THE ADOPTED DAUGHTER SENT TO PRISON BECAME THE LYCAN'S MATE

The concrete floor pressed freezing cold against Penelope’s cheek as a heavy boot slammed into her ribs.

She curled her knees tighter to her chest and bit her split lip to keep from making a sound.

Three female inmates stood over her in the dim cell.

"You think you're better than us?" the tallest one spat.

The woman grabbed a handful of Penelope’s matted hair and yanked her head back, forcing Penelope to look up at her glowing gold eyes.

"You think your rich daddy is coming back to save you?" the inmate laughed.

Penelope didn't answer.

She closed her eyes and reached inward, desperately searching for the familiar warmth of her wolf. She just needed a tiny spark of strength to heal the broken skin on her face.

There was nothing but silence.

The bond had been dead for over a year, leaving her trapped in a fragile human body that couldn't handle much more abuse.

Another kick landed hard on her thigh.

Penelope gasped, tasting copper on her tongue, and braced for the next strike.

"Back off!" a harsh voice echoed through the corridor.

The heavy boots immediately shuffled away.

The cell door rattled open with a loud screech of rusted iron.

Penelope kept her arms wrapped over her head, waiting for the guard's baton to strike her shoulders.

"Get up, Inmate 402," the guard barked.

Penelope slowly pushed herself onto her hands and knees. She kept her gaze fixed on the filthy floor.

"Wash the blood off your face," the guard said, tossing a rough gray towel at her feet. "You're leaving."

Penelope stared at the fabric.

She wasn't due for release for another three years.

"Move it," the guard snapped. "Your Alpha is waiting in the warden's office."

Penelope limped down the fluorescent-lit hallway, dragging her left leg slightly.

Her oversized prison uniform hung off her starved frame, the rough material scraping against her bruised collarbones. The fresh cut on her cheek throbbed with every step she took toward the front of the building.

The guard pushed open the wooden door to the main office.

Penelope kept her head down as her bare feet stepped onto the plush carpet.

The air inside the room smelled of expensive pine and clean rain. It was a scent that used to mean safety and home.

Orion stood near the warden's desk. He wore a tailored charcoal suit that looked absurdly out of place in a labor prison.

He looked exactly the same as the night he begged her to confess to Stella's crime.

Penelope stopped just inside the doorway.

Orion turned around, and his eyes immediately dropped to her bruised face and frail posture.

He took a step forward, his expression softening into the familiar, protective look he used to give her when they were kids. He opened his arms slightly.

He clearly expected her to run to him. He expected the girl who used to cry into his chest and demand his comfort whenever someone hurt her.

Penelope didn't move.

She stared at his polished leather shoes, her face an unreadable mask.

"Penelope," Orion said softly. "Come here."

She forced her aching back to bend and lowered her head into a stiff, formal bow.

"Alpha," she replied, her voice raspy and dry.

Orion’s arms dropped slowly to his sides.

The warmth vanished from his face, replaced instantly by a tight-jawed irritation. He stared at her bowed head and let out a sharp breath.

"Are we really doing this?" he asked.

Penelope kept her eyes on the floor. "Doing what, Alpha?"

Orion ran a hand through his hair. "Playing the victim. I know you're mad, but I came all the way out here to bring you home early."

She stood up straight, ignoring the sharp pain in her fractured ribs.

"Thank you, Alpha."

Orion turned his back and picked up a stack of release papers from the desk.

"Where are your belongings?" he asked, looking around the empty office.

"I don't have any," Penelope said.

Orion frowned. "Nothing? Not even the coat you left in?"

"No, Alpha."

He rubbed his temples. "Fine. We'll send someone to buy you new clothes later. Let's just go."

He assumed her deadpan obedience was just a silent, bitter tantrum designed to make him feel guilty. He had no idea she simply had nothing left to give him.

The leather seat of the luxury SUV felt too soft beneath her aching body.

Penelope sat rigid by the passenger window. She kept her dirty hands folded tightly in her lap so she wouldn't leave stains on the expensive interior.

Orion steered the car away from the prison gates without glancing in her direction.

The silence stretched between them for miles, thick and suffocating.

"Mother has been sick again," Orion finally said, keeping his eyes on the road.

Penelope felt a dull ache in her chest at the mention of her adoptive mother, but she kept her face blank.

"So I need you to behave," Orion continued, his tone hardening.

Penelope watched the dark trees blur past the window.

"Stella is very fragile right now," he said. "The Lycan King is arriving at the estate tonight, and the pack cannot afford any scandals."

He gripped the steering wheel tighter.

"King Landon is arriving with his Beta to discuss trade routes, but they might be looking at Stella for a potential alliance. I know you're angry about the sentence, Penelope. But you are not going to ruin this week for your sister. Do you understand?"

Penelope didn't argue.

She didn't scream that Stella was the real criminal. She didn't demand to know why nobody ever visited her or sent a single letter.

She already knew the answer. They had chosen their real blood over her.

"I understand," Penelope said quietly. "I won't disturb her."

Orion shot her a sharp glance.

He had clearly prepared himself for a massive fight, armed with lectures and warnings to shut down her jealousy. Her calm, hollow agreement left him with nowhere to direct his frustration.

"Good," he clipped, turning back to the road. "Because if you start bullying her again, I will send you right back to a holding cell. I mean it."

"I know you do."

Orion frowned, his grip on the wheel slipping slightly.

He opened his mouth to argue, but the blank look on her face stopped him.

The car slowed to a halt at a red light on the edge of the city.

Orion let out a tired sigh and leaned back against the headrest. He looked over at the passenger seat, his annoyance flickering as he really looked at her for the first time since they left the prison.

Penelope was staring straight ahead, her face pale and sunken under the streetlights.

A dark, ugly bruise bloomed along her jawline. A thin trail of dried blood ran down her neck, disappearing beneath the dirty collar of her shirt.

Something like guilt flashed in Orion's eyes.

"Jesus, what did you do to your neck?" he asked, his voice dropping its harsh edge.

He leaned across the center console and reached a hand toward her face to tilt her chin.

Penelope saw the sudden movement out of the corner of her eye.

Her body reacted before her mind could process who it was.

She gasped, violently throwing herself backward against the passenger door.

Penelope curled into a tight ball, throwing both arms over her head to shield her face. She tucked her knees up to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut.

Her whole body trembled as she braced for the impact of a fist.

Orion froze.

His hand hovered in the empty air between them.

He stared at his sister, watching her cower against the door like a beaten stray dog.

For the first time since he asked her to take the fall, Orion realized something might be seriously wrong with her.