No Longer Theirs

I was adopted into the Mitchell family—but the moment they found their biological daughter, Anna Mitchell, everything changed. They started treating me like dirt.

Anna even stole Noah Miller—the mate who was supposed to be mine. She poisoned our parents and pinned it all on me. My father slapped me so hard my head spun. My mother screamed that she'd never had a daughter like me.

And just like that, they threw me out.

One pack member took pity on me and gave me a room. That was all I had.

But after I left the Mitchells, something shifted. My healing talent exploded out of nowhere—and before long, I'd become the most powerful healer in the entire pack.

Anna couldn't stand it. She begged Noah to pull strings so she could become a healer too. Same place. Same job.

Noah Miller was the Alpha's top beta, and Anna was his mate. No one in the Healers' Guild dared cross her. Instead, they helped her bully me, push me out, make my life hell.

I bit my tongue and trained. I studied every healing technique I could get my hands on, all so I could win first place in this year's Healer Selection—and earn a position at Lycan Court as the Alpha King's personal healer.

Once I had that, no one would ever touch me again.

But Anna wanted the credit for saving the Alpha.

She threw a fit, insisted she be the one to treat him. Never mind that she had zero healing talent—never mind she'd never paid attention in a single class.

The Alpha had only mild wolfsbane poisoning. Under her care, the extract spread through his system in under two minutes. He was dead before anyone could blink.

Anna panicked. She ran straight to Noah, crying her eyes out, playing the victim. And then she just happened to mention—what a waste I was anyway. Might as well pin it on me.

And Noah—the man I'd loved for three years—agreed without hesitation.

By the time I walked into that infirmary, it was already over. A trap sprung. And no way out.

Every healer in the guild stepped forward to testify against me. My parents? They spun some story about how I was a lunatic who'd tried to poison them—that's why they'd banished me.

The whole pack wanted to tear me apart. I screamed until my throat bled, but no one listened.

The Tribunal sentenced me to death for murdering an Alpha.

Three days in the dungeon before execution. Every day, they carved into my flesh—piece by piece. Every day, pack members came down to spit in my face and curse my name.

And the pup I'd raised? Anna convinced one of her cronies to drag him to the vampire border. Made him a blood slave.

The night before my execution, Anna came to my cell, grinning. She told me everything—and she was holding my pup.

She peeled back the blanket with this cruel little smile.

My eyes went wide.

Underneath—my pup. Already dead. Bite marks all over his tiny body. Every drop of blood drained, skin shriveled and clinging to bone. His little face was scrunched up, so distorted I barely recognized him.

I snapped. Lunged at the bars, clawing through the gap, desperate to wrap my hands around Anna's throat.

But by then, my wolf had already been crushed. I was nothing. I couldn't even tear a piece of paper.

Now I'm back.

And I'll be damned if I take the fall for her again.

But if I go back to save the Alpha, I die. If I don't respond to the call, they'll say I let him die on purpose.

I stumbled out of the battlefield clinic, my thoughts a mess. Outside, every able-bodied wolf in the pack was holding the line against the vampires.

Then it hit me—like a lightning strike.

The Alpha King had been at this battle too. Last time, he'd been ambushed and knocked into that coma.

If I saved him, I'd be his savior. I'd have his protection. And maybe—just maybe—I could make him see the truth. Expose the Mitchells. Expose Noah. Make them all pay for what they did to me.

I started running toward the spot where I remembered him falling.

He'd been fighting for hours. Exhausted. Didn't see the vampire creeping up behind him, claws extended.

I sucked in a breath, broke into a sprint, and shoved him out of the way—taking that killing blow myself.

I'm dead either way.

So let's roll the dice.