CHAPTER 2

"Cameron?"

The name hung in the air, bitter as wolfsbane. Cameron Steele didn't look at me. He was focused on the woman sobbing on the silk sheets of our bed—Lexi Hart.

"My hand, Cam! It’s making a crunching sound," Lexi wailed, clutching her wrist like it was a severed limb. "I can’t shift like this. I’ll be a cripple. How am I supposed to run with the pack?"

Cameron lifted her onto the pillows, his touch gentler than any he’d ever wasted on me. "I’ll get a healer. You're fine." He turned his head, his blue eyes cold enough to freeze the marrow in my bones. "Apologize to Lexi. Now."

Lexi was the high-blood heiress. The 'pure' wolf. I was just the omega placeholder he’d been forced to tether himself to after his near-death accident three years ago. If her family, the Hart Pack, found out I’d bruised their precious daughter, they’d hunt me for sport.

My chest tightened. He used that tone—the Alpha command—but it didn't work on me anymore. "Apologize?"

"You laid paws on her," Cameron growled, stepping toward me. The scent of storm clouds and anger rolled off him. "Even a pup knows better. Do you have any idea what her hands are worth to the pack's legacy?"

I stood my ground, though my wolf was shivering in the dark corners of my mind. "She lunged at me first, Cameron. Ask your butler."

Kaleb, the Steele family’s loyal dog, stood by the door with a sneer. "Alpha, I saw it. Sierra shoved her for no reason."

Cameron’s jaw pulsed. "Apologize!"

"What if I don't? You'll throw me in the dungeon?"

He laughed, a dry, cruel sound. "Don't get cocky. Think about your uncle. James is still rotting in that hospital bed, isn't he? One call and I stop the life support."

The air left my lungs. He was using a dying man to break me. My eyes burned, but I refused to let a single tear drop. I looked at Lexi, who was watching me with a smug, needle-sharp grin.

"I'm sorry," I choked out.

Lexi sighed, patting the bed. "I'll let it slide, Tim—I mean, Cameron—just for you."

I didn't wait. I turned to the desk, grabbed the signed dissolution papers, and shoved them into Cameron’s chest. "Take them. We're done."

He stared at the signature, his brow furrowing. For three years, I’d clung to him. He expected a fight. He expected me to beg for another month. "You signed them that fast?"

"I'm leaving." I grabbed my single, battered suitcase.

"Where will you go? You have nothing," he said, his voice dropping an octave. Was that... doubt?

"Not your problem."

He looked away, his posture stiffening. "Go get some ice for her ankle. She sprained it because of your temper. Do one last thing right before you tuck tail and run."

The humiliation tasted like copper in my mouth. I was the Alpha's wife, and he was treating me like a floor-scrubber for his mistress. I walked downstairs, my legs feeling like lead. I missed a step, my heel catching on the edge of the stairs. I reached out, knocking over an ancient stone vase. It shattered, the dirt spilling across the marble.

A hand clamped around my waist, yanking me back against a hard, warm chest.

Cameron.

His scent hit me—musk, rain, and raw male power. He held me so tight I could hear the rhythmic thud of his heart. My face was buried in his neck. For a second, I forgot the divorce. I forgot Lexi. I just felt the heat of him.

Then he shoved me away. "Watch where you're going. I don't need a brain-dead omega on my hands."

"I'll clean it up," I whispered.

"Let the servants do it. Get the ice." He turned and headed back up, a smudge of dirt from the vase staining his white shirt. He didn't even notice. He was too busy rushing back to her.

I climbed back up with the ice pack. The master suite door was ajar. The sound of a running shower echoed from the bathroom. Cameron was washing off the day.

Lexi leaned back against the headboard, her eyes gleaming. "Drop the ice and get out. Unless you want to watch? It’s been three years since Tim and I really... connected. We have a lot of lost time to make up for in this bed."

My stomach turned. They were going to fuck on the sheets I’d washed yesterday.

I ignored her, walking into the closet to grab the last of my things.

"Kaleb!" Lexi shouted. "That suitcase looks too expensive for a stray. Give her a trash bag."

The butler appeared, tossing a grimy, plastic sack at my feet. "Use this, 'Luna'."

I started dumping my clothes into the bag. My hand hit the pregnancy test I'd hidden in my silk robe. If they searched me—if they saw it—Cameron would force me to end it. He'd said it himself: no weak pups.

I heard the shower stop. Panicking, I ripped the cardboard test into tiny shreds. I didn't have a bin. I didn't have time. I shoved the pieces into my mouth and swallowed them dry, the sharp edges scratching my throat.

"Check her bag," Lexi called out. "Make sure she didn't steal the silver."

I walked out, clutching the trash bag. "Want to see? It's just rags."

Lexi wrinkled her nose. "God, that bag smells like the slums. Just get out. You’re polluting the air."

Kaleb gave me a hard shove toward the door. "You heard her. Move."

I walked out of the Steele Residence into the biting Northlands wind. I made it to the edge of the woods before I collapsed onto the dirt, the trash bag spilling open.

My phone vibrated. Aunt Patricia.

"Auntie," I sobbed, finally breaking. "It's over. I'm alone. I have no pack. No family."

"Sierra? Stop that crying right now," Patricia’s voice crackled. "I have news. Your real bloodline found me. You aren't an orphan, you silly girl."

I wiped my nose with my sleeve. "What?"

"The Vaughn Great-Pack. You have five brothers and a circle of cousins. They’re the lords of the ancient territories, Sierra. And they’re coming to burn that city down to find you."

The phone died. Battery at zero.

I looked back at the Steele towers, then toward the dark, rising mountains of the North. The Vaughn blood was calling.

And they were coming for blood.