wandering alone without a mate's protection, they will snatch her up for sport. Our lines are compromised until the royal wedding is finalized."

I froze in my tracks, his words chilling me to the bone. I wasn't just a humiliation to my family; I was an open target. Without a mate to claim me, and without my family to protect me, I was completely defenseless against the monsters waiting in the dark woods.

I rushed back toward the rear of the estate, slipping into the small, dusty room near the old stables that I was now forced to call home. I bolted the door behind me and sank against the wood, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The walls felt like they were closing in on me. I was completely alone.

Hours passed in the dark. I sat on the edge of the small cot, staring at my hands, forcing myself to hold back the storm of emotions building in my chest. I wouldn't break. I would find a way to survive this.

Suddenly, a sharp, heavy knock echoed against the wooden door.

I stiffened, my pulse taking a sudden halt. No one came down to this part of the grounds after dark.

"Who is it?" I called out, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

There was no answer, just another firm, deliberate knock.

I stood up slowly, grabbing a small silver dagger from my old healer’s kit on the table. My heart pounded against my ribs as I reached out and unlocked the heavy iron bolt. I pulled the door open, expecting to see a mocking guard or another delivery of heavy chores from Marra.

Instead, a tall shadow blocked out the moonlight entirely. The scent of cedarwood, rain, and an undeniable, suffocating dominant aura flooded the small room.

The man standing in the dark looked at me, his eyes tracking the silver blade in my hand before moving up to meet my gaze.

"Wilhelmina," the stranger said, his low, rich voice sending a sudden jolt straight through my core. He spoke my name like he had known me for a thousand years.