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The first thing I learned as an omega was how to be invisible.
Invisible when the pack gathered in the training yard and the stronger wolves shoved past me like I was nothing more than air. Invisible when my father's gaze slid over me at the dinner table, sharp only when I made a mistake. Invisible when my sister Bianca laughed too loudly, too brightly, and everyone leaned closer to her warmth instead of my silence.
I learned how to keep my head down. How to work twice as hard and speak half as much. How to survive.
But for three years, there had been one place where I was not invisible.
Adrian.
I still remembered the night the mate bond snapped into place. My eighteenth birthday. The moon high and full. My heart raced with joy so sharp it hurt. I had felt it then, a sudden pull in my chest, like fate itself had wrapped a thread around my soul and tied it to his.
Mine.
That was what my wolf had whispered, stunned and breathless.
Adrian had felt it too. I saw it in his eyes when they met mine across the clearing—shock, hunger, something dangerously close to fear.
"Not yet," he told me later, his hands warm on my waist, his voice low. "My father won't understand. Bianca won't understand. We have to be careful."
So I waited.
Three years of waiting. Three years of secrecy. Three years of stolen moments and quiet promises.
And tonight, as I scrubbed Bianca's breakfast plates while she lounged at the table filing her nails, I told myself it would all finally be worth it.
"Hurry up, Elena," Bianca said without looking up. "You are splashing water everywhere."
"I am almost done," I murmured.
The ceremony was tonight. The Alpha's heir would announce his chosen mate before the entire pack. Adrian had been distant lately, but I understood. The pressure from his father, the expectations, the politics. Once tonight was over, once we were public, everything would be different.
It had to be.
Bianca examined her perfectly manicured nails, tilting them in the light streaming through the kitchen window. Everything about my sister was perfect. Her honey-blonde hair that caught the sun just right. Her porcelain skin that never bore a scar or a bruise. The way she moved through the packhouse like she owned every room she entered.
She did, in a way. Beta blood ran strong in our family, but somehow all of it had pooled in her while I got what was left over.
"You know what tonight is, don't you?" Bianca asked suddenly.
My hands stilled in the soapy water. "The mate ceremony."
"The announcement ceremony," she corrected, finally looking at me. Her blue eyes glittered with something I couldn't name. "Adrian finally gets to claim his true mate in front of everyone."
The bond hummed in my chest, warm and steady. "I know."
"Do you?" She set down her nail file with careful precision. "Because you have been walking around with this pathetic look on your face all week. Like you think something is going to change for you."
I turned back to the dishes, scrubbing harder. "I am just doing my job."
"Your job." Bianca laughed, the sound sharp and bright. "Is that what you call it? Serving me breakfast, cleaning my messes, living in my shadow?"
"Bianca—"
"You know what Father said last night?" She stood, smoothing down her dress. "He said you were lucky he even kept you after Mother died. That any other Beta would have sent a weak omega to the edges of the territory where they belong."
The words hit like a slap, but I forced myself not to react. This was normal. This was how it had always been.
"He said," Bianca continued, stepping closer, "that tonight would be a blessing for our family. That finally, after all these years, we would have something to be proud of."
I gripped the edge of the sink. "I should finish these."
"Look at me."
It wasn't a request. It was an order, backed by the weight of her stronger wolf, her higher rank, everything I didn't have.
I turned slowly.
Bianca stood inches away, her smile cold and lovely. "Do you want to know a secret, little sister?"
My wolf stirred uneasily. "No."
"Adrian is coming by before the ceremony," she said softly. "He wants to make sure I look perfect for tonight. He is very particular about appearances." She reached out and tucked a strand of my damp hair behind my ear, the gesture almost tender. "You understand, don't you? An Alpha heir cannot afford to look weak. And you..."
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to.
The plate in my hand trembled.
"I should go," I managed. "I have other work—"
"You will stay right here." Her voice hardened. "And when Adrian arrives, you will be polite. You will keep your eyes down. You will not embarrass me."
"Why would I embarrass you?"
Something flickered across her face. Triumph, maybe. Or pity dressed up as satisfaction.
"Because tonight," Bianca said, leaning in close enough that I could smell her expensive perfume, "you are finally going to learn your place."
The plate slipped from my fingers.
It shattered in the sink, porcelain exploding against steel. Water splashed across my dress, cold and sudden. I stared down at the broken pieces, sharp and scattered, and something in my chest lurched.
Behind me, Bianca laughed.
"Clumsy," she murmured. "Just like always."
I heard her heels click across the tile as she walked away. The door to the dining room swung shut behind her, leaving me alone with the wreckage.
My hands shook as I pulled the broken pieces from the water. A sharp edge caught my palm, drawing blood. I watched it well up, bright red against my pale skin, and felt nothing.
The bond in my chest was still there. Still warm. Still connecting me to Adrian like it had for three years.
But somewhere underneath that warmth, something else stirred.
Something that felt dangerously like doubt.
I wrapped my bleeding hand in a towel and forced myself to breathe. Tonight. Everything would make sense tonight. Adrian would stand before the pack and tell them the truth. That I was his mate. That the bond was real. That I wasn't invisible anymore.
I had to believe that.
Because if I didn't, what had the last three years been for?
The kitchen door swung open. I turned, expecting Bianca's return, expecting more cruelty disguised as sisterly advice.
But it was Adrian.
He stood in the doorway, golden and perfect in the morning light. His Alpha heir bearing made him seem larger than life, made my omega instincts want to submit, to bow, to make myself even smaller than I already was.
But when his eyes met mine, I saw something that made my breath catch.
Nothing.
Not warmth. Not recognition. Not even the acknowledgment that we shared something sacred and permanent.
Just cold, calculated distance.
"Where is Bianca?" he asked.
Not Elena, are you alright? Not I have been thinking about tonight. Not even We need to talk.
Just three words that confirmed what some terrified part of me had known for weeks.
"Dining room," I whispered.
He moved past me without another word, his shoulder brushing mine. The bond flared at the contact, desperate and aching, but he didn't pause. He didn't look back.
The door swung shut behind him.
And I stood there in the kitchen, blood seeping through the towel wrapped around my hand, surrounded by broken porcelain and the sharp, sudden certainty that something was very, very wrong.
From the other room, I heard Bianca's delighted laugh.
Then Adrian's low voice, warm in a way he hadn't sounded with me in months.
My wolf whimpered.
And deep in my chest, the bond I had trusted for three long years began to feel less like a promise and more like a chain.
I should have run then.
I should have trusted my instincts, the ones screaming at me to leave, to escape, to save myself before it was too late.
But I didn't.
Because later that night, when the pack gathered under the full moon and Adrian stood before them all, I still believed he would choose me.
I still believed the bond meant something.
I still believed, desperately and stupidly, that three years of secrets had been building toward this moment.
The door to the dining room opened again. Bianca appeared, her arm linked through Adrian's, her smile bright and victorious.
She looked at me standing there with my bleeding hand and ruined dress.
She leaned close and whispered, just loud enough for me to hear:
"After tonight, no one will ever believe you were his."
Thunder rolled overhead as night fell.I sat in my cell, the rusted nail clutched in my bleeding palm, and listened to the world prepare for my death.The storm had been building all day. First just distant clouds on the horizon, then a gradual darkening of the sky, then the first fat drops of rain hitting the packhouse roof. Now it was a full tempest—wind howling through the corridors, rain lashing against stone, thunder shaking the very foundations of the building.Perfect weather for an accident.Perfect weather for a prisoner to attempt escape and meet an unfortunate end.Perfect weather for murder disguised as tragedy.The guards stationed outside my cell were getting restless. I could hear them shifting, muttering to each other, their voices carrying down the corridor."How much longer?" one asked."Few more hours," his companion replied. "Alpha said to wait until the storm peaks. Make it look natural.""Nasty business.""It is what it is." The sound of liquid sloshing. A bottle
"I wanted to see you one last time," Bianca said sweetly, her voice echoing softly in the stone corridor.She moved with that effortless grace she had always possessed, every step calculated and perfect. Even here, in the dim torchlight of the prison corridor, she looked beautiful. Untouchable. Like something out of a dream.Or a nightmare.She crouched in front of the bars, bringing herself to my eye level. Close enough that I could see the satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. Far enough that I couldn't reach her through the spelled iron."How are you holding up?" she asked, her tone suggesting genuine concern. Like she actually cared. Like she wasn't the architect of my destruction.I didn't answer. Just stared at her, trying to understand how we had gotten here. How the girl I had grown up with, shared a home with, called sister—had become this."Not talking?" Bianca tilted her head. "That is unlike you. You always had so much to say. So many protests. So many desperate explanations
They voted without hesitation."Aye," Elder Frost had said."Aye," Elder Chen had agreed."Aye," Adrian had confirmed, his voice steady and cold."Aye," my father had finished, sealing my fate with a single word.Not one voice dissented except Hawthorne's, and his objection meant nothing against the unified front of the others.Four votes for execution. One against. The decision was final.I stayed pressed against the wall in the corridor, my chains cold against my wrists, listening as they discussed the logistics of my death like they were planning a dinner party."The method?" Elder Chen asked."Traditional," Marcus replied. "Throat cutting. Quick. Clean. Respectful, despite the crime."Respectful. They were going to murder me and call it respectful."When?" Elder Frost questioned."Tomorrow night," Marcus said. "During the storm."I watched the shadows of their feet through the crack beneath the door. Saw them shift and move as wolves stood, prepared to leave, satisfied with their
They didn't bring me to the meeting.The guards came for me at dawn, dragging me from the cell with rough hands and iron chains that bit into my wrists. I thought they were taking me to the trial. That I would at least be present for my own judgment.I was wrong.They hauled me up the stone stairs, through corridors I barely recognized in my exhausted state, and then stopped in a shadowed alcove near the council chambers. Close enough to hear. Far enough that no one inside would see me."Stay here," one guard ordered, shoving me against the wall. "Don't move. Don't speak. If you make a sound, you will regret it."Then they left me there, chained and hidden, while they went inside to join the others.I pressed myself against the cold stone, my wrists chained in front of me, and listened from the shadows of the lower corridor as pack elders argued about my fate like I wasn't even alive.Like I was already dead."The evidence is clear," Alpha Marcus's voice carried through the partially
The worst part of the cell wasn't the cold.It wasn't the darkness or the damp stone that seeped into my bones. It wasn't the hunger gnawing at my stomach or the thirst that made my throat feel like sandpaper. It wasn't even the iron bars humming with magic designed to keep me weak.It was the silence.The terrible, suffocating silence inside my own head where my wolf used to be.I sat against the wall, my knees pulled to my chest, and reached for her again. The way I had been doing for days now. Searching for that familiar presence, that constant companion who had been with me since I first shifted at thirteen.Please, I begged silently. Please answer me. Please come back.Nothing.Not a whisper. Not a whimper. Not even the faintest flicker of awareness.My wolf didn't stir. Didn't rage. Didn't fight.She was just... gone.I pressed my palm to my chest, right over my heart, panic clawing up my throat. This wasn't normal. Wolves didn't just disappear. Even broken ones, even damaged on
The cell was cold and dark, iron bars humming faintly with warding magic.I felt it the moment they locked me inside—a subtle vibration in the air that pressed against my skin like a warning. The bars weren't just metal. They were spelled. Enchanted to suppress wolf abilities, to keep prisoners weak and contained.Not that I needed magic to keep me weak.My wolf was already gone.I sat in the corner, my back against the damp stone wall, and tried once again to reach for her. That constant presence that had been with me since I was a child. The voice that whispered strength when I had none. The instinct that kept me alive.Please, I thought desperately. Please come back. I need you.Nothing.Just terrible, suffocating silence.My wolf had curled into herself somewhere deep inside me and refused to respond. Like she was protecting herself from pain the only way she knew how—by disappearing completely.Maybe she had the right idea.Hours passed. Or maybe days. Time moved strangely in the







