Beatrix POV: I pushed open the half-closed carved wooden door to my fiancé Cheyenne Boone's private villa, and the cloying, sweet scent of an Omega in the middle of The Heat slammed into my nose. Immediately afterward, I saw that, at the far end of the corridor, two naked bodies were entwined on the leather sofa. A woman was beneath Cheyenne, her clothes half undone, her soft moans echoing through the empty hall. My fists clenched before I realized it. My nails dug into my palms. Cheyenne's head snapped toward the door at the sound of my footsteps. Panic flashed across his gray-blue eyes before he yanked his uniform jacket over the half-undressed woman beneath him, his movements clumsy and frantic. The woman let out a small, frightened gasp and shrank against his chest, her amber eyes wide and brimming with tears. She clutched the jacket around herself with trembling fingers, looking for all the world like a startled little doe. "Beatrix, why didn't you knock?"Cheyenne attacked first, trying to mask his guilt with preemptive anger. He strode toward me, bringing a wave of Alpha pressure with him. I looked at him coldly and did not step back. Three years ago, the night before he left for the northern front, Cheyenne promised he would come back and marry me. I believed him and counted every day he was gone. Last night, when I heard he had returned in triumph, I could barely sleep , this morning, I dressed carefully and went to his estate at dawn. Only to walk in on that disgusting scene.And my gaze went past his shoulder to the Omega. Behind Cheyenne, Her lips curved into a slow, venomous smirk, and she tilted her head at me with open mockery. "Knock? So you two could put your clothes on and let you keep playing the devoted fiancé?" My blunt words turned Cheyenne's face stiff. He frowned, lifting his chin with condescending arrogance as he adjusted his Defense Captain collar. "Since you saw us, I won't hide it anymore. This is Gwendolyn, I was badly wounded on the northern front. She saved me. For the past three years, she has been the one beside me in camp.Gwendolyn is carrying my pup, and she needs an official title." A cold laugh tore from my throat as my fingernails dug deep into my palms."So what? Are you calling off our wedding?" "No." He puffed out his chest like he was doing me a grand favor. "You're the eldest daughter of the Cantrell Pack, so the engagement stands. But I'll have Gwendolyn marry in under your name and become my official wife, and you can be my secret mistress under my protection since you're wolfless." Gwendolyn immediately lowered her head and pressed herself against Cheyenne's arm, her voice quivering with feigned sympathy. "That's right, sister. You were born without an Inner Wolf gene and can't even shift or use a Mind-Link—how could a defective wolfless like you survive without Cheyenne?" My stomach heaved at the sight of the two of them. When Cheyenne reached out to pat my shoulder, I slapped his hand away with everything I had. "Don't touch me with the hand that touched her. It's filthy." "Beatrix! Don't push your luck!" Cheyenne roared, unleashing his Alpha's Commandaura until the crystal glasses on the side table rattled. An Alpha's Command forces lower-ranking wolves in the same pack into physical submission, though my hidden White Wolf royal bloodline made me completely immune to his weak pressure. But I deliberately turned pale and took half a step back, biting my teeth as I stared at him. "Save your rutting tricks for someone else." Before he could lunge, the heavy front doors swung open. My father, Alpha Farrell Cantrell, marched inside,he glanced at the half-dressed Omega, furrowed his brow, and didn't say a single angry word to Cheyenne. "Father, you see what's happening. He betrayed our engagement."I turned to Farrell, searching his face for one last shred of paternal protection. Farrell swept a cold gaze over me, his voice flat and final. "Cheyenne is the Defense Captain of Black Ridge Pack, so having a few Omegas on the side is normal. For a wolfless embarrassment like you to marry him is already a blessing, so do as he says." His words hit me like a bucket of ice water poured from my head to my heels, chilling me to the bone. Looking at my father's greedy, calculating face, the last bit of hope in my chest shattered into dust, and my lips twisted into a sharp sneer. Cheyenne raised his chin in triumph, his gray-blue eyes gleaming."Did you hear that, Beatrix? Know your place." I took a deep breath and took out the sterling silver badge representing the engagement from my bag. In their incredible eyes, I slammed it on the floor and let out a clear and it cracked with a loud snap. "I don't want this trash engagement."I bit out every word, my voice colder than winter frost."Cheyenne, from today on, we have nothing to do with each other." Cheyenne's eyes bulged as if he couldn't believe a useless discard dared to dump him. "Have you lost your mind? Without me, which pack do you think would ever take you in?" "Marrying a feral Rogue in the wasteland would be better than tying myself to a disgusting deserter like you." I pressed hard on the word "deserter," watching terror flash across the back of his eyes at the mention of the silver-storm battlefield where he had secretly abandoned his commander. "You ungrateful wretch! How dare you treat a pack alliance like a joke?" Farrell exploded, raising his heavy palm to strike my cheek. I caught his wrist mid-air, twisted my waist, and used an underground fighting leverage technique to shove him sideways. He stumbled back two full steps, his boots skidding across the floor while Cheyenne and Gwendolyn gasped in shock. "My marriage is my own business from now on."I dropped the words without looking back, spinning on my heel and striding out the front doors. "Where can a wolfless cripple like you even go? You'll come crawling back on your knees begging Cheyenne!" Gwendolyn's shrill scream faded behind me as I pushed outside, where the crisp pine-scented wind blew away the suffocating stench of white lilies. Walking down the front steps onto the gravel driveway, I pulled out my smartphone and stared at the breaking news banner from the billionaire Black Ridge Pack. If the Cantrell family wanted to use me as a stepping stone, I would find a backer powerful enough to crush them underfoot. And in the entire werewolf world, who was more suitable to be a mutually non-interfering contract husband than the supreme leader rumored to be seriously injured and comatose—Constantine Boone?

Beatrix POV: As I left Cheyenne Boone’s estate and headed back to the Cantrell property, I passed the lake in the gardens. High, affected laughter drifted from the marble pavilion ahead. I frowned and peered through the willow branches. My adoptive sister, Kylee Cantrell, sat surrounded by three high-society she-wolves from allied packs. She wore a custom designer gown reserved for high-ranking pack heirs. "I heard that wolfless waste Beatrix just got dumped by Captain Cheyenne? How pathetic," one she-wolf said, covering her mouth with a giggle. Kylee let out a fake, theatrical sigh, though her eyes danced with malice. "My sister has no Inner Wolf and such a nasty temper. Of course Cheyenne prefers a gentle, fertile Omega over a barren stone." Looking at her smug expression, my nails almost dug into my palm. If I hadn’t been swapped at birth, she would never have had such a good life. Before my family found me at fifteen, I grew up in the black market under the whip, raised in blood and sweat, born only to serve high-ranking werewolf nobles as a tool. Because my skills were exceptional, Cheyenne’s family bought me to train him and serve as his sparring partner. Later, I finally returned to the Cantrell family, only to find that my biological parents already had a beloved daughter, Kylee, who had taken my place. Just because I had spent time with Cheyenne, our families arranged an engagement for their own interests. I had always longed for a family of my own, so I agreed.But I made the wrong choice. Just as I was about to bypass them and return to my room, my personal maid, Maeve, came hurrying down the side path with a porcelain tea tray. Maeve was a blunt, loyal Beta who had served me since I returned from the border towns. Hearing their slander, she slammed the wooden tray onto the stone table outside the pavilion, splashing hot tea across the marble. "Our eldest miss is the one who dumped that cheating bastard! Stop flapping your tongues here!" The socialites jumped, and Kylee’s sweet expression darkened. "What kind of low-bred servant are you to speak to me in that tone?" Maeve straightened her spine. "I belong to Miss Beatrix! And stop acting so high and mighty, Second Miss—everyone knows you’re just an adopted commoner without a drop of noble Alpha blood, yet you strut around like a real heiress after stealing her place!" Those words hit Kylee’s sorest spot. In our world, genetics dictated rank from birth and could never be changed by effort. The gentle mask on Kylee’s face cracked completely, her features twisting into an ugly snarl. "You’re courting death!" Kylee shrieked and swung her arm, slapping Maeve across the face with a sharp crack that echoed over the lake. Maeve’s head whipped to the side, and a red trickle of blood oozed from the corner of her mouth, yet she gritted her teeth and glared back. "What’s wrong, did I poke where it hurts?" Seeing Kylee raise her hand again, I sprinted out from behind the willow trees and shouted, "Kylee, stop right there!" When Kylee saw me charging toward the pavilion, pure hatred flared in her pupils. Instead of pulling her hand back, she lunged forward and shoved both hands hard against Maeve’s chest at the edge of the stone deck. Caught off guard, Maeve lost her footing, cried out as she tipped backward over the low railing, and hit the freezing lake water with a heavy splash. "Maeve!" My heart felt as if an invisible hand had squeezed it shut. I bolted to the water’s edge, where violent splashes churned the surface. Kylee stood on the stone terrace and dusted off her palms, a cruel smile curving her painted lips. "An unruly servant needed a dip in the cold water to learn some manners." "She doesn’t know how to swim!” I roared, whipping my head around to lock eyes on Kylee. "If anything happens to her, I’ll make you pay with your life!" The three socialites backed away toward the pavilion steps, folding their arms and watching the churning water like afternoon theater. Without pausing to strip off my jacket, I sucked in a deep breath and dove straight into the icy lake. Freezing water flooded my nose and mouth as I forced my eyes open in the murky depths. Relying on my enhanced White Wolf night vision, I spotted Maeve sinking toward the silt, kicked hard, and grabbed her arm. As I hauled her limp body upward, my fingers brushed her torn uniform shoulder—three jagged, bone-deep gashes were pumping dark blood into the water. Those were Dire Wolf claw marks! During the split second Kylee pushed her, that vicious fake heiress had triggered a partial shift in her fingers to rip Maeve’s flesh open. Rage boiled in my blood as my lungs burned for air. I kicked hard toward the surface, broke through gasping, and dragged the unconscious Beta onto the grassy bank. Maeve lay motionless, eyes shut tight, her face paper-white while fresh blood soaked the green lawn around her shoulder. Kylee strolled to the edge of the pavilion, looking down at my dripping clothes without a trace of guilt. "Oh dear, sister, why get yourself so messy over a cheap Beta maid?" I rose slowly to my feet, cold lake water dripping from my chin as I walked up the pavilion steps and locked my gaze on her throat. "You dared to use wolf claws on her." My voice dropped to a deadly whisper as my right hand shot out, clamped around Kylee’s neck, and slammed her spine against the marble pillar. Kylee’s face turned purple as she clawed wildly at my wrist, her eyes bulging in horror when she realized her wolf-enhanced strength couldn’t pry open the grip of a "weak wolfless." Just as I tightened my fingers to crush her windpipe, a furious roar thundered from the garden path behind me. "Beatrix! Let go of her right now!"

Beatrix POV: My eldest brother, Daron Cantrell, charged up the pavilion steps with fury blazing in his dark brown eyes, grabbed my wet wrist with his Alpha-ranked grip, and yanked my arm backward. I released my hold on Kylee's throat and shifted my weight into a low combat stance so I wouldn't fall, watching coldly as Daron pulled our coughing adoptive sister against his chest. "Daron... she tried to strangle me to death..." Kylee collapsed into his arms right on cue, tears spilling down her cheeks as she trembled like a wounded fawn while Daron stroked her golden-chestnut hair over and over. Daron whipped his head around and glared at me, his knuckles popping. "Beatrix, have you gone insane? How dare you lay a violent hand on your own sister? Kylee is innocent!" "She shoved Maeve into the lake and tore her shoulder open with wolf claws." I pointed down at Maeve bleeding on the grass, my voice flat and icy. "Are you blind, or do you only have eyes for your fake sister?" Daron spared Maeve a brief, disgusted glance. "An insolent servant deserves to be disciplined. Even with Beta healing, she won't die—now apologize to Kylee at once!" Watching the two of them cling to each other under the guise of pure sibling affection made my stomach turn. Ignoring Daron's barking, I turned my back on them and dropped to my knees beside Maeve on the lawn. Maeve's breathing was shallow and rapid; injuries caused by shifted Dire Wolf claws carried a tearing toxin that stopped normal coagulation. I ripped a clean strip of linen from my inner hem, pressed my thumbs hard against three nerve-and-vessel points around her collarbone, and used an ancient werewolf herbalist acupressure technique to seal her main artery. "Carry her back to my quarters." I barked the order at two trembling Omega gardeners standing by the hedge, then followed them down the path without giving Daron or Kylee another glance. Once inside my remote courtyard bedroom, I bolted the oak door and pulled a weathered cedar box from a hidden compartment beneath my floorboards. Inside lay dried silver-leaf moonwort and blood-clotting roots I had gathered in the borderlands. I crushed the bitter herbs between my palms, packed the paste over Maeve's jagged claw wounds, and wrapped her shoulder tight. Only when her pale cheeks regained a faint flush and her chest rose evenly did my racing pulse begin to slow. Staring at her bloodstained bandages, I bit my lower lip until I tasted copper. In this ruthless pack hierarchy, if I didn't secure absolute power soon, the Cantrells would tear us both to pieces. I walked over to my writing desk, unlocked the bottom drawer, and pulled out a heavy brass coin engraved with an iris totem. Five years ago in the lawless black market, I had used my herbal skills to save Agatha, the personal confidante of the Royal Dowager, and she had given me this token for a single life-or-death favor. I couldn’t reveal my wolf abilities, and I couldn’t use the Mind-Link either. So I picked up my phone and dialed the memorized eleven-digit number. It rang twice before Agatha’s calm voice came through the speaker. "Miss Beatrix?" "Agatha, I need an audience with the Dowager today." I kept my voice low and steady while glancing at my locked door. "I have a proposal regarding the Black Ridge Pack marriage." Thirty minutes later, I slipped out through the unguarded drainage tunnel behind the estate hills and climbed into the black bulletproof Maybach Agatha had waiting on the highway. The sedan glided through the heavily fortified gates of the Royal Pack territory, where Agatha led me into a quiet greenhouse tearoom. The Dowager sat in a velvet armchair, dressed in a regal charcoal silk suit, sipping black tea from a bone-china cup. "You want to take Kylee's place and marry Constantine Boone of the Black Ridge Pack?" The Dowager set her cup onto its saucer, her sharp gray eyes studying my still-damp hair. "Do you know that after taking three liquid-silver sniper rounds to the chest, he is a brain-dead vegetable who could lose his Lycan wolf and stop breathing at any moment?" "I know." I met her gaze without blinking. "And I also know the Black Ridge conglomerate needs an official Luna to stabilize their board and military defense, while I need an untouchable title to sever ties with the Cantrell Pack forever." The Dowager let out a soft chuckle, tapping her manicured fingernail against the porcelain rim. "You are far sharper than that whining adoptive girl your mother dotes on. However, an edict from the Alpha King is not a toy to be swapped on a whim." "The Cantrells are trying to fool the royal family and Black Ridge by sending a low-born commoner in place of a blood daughter."I laid my trump card squarely on the table. "If Constantine ever wakes up and discovers the fraud, it will trigger a pack war—whereas I carry the true, pure Cantrell bloodline." The Dowager narrowed her eyes in thought for a long moment before nodding once. "If you are willing to act as this living sacrifice to ward off his bad luck, I will speak to Alpha King Enrique tonight and have the bride's name changed." "It's a deal." I bowed my head, my fingers curling tightly around the brass iris coin in my pocket before Agatha escorted me back to the car. Night had fallen by the time I crept back through the estate tunnel and pushed open my bedroom door, where the sharp, uninvited scent of pine and gun oil hit my nostrils. I spun around toward the dark sitting area just as Cheyenne stood up from my armchair, twirling my fountain pen between his fingers. "Where have you been all afternoon?" He raised his chin, questioning me as if he still owned every breath I took. I pointed straight at the door, my face like carved ice. "Get out of my room." Instead of leaving, Cheyenne took two long strides toward me, a smug, self-assured grin spreading across his face. "My guards saw you sneaking back from the direction of the Royal territory—what, did you finally come to your senses and go beg the Dowager to force me to marry you?"