LOGINCamille's POV The blood looked black in the candlelight.Thirteen flames ringed the stone floor of the old chapel—a ruin at the edge of Shadow Moon territory that Morgana had chosen for its isolation. The witches stood in a circle, their faces half-shadowed, their eyes fixed on the document spread before me.The kill-condition. Written in formal script on paper that smelled of age and iron. A contract that gave thirteen women permission to end my life if the thing inside me ever broke free.I had already agreed verbally. Now they wanted it in blood."The old laws require physical commitment." Vera held a silver knife, its edge gleaming. "Words can be broken. Blood cannot be denied."I held out my hand without hesitation. The blade bit into my palm—a clean, cold pain that felt almost familiar after everything I had survived. Blood welled up, dark and thick, and I pressed my palm against the document.The paper absorbed it. Drank it down like something alive."It's done." Vera's voice
Camille's POV The first witch arrived at dawn.She came out of the mist like a ghost—small, bent, her silver hair hidden beneath a traveling hood that had seen decades of wear. She walked through Shadow Moon's gates without asking permission, her eyes fixed straight ahead, ignoring the sentries who moved to intercept her.I watched from the main house as she crossed the courtyard. There was something in her gait—a deliberate slowness that spoke of pain carefully managed, of joints that had been broken and healed wrong, of a body that remembered violence.She stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked up at me.Her eyes were milky with age, but the intelligence behind them was sharp. Calculating. She studied me the way you might study a weapon you weren't sure was loaded."So." Her voice cracked with disuse. "You're Rose's daughter.""Yes.""You don't look like her." She climbed the steps slowly. "Rose had kind eyes. Yours are hard. Survivor's eyes.""I had a hard teacher."She pau
Camille's POV "No."The word came out stronger than I expected. Clearer. More certain.I stood in the council chamber, surrounded by the same elders who had debated my fate for months, facing the same impossible choice that had haunted me since I was eighteen years old. Bond with a powerful man or be destroyed. Surrender my identity or lose my life.I had made that choice once. I would not make it again."The Council's deadline is real." Casimir's voice dripped with false concern. "The mate bond is the only protection that—""The mate bond is a cage." I cut him off. "A prettier cage than the one Holden built for me, but a cage nonetheless. I spent seven years trapped in a marriage I didn't choose. I will not spend the rest of my life trapped in a bond I was forced into by bureaucratic convenience."The chamber erupted. Elders shouted over each other—some demanding I see reason, others celebrating what they saw as my inevitable destruction. Through it all, I kept my eyes fixed on Dimi
Camille's POV Eleven days.The number haunted me like a death sentence. Eleven days until the Council's sixty-day evaluation period expired. Eleven days until they had legal grounds to demand my surrender—and Shadow Moon's compliance. Eleven days until every protection I had built crumbled under the weight of bureaucratic inevitability.I stopped investigating.The crypt, the empty coffin, the man without a body—all of it would have to wait. I couldn't fight an enemy I didn't understand while simultaneously battling an institution that wanted me dead. So I made the harder choice. I put aside my search for the truth and focused on survival.The war room became a courtroom. Maps were replaced by legal documents. Battle strategies gave way to procedural analysis. For three days, I read everything Shadow Moon's archives contained about Council hearings—the rules, the precedents, the documented cases of hybrids who had faced judgment.Most of them ended with execution orders.But not all.
Camille's POV The crypt doors hadn't been opened in twenty-five years.I stood before them at midnight, the moon casting silver shadows across weathered stone, Marcus beside me with a crowbar and an expression that said he was questioning every decision that had led him here. The Ford family crypt sat on a hill overlooking Silver Creek territory—a mausoleum built by generations of Alphas, housing the bones of wolves who had ruled this land for centuries.Including the man who had given Ilse her instructions eight months after his funeral."This is desecration." Marcus's voice was low, uncertain. "If anyone finds out—""Then we find out first." I took the crowbar from his hands. "A dead Alpha doesn't walk into cottages and arrange marriages. Someone is using his identity, his authority, his connections. And I want to know who."The logic was simple. If the old Alpha was truly dead—truly buried, truly gone—then someone had been impersonating him. Someone had stolen his face, his voice,
Camille's POV The gates of Silver Creek stood open.I walked through them alone, Holden's safe-conduct clutched in my hand, my spine straight and my chin raised. Behind me, Dimitri and Maya waited at the tree line—close enough to intervene if things went wrong, far enough to respect the terms I had negotiated.This was something I needed to do myself.The wolves of Silver Creek lined the main path like an honor guard of hatred. I recognized faces—the enforcers who had dragged me before their Alpha, the women who had whispered behind my back for seven years, the children who had been taught that hybrids were monsters. They watched me pass with expressions that ranged from fear to fury to something that looked almost like shame.But no one touched me.Marcus's defection had broken something in this pack. The revelation that their leadership had been manipulated for years, that their former Alpha had been drugged into compliance, that their trusted Beta had chosen the enemy—it had shatt







