Elara POV: The night my real parents finally sent for me, I found a dying man in the woods. I had been waiting four days for the wild ginger to open on the north slope of the Cascades. My foster mother's cough always got worse in October, and the pharmacy in town wanted forty dollars for a bottle of syrup. I tucked the roots into my basket and stood up. My boot hit something wet. A dark smear ran across the pine needles. Heavy, dragging footprints led deeper into the trees. I followed them. He was slumped against the base of a cedar. Six feet of broad shoulders in black tactical gear, his face streaked with thick dark paint. His chest barely moved. "Mister?" I dropped my basket and knelt beside him. "Mister, can you hear me?" His eyes snapped open. Deep, ice-blue irises blazed with wild fury as his large hand shot out, clamping around my throat and slamming me against the freezing rock wall. I clawed at his wrist, kicking my legs, but his grip was like iron. The crushing weight of an apex Alpha's Dominion rolled off him, suffocating me. To the rest of the world, I was a wolfless—born with a genetic defect that left me without an Inner Wolf, unable to shift or use a Mind-Link. Only I knew the truth buried deep in my veins: I carried the noble bloodline of the White Wolf. Yet because I had never been able to awaken or wield that dormant power, I had zero defense against his crushing aura. His ragged, scalding breath hit the curve of my neck, followed by a low, tortured growl vibrating in his chest. The bitter scent of wolfsbane leaked from his pores, tangling with the feverish spike of The Heat under the full moon. I opened my mouth to scream for help, but his lips crashed down onto mine in a savage, bruising kiss. A violent jolt of electricity shot straight from my lips to my toes, making my heart hammer against my ribs. I pounded my fists against his broad shoulders as tears mixed with the rainwater on my face. Yet the blistering heat of his body and a strange, undeniable pull deep in my soul slowly drained all the strength from my limbs. Beneath the roar of the storm outside, he tore away my torn clothes and my last defenses. I threw my head back, biting my lower lip until it bled as a tearing pain ripped through my body. In the pitch dark, a flicker of sanity seemed to return to his eyes. His rough palm cupped my wet cheek, and his hoarse voice murmured an ancient vow against my ear that I could not understand. My body finally gave out under his relentless power, and darkness swallowed me whole on the cold stone. He had claimed my body, though his fangs never sank into my neck to leave a permanent Marking. Hours later, the gold faded from his eyes, and he collapsed dead-weight across my chest. I pushed him off me an inch at a time. When I sat up, the woods spun. Every muscle in my body screamed. My flannel shirt was torn down the front, the buttons gone, and there was blood on the hem of my undershirt. I pulled the edges of the flannel together with shaking fingers and wiped my wet cheeks with the back of my wrist. Something hard was pressed into my right palm. Just before he blacked out, he had forced my fingers closed around it. It was a heavy ring made of old silver, set with a pale moonstone that caught the dark. His last words were still ringing in my ears, rough and slurred against my throat. "I'll take responsibility." At the bottom of the hill, a fleet of sleek black sedans blocked the road. Thomas, the butler of the Kowalski estate, stepped out in a tailored tailcoat holding a black umbrella. "Miss Elara, the Master and Madam sent me to bring you back to the capital." I stared at the man in the suit. Eighteen years, and not one birthday card. Tonight they had sent a car. "Are they really waiting for me?" My voice cracked. "The Kowalskis are anxious to see you, Miss Elara," Mr. Thomas said. His face was polite now, his eyes cold. "If you would hurry. We have a long drive." As we pulled onto the gravel road, I pressed the stranger's ring against my palm and thought that, after eighteen years, they had finally come for me.

Elara POV: When the car pulled into the grand Kowalski estate, I stepped into the brightly lit living room and met three pairs of cold, disgusted eyes. Before we reached the living room archway, voices drifted out into the hall. "Are you sure about this, Jared? What if the police—" a woman said. A man cut her off, his voice sharp. "We can't send Genevieve to a place like that." "I know, I know! That's the only reason we brought her back—" Mr. Thomas cleared his throat, loud and deliberate. "Alpha. Luna. I brought her." The voices died. My stomach dropped. A woman in the silk robe looked me up and down. "So you're Elara." The word "Mom" died on my tongue. "Yes, ma'am," I whispered. "I'm your mother, Wilhelmina," she said, not standing up. "This is your father, Jared. Your brother Arthur.And your sister, Sienna." Nobody smiled. Nobody reached for me. "Mom, stop wasting your breath on a defective wolfless who doesn't even have an Inner Wolf. She's just a filthy country rat at heart." My older brother, Arthur, sneered from the leather sofa. In werewolf society, genetics determined rank at birth and could never be changed, making a wolfless like me the lowest of the low. My father, Jared, slammed his porcelain coffee cup onto the table, his dark eyes glaring at me. "Get to your room and wash that filth off before you ruin the rug!" I took a deep breath, curling my fingers around the ring hidden in my pocket, and turned toward the dark basement stairs. Just then, my adoptive sister, Genevieve, walked down the grand staircase in a silk nightgown, her sharp gaze locking onto my clenched right hand. Genevieve strolled right up to me and lowered her voice so only the two of us could hear. "What little treasure are you hiding in your hand, you bastard?" I took a half step back, glaring at her on guard. "None of your business." Genevieve smirked, then suddenly threw herself backward and shrieked in a pathetic, tearful voice, "Sister, why did you push me? I was only trying to care about you!" Jared shot up from his chair, unleashing his heavy Alpha Dominion straight at me until my knees buckled and I nearly hit the floor. "Apologize to your sister! Right now!" Jared's roar carried the Alpha's Command, a genetic compulsion that forced lower-ranking wolves in the pack to obey. I clenched my jaw and dug my fingernails into my palms, lifting my chin to look straight at them. "I didn't push her!" Wilhelmina lunged forward and swung her hand across my face. The sharp slap echoed through the hall. My head snapped to the side as blood filled my mouth, and the sudden jolt made the silver ring slip halfway out of my pocket. Genevieve's eyes locked onto the exposed wolf totem on the band, a greedy glint flashing across her face. I pressed a hand to my burning cheek, and before I could shove the silver ring back into my pocket, Genevieve snatched it right out of my grasp. "What is this? The totem of the Kensington Pack?" Genevieve stared at the engraving with wild excitement before twisting her face into a look of righteous anger. "Where did you steal this from?" I lunged forward to grab it back, but Jared seized my collar and hurled me onto the cold marble floor. "Give it back! That's mine—" Before I could finish, Jared's Alpha Dominion slammed down on me like a mountain, choking the words right back into my throat. "Shut your mouth, you useless troublemaker!" Jared threw a thick stack of papers straight into my face. "Genevieve accidentally hit and killed a Beta from the neighboring pack with her car last night. You are going to take the blame for her!"

Elara POV: My eyes widened in horror as I stared at the confession agreement scattered across the floor, my blood turning to ice. "Why should I? I wasn't even in the capital last night!" I didn't think. I spun around and bolted for the front door. I didn't make it three steps before the heavy double doors burst inward. Two human police officers came through with their hands on their belts. "Nobody move!" the taller officer called out. "Who's the registered driver of a silver Audi, plate ending 4-7-X? Hit-and-run on Lakeshore Drive. " I stopped dead, staring at the badges. "What?" Footsteps thundered behind me. My father's open palm caught me across the face so hard the room went white. I hit the marble floor on my side. My ear rang, and blood filled my mouth. "You hit a man and ran? No daughter of mine does that!" my father roared, pointing down at me. My mother pressed a hand to her chest, her face twisted in horror. "Take her. She has to answer for what she did." I pushed myself up on one elbow, my cheek throbbing. "What are you talking about? I just got here! I don't even know how to drive!" Then Genevieve was on her knees beside the cops, grabbing the taller officer's sleeve. Tears spilled down her cheeks right on cue. "Please don't take my sister! She didn't mean it! She doesn't even have a license, she just took my car—" My sister was crying for me. Every word out of her mouth was a nail. "Genevieve, step back," Arthur said, pulling her into his arms like I was the one who might hurt her. "You can't cover for her anymore. She stole your keys the second she walked in last night." "Last night?" I looked from Arthur to my mother, my voice shaking. "I was on the mountain last night! Mr. Thomas picked me up at midnight—tell them! Mr. Thomas!" Mr. Thomas looked straight over my head at the wall. "Miss Elara arrived yesterday afternoon, Officer. She took Miss Genevieve's keys from the hall table around ten." "If you don't sign, I’ll cut off the medical funding for your sickly foster mother right now," Wilhelmina whispered into my ear. The air left my lungs. At the mention of my foster mother, Martha—a kind wolfless woman who had raised me when the Kowalskis lost me—my whole body froze, and my clenched fists fell open. The taller officer pulled me up by my arm and twisted both my wrists behind my back. Cold steel clicked shut around my skin. Right before they shoved me into the armored prison van, I looked back at the glowing doorway and saw Genevieve nestled in my parents' arms, flashing me a triumphant, venomous smile. The heavy iron doors slammed shut, locking me away for four years of brutal exile and hard labor. I closed my eyes, walking from the cold prison corridor into the cramped cell to sit on the wooden plank bed as four endless years bled away. With a screech of rusted metal, the heavy iron gate of the exile camp finally swung open. Wearing faded clothes and carrying a flat canvas bag, I stepped back out into the sunlight. I squinted against the glare and spotted my best friend, Clara, standing beside a beat-up used Ford, waving at me with red-rimmed eyes. I hurried over, and Clara threw her arms around my neck, her tears soaking my shoulder. "Elara, you're finally out. You've suffered so much." "I'm fine, Clara." I patted her back and forced my usual calm smile. "How is Martha? I want to see her right now." Clara stiffened in my arms, her gaze darting toward the ground as she stammered without meeting my eyes. An icy wave of dread gripped my chest, and I grabbed her arm, my voice shaking. "Tell me what happened to her!"