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8/19/2026

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Na vida passada, ela foi vítima de uma armação da falsa herdeira e morreu em um incêndio. Somente no último instante descobriu que, aos olhos de seus próprios familiares, ela era apenas uma mancha, enquanto sua família e seu noivo haviam sido todos roubados. Ao voltar no tempo, justamente quando acabara de reencontrar sua família biológica, ela não espera mais pelo amor deles. Deixa a fragilidade para trás e parte para o contra-ataque com toda a força. ===== "Gracie... A partir de agora, mamãe, papai, nossos irmãos são só meus. Até seu noivo é meu agora. Pode morrer em paz." Enquanto a fumaça espessa invadia Gracie Carter seus pulmões e tornava cada respiração uma luta, o sa**ue escorria sob seu corpo, uma poça quente e viscosa. À sua frente, o fogo rugia, consumindo a madeira em explosões violentas, enquanto o ar se tornava irrespirável, saturado de fu**ça e sa**ue. Seu corpo a traiu, recusando-se a obedecer. Impotente, ela permaneceu caída, com os olhos fixos desesperadamente na mulher de silhueta fina que a aguardava do outro lado do inferno. Cathy Carter permanecia à margem do incêndio, envolta em um vestido escarlate que parecia sa**ue envenenado. O sorriso em seu rosto era inconfundível, e o prazer sádico em seus olhos não deixava margem para dúvidas. As palavras saíram baixas, mas eram tão dolorosas que ardiam mais que as chamas. Através de uma visão distorcida, Gracie a encarava. O sa**ue transbordava em sua boca, reduzindo suas palavras a sons fracos e partidos. Foi então que o ódio por Cathy a consumiu por inteiro. O ressentimento dentro dela era tão profundo que nem o fogo ardente conseguiria reduzi-lo a cinzas. Duas décadas antes, ela e Cathy foram trocadas ao nascer por engano. Enquanto uma delas cresceu criada como a princesa da família Carter, a outra fora forçada a sobreviver longe dali, atravessando anos de pobreza, fome e privações. Quando os Carter finalmente a encontraram, Gracie achou que seus anos dolorosos haviam acabado. Imaginava que finalmente teria pais amorosos, irmãos carinhosos e um lar onde realmente pertencesse. Infelizmente, nunca esteve tão enganada. Em vez do carinho que tanto ansiava, sua volta à família Carter foi recebida apenas com artimanhas e armadilhas sem fim. Sempre que Cathy deixava escapar algumas lágrimas, os pais logo concluíam que Gracie era o problema. Sempre que Cathy se fazia de vítima, os irmãos se convenciam de que Gracie era insensível. E sempre que Cathy soltava algumas mentiras, até o homem que iria se casar com ela a encarava com puro desprezo. Ninguém se dava ao trabalho de verificar os fatos, nem lhe dava a chance de se explicar. Não importava o que Cathy dissesse, eles acreditavam piamente. "Se você fosse pelo menos metade do que Cathy é, não envergonharia essa família dessa forma." "Uma pessoa cruel como você não tem o direito de ser minha irmã." "E alguém como você nunca será da família Phillips." Essas vozes duras ecoavam na mente de Gracie, uma atrás da outra, desfazendo o último fio de esperança a que ainda se apegava. O que importava se eles tinham o mesmo sa**ue? Afinal, nada disso poderia competir com os vinte anos que Cathy passou ao lado deles. As chamas ardiam cada vez mais forte, e o calor intenso engolia o pouco de consciência que Gracie ainda lhe restava. De súbito, ouviram-se passos apressados do lado de fora. Richard e Elaine Carter chegaram às pressas, com os filhos logo atrás. Cathy correu de imediato para os braços de Elaine. Com os olhos inchados de lágrimas e a voz trêmula, ela disse: "Pai, mãe... sinto muito. Tudo isso é por minha causa. Se eu tivesse conseguido impedir Gracie antes, isso nunca teria acontecido. "Por que está se desculpando?", retrucou Jason Carter, o segundo irmão de Gracie, os dentes cerrados. Sem conter a fúria, ele prosseguiu: "Foi ela que ateou fogo. Se ela morrer nisso tudo, será exatamente o que ela merece." "Isso mesmo." Elaine abraçou Cathy com mais força, reservando toda a sua preocupação à filha que segurava. "Alguém tão desonrada como ela nunca deveria ter voltado para a família Carter." Richard permanecia em silêncio por perto, o rosto fechado. Quando finalmente falou, seu tom foi firme e impiedoso: "Deixe ela. Quando o fogo terminar o serviço, ela não estará mais por perto para causar problemas a esta família." Com o corpo tremendo como se não fosse conter as lágrimas, Cathy escondeu o rosto no ombro de Elaine. Um instante depois, ergueu a cabeça devagar e olhou além de todos, encontrando os olhos de Gracie através das chamas. Não havia o menor traço de tristeza em seu olhar, apenas vitória e uma provocação descarada. Com a voz trêmula, Cathy sussurrou: "Mas... Gracie ainda é sua filha biológica..." Jason soltou uma risada de escárnio antes de dizer: "E daí? De hoje em diante, mamãe e papai só têm uma filha, e essa filha é você." Essas palavras destruíram o último resquício de esperança que sustentava Gracie. Ela olhou para as pessoas à sua frente e, por algum motivo, quase teve vontade de rir. Então essa era a família por cuja aceitação ela quase sacrificara tudo, mas, aos olhos deles, ela nunca valeu nada. O fogo alcançou a barra de seu vestido e queimou sua pele, mas a dor já não a alcançava. A única coisa que restava dentro dela era o ódio. Se o destino um dia a deixasse viver de novo, ela nunca mais desperdiçaria um pingo de esperança com a família Carter. Nunca mais. ... De repente, Gracie abriu os olhos. Sua respiração vinha irregular, o pe**o subindo e descendo depressa, e gotas de suor frio lhe cobriam a testa. Por instinto, ergueu o braço para se proteger do fogo - mas só encontrou ar vazio e frio. As chamas haviam desaparecido - e o sa**ue também. Ela ficou perfeitamente imóvel por alguns instantes antes de olhar ao redor do quarto com cautela. Paredes cor de creme a cercavam, com cortinas cinza-claras penduradas à janela. No canto, repousava a mala gasta que trouxera ao chegar à residência dos Carter. Este era o quarto de hóspedes onde a tinham colocado quando os Carter a trouxeram de volta. Em sua vida anterior, Cathy logo encontrara um jeito de mandá-la para o depósito, que era úmido, gelado e em piores condições que os alojamentos dos empregados. Gracie saltou da cama e foi para o banheiro, onde abriu a torneira e jogou água gelada no rosto repetidas vezes. A água fria a fez despertar por completo. A jovem refletida no espelho tinha o rosto pálido, e um leve medo ainda lhe assombrava os olhos - era, sem dúvida, a versão dela de um ano antes. Ela seguiu com o olhar fixo no espelho, apertando a pia cada vez mais. De repente, batidas fortes na porta quebraram o silêncio. "Gracie! Saia daí agora mesmo!" Era uma voz que ela conhecia muito bem, junto com a raiva que a carregava. Era Jason, seu segundo irmão. Ainda de frente para o espelho, Gracie ergueu os olhos devagar, e um sorriso sutil e gélido aflorou em seus lábios. Esse momento era bem familiar para ela. Em sua vida anterior, tudo começara nesse mesmo dia. Cathy caíra da escada de propósito, depois desatara a chorar, acusando Gracie de tê-la empurrado. Jason chegara furioso, convencido de que a culpa era dela. Gracie tentara explicar desesperadamente o que realmente acontecera, mas ninguém acreditou numa única palavra. Antes que o dia terminasse, fora atirada ao depósito. Do outro lado da porta, a voz furiosa de Jason ecoou de novo. "Foi você que empurrou Cathy escada abaixo? Ficou louca?" Por um breve instante, Gracie permaneceu imóvel. Então, com calma, prendeu o cabelo para trás com movimentos leves e precisos. A imagem no espelho que a encarava já não carregava nenhum traço de submissão. Cada resquício de insegurança, medo e a ânsia por aprovação deles havia se desintegrado por completo. Ela ganhara uma segunda chance de viver. Se o destino lhe concedera a oportunidade de recomeçar, ela se recusava a fingir que os Carter eram a família amorosa e perfeita que diziam ser. Desta vez, não nutriria mais qualquer laço com nenhum deles. De agora em diante, a única pessoa que ela amaria e protegeria seria ela mesma. Capítulo 2 A nova Gracie Do lado de fora, Cathy se escondia atrás de Jason, o rosto corado e os ombros trêmulos. "Jason... deixa pra lá", murmurou ela, os dedos fraquejando na manga dele. "Gracie provavelmente não fez isso de propósito. Pode ter sido um acidente." "Um acidente?" Jason bufou, seco e incisivo. "Não foi bem assim que aconteceu." Ao falar, inclinou-se à frente dela, protegendo-a dos olhares por instinto, e sua voz amoleceu de novo ao baixar o olhar para ela. "Não tenha medo, Cathy. Estou com você. Ninguém te maltrata aqui." Cathy baixou o olhar para o chão, os cílios trêmulos. "Mas... Gracie é sua irmã de verdade. Sou só a falsa. Se ela realmente me odeia tanto assim... posso até devolver o quarto." O maxilar de Jason se contraiu na hora. "Por que está dizendo isso?", perguntou ele, num tom gelado que cortou o ar. "Ela cresceu sabe-se lá onde. Esta família a acolheu, e ela deveria ser grata por isso. E agora ela está aqui há poucos dias e já acha que pode fazer um escândalo e te empurrar escada abaixo? O punho dele voltou a se erguer e bateu na porta, com mais força desta vez. "Gracie, pare de fingir que não está aí. Abra a porta!" Jason ainda não terminara de falar quando a porta finalmente cedeu, e as palavras que ele diria a seguir morreram na garganta. Parada na entrada, os cabelos num coque alto, Gracie ostentava uma serenidade estranha. Não havia vestígios de medo, nem traços da garota frágil e abalável que fora um dia - restava apenas uma calma antinatural, que destoava de todo aquele caos. "O que foi?", exigiu Gracie, seu tom vazio, quase entediado, como se a presença dele nem merecesse reação. Sem razão aparente, Jason explodiu: "Você ainda ousa se fazer de inocente? Você empurrou Cathy escada abaixo!" Gracie nem pestanejou, os olhos cravados nele. "E onde estão as provas? A frase caiu como um freio brusco, e Jason calou-se por um instante. Até Cathy enrijeceu, e um lampejo indecifrável lhe cruzou o rosto antes que pudesse escondê-lo. Gracie deu um passo à frente, encurtando um pouco a distância. Seu olhar deslizou por Jason e pousou em Cathy. "Como é você quem faz a acusação, então me mostre as provas. Pode provar que eu realmente te empurrei?" Uma pressão estranha e desagradável comprimiu o pe**o de Cathy - havia algo nessa Gracie que não parecia a mesma. Se fosse no passado, Gracie já estaria em prantos e em pânico, tentando se defender desesperadamente, enquanto agora permanecia ali, calma e firme, exigindo provas. "Gracie..." Os olhos de Cathy já estavam marejados, a voz trêmula à beira do colapso. "Sei que você me odeia por ter ocupado seu lugar por todos esses anos... vinte anos... Se você não me expulsar, te darei tudo o que quiser. O quarto... posso te dar o quarto. Não vou competir com você pela mãe, pelo pai ou até pelos nossos irmãos. Só prometa que não vai mais me odiar." No fim da frase, a voz dela falhou por completo, com lágrimas escorrendo pelo rosto e o corpo se curvando, instável, como se fosse desabar a qualquer instante. O rosto de Jason se fechou de raiva, e ele avançou um passo. "Gracie, olhe para ela. Isso é tudo culpa sua. Peça desculpas agora mesmo." Gracie soltou um bufar, reconhecendo a mesma farsa exaustiva se repetindo. Em sua vida anterior, ela fora ingênua a ponto de acreditar nisso. Eles a haviam moldado como uma arma, cravando-lhe o papel de vilã definitiva da família, como se fosse sua única vocação. Agora, só lhe causava uma irritação fria. "Pare com essa palhaçada." Desviou o olhar para Cathy, calma e firme. "Se está me acusando de ter te empurrado, então traga provas. Sem isso, não passa de calúnia." "Sua!" A raiva de Jason se acirrou, o rosto ainda mais duro. "Olhe para Cathy. Ela mal consegue ficar de pé, e você ainda torce os fatos para se livrar disso?" "Me livrar disso?", Gracie inclinou a cabeça, sem se abalar. "Tudo bem. Vamos chamar a polícia e deixá-los decidir, então." Dito isso, pegou o celular sem hesitar. Cathy perdeu a compostura e exclamou: "Não, não ligue pra polícia!" Gracie inclinou a cabeça, um sorriso sutil e quase divertido nos lábios. "E por que não? Com medo do que eles podem descobrir alguma coisa?" Cathy mordeu o lábio inferior, visivelmente aflita. "Os Carter não são uma família qualquer. Se a polícia se envolver e a notícia se espalhar, isso prejudicará a mãe e o pai. Também prejudicará a empresa. Gracie, você é uma de nós. Não pode simplesmente causar um escândalo e ignorar o que isso faz ao nome da família." Jason soltou um suspiro suave e comentou: "Cathy, você é a única que se preocupa com a família." Em seguida, voltou o olhar para Gracie, o desgosto estampado no rosto. "E você, se tivesse pelo menos metade da consciência dela, não teria arrastado os Carter para essa desgraça em primeiro lugar." Gracie não respondeu de imediato, apenas os encarou. Então bateu palmas - uma, duas vezes - devagar, com deliberação e zombaria. "Que bela atuação." A expressão de Cathy vacilou. "Gracie... o que está dizendo?" "Se você é tão contra envolver a polícia, então vamos checar as imagens das câmeras de segurança. Não há uma câmera ao lado da escada? Vamos dar uma olhada na gravação e ver quem está mentindo", declarou Gracie, com indiferença, já guardando o celular. Jason disparou sem pensar. "Essa câmera está quebrada há séculos!" Mal as palavras saíram, ele se enrijeceu. Gracie desviou sua atenção para ele, com um sorriso sutil, quase divertido e bastante convicto, nos lábios. "Ah, então você sabia que estava quebrada. E mesmo sabendo disso, insistiu em me acusar. Me diga, Jason... você pensa por conta própria, ou Cathy cuida dessa parte para você?" "Cale a boca!" Jason perdeu o controle e avançou, estendendo a mão para agarrá-la. "Se você não pedir desculpas agora, não vai se safar dessa..." "Tudo bem", Gracie o interrompeu, clara e imediata. Jason e Cathy ficaram imóveis, surpresos com a rapidez com que ela mudou de ideia. "É a esse ponto que você vai chegar? Me obrigando a assumir a culpa?" Ela soltou uma risada, mas não havia calor nenhum nela. "Então, tudo bem. Vou assumir." No instante seguinte, ela reagiu - sua mão disparou, cravando os dedos nos cabelos de Cathy e puxando com força. "Ahhh!" Sem tempo nem de se preparar, Cathy sentiu a dor rasgar seu couro cabeludo, e um grito ecoou pelo corredor. Jason congelou por uma fração de segundo, então explodiu. "Gracie! Você enlouqueceu de vez?" Gracie nem diminuiu o passo. "Eu já não fui acusada de tê-la empurrado escada abaixo?" Enquanto falava, arrastou Cathy até o patamar no topo da escada. Só então ela olhou para Jason, com uma expressão estranhamente serena - calma demais, quase inquietante. "Então é melhor eu te dar um motivo de verdade para me culpar." Antes que alguém pudesse reagir, Gracie a empurrou, e Cathy despencou escada abaixo. Capítulo 3 Abrindo mão do quarto Houve uma sucessão rápida de golpes e solavancos na escada. O grito de Cathy ecoou pela casa enquanto ela rolava degrau a degrau, até parar no térreo, feita um amontoado de ossos e membros. Por vários segundos, ela permaneceu imóvel. Ao ver a cena, Jason empalideceu instantaneamente. "Cathy!", gritou ele, descendo as escadas correndo. Lá embaixo, a casa inteira estava em polvorosa. Os empregados estavam parados, boquiabertos, sem que ninguém ousasse dar um passo à frente ou até mesmo respirar. Ninguém imaginava que a filha perdida da família, trazida de volta há tão pouco tempo, seria capaz de uma coisa dessas, muito menos com tanta frieza. Gracie permanecia no topo da escada, com uma das mãos apoiada no corrimão enquanto olhava para baixo. O rosto dela estava impassível, calma à mostra, mas por baixo havia algo mais sombrio e afiado, quase perigoso. Em sua vida anterior, bem nesse mesmo lugar, ela caíra no chão, chorando e jurando, com a voz embargada, que não havia feito nada, mas foi totalmente ignorada. Desta vez, ela nem sentiu vontade de se explicar. Se já estavam decididos a condená-la, ela não via por que contrariar a história que queriam crer. "Cathy, você está bem?", perguntou Jason, a voz tensa e preocupada, a levantando. Cathy sentia tanta dor que mal conseguia respirar, com as lágrimas escorrendo pelo rosto - e, desta vez, de verdade. "Jason... dói...", gaguejou ela, a voz trêmula de dor. "Acho que Gracie... não me quer aqui... Talvez... talvez eu devesse ir embora." "Não! Quem deveria ir embora é ela, não você!", retrucou Jason, a fúria sobrepondo-se ao nervosismo. Ele ergueu o queixo, o olhar preso em Gracie, a raiva ardendo nos olhos. "Gracie, desça aqui agora mesmo!" Como se a fúria dele não significasse absolutamente nada, Gracie não se mexeu, nem piscou - limitou-se a observá-lo. Após um momento de silêncio, com um tom sereno e assustadoramente composto, ela disse: "Sinto muito. Eu a empurrei, mas Cathy sempre foi tão gentil e compreensiva... ela vai deixar isso para lá, não vai?" A sala de estar inteira pareceu prender a respiração. Jason congelou, os olhos de Cathy se arregalaram em choque, enquanto os empregados ao redor permaneciam atônitos, incrédulos com a resposta. Com uma naturalidade desconcertante, Gracie admitiu ter empurrado Cathy escada abaixo. Pediu desculpas como se fosse a coisa mais trivial do mundo e, em seguida, aguardou o perdão. Antes de se recuperarem do choque, Gracie inclinou levemente a cabeça e prosseguiu: "O quê? Ninguém tem nada a dizer?" "Gracie!" A raiva de Jason sufocou as palavras antes que se formassem por completo. Parecia querer xingá-la, subir e arrastá-la para baixo ele mesmo, mas o impulso travara, como se não soubesse por onde começar. Junto ao corrimão, Gracie se apoiou, o escárnio claro e cortante nos olhos. "Já disse que empurrei Cathy e pedi desculpas também. Não é isso que vocês queriam? Então por que essas caras fechadas?" O corpo de Cathy latejava de dor, mas essas palavras fizeram um calor súbito subir ao seu pe**o - seus dedos tremiam violentamente e as unhas se cravavam nas palmas. Mesmo assim, ela se forçou a manter a compostura, pois não podia se dar ao luxo de perder o controle agora. Sua voz saiu tensa, espremida entre os dentes cerrados, e cada palavra foi dita com dificuldade: "Gracie... Não estou te culpando. Se ser perdoada te fizer se sentir melhor... eu aguento..." Jason não suportava o que ouvia, e gritou: "Cathy!" E se virou com o rosto contorcido em pânico e fúria para a escada. "Gracie, você passou dos limites!" "Passei?" O tom de Gracie abaixou, calmo e quase distante, enquanto ela o olhava de cima. "Então o que exatamente você pretende fazer a respeito? Me expulsar desta casa? Ou correr para os pais e mandá-los me castigar?" Um sorriso sutil surgiu nos seus lábios, mas desprovido de calor. "Me diga, Jason... você tem essa autoridade toda sobre mim? As palavras caíram sobre Jason como um soco, tirando-lhe o ar, e sua expressão se enrijeceu. Passo a passo, Gracie desceu a escada sem pressa, aumentando a tensão na sala abaixo. "Será que preciso explicar por que fui trazida de volta para cá?" Ao pisar no último degrau, parou e encarou Jason com um olhar firme e deliberado, pesando cada palavra: "O Grupo Carter está se desintegrando por dentro. O conselho está inquieto, e a mídia está rondando como abutres. O que vocês realmente querem é uma narrativa conveniente: a filha perdida há vinte anos de volta, tudo com uma fachada impecável, para que a família Carter pareça estável, sólida e unida. Em outras palavras, sou só uma imagem pública para vocês. E enquanto esse teatrinho estiver em andamento, nenhum de vocês poderá me expulsar." Um silêncio ensurdecedor tomou conta da sala. Jason ficou parado, atordoado, a raiva e a descrença deformando o rosto, mas nenhuma palavra saiu. Gracie havia acertado em cheio. A família Carter não a trouxera de volta por nenhum afeto sepultado - só precisavam dela, só isso. Na vida anterior, só quando tudo desmoronou à sua volta é que Gracie percebeu. Desta vez, ela não pretendia ser ingênua novamente. "Se você não tem poder para se livrar de mim, pare de fingir que decide por mim." Seus olhos se desviaram de Jason e foram pousar em Cathy. "E aquele quarto... Um sorriso sutil e provocador tocou seus lábios. "Você não disse que ia me devolver o quarto, Cathy? Cathy mal se sustentava. Abrir mão do quarto, ela não queria - de jeito nenhum. Seu quarto era o mais belo de toda a mansão Carter - decorado por Richard e Elaine para ela. Mais do que isso - o cômodo representava seu lugar, sua posição, de tudo o que ela tinha nessa família. Mas as palavras já tinham sido ditas, e recuar agora só faria tudo o que ela havia feito antes parecer uma encenação. "Se você realmente quer, Gracie..." Respirando fundo, ela forçou um sorriso frágil. "Vou arrumar minhas coisas e sair." "Cathy!" A voz de Jason subiu na hora, tingida de pânico. "Jason", ela interrompeu o irmão antes que ele seguisse. Voltando-se para ele com os olhos marejados, manteve o tom o mais firme que pôde. "Ela passou tantos anos longe dessa família. Dar o quarto a ela é o mínimo que posso fazer." Gracie a observou sem reagir, o rosto completamente inexpressivo. Como ela era boa em aguentar só para manter a encenação intacta. Essa era Cathy. Desviando o olhar para Jason, Gracie comentou, sem rodeios: "Você ouviu o que ela disse. Sua querida Cathy foi quem ofereceu. Ou vai querer retirar a palavra dela agora?" Capítulo 4 A vida que ela roubou Jason ficou ali em silêncio, o rosto sombrio de raiva - Gracie o deixou completamente sem palavras. "Bom, vamos trabalhar", disse Gracie num tom neutro. "Esvazie o quarto. Não quero nada que Cathy deixou para trás." Ela se virou e começou a subir as escadas. Sem olhar para trás, ela chamou: "Sebastian." Sebastian Finch, o mordomo da família Carter, hesitou um instante antes de se aproximar. "Sim, senhorita?" Gracie parou e olhou para ele. O olhar durou apenas um instante, mas bastou para que o empregado endireitasse as costas por instinto. "Você tem uma hora", disse ela. "Quero todos os pertences de Cathy fora daquele quarto." Um olhar de desagrado cruzou o rosto de Sebastian antes que ele pudesse escondê-lo, seu descontentamento inconfundível. Gracie percebeu na mesma hora. Cortando qualquer possibilidade de discussão, ela se aproximou e estampou um tapa violento em seu rosto. O som agudo ecoou pela sala de estar, deixando todos chocados. Sebastian levou a mão à bochecha e encarou Gracie, incrédulo. "Sua..." "Não adianta", interrompeu Gracie, sua voz calma e firme e o olhar fixo no dele. "Você serve esta família há anos, mas ainda não aprendeu de quem deve obedecer. Ou esqueceu o seu lugar depois de se apossar dos fundos da casa? Achou mesmo que poderia me ignorar também?" A cor se esvaiu do rosto do homem. "Que fundos? Isso não passa de..." "Você sabe muito bem do que estou falando." Gracie limpou a mão de leve, como se tocá-lo a tivesse sujado. "Acha mesmo que ninguém descobriria os cadernos de contabilidade de Doris?" O suor frio brotou na testa de Sebastian, pois ele sempre acreditou ter apagado todos os vestígios. Nem Richard nem Elaine jamais suspeitaram de nada. Como Gracie descobriu isso? "Gracie..." Gracie estreitou os olhos. "É assim que se dirige a mim?" O último resquício de rebeldia desapareceu do homem, e ele abaixou a cabeça, dizendo com a voz contida: "Senhorita Carter." Só então Gracie assentiu de leve. "Vá logo. Quando o prazo terminar, não quero ver um único pertence de Cathy naquele quarto." Sebastian fez uma reverência e saiu para cumprir as ordens. Gracie se virou e continuou subindo as escadas. Atrás dela, os funcionários da casa permaneciam imóveis - alguns pareciam atônitos, outros, assustados, e não poucos lutavam para esconder o ressentimento no rosto. Mesmo assim, Gracie não olhou para trás. Era só o começo. A partir de hoje, recuperaria da família Carter tudo o que lhe deviam - um pedaço de cada vez. Não demorou muito para que o quarto de Cathy fosse esvaziado. As decorações cor-de-rosa excessivamente fofas, os bichos de pelúcia e as cortinas de renda - tudo foi retirado. Sem eles, o quarto ficou simples e arrumado, e deixou de parecer tão sufocante. Gracie permaneceu na porta por alguns momentos antes de entrar. A roupa de cama antiga já fora substituída por um conjunto novo, azul-claro, sinal claro de que os empregados haviam percebido a mudança de poder - ninguém se atrevia a manter qualquer vestígio da decoração de Cathy. Gracie observou o quarto em silêncio, então sentou-se na beirada da cama e abriu a gaveta da mesa de cabeceira. Dentro, havia um celular. Sem pressa, ela o pegou. Preto e sem chip, o celular deixava evidente que não pertencia ao uso cotidiano da dona, sendo, na verdade, o aparelho secreto que Cathy usava para manter a rede de contatos que cultivara com tanto esmero, em benefício próprio. Pelo que Gracie lembrava da vida anterior, Cathy passava o tempo fl**tando com jovens ricos na internet até transformá-los em conexões úteis. Com o apoio deles, garantiu rapidamente sua posição na família Carter. Cathy provavelmente não imaginava que Gracie ocuparia o quarto de um dia para o outro - nem teve chance de voltar para buscar o celular. Gracie examinou o aparelho por alguns segundos antes de digitar uma sequência familiar de números. A senha era o aniversário de Cathy, e assim, a tela se desbloqueou. Em seguida, ela começou a folhear casualmente, até que, ao abrir o Instagram e ver a foto de perfil, seu dedo parou no ar. A jovem da foto estava sob a luz do sol, numa camisa branca simples. O rosto jovial e os olhos claros guardavam uma determinação discreta que a maioria das pessoas teria ignorado. Era ela mesma. Mais precisamente, era uma foto tirada quando ela completou dezoito anos, do lado de fora do Lar Infantil Sunshine. Naquela ocasião, Gracie finalmente reunira dinheiro para adquirir sua primeira roupa decente. Helen, a administradora do orfanato, sorriu ao vê-la, elogiando sua beleza, e insistiu em registrá-la com uma foto na entrada. Estava certa de que a imagem seria essencial no futuro, seja para a universidade ou para uma entrevista de emprego. Nunca imaginou que Cathy roubaria essa foto para usá-la como perfil. Gracie Continuou percorrendo a conta. Quase todas as publicações traziam fotos dela. Uma onda de repulsa a invadiu, e seus pensamentos a levaram de volta às festas estranhas da vida anterior. Cathy sempre insistia em levá-la para conhecer os supostos amigos. Mantinha cada apresentação deliberadamente vaga e permitia que aquelas pessoas olhassem para Gracie como se ela fosse um objeto exposto para inspeção. Naquela época, Gracie nutriu a ilusão de que Cathy havia mudado. Chegou até a se convencer de que ela queria, de fato, ajudá-la a ingressar na alta sociedade e apresentá-la a contatos valiosos. Enganara-se por completo. Para Cathy, ela jamais fora nada além de um mero instrumento. Servia apenas para exibir sua beleza e manter aqueles homens ricos interessados. Gracie apertou o celular devagar, até as bordas lhe morderem a palma da mão. Foi só então que entendeu por que tudo acontecera daquela forma. Não era à toa que aquelas pessoas a olhavam de forma tão estranha na primeira vez que se viram. Não era à toa que Cathy sempre a puxava para longe quando ela começava a conversar com aquelas pessoas. Não era à toa que os comentários sugestivos e as perguntas cheias de segundas intenções nunca se dirigiam a ela como a verdadeira herdeira dos Carter. Desde o início, Cathy vinha tomando a vida que deveria ser dela. De repente, o celular vibrou, e uma nova mensagem apareceu no topo da tela, com o nome do contato chamado "Aiden". Os olhos de Gracie se fixaram no nome. A última mensagem na conversa era breve: "Ei, linda, você está aí?" ...... O que acontecerá a seguir? O número de capítulos exibidos aqui é limitado. Por favor, clique no botão abaixo para baixar nosso aplicativo e ler mais capítulos. (Ao abrir o aplicativo, você irá automaticamente para este livro.) &3&

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A ira da fênix: ela ressurgiu das cinzas

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As the Alpha's unwanted daughter, she was despised by her own family, abused by her stepmother, and treated like a plaything by her stepsister. She grew up believing she was worthless and learned to make herself invisible. But everything changed when the son of her family's greatest enemy destroyed their pack.
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Chapter 1
JASELYA'S POV

"Brainless id**t" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air. 

Before I could even react, her hand sl**med across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder. 

A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow. 

No explanation was needed. This m**k would stay visible for a long time. 

"Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?"

With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking. 

I lifted my gaze slightly. 

She answered with a gob of spit. 

The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away. 

"Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wr**ch."

Tears escaped me despite myself. 

"Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice. 

She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly."

Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream. 

"The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!"

I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty."

I had no other choice. 

Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, st**king her hair as if nothing had just happened. 

"Anything you wish, just say the word, and this d*g will do it," she declared softly. 

Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..."

Those words pierced my ch**t like a blade. 

Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit."

Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?"

I felt my bl**d run cold. 

A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it."

I stayed frozen, barely breathing. 

They talked about me as if I didn't exist. 

As if I were nothing but an object. 

Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself."

"She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away. 

Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants. 

I was left alone with the silence. 

My entire life had unfolded this way. 

In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected. 

But none of it had ever applied to me. 

My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery. 

The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden af**ir with her. 

His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out. 

Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her. 

When she fell pr**nant, she was locked away even more tightly. 

I was born premature, in pain and bl**d. 

My mother didn't survive. 

Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder. 

I was blamed for her death. 

Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive. 

But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life. 

Against all odds, I didn't die. 

But my survival changed nothing. 

A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised. 

All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation. 

And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me. 

Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment."

I understood immediately. 

My body seized up. 

The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors. 

That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake. 

Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care. 

Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching. 

The silence was oppressive. 

I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this. 

Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied. 

She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected. 

Our bl**d ties had never mattered. 

She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust. 

Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty. 

The enforcer approached. 

I instinctively shrank back. "Please..."

But he didn't listen. 

He tore the fabric from my back. 

The cold air bit into my skin. 

An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began. 

"St**p her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice. 

I stood paralyzed. 

The fabric was completely ripped away. 

I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with. 

I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my ch**t. 

The first blow landed. 

Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning. 

The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the bl**d, the dizziness. 

I made out Urélia in the distance. 

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene. 

It was forbidden. 

Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs. 

Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight. 

"Breathe... I'm here..."

Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos. 

A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body. 

Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do."

Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition."

"That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait."

Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds."

Then she ordered that I be lifted. 

Jessie protested, but no one really listened. 

I was carried away from the scene. 

The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me. 

Then everything went dark. 

Chapter 2
A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness. 

A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move. 

"Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me. 

My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist. 

Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds. 

A cry escaped me despite myself. 

At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you."

My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves. 

For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain. 

No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival. 

Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty."

I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..."

I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me. 

An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food. 

Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands. 

From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now. 

Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?"

I didn't answer. 

Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time. 

She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace. 

Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin. 

If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning. 

And there was something else. The worst part. 

I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf. 

It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone. 

I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me. 

Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation. 

I startled. "Why are you doing that?"

Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back. 

An intense burn tore a scream from my throat. 

I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her. 

"Forgive me..." she murmured in distress. 

Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force. 

She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep."

I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore. 

Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle. 

Bells. 

Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned."

My stomach clenched. 

My father. 

The one who had ignored me my entire life. 

He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him. 

And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his bl**d. 

Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow. 

Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer. 

As for me, I remained hidden. 

I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place. 

Then I stopped dreaming. 

Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest."

I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..."

She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up."

Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under. 

... 

In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone. 

His face was closed off, hard as stone. 

The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation. 

For the first time in decades, he had lost. 

And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack. 

Worse still, to Xaeron. 

That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead. 

Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage. 

Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee. 

It was a shame he had never known before. 

Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves. 

But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more. 

The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?"

He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?"

She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?"

His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer."

She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer."

He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted. 

"We lost," he finally said. 

The shock froze her in place. 

"Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes."

Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?"

He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever."

The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation. 

Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power. 

Then betrayal had destroyed everything. 

Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bl**dline. 

But Xaeron had returned. 

And now, he demanded reparation. 

"The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him."

A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall. 

Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..."

"I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to."

She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..."

"They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly. 

The silence became oppressive. 

"The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my bl**d."

Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us."

"It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built."

She trembled. "She was punished today..."

Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly."

Chapter 3
JASELYA'S POV

I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes. 

So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality. 

She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags. 

Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched. 

Why me? 

A hidden execution? A verdict already decided? 

The great doors swung open. 

The room swallowed me whole. 

They were all there. 

Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years. 

And in the center, there he was. 

Alpha Balak. 

My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it. 

For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine. 

I felt my throat tighten. 

His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?"

I blinked, disoriented. 

Was that really all this was? 

"I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head. 

He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side. 

Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly. 

I obeyed. 

His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch. 

"Hold still," he murmured without harshness. 

My heart was beating too fast. 

The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice. 

A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false. 

A chill ran through me. 

I knew that voice. I knew that look even more. 

Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me. 

His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body. 

I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee. 

Since then, I had avoided him like a bl**e already drawn from its sheath. 

"No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out."

A heavy silence settled in. 

Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see. 

The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?"

Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered."

The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation. 

"Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia."

Rapid footsteps moved away. 

I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him. 

He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him. 

I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence. 

Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?"

No one looked at me. 

"Answer," Balak ordered. 

"Nineteen," I said in a low voice. 

He relayed the information. 

An even colder silence settled in. 

"Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded. 

Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds. 

I stifled a flinch. 

"There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own bl**d."

The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing. 

"You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission. 

Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?"

Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply. 

"How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!"

I felt my eyes burn. 

Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had. 

But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted."

She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on."

She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress. 

Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?"

The name hit like a stone. 

Xaeron. 

I couldn't understand. 

Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?"

Her voice was breaking between rage and panic. 

"There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him."

Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed. 

I no longer understood anything. 

Everything was falling apart without logic. 

"Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of bl**d is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf."

Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift."

I panicked. 

Exile? 

Me? 

Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat. 

Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he. 

Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary."

I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured. 

Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha. 

"You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?"

No one spoke to him that way. 

No one. 

Balak's face hardened. 

"We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize."

The world seemed to warp around me. 

A prize? 

Me? 

I stepped back slightly without realizing it. 

Was Xaeron coming for me? 

And what war had we lost without me even knowing? 

I no longer had any grip on what was happening. 

Nothing felt real. 

"Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer."

Chapter 4
Xaeron stormed across the castle boundaries with his warriors and the seven ranking members of the Council of Wolves at his back. 

The place made his stomach turn instantly. 

No sooner had he set foot on the Moonlight pack's land than he spat on the ground, as if to rid his mouth of the stench of this place. 

The land itself reeked of slaughter. 

He went back to being that child again, visiting his parents before everything fell apart. 

Then came the betrayal. His father's bl**d soaking into the dirt. His mother's head displayed like a trophy. His sister's entrails torn out. And his entire pack exterminated, cleanly and methodically. 

He should have made them suffer longer. Much longer. Until Balak begged. 

Then he would have ripped Balak's head off himself, shattered it before his own people, and ground the fragments into his throne. 

But Balak had fled. He had sought refuge with the Council and secured protection through an ancient pact. 

Now Xaeron was stuck dealing with those rules he despised. 

He could claim the entire pack. But the Wolf Law imposed one exception: Balak and his mate would be spared until the next black moon. 

An absurdity. 

Xaeron let out a dry laugh. He didn't care about the children. It was Balak he wanted. Only Balak. 

The corridors emptied before him. The guards fell back, unable to meet his eyes. 

He entered the throne room and seated himself without permission. 

His gaze swept over the hall, cold and assessing. 

Everything would be reduced to ashes. This castle, these walls, this memory. Nothing was to remain. Just as Balak had done with his home. 

"Where are they?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I won't wait. The rules mean nothing to me anymore."

"They're on their way," answered one of the council members cautiously. 

Xaeron leaned back against the throne. 

Five minutes. He was giving them five minutes. 

... 

Jaselya discovered a reflection of herself she didn't recognize. 

A light-colored gown, almost regal, draped over her body. 

The fabric was fine, carefully worked, and set with luminous details. 

She had been remade. Her hair swept up, her face painted with precision. 

She looked like a stranger-almost like a princess. But this illusion brought her no comfort. 

She turned toward Urélia. "What is going to happen?"

Fear tightened her voice. 

Urélia exchanged a glance with Luna Marilyne, who was still fretting over the adornments for the upcoming event. 

"It's an old arrangement," Urélia murmured. "The Council of Wolves has validated a pact between Alpha Balak and Xaeron. I don't know every clause, but the rule is clear: Xaeron can claim nearly everything... except the Alpha and Luna, who are protected until the next black moon."

Jaselya felt her breath catch. "A pact? Why would anyone permit this?"

Urélia lowered her voice slightly. "This kind of deal isn't easily won. It's negotiated. Bought. Your father must have paid a tremendous price. But it guarantees protection... in certain situations."

Jaselya took a step back. "Why am I being presented as his daughter?"

Urélia sighed. "He refuses to lose what he considers important. That's why he's putting you on display for Xaeron."

Jaselya's heart began to race. The more she heard, the less she understood. 

"Am I just some object to be handed over?" she breathed. 

Urélia avoided a direct answer. "It will all depend on him. And on what the Alpha decides."

The door slammed open. 

Alpha Balak entered, his expression strained. His eyes landed on her, immediately filled with irritation. "Cover that face. Now."

A servant dropped the veil over her features. 

A wave of deep humiliation washed through Jaselya. 

Her own father couldn't even stand the sight of her. 

"He's already here," Balak growled. "That ba**ard is insufferable."

Then he fixed her with a harsh stare. "Don't humiliate us."

She flinched. 

Jessie, who was standing nearby, muttered with contempt, "Look at that... With that ugly face of hers, all is lost."

Her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face against her mother. 

Jaselya's mind had gone blank. 

Unknown names. Unfathomable decisions. 

Xaeron. 

A bond. 

A price. 

A future being decided without her. 

They moved through the stairway, flanked by the guards. 

Every step felt like a fall. 

In the main hall, an entire assembly awaited them. 

The pack's ranking members. Heavy, silent stares. 

Luna Marilyne stood close to Alpha Balak. And at the center, an occupied throne. An unfamiliar man. 

The light kept his face in shadow, featureless. But his presence alone was enough to thicken the very air. 

Abel and the others formed a rigid line, like a silent army. 

Jaselya stood frozen. 

The man rose. The sound of his footsteps rang out like a death sentence. 

She lowered her gaze, unable to face that overwhelming presence. 

Then everything tilted. 

A hand seized her veil and ripped it aside. Fingers caught her face with brutal precision, forcing her head back. She was forced to meet his gaze. 

And she saw him. A man of almost unreal handsomeness. 

But lurking beneath that charm was something dangerous. 

Something that offered no escape. 

Chapter 5
JASELYA'S POV

The man stood before me with a confidence that crushed everything around him. 

His dark hair, cut short, sharpened the angles of his face, marked by a thin scar near his eye. Yet that detail practically vanished against the intensity of his eyes. Eyes of a deep, almost mineral black, framed by disturbingly thick lashes. A beauty many would have envied. 

His face looked like something carved by an artist's hand-sharp jaw, elegant lines, a nose that seemed too perfect to be real, and brows set in flawless symmetry. 

His lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of almost unreal white teeth. 

All of this rested on an impressive, massive frame, forged by years of combat and training. He shared nothing in common with the men of my pack. 

He wasn't simply strong. 

He gave the impression of having been created for war. 

And yet, despite this almost disturbing beauty, a silent alarm imposed itself within me. 

Something in his presence warned me to stay away. As if every fiber of my body understood before I did that he was danger. 

A living threat. 

My stomach clenched without warning, mixing fear and confusion. 

His hand closed over my chin with a controlled firmness, forcing my face up. 

My gaze wavered despite myself. 

I immediately remembered how I had always been seen. 

My wounded side, my scar, my features deemed unworthy. 

All my life I had been looked upon as a mistake. My father had insulted me, my half-sister had scorned me, and the rest of the pack had rejected me. 

So he too... was going to judge me. He must already be doing it. 

"So it's you," he said at last, his voice low and cutting. "What's your name?"

There was no warmth in his tone. Only a coldness that bordered on hostility. 

I could feel a brutal tension radiating from him, like an invisible blade. 

"Jaselya," I replied with difficulty. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my father. 

A silent pressure immediately crushed me. He was silently warning me not to disappoint the man. Even if everything in me had no idea how to achieve it. 

The man stepped back slightly, without breaking eye contact. 

Then he gave a sharp gesture of the hand. 

One of his men stepped forward, carrying a box. 

He handed it to him, and it was then held out to me. 

"Open it," he ordered simply. 

My heart clenched. 

A test. 

It had to be a test. 

The silence in the hall became almost unreal. 

No one was really breathing anymore. 

My fingers trembled as I grasped the box. The ribbon gave way under my hesitant motions. 

When the lid opened, the world seemed to tilt. 

Inside was a head. 

Alpha Dean's. The leader of the Black Wing Pack. The man Jessie was supposed to bond with. 

No reaction escaped me, no scream. I simply dropped the box. 

It hit the floor. 

The head rolled out, coming to a stop near my dress, leaving dark spatters on the fabric. 

A scream tore through the hall. 

It was Jessie. 

Her cry echoed against the walls like a crack in the silence. 

I slowly looked up. 

The man was still watching me. 

And this time... he was smiling. 

&3&

As the Alpha's unwanted daughter, she was despised by her own family, abused by her stepmother, and treated like a plaything by her stepsister. She grew up believing she was worthless and learned to make herself invisible. But everything changed when the son of her family's greatest enemy destroyed their pack. ===== Chapter 1 JASELYA'S POV "Brainless id**t" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air. Before I could even react, her hand sl**med across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder. A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow. No explanation was needed. This m**k would stay visible for a long time. "Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?" With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking. I lifted my gaze slightly. She answered with a gob of spit. The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away. "Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wr**ch." Tears escaped me despite myself. "Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice. She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly." Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream. "The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!" I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty." I had no other choice. Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, st**king her hair as if nothing had just happened. "Anything you wish, just say the word, and this d*g will do it," she declared softly. Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..." Those words pierced my ch**t like a blade. Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit." Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?" I felt my bl**d run cold. A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it." I stayed frozen, barely breathing. They talked about me as if I didn't exist. As if I were nothing but an object. Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself." "She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away. Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants. I was left alone with the silence. My entire life had unfolded this way. In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected. But none of it had ever applied to me. My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery. The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden af**ir with her. His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out. Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her. When she fell pr**nant, she was locked away even more tightly. I was born premature, in pain and bl**d. My mother didn't survive. Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder. I was blamed for her death. Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive. But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life. Against all odds, I didn't die. But my survival changed nothing. A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised. All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation. And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me. Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment." I understood immediately. My body seized up. The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors. That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake. Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care. Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching. The silence was oppressive. I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this. Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied. She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected. Our bl**d ties had never mattered. She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust. Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty. The enforcer approached. I instinctively shrank back. "Please..." But he didn't listen. He tore the fabric from my back. The cold air bit into my skin. An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began. "St**p her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice. I stood paralyzed. The fabric was completely ripped away. I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with. I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my ch**t. The first blow landed. Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning. The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the bl**d, the dizziness. I made out Urélia in the distance. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene. It was forbidden. Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs. Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight. "Breathe... I'm here..." Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos. A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body. Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do." Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition." "That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait." Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds." Then she ordered that I be lifted. Jessie protested, but no one really listened. I was carried away from the scene. The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me. Then everything went dark. Chapter 2 A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness. A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move. "Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me. My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist. Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds. A cry escaped me despite myself. At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you." My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves. For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain. No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival. Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty." I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..." I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me. An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food. Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands. From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now. Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?" I didn't answer. Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time. She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace. Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin. If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning. And there was something else. The worst part. I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf. It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone. I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me. Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation. I startled. "Why are you doing that?" Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back. An intense burn tore a scream from my throat. I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her. "Forgive me..." she murmured in distress. Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force. She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep." I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore. Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle. Bells. Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned." My stomach clenched. My father. The one who had ignored me my entire life. He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him. And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his bl**d. Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow. Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer. As for me, I remained hidden. I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place. Then I stopped dreaming. Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest." I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..." She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up." Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under. ... In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone. His face was closed off, hard as stone. The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation. For the first time in decades, he had lost. And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack. Worse still, to Xaeron. That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead. Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage. Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee. It was a shame he had never known before. Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves. But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more. The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?" He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?" She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?" His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer." She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer." He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted. "We lost," he finally said. The shock froze her in place. "Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes." Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?" He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever." The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation. Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power. Then betrayal had destroyed everything. Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bl**dline. But Xaeron had returned. And now, he demanded reparation. "The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him." A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall. Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..." "I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to." She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..." "They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly. The silence became oppressive. "The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my bl**d." Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us." "It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built." She trembled. "She was punished today..." Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly." Chapter 3 JASELYA'S POV I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes. So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality. She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags. Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched. Why me? A hidden execution? A verdict already decided? The great doors swung open. The room swallowed me whole. They were all there. Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years. And in the center, there he was. Alpha Balak. My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it. For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine. I felt my throat tighten. His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?" I blinked, disoriented. Was that really all this was? "I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head. He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side. Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly. I obeyed. His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch. "Hold still," he murmured without harshness. My heart was beating too fast. The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice. A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false. A chill ran through me. I knew that voice. I knew that look even more. Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me. His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body. I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee. Since then, I had avoided him like a bl**e already drawn from its sheath. "No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out." A heavy silence settled in. Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see. The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?" Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered." The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation. "Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia." Rapid footsteps moved away. I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him. He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him. I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence. Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?" No one looked at me. "Answer," Balak ordered. "Nineteen," I said in a low voice. He relayed the information. An even colder silence settled in. "Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded. Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds. I stifled a flinch. "There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own bl**d." The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing. "You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission. Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?" Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply. "How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!" I felt my eyes burn. Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had. But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted." She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on." She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress. Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?" The name hit like a stone. Xaeron. I couldn't understand. Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?" Her voice was breaking between rage and panic. "There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him." Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed. I no longer understood anything. Everything was falling apart without logic. "Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of bl**d is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf." Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift." I panicked. Exile? Me? Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat. Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he. Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary." I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured. Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha. "You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?" No one spoke to him that way. No one. Balak's face hardened. "We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize." The world seemed to warp around me. A prize? Me? I stepped back slightly without realizing it. Was Xaeron coming for me? And what war had we lost without me even knowing? I no longer had any grip on what was happening. Nothing felt real. "Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer." Chapter 4 Xaeron stormed across the castle boundaries with his warriors and the seven ranking members of the Council of Wolves at his back. The place made his stomach turn instantly. No sooner had he set foot on the Moonlight pack's land than he spat on the ground, as if to rid his mouth of the stench of this place. The land itself reeked of slaughter. He went back to being that child again, visiting his parents before everything fell apart. Then came the betrayal. His father's bl**d soaking into the dirt. His mother's head displayed like a trophy. His sister's entrails torn out. And his entire pack exterminated, cleanly and methodically. He should have made them suffer longer. Much longer. Until Balak begged. Then he would have ripped Balak's head off himself, shattered it before his own people, and ground the fragments into his throne. But Balak had fled. He had sought refuge with the Council and secured protection through an ancient pact. Now Xaeron was stuck dealing with those rules he despised. He could claim the entire pack. But the Wolf Law imposed one exception: Balak and his mate would be spared until the next black moon. An absurdity. Xaeron let out a dry laugh. He didn't care about the children. It was Balak he wanted. Only Balak. The corridors emptied before him. The guards fell back, unable to meet his eyes. He entered the throne room and seated himself without permission. His gaze swept over the hall, cold and assessing. Everything would be reduced to ashes. This castle, these walls, this memory. Nothing was to remain. Just as Balak had done with his home. "Where are they?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I won't wait. The rules mean nothing to me anymore." "They're on their way," answered one of the council members cautiously. Xaeron leaned back against the throne. Five minutes. He was giving them five minutes. ... Jaselya discovered a reflection of herself she didn't recognize. A light-colored gown, almost regal, draped over her body. The fabric was fine, carefully worked, and set with luminous details. She had been remade. Her hair swept up, her face painted with precision. She looked like a stranger-almost like a princess. But this illusion brought her no comfort. She turned toward Urélia. "What is going to happen?" Fear tightened her voice. Urélia exchanged a glance with Luna Marilyne, who was still fretting over the adornments for the upcoming event. "It's an old arrangement," Urélia murmured. "The Council of Wolves has validated a pact between Alpha Balak and Xaeron. I don't know every clause, but the rule is clear: Xaeron can claim nearly everything... except the Alpha and Luna, who are protected until the next black moon." Jaselya felt her breath catch. "A pact? Why would anyone permit this?" Urélia lowered her voice slightly. "This kind of deal isn't easily won. It's negotiated. Bought. Your father must have paid a tremendous price. But it guarantees protection... in certain situations." Jaselya took a step back. "Why am I being presented as his daughter?" Urélia sighed. "He refuses to lose what he considers important. That's why he's putting you on display for Xaeron." Jaselya's heart began to race. The more she heard, the less she understood. "Am I just some object to be handed over?" she breathed. Urélia avoided a direct answer. "It will all depend on him. And on what the Alpha decides." The door slammed open. Alpha Balak entered, his expression strained. His eyes landed on her, immediately filled with irritation. "Cover that face. Now." A servant dropped the veil over her features. A wave of deep humiliation washed through Jaselya. Her own father couldn't even stand the sight of her. "He's already here," Balak growled. "That ba**ard is insufferable." Then he fixed her with a harsh stare. "Don't humiliate us." She flinched. Jessie, who was standing nearby, muttered with contempt, "Look at that... With that ugly face of hers, all is lost." Her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face against her mother. Jaselya's mind had gone blank. Unknown names. Unfathomable decisions. Xaeron. A bond. A price. A future being decided without her. They moved through the stairway, flanked by the guards. Every step felt like a fall. In the main hall, an entire assembly awaited them. The pack's ranking members. Heavy, silent stares. Luna Marilyne stood close to Alpha Balak. And at the center, an occupied throne. An unfamiliar man. The light kept his face in shadow, featureless. But his presence alone was enough to thicken the very air. Abel and the others formed a rigid line, like a silent army. Jaselya stood frozen. The man rose. The sound of his footsteps rang out like a death sentence. She lowered her gaze, unable to face that overwhelming presence. Then everything tilted. A hand seized her veil and ripped it aside. Fingers caught her face with brutal precision, forcing her head back. She was forced to meet his gaze. And she saw him. A man of almost unreal handsomeness. But lurking beneath that charm was something dangerous. Something that offered no escape. Chapter 5 JASELYA'S POV The man stood before me with a confidence that crushed everything around him. His dark hair, cut short, sharpened the angles of his face, marked by a thin scar near his eye. Yet that detail practically vanished against the intensity of his eyes. Eyes of a deep, almost mineral black, framed by disturbingly thick lashes. A beauty many would have envied. His face looked like something carved by an artist's hand-sharp jaw, elegant lines, a nose that seemed too perfect to be real, and brows set in flawless symmetry. His lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of almost unreal white teeth. All of this rested on an impressive, massive frame, forged by years of combat and training. He shared nothing in common with the men of my pack. He wasn't simply strong. He gave the impression of having been created for war. And yet, despite this almost disturbing beauty, a silent alarm imposed itself within me. Something in his presence warned me to stay away. As if every fiber of my body understood before I did that he was danger. A living threat. My stomach clenched without warning, mixing fear and confusion. His hand closed over my chin with a controlled firmness, forcing my face up. My gaze wavered despite myself. I immediately remembered how I had always been seen. My wounded side, my scar, my features deemed unworthy. All my life I had been looked upon as a mistake. My father had insulted me, my half-sister had scorned me, and the rest of the pack had rejected me. So he too... was going to judge me. He must already be doing it. "So it's you," he said at last, his voice low and cutting. "What's your name?" There was no warmth in his tone. Only a coldness that bordered on hostility. I could feel a brutal tension radiating from him, like an invisible blade. "Jaselya," I replied with difficulty. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my father. A silent pressure immediately crushed me. He was silently warning me not to disappoint the man. Even if everything in me had no idea how to achieve it. The man stepped back slightly, without breaking eye contact. Then he gave a sharp gesture of the hand. One of his men stepped forward, carrying a box. He handed it to him, and it was then held out to me. "Open it," he ordered simply. My heart clenched. A test. It had to be a test. The silence in the hall became almost unreal. No one was really breathing anymore. My fingers trembled as I grasped the box. The ribbon gave way under my hesitant motions. When the lid opened, the world seemed to tilt. Inside was a head. Alpha Dean's. The leader of the Black Wing Pack. The man Jessie was supposed to bond with. No reaction escaped me, no scream. I simply dropped the box. It hit the floor. The head rolled out, coming to a stop near my dress, leaving dark spatters on the fabric. A scream tore through the hall. It was Jessie. Her cry echoed against the walls like a crack in the silence. I slowly looked up. The man was still watching me. And this time... he was smiling. &3&

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As the Alpha's unwanted daughter, she was despised by her own family, abused by her stepmother, and treated like a plaything by her stepsister. She grew up believing she was worthless and learned to make herself invisible. But everything changed when the son of her family's greatest enemy destroyed their pack.
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Chapter 1
JASELYA'S POV

"Brainless id**t" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air. 

Before I could even react, her hand sl**med across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder. 

A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow. 

No explanation was needed. This m**k would stay visible for a long time. 

"Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?"

With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking. 

I lifted my gaze slightly. 

She answered with a gob of spit. 

The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away. 

"Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wr**ch."

Tears escaped me despite myself. 

"Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice. 

She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly."

Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream. 

"The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!"

I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty."

I had no other choice. 

Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, st**king her hair as if nothing had just happened. 

"Anything you wish, just say the word, and this d*g will do it," she declared softly. 

Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..."

Those words pierced my ch**t like a blade. 

Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit."

Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?"

I felt my bl**d run cold. 

A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it."

I stayed frozen, barely breathing. 

They talked about me as if I didn't exist. 

As if I were nothing but an object. 

Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself."

"She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away. 

Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants. 

I was left alone with the silence. 

My entire life had unfolded this way. 

In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected. 

But none of it had ever applied to me. 

My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery. 

The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden af**ir with her. 

His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out. 

Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her. 

When she fell pr**nant, she was locked away even more tightly. 

I was born premature, in pain and bl**d. 

My mother didn't survive. 

Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder. 

I was blamed for her death. 

Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive. 

But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life. 

Against all odds, I didn't die. 

But my survival changed nothing. 

A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised. 

All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation. 

And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me. 

Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment."

I understood immediately. 

My body seized up. 

The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors. 

That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake. 

Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care. 

Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching. 

The silence was oppressive. 

I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this. 

Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied. 

She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected. 

Our bl**d ties had never mattered. 

She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust. 

Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty. 

The enforcer approached. 

I instinctively shrank back. "Please..."

But he didn't listen. 

He tore the fabric from my back. 

The cold air bit into my skin. 

An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began. 

"St**p her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice. 

I stood paralyzed. 

The fabric was completely ripped away. 

I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with. 

I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my ch**t. 

The first blow landed. 

Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning. 

The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the bl**d, the dizziness. 

I made out Urélia in the distance. 

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene. 

It was forbidden. 

Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs. 

Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight. 

"Breathe... I'm here..."

Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos. 

A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body. 

Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do."

Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition."

"That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait."

Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds."

Then she ordered that I be lifted. 

Jessie protested, but no one really listened. 

I was carried away from the scene. 

The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me. 

Then everything went dark. 

Chapter 2
A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness. 

A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move. 

"Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me. 

My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist. 

Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds. 

A cry escaped me despite myself. 

At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you."

My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves. 

For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain. 

No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival. 

Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty."

I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..."

I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me. 

An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food. 

Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands. 

From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now. 

Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?"

I didn't answer. 

Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time. 

She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace. 

Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin. 

If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning. 

And there was something else. The worst part. 

I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf. 

It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone. 

I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me. 

Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation. 

I startled. "Why are you doing that?"

Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back. 

An intense burn tore a scream from my throat. 

I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her. 

"Forgive me..." she murmured in distress. 

Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force. 

She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep."

I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore. 

Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle. 

Bells. 

Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned."

My stomach clenched. 

My father. 

The one who had ignored me my entire life. 

He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him. 

And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his bl**d. 

Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow. 

Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer. 

As for me, I remained hidden. 

I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place. 

Then I stopped dreaming. 

Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest."

I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..."

She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up."

Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under. 

... 

In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone. 

His face was closed off, hard as stone. 

The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation. 

For the first time in decades, he had lost. 

And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack. 

Worse still, to Xaeron. 

That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead. 

Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage. 

Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee. 

It was a shame he had never known before. 

Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves. 

But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more. 

The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?"

He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?"

She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?"

His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer."

She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer."

He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted. 

"We lost," he finally said. 

The shock froze her in place. 

"Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes."

Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?"

He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever."

The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation. 

Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power. 

Then betrayal had destroyed everything. 

Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bl**dline. 

But Xaeron had returned. 

And now, he demanded reparation. 

"The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him."

A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall. 

Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..."

"I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to."

She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..."

"They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly. 

The silence became oppressive. 

"The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my bl**d."

Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us."

"It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built."

She trembled. "She was punished today..."

Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly."

Chapter 3
JASELYA'S POV

I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes. 

So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality. 

She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags. 

Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched. 

Why me? 

A hidden execution? A verdict already decided? 

The great doors swung open. 

The room swallowed me whole. 

They were all there. 

Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years. 

And in the center, there he was. 

Alpha Balak. 

My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it. 

For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine. 

I felt my throat tighten. 

His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?"

I blinked, disoriented. 

Was that really all this was? 

"I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head. 

He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side. 

Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly. 

I obeyed. 

His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch. 

"Hold still," he murmured without harshness. 

My heart was beating too fast. 

The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice. 

A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false. 

A chill ran through me. 

I knew that voice. I knew that look even more. 

Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me. 

His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body. 

I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee. 

Since then, I had avoided him like a bl**e already drawn from its sheath. 

"No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out."

A heavy silence settled in. 

Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see. 

The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?"

Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered."

The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation. 

"Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia."

Rapid footsteps moved away. 

I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him. 

He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him. 

I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence. 

Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?"

No one looked at me. 

"Answer," Balak ordered. 

"Nineteen," I said in a low voice. 

He relayed the information. 

An even colder silence settled in. 

"Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded. 

Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds. 

I stifled a flinch. 

"There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own bl**d."

The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing. 

"You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission. 

Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?"

Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply. 

"How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!"

I felt my eyes burn. 

Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had. 

But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted."

She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on."

She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress. 

Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?"

The name hit like a stone. 

Xaeron. 

I couldn't understand. 

Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?"

Her voice was breaking between rage and panic. 

"There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him."

Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed. 

I no longer understood anything. 

Everything was falling apart without logic. 

"Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of bl**d is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf."

Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift."

I panicked. 

Exile? 

Me? 

Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat. 

Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he. 

Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary."

I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured. 

Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha. 

"You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?"

No one spoke to him that way. 

No one. 

Balak's face hardened. 

"We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize."

The world seemed to warp around me. 

A prize? 

Me? 

I stepped back slightly without realizing it. 

Was Xaeron coming for me? 

And what war had we lost without me even knowing? 

I no longer had any grip on what was happening. 

Nothing felt real. 

"Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer."

Chapter 4
Xaeron stormed across the castle boundaries with his warriors and the seven ranking members of the Council of Wolves at his back. 

The place made his stomach turn instantly. 

No sooner had he set foot on the Moonlight pack's land than he spat on the ground, as if to rid his mouth of the stench of this place. 

The land itself reeked of slaughter. 

He went back to being that child again, visiting his parents before everything fell apart. 

Then came the betrayal. His father's bl**d soaking into the dirt. His mother's head displayed like a trophy. His sister's entrails torn out. And his entire pack exterminated, cleanly and methodically. 

He should have made them suffer longer. Much longer. Until Balak begged. 

Then he would have ripped Balak's head off himself, shattered it before his own people, and ground the fragments into his throne. 

But Balak had fled. He had sought refuge with the Council and secured protection through an ancient pact. 

Now Xaeron was stuck dealing with those rules he despised. 

He could claim the entire pack. But the Wolf Law imposed one exception: Balak and his mate would be spared until the next black moon. 

An absurdity. 

Xaeron let out a dry laugh. He didn't care about the children. It was Balak he wanted. Only Balak. 

The corridors emptied before him. The guards fell back, unable to meet his eyes. 

He entered the throne room and seated himself without permission. 

His gaze swept over the hall, cold and assessing. 

Everything would be reduced to ashes. This castle, these walls, this memory. Nothing was to remain. Just as Balak had done with his home. 

"Where are they?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I won't wait. The rules mean nothing to me anymore."

"They're on their way," answered one of the council members cautiously. 

Xaeron leaned back against the throne. 

Five minutes. He was giving them five minutes. 

... 

Jaselya discovered a reflection of herself she didn't recognize. 

A light-colored gown, almost regal, draped over her body. 

The fabric was fine, carefully worked, and set with luminous details. 

She had been remade. Her hair swept up, her face painted with precision. 

She looked like a stranger-almost like a princess. But this illusion brought her no comfort. 

She turned toward Urélia. "What is going to happen?"

Fear tightened her voice. 

Urélia exchanged a glance with Luna Marilyne, who was still fretting over the adornments for the upcoming event. 

"It's an old arrangement," Urélia murmured. "The Council of Wolves has validated a pact between Alpha Balak and Xaeron. I don't know every clause, but the rule is clear: Xaeron can claim nearly everything... except the Alpha and Luna, who are protected until the next black moon."

Jaselya felt her breath catch. "A pact? Why would anyone permit this?"

Urélia lowered her voice slightly. "This kind of deal isn't easily won. It's negotiated. Bought. Your father must have paid a tremendous price. But it guarantees protection... in certain situations."

Jaselya took a step back. "Why am I being presented as his daughter?"

Urélia sighed. "He refuses to lose what he considers important. That's why he's putting you on display for Xaeron."

Jaselya's heart began to race. The more she heard, the less she understood. 

"Am I just some object to be handed over?" she breathed. 

Urélia avoided a direct answer. "It will all depend on him. And on what the Alpha decides."

The door slammed open. 

Alpha Balak entered, his expression strained. His eyes landed on her, immediately filled with irritation. "Cover that face. Now."

A servant dropped the veil over her features. 

A wave of deep humiliation washed through Jaselya. 

Her own father couldn't even stand the sight of her. 

"He's already here," Balak growled. "That ba**ard is insufferable."

Then he fixed her with a harsh stare. "Don't humiliate us."

She flinched. 

Jessie, who was standing nearby, muttered with contempt, "Look at that... With that ugly face of hers, all is lost."

Her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face against her mother. 

Jaselya's mind had gone blank. 

Unknown names. Unfathomable decisions. 

Xaeron. 

A bond. 

A price. 

A future being decided without her. 

They moved through the stairway, flanked by the guards. 

Every step felt like a fall. 

In the main hall, an entire assembly awaited them. 

The pack's ranking members. Heavy, silent stares. 

Luna Marilyne stood close to Alpha Balak. And at the center, an occupied throne. An unfamiliar man. 

The light kept his face in shadow, featureless. But his presence alone was enough to thicken the very air. 

Abel and the others formed a rigid line, like a silent army. 

Jaselya stood frozen. 

The man rose. The sound of his footsteps rang out like a death sentence. 

She lowered her gaze, unable to face that overwhelming presence. 

Then everything tilted. 

A hand seized her veil and ripped it aside. Fingers caught her face with brutal precision, forcing her head back. She was forced to meet his gaze. 

And she saw him. A man of almost unreal handsomeness. 

But lurking beneath that charm was something dangerous. 

Something that offered no escape. 

Chapter 5
JASELYA'S POV

The man stood before me with a confidence that crushed everything around him. 

His dark hair, cut short, sharpened the angles of his face, marked by a thin scar near his eye. Yet that detail practically vanished against the intensity of his eyes. Eyes of a deep, almost mineral black, framed by disturbingly thick lashes. A beauty many would have envied. 

His face looked like something carved by an artist's hand-sharp jaw, elegant lines, a nose that seemed too perfect to be real, and brows set in flawless symmetry. 

His lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of almost unreal white teeth. 

All of this rested on an impressive, massive frame, forged by years of combat and training. He shared nothing in common with the men of my pack. 

He wasn't simply strong. 

He gave the impression of having been created for war. 

And yet, despite this almost disturbing beauty, a silent alarm imposed itself within me. 

Something in his presence warned me to stay away. As if every fiber of my body understood before I did that he was danger. 

A living threat. 

My stomach clenched without warning, mixing fear and confusion. 

His hand closed over my chin with a controlled firmness, forcing my face up. 

My gaze wavered despite myself. 

I immediately remembered how I had always been seen. 

My wounded side, my scar, my features deemed unworthy. 

All my life I had been looked upon as a mistake. My father had insulted me, my half-sister had scorned me, and the rest of the pack had rejected me. 

So he too... was going to judge me. He must already be doing it. 

"So it's you," he said at last, his voice low and cutting. "What's your name?"

There was no warmth in his tone. Only a coldness that bordered on hostility. 

I could feel a brutal tension radiating from him, like an invisible blade. 

"Jaselya," I replied with difficulty. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my father. 

A silent pressure immediately crushed me. He was silently warning me not to disappoint the man. Even if everything in me had no idea how to achieve it. 

The man stepped back slightly, without breaking eye contact. 

Then he gave a sharp gesture of the hand. 

One of his men stepped forward, carrying a box. 

He handed it to him, and it was then held out to me. 

"Open it," he ordered simply. 

My heart clenched. 

A test. 

It had to be a test. 

The silence in the hall became almost unreal. 

No one was really breathing anymore. 

My fingers trembled as I grasped the box. The ribbon gave way under my hesitant motions. 

When the lid opened, the world seemed to tilt. 

Inside was a head. 

Alpha Dean's. The leader of the Black Wing Pack. The man Jessie was supposed to bond with. 

No reaction escaped me, no scream. I simply dropped the box. 

It hit the floor. 

The head rolled out, coming to a stop near my dress, leaving dark spatters on the fabric. 

A scream tore through the hall. 

It was Jessie. 

Her cry echoed against the walls like a crack in the silence. 

I slowly looked up. 

The man was still watching me. 

And this time... he was smiling. 

&3&

As the Alpha's unwanted daughter, she was despised by her own family, abused by her stepmother, and treated like a plaything by her stepsister. She grew up believing she was worthless and learned to make herself invisible. But everything changed when the son of her family's greatest enemy destroyed their pack. ===== Chapter 1 JASELYA'S POV "Brainless id**t" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air. Before I could even react, her hand sl**med across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder. A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow. No explanation was needed. This m**k would stay visible for a long time. "Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?" With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking. I lifted my gaze slightly. She answered with a gob of spit. The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away. "Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wr**ch." Tears escaped me despite myself. "Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice. She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly." Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream. "The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!" I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty." I had no other choice. Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, st**king her hair as if nothing had just happened. "Anything you wish, just say the word, and this d*g will do it," she declared softly. Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..." Those words pierced my ch**t like a blade. Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit." Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?" I felt my bl**d run cold. A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it." I stayed frozen, barely breathing. They talked about me as if I didn't exist. As if I were nothing but an object. Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself." "She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away. Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants. I was left alone with the silence. My entire life had unfolded this way. In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected. But none of it had ever applied to me. My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery. The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden af**ir with her. His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out. Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her. When she fell pr**nant, she was locked away even more tightly. I was born premature, in pain and bl**d. My mother didn't survive. Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder. I was blamed for her death. Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive. But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life. Against all odds, I didn't die. But my survival changed nothing. A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised. All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation. And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me. Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment." I understood immediately. My body seized up. The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors. That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake. Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care. Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching. The silence was oppressive. I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this. Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied. She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected. Our bl**d ties had never mattered. She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust. Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty. The enforcer approached. I instinctively shrank back. "Please..." But he didn't listen. He tore the fabric from my back. The cold air bit into my skin. An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began. "St**p her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice. I stood paralyzed. The fabric was completely ripped away. I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with. I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my ch**t. The first blow landed. Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning. The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the bl**d, the dizziness. I made out Urélia in the distance. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene. It was forbidden. Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs. Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight. "Breathe... I'm here..." Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos. A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body. Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do." Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition." "That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait." Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds." Then she ordered that I be lifted. Jessie protested, but no one really listened. I was carried away from the scene. The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me. Then everything went dark. Chapter 2 A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness. A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move. "Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me. My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist. Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds. A cry escaped me despite myself. At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you." My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves. For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain. No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival. Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty." I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..." I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me. An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food. Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands. From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now. Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?" I didn't answer. Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time. She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace. Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin. If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning. And there was something else. The worst part. I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf. It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone. I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me. Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation. I startled. "Why are you doing that?" Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back. An intense burn tore a scream from my throat. I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her. "Forgive me..." she murmured in distress. Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force. She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep." I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore. Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle. Bells. Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned." My stomach clenched. My father. The one who had ignored me my entire life. He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him. And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his bl**d. Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow. Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer. As for me, I remained hidden. I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place. Then I stopped dreaming. Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest." I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..." She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up." Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under. ... In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone. His face was closed off, hard as stone. The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation. For the first time in decades, he had lost. And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack. Worse still, to Xaeron. That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead. Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage. Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee. It was a shame he had never known before. Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves. But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more. The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?" He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?" She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?" His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer." She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer." He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted. "We lost," he finally said. The shock froze her in place. "Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes." Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?" He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever." The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation. Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power. Then betrayal had destroyed everything. Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bl**dline. But Xaeron had returned. And now, he demanded reparation. "The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him." A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall. Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..." "I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to." She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..." "They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly. The silence became oppressive. "The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my bl**d." Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us." "It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built." She trembled. "She was punished today..." Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly." Chapter 3 JASELYA'S POV I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes. So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality. She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags. Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched. Why me? A hidden execution? A verdict already decided? The great doors swung open. The room swallowed me whole. They were all there. Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years. And in the center, there he was. Alpha Balak. My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it. For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine. I felt my throat tighten. His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?" I blinked, disoriented. Was that really all this was? "I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head. He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side. Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly. I obeyed. His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch. "Hold still," he murmured without harshness. My heart was beating too fast. The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice. A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false. A chill ran through me. I knew that voice. I knew that look even more. Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me. His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body. I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee. Since then, I had avoided him like a bl**e already drawn from its sheath. "No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out." A heavy silence settled in. Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see. The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?" Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered." The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation. "Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia." Rapid footsteps moved away. I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him. He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him. I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence. Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?" No one looked at me. "Answer," Balak ordered. "Nineteen," I said in a low voice. He relayed the information. An even colder silence settled in. "Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded. Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds. I stifled a flinch. "There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own bl**d." The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing. "You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission. Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?" Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply. "How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!" I felt my eyes burn. Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had. But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted." She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on." She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress. Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?" The name hit like a stone. Xaeron. I couldn't understand. Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?" Her voice was breaking between rage and panic. "There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him." Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed. I no longer understood anything. Everything was falling apart without logic. "Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of bl**d is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf." Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift." I panicked. Exile? Me? Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat. Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he. Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary." I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured. Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha. "You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?" No one spoke to him that way. No one. Balak's face hardened. "We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize." The world seemed to warp around me. A prize? Me? I stepped back slightly without realizing it. Was Xaeron coming for me? And what war had we lost without me even knowing? I no longer had any grip on what was happening. Nothing felt real. "Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer." Chapter 4 Xaeron stormed across the castle boundaries with his warriors and the seven ranking members of the Council of Wolves at his back. The place made his stomach turn instantly. No sooner had he set foot on the Moonlight pack's land than he spat on the ground, as if to rid his mouth of the stench of this place. The land itself reeked of slaughter. He went back to being that child again, visiting his parents before everything fell apart. Then came the betrayal. His father's bl**d soaking into the dirt. His mother's head displayed like a trophy. His sister's entrails torn out. And his entire pack exterminated, cleanly and methodically. He should have made them suffer longer. Much longer. Until Balak begged. Then he would have ripped Balak's head off himself, shattered it before his own people, and ground the fragments into his throne. But Balak had fled. He had sought refuge with the Council and secured protection through an ancient pact. Now Xaeron was stuck dealing with those rules he despised. He could claim the entire pack. But the Wolf Law imposed one exception: Balak and his mate would be spared until the next black moon. An absurdity. Xaeron let out a dry laugh. He didn't care about the children. It was Balak he wanted. Only Balak. The corridors emptied before him. The guards fell back, unable to meet his eyes. He entered the throne room and seated himself without permission. His gaze swept over the hall, cold and assessing. Everything would be reduced to ashes. This castle, these walls, this memory. Nothing was to remain. Just as Balak had done with his home. "Where are they?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I won't wait. The rules mean nothing to me anymore." "They're on their way," answered one of the council members cautiously. Xaeron leaned back against the throne. Five minutes. He was giving them five minutes. ... Jaselya discovered a reflection of herself she didn't recognize. A light-colored gown, almost regal, draped over her body. The fabric was fine, carefully worked, and set with luminous details. She had been remade. Her hair swept up, her face painted with precision. She looked like a stranger-almost like a princess. But this illusion brought her no comfort. She turned toward Urélia. "What is going to happen?" Fear tightened her voice. Urélia exchanged a glance with Luna Marilyne, who was still fretting over the adornments for the upcoming event. "It's an old arrangement," Urélia murmured. "The Council of Wolves has validated a pact between Alpha Balak and Xaeron. I don't know every clause, but the rule is clear: Xaeron can claim nearly everything... except the Alpha and Luna, who are protected until the next black moon." Jaselya felt her breath catch. "A pact? Why would anyone permit this?" Urélia lowered her voice slightly. "This kind of deal isn't easily won. It's negotiated. Bought. Your father must have paid a tremendous price. But it guarantees protection... in certain situations." Jaselya took a step back. "Why am I being presented as his daughter?" Urélia sighed. "He refuses to lose what he considers important. That's why he's putting you on display for Xaeron." Jaselya's heart began to race. The more she heard, the less she understood. "Am I just some object to be handed over?" she breathed. Urélia avoided a direct answer. "It will all depend on him. And on what the Alpha decides." The door slammed open. Alpha Balak entered, his expression strained. His eyes landed on her, immediately filled with irritation. "Cover that face. Now." A servant dropped the veil over her features. A wave of deep humiliation washed through Jaselya. Her own father couldn't even stand the sight of her. "He's already here," Balak growled. "That ba**ard is insufferable." Then he fixed her with a harsh stare. "Don't humiliate us." She flinched. Jessie, who was standing nearby, muttered with contempt, "Look at that... With that ugly face of hers, all is lost." Her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face against her mother. Jaselya's mind had gone blank. Unknown names. Unfathomable decisions. Xaeron. A bond. A price. A future being decided without her. They moved through the stairway, flanked by the guards. Every step felt like a fall. In the main hall, an entire assembly awaited them. The pack's ranking members. Heavy, silent stares. Luna Marilyne stood close to Alpha Balak. And at the center, an occupied throne. An unfamiliar man. The light kept his face in shadow, featureless. But his presence alone was enough to thicken the very air. Abel and the others formed a rigid line, like a silent army. Jaselya stood frozen. The man rose. The sound of his footsteps rang out like a death sentence. She lowered her gaze, unable to face that overwhelming presence. Then everything tilted. A hand seized her veil and ripped it aside. Fingers caught her face with brutal precision, forcing her head back. She was forced to meet his gaze. And she saw him. A man of almost unreal handsomeness. But lurking beneath that charm was something dangerous. Something that offered no escape. Chapter 5 JASELYA'S POV The man stood before me with a confidence that crushed everything around him. His dark hair, cut short, sharpened the angles of his face, marked by a thin scar near his eye. Yet that detail practically vanished against the intensity of his eyes. Eyes of a deep, almost mineral black, framed by disturbingly thick lashes. A beauty many would have envied. His face looked like something carved by an artist's hand-sharp jaw, elegant lines, a nose that seemed too perfect to be real, and brows set in flawless symmetry. His lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of almost unreal white teeth. All of this rested on an impressive, massive frame, forged by years of combat and training. He shared nothing in common with the men of my pack. He wasn't simply strong. He gave the impression of having been created for war. And yet, despite this almost disturbing beauty, a silent alarm imposed itself within me. Something in his presence warned me to stay away. As if every fiber of my body understood before I did that he was danger. A living threat. My stomach clenched without warning, mixing fear and confusion. His hand closed over my chin with a controlled firmness, forcing my face up. My gaze wavered despite myself. I immediately remembered how I had always been seen. My wounded side, my scar, my features deemed unworthy. All my life I had been looked upon as a mistake. My father had insulted me, my half-sister had scorned me, and the rest of the pack had rejected me. So he too... was going to judge me. He must already be doing it. "So it's you," he said at last, his voice low and cutting. "What's your name?" There was no warmth in his tone. Only a coldness that bordered on hostility. I could feel a brutal tension radiating from him, like an invisible blade. "Jaselya," I replied with difficulty. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my father. A silent pressure immediately crushed me. He was silently warning me not to disappoint the man. Even if everything in me had no idea how to achieve it. The man stepped back slightly, without breaking eye contact. Then he gave a sharp gesture of the hand. One of his men stepped forward, carrying a box. He handed it to him, and it was then held out to me. "Open it," he ordered simply. My heart clenched. A test. It had to be a test. The silence in the hall became almost unreal. No one was really breathing anymore. My fingers trembled as I grasped the box. The ribbon gave way under my hesitant motions. When the lid opened, the world seemed to tilt. Inside was a head. Alpha Dean's. The leader of the Black Wing Pack. The man Jessie was supposed to bond with. No reaction escaped me, no scream. I simply dropped the box. It hit the floor. The head rolled out, coming to a stop near my dress, leaving dark spatters on the fabric. A scream tore through the hall. It was Jessie. Her cry echoed against the walls like a crack in the silence. I slowly looked up. The man was still watching me. And this time... he was smiling. &3&

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As the Alpha's unwanted daughter, she was despised by her own family, abused by her stepmother, and treated like a plaything by her stepsister. She grew up believing she was worthless and learned to make herself invisible. But everything changed when the son of her family's greatest enemy destroyed their pack.
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Chapter 1
JASELYA'S POV

"Brainless id**t" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air. 

Before I could even react, her hand sl**med across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder. 

A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow. 

No explanation was needed. This m**k would stay visible for a long time. 

"Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?"

With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking. 

I lifted my gaze slightly. 

She answered with a gob of spit. 

The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away. 

"Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wr**ch."

Tears escaped me despite myself. 

"Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice. 

She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly."

Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream. 

"The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!"

I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty."

I had no other choice. 

Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, st**king her hair as if nothing had just happened. 

"Anything you wish, just say the word, and this d*g will do it," she declared softly. 

Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..."

Those words pierced my ch**t like a blade. 

Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit."

Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?"

I felt my bl**d run cold. 

A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it."

I stayed frozen, barely breathing. 

They talked about me as if I didn't exist. 

As if I were nothing but an object. 

Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself."

"She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away. 

Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants. 

I was left alone with the silence. 

My entire life had unfolded this way. 

In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected. 

But none of it had ever applied to me. 

My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery. 

The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden af**ir with her. 

His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out. 

Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her. 

When she fell pr**nant, she was locked away even more tightly. 

I was born premature, in pain and bl**d. 

My mother didn't survive. 

Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder. 

I was blamed for her death. 

Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive. 

But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life. 

Against all odds, I didn't die. 

But my survival changed nothing. 

A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised. 

All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation. 

And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me. 

Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment."

I understood immediately. 

My body seized up. 

The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors. 

That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake. 

Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care. 

Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching. 

The silence was oppressive. 

I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this. 

Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied. 

She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected. 

Our bl**d ties had never mattered. 

She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust. 

Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty. 

The enforcer approached. 

I instinctively shrank back. "Please..."

But he didn't listen. 

He tore the fabric from my back. 

The cold air bit into my skin. 

An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began. 

"St**p her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice. 

I stood paralyzed. 

The fabric was completely ripped away. 

I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with. 

I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my ch**t. 

The first blow landed. 

Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning. 

The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the bl**d, the dizziness. 

I made out Urélia in the distance. 

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene. 

It was forbidden. 

Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs. 

Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight. 

"Breathe... I'm here..."

Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos. 

A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body. 

Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do."

Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition."

"That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait."

Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds."

Then she ordered that I be lifted. 

Jessie protested, but no one really listened. 

I was carried away from the scene. 

The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me. 

Then everything went dark. 

Chapter 2
A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness. 

A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move. 

"Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me. 

My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist. 

Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds. 

A cry escaped me despite myself. 

At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you."

My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves. 

For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain. 

No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival. 

Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty."

I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..."

I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me. 

An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food. 

Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands. 

From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now. 

Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?"

I didn't answer. 

Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time. 

She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace. 

Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin. 

If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning. 

And there was something else. The worst part. 

I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf. 

It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone. 

I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me. 

Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation. 

I startled. "Why are you doing that?"

Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back. 

An intense burn tore a scream from my throat. 

I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her. 

"Forgive me..." she murmured in distress. 

Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force. 

She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep."

I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore. 

Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle. 

Bells. 

Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned."

My stomach clenched. 

My father. 

The one who had ignored me my entire life. 

He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him. 

And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his bl**d. 

Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow. 

Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer. 

As for me, I remained hidden. 

I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place. 

Then I stopped dreaming. 

Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest."

I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..."

She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up."

Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under. 

... 

In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone. 

His face was closed off, hard as stone. 

The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation. 

For the first time in decades, he had lost. 

And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack. 

Worse still, to Xaeron. 

That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead. 

Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage. 

Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee. 

It was a shame he had never known before. 

Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves. 

But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more. 

The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?"

He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?"

She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?"

His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer."

She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer."

He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted. 

"We lost," he finally said. 

The shock froze her in place. 

"Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes."

Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?"

He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever."

The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation. 

Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power. 

Then betrayal had destroyed everything. 

Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bl**dline. 

But Xaeron had returned. 

And now, he demanded reparation. 

"The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him."

A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall. 

Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..."

"I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to."

She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..."

"They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly. 

The silence became oppressive. 

"The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my bl**d."

Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us."

"It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built."

She trembled. "She was punished today..."

Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly."

Chapter 3
JASELYA'S POV

I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes. 

So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality. 

She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags. 

Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched. 

Why me? 

A hidden execution? A verdict already decided? 

The great doors swung open. 

The room swallowed me whole. 

They were all there. 

Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years. 

And in the center, there he was. 

Alpha Balak. 

My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it. 

For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine. 

I felt my throat tighten. 

His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?"

I blinked, disoriented. 

Was that really all this was? 

"I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head. 

He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side. 

Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly. 

I obeyed. 

His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch. 

"Hold still," he murmured without harshness. 

My heart was beating too fast. 

The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice. 

A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false. 

A chill ran through me. 

I knew that voice. I knew that look even more. 

Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me. 

His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body. 

I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee. 

Since then, I had avoided him like a bl**e already drawn from its sheath. 

"No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out."

A heavy silence settled in. 

Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see. 

The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?"

Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered."

The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation. 

"Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia."

Rapid footsteps moved away. 

I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him. 

He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him. 

I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence. 

Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?"

No one looked at me. 

"Answer," Balak ordered. 

"Nineteen," I said in a low voice. 

He relayed the information. 

An even colder silence settled in. 

"Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded. 

Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds. 

I stifled a flinch. 

"There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own bl**d."

The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing. 

"You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission. 

Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?"

Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply. 

"How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!"

I felt my eyes burn. 

Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had. 

But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted."

She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on."

She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress. 

Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?"

The name hit like a stone. 

Xaeron. 

I couldn't understand. 

Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?"

Her voice was breaking between rage and panic. 

"There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him."

Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed. 

I no longer understood anything. 

Everything was falling apart without logic. 

"Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of bl**d is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf."

Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift."

I panicked. 

Exile? 

Me? 

Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat. 

Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he. 

Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary."

I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured. 

Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha. 

"You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?"

No one spoke to him that way. 

No one. 

Balak's face hardened. 

"We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize."

The world seemed to warp around me. 

A prize? 

Me? 

I stepped back slightly without realizing it. 

Was Xaeron coming for me? 

And what war had we lost without me even knowing? 

I no longer had any grip on what was happening. 

Nothing felt real. 

"Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer."

Chapter 4
Xaeron stormed across the castle boundaries with his warriors and the seven ranking members of the Council of Wolves at his back. 

The place made his stomach turn instantly. 

No sooner had he set foot on the Moonlight pack's land than he spat on the ground, as if to rid his mouth of the stench of this place. 

The land itself reeked of slaughter. 

He went back to being that child again, visiting his parents before everything fell apart. 

Then came the betrayal. His father's bl**d soaking into the dirt. His mother's head displayed like a trophy. His sister's entrails torn out. And his entire pack exterminated, cleanly and methodically. 

He should have made them suffer longer. Much longer. Until Balak begged. 

Then he would have ripped Balak's head off himself, shattered it before his own people, and ground the fragments into his throne. 

But Balak had fled. He had sought refuge with the Council and secured protection through an ancient pact. 

Now Xaeron was stuck dealing with those rules he despised. 

He could claim the entire pack. But the Wolf Law imposed one exception: Balak and his mate would be spared until the next black moon. 

An absurdity. 

Xaeron let out a dry laugh. He didn't care about the children. It was Balak he wanted. Only Balak. 

The corridors emptied before him. The guards fell back, unable to meet his eyes. 

He entered the throne room and seated himself without permission. 

His gaze swept over the hall, cold and assessing. 

Everything would be reduced to ashes. This castle, these walls, this memory. Nothing was to remain. Just as Balak had done with his home. 

"Where are they?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I won't wait. The rules mean nothing to me anymore."

"They're on their way," answered one of the council members cautiously. 

Xaeron leaned back against the throne. 

Five minutes. He was giving them five minutes. 

... 

Jaselya discovered a reflection of herself she didn't recognize. 

A light-colored gown, almost regal, draped over her body. 

The fabric was fine, carefully worked, and set with luminous details. 

She had been remade. Her hair swept up, her face painted with precision. 

She looked like a stranger-almost like a princess. But this illusion brought her no comfort. 

She turned toward Urélia. "What is going to happen?"

Fear tightened her voice. 

Urélia exchanged a glance with Luna Marilyne, who was still fretting over the adornments for the upcoming event. 

"It's an old arrangement," Urélia murmured. "The Council of Wolves has validated a pact between Alpha Balak and Xaeron. I don't know every clause, but the rule is clear: Xaeron can claim nearly everything... except the Alpha and Luna, who are protected until the next black moon."

Jaselya felt her breath catch. "A pact? Why would anyone permit this?"

Urélia lowered her voice slightly. "This kind of deal isn't easily won. It's negotiated. Bought. Your father must have paid a tremendous price. But it guarantees protection... in certain situations."

Jaselya took a step back. "Why am I being presented as his daughter?"

Urélia sighed. "He refuses to lose what he considers important. That's why he's putting you on display for Xaeron."

Jaselya's heart began to race. The more she heard, the less she understood. 

"Am I just some object to be handed over?" she breathed. 

Urélia avoided a direct answer. "It will all depend on him. And on what the Alpha decides."

The door slammed open. 

Alpha Balak entered, his expression strained. His eyes landed on her, immediately filled with irritation. "Cover that face. Now."

A servant dropped the veil over her features. 

A wave of deep humiliation washed through Jaselya. 

Her own father couldn't even stand the sight of her. 

"He's already here," Balak growled. "That ba**ard is insufferable."

Then he fixed her with a harsh stare. "Don't humiliate us."

She flinched. 

Jessie, who was standing nearby, muttered with contempt, "Look at that... With that ugly face of hers, all is lost."

Her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face against her mother. 

Jaselya's mind had gone blank. 

Unknown names. Unfathomable decisions. 

Xaeron. 

A bond. 

A price. 

A future being decided without her. 

They moved through the stairway, flanked by the guards. 

Every step felt like a fall. 

In the main hall, an entire assembly awaited them. 

The pack's ranking members. Heavy, silent stares. 

Luna Marilyne stood close to Alpha Balak. And at the center, an occupied throne. An unfamiliar man. 

The light kept his face in shadow, featureless. But his presence alone was enough to thicken the very air. 

Abel and the others formed a rigid line, like a silent army. 

Jaselya stood frozen. 

The man rose. The sound of his footsteps rang out like a death sentence. 

She lowered her gaze, unable to face that overwhelming presence. 

Then everything tilted. 

A hand seized her veil and ripped it aside. Fingers caught her face with brutal precision, forcing her head back. She was forced to meet his gaze. 

And she saw him. A man of almost unreal handsomeness. 

But lurking beneath that charm was something dangerous. 

Something that offered no escape. 

Chapter 5
JASELYA'S POV

The man stood before me with a confidence that crushed everything around him. 

His dark hair, cut short, sharpened the angles of his face, marked by a thin scar near his eye. Yet that detail practically vanished against the intensity of his eyes. Eyes of a deep, almost mineral black, framed by disturbingly thick lashes. A beauty many would have envied. 

His face looked like something carved by an artist's hand-sharp jaw, elegant lines, a nose that seemed too perfect to be real, and brows set in flawless symmetry. 

His lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of almost unreal white teeth. 

All of this rested on an impressive, massive frame, forged by years of combat and training. He shared nothing in common with the men of my pack. 

He wasn't simply strong. 

He gave the impression of having been created for war. 

And yet, despite this almost disturbing beauty, a silent alarm imposed itself within me. 

Something in his presence warned me to stay away. As if every fiber of my body understood before I did that he was danger. 

A living threat. 

My stomach clenched without warning, mixing fear and confusion. 

His hand closed over my chin with a controlled firmness, forcing my face up. 

My gaze wavered despite myself. 

I immediately remembered how I had always been seen. 

My wounded side, my scar, my features deemed unworthy. 

All my life I had been looked upon as a mistake. My father had insulted me, my half-sister had scorned me, and the rest of the pack had rejected me. 

So he too... was going to judge me. He must already be doing it. 

"So it's you," he said at last, his voice low and cutting. "What's your name?"

There was no warmth in his tone. Only a coldness that bordered on hostility. 

I could feel a brutal tension radiating from him, like an invisible blade. 

"Jaselya," I replied with difficulty. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my father. 

A silent pressure immediately crushed me. He was silently warning me not to disappoint the man. Even if everything in me had no idea how to achieve it. 

The man stepped back slightly, without breaking eye contact. 

Then he gave a sharp gesture of the hand. 

One of his men stepped forward, carrying a box. 

He handed it to him, and it was then held out to me. 

"Open it," he ordered simply. 

My heart clenched. 

A test. 

It had to be a test. 

The silence in the hall became almost unreal. 

No one was really breathing anymore. 

My fingers trembled as I grasped the box. The ribbon gave way under my hesitant motions. 

When the lid opened, the world seemed to tilt. 

Inside was a head. 

Alpha Dean's. The leader of the Black Wing Pack. The man Jessie was supposed to bond with. 

No reaction escaped me, no scream. I simply dropped the box. 

It hit the floor. 

The head rolled out, coming to a stop near my dress, leaving dark spatters on the fabric. 

A scream tore through the hall. 

It was Jessie. 

Her cry echoed against the walls like a crack in the silence. 

I slowly looked up. 

The man was still watching me. 

And this time... he was smiling. 

&3&

As the Alpha's unwanted daughter, she was despised by her own family, abused by her stepmother, and treated like a plaything by her stepsister. She grew up believing she was worthless and learned to make herself invisible. But everything changed when the son of her family's greatest enemy destroyed their pack. ===== Chapter 1 JASELYA'S POV "Brainless id**t" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air. Before I could even react, her hand sl**med across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder. A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow. No explanation was needed. This m**k would stay visible for a long time. "Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?" With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking. I lifted my gaze slightly. She answered with a gob of spit. The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away. "Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wr**ch." Tears escaped me despite myself. "Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice. She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly." Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream. "The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!" I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty." I had no other choice. Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, st**king her hair as if nothing had just happened. "Anything you wish, just say the word, and this d*g will do it," she declared softly. Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..." Those words pierced my ch**t like a blade. Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit." Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?" I felt my bl**d run cold. A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it." I stayed frozen, barely breathing. They talked about me as if I didn't exist. As if I were nothing but an object. Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself." "She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away. Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants. I was left alone with the silence. My entire life had unfolded this way. In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected. But none of it had ever applied to me. My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery. The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden af**ir with her. His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out. Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her. When she fell pr**nant, she was locked away even more tightly. I was born premature, in pain and bl**d. My mother didn't survive. Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder. I was blamed for her death. Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive. But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life. Against all odds, I didn't die. But my survival changed nothing. A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised. All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation. And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me. Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment." I understood immediately. My body seized up. The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors. That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake. Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care. Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching. The silence was oppressive. I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this. Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied. She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected. Our bl**d ties had never mattered. She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust. Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty. The enforcer approached. I instinctively shrank back. "Please..." But he didn't listen. He tore the fabric from my back. The cold air bit into my skin. An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began. "St**p her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice. I stood paralyzed. The fabric was completely ripped away. I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with. I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my ch**t. The first blow landed. Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning. The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the bl**d, the dizziness. I made out Urélia in the distance. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene. It was forbidden. Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs. Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight. "Breathe... I'm here..." Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos. A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body. Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do." Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition." "That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait." Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds." Then she ordered that I be lifted. Jessie protested, but no one really listened. I was carried away from the scene. The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me. Then everything went dark. Chapter 2 A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness. A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move. "Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me. My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist. Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds. A cry escaped me despite myself. At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you." My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves. For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain. No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival. Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty." I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..." I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me. An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food. Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands. From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now. Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?" I didn't answer. Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time. She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace. Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin. If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning. And there was something else. The worst part. I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf. It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone. I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me. Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation. I startled. "Why are you doing that?" Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back. An intense burn tore a scream from my throat. I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her. "Forgive me..." she murmured in distress. Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force. She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep." I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore. Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle. Bells. Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned." My stomach clenched. My father. The one who had ignored me my entire life. He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him. And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his bl**d. Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow. Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer. As for me, I remained hidden. I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place. Then I stopped dreaming. Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest." I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..." She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up." Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under. ... In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone. His face was closed off, hard as stone. The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation. For the first time in decades, he had lost. And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack. Worse still, to Xaeron. That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead. Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage. Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee. It was a shame he had never known before. Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves. But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more. The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?" He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?" She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?" His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer." She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer." He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted. "We lost," he finally said. The shock froze her in place. "Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes." Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?" He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever." The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation. Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power. Then betrayal had destroyed everything. Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bl**dline. But Xaeron had returned. And now, he demanded reparation. "The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him." A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall. Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..." "I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to." She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..." "They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly. The silence became oppressive. "The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my bl**d." Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us." "It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built." She trembled. "She was punished today..." Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly." Chapter 3 JASELYA'S POV I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes. So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality. She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags. Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched. Why me? A hidden execution? A verdict already decided? The great doors swung open. The room swallowed me whole. They were all there. Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years. And in the center, there he was. Alpha Balak. My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it. For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine. I felt my throat tighten. His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?" I blinked, disoriented. Was that really all this was? "I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head. He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side. Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly. I obeyed. His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch. "Hold still," he murmured without harshness. My heart was beating too fast. The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice. A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false. A chill ran through me. I knew that voice. I knew that look even more. Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me. His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body. I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee. Since then, I had avoided him like a bl**e already drawn from its sheath. "No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out." A heavy silence settled in. Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see. The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?" Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered." The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation. "Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia." Rapid footsteps moved away. I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him. He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him. I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence. Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?" No one looked at me. "Answer," Balak ordered. "Nineteen," I said in a low voice. He relayed the information. An even colder silence settled in. "Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded. Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds. I stifled a flinch. "There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own bl**d." The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing. "You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission. Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?" Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply. "How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!" I felt my eyes burn. Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had. But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted." She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on." She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress. Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?" The name hit like a stone. Xaeron. I couldn't understand. Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?" Her voice was breaking between rage and panic. "There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him." Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed. I no longer understood anything. Everything was falling apart without logic. "Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of bl**d is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf." Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift." I panicked. Exile? Me? Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat. Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he. Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary." I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured. Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha. "You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?" No one spoke to him that way. No one. Balak's face hardened. "We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize." The world seemed to warp around me. A prize? Me? I stepped back slightly without realizing it. Was Xaeron coming for me? And what war had we lost without me even knowing? I no longer had any grip on what was happening. Nothing felt real. "Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer." Chapter 4 Xaeron stormed across the castle boundaries with his warriors and the seven ranking members of the Council of Wolves at his back. The place made his stomach turn instantly. No sooner had he set foot on the Moonlight pack's land than he spat on the ground, as if to rid his mouth of the stench of this place. The land itself reeked of slaughter. He went back to being that child again, visiting his parents before everything fell apart. Then came the betrayal. His father's bl**d soaking into the dirt. His mother's head displayed like a trophy. His sister's entrails torn out. And his entire pack exterminated, cleanly and methodically. He should have made them suffer longer. Much longer. Until Balak begged. Then he would have ripped Balak's head off himself, shattered it before his own people, and ground the fragments into his throne. But Balak had fled. He had sought refuge with the Council and secured protection through an ancient pact. Now Xaeron was stuck dealing with those rules he despised. He could claim the entire pack. But the Wolf Law imposed one exception: Balak and his mate would be spared until the next black moon. An absurdity. Xaeron let out a dry laugh. He didn't care about the children. It was Balak he wanted. Only Balak. The corridors emptied before him. The guards fell back, unable to meet his eyes. He entered the throne room and seated himself without permission. His gaze swept over the hall, cold and assessing. Everything would be reduced to ashes. This castle, these walls, this memory. Nothing was to remain. Just as Balak had done with his home. "Where are they?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I won't wait. The rules mean nothing to me anymore." "They're on their way," answered one of the council members cautiously. Xaeron leaned back against the throne. Five minutes. He was giving them five minutes. ... Jaselya discovered a reflection of herself she didn't recognize. A light-colored gown, almost regal, draped over her body. The fabric was fine, carefully worked, and set with luminous details. She had been remade. Her hair swept up, her face painted with precision. She looked like a stranger-almost like a princess. But this illusion brought her no comfort. She turned toward Urélia. "What is going to happen?" Fear tightened her voice. Urélia exchanged a glance with Luna Marilyne, who was still fretting over the adornments for the upcoming event. "It's an old arrangement," Urélia murmured. "The Council of Wolves has validated a pact between Alpha Balak and Xaeron. I don't know every clause, but the rule is clear: Xaeron can claim nearly everything... except the Alpha and Luna, who are protected until the next black moon." Jaselya felt her breath catch. "A pact? Why would anyone permit this?" Urélia lowered her voice slightly. "This kind of deal isn't easily won. It's negotiated. Bought. Your father must have paid a tremendous price. But it guarantees protection... in certain situations." Jaselya took a step back. "Why am I being presented as his daughter?" Urélia sighed. "He refuses to lose what he considers important. That's why he's putting you on display for Xaeron." Jaselya's heart began to race. The more she heard, the less she understood. "Am I just some object to be handed over?" she breathed. Urélia avoided a direct answer. "It will all depend on him. And on what the Alpha decides." The door slammed open. Alpha Balak entered, his expression strained. His eyes landed on her, immediately filled with irritation. "Cover that face. Now." A servant dropped the veil over her features. A wave of deep humiliation washed through Jaselya. Her own father couldn't even stand the sight of her. "He's already here," Balak growled. "That ba**ard is insufferable." Then he fixed her with a harsh stare. "Don't humiliate us." She flinched. Jessie, who was standing nearby, muttered with contempt, "Look at that... With that ugly face of hers, all is lost." Her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face against her mother. Jaselya's mind had gone blank. Unknown names. Unfathomable decisions. Xaeron. A bond. A price. A future being decided without her. They moved through the stairway, flanked by the guards. Every step felt like a fall. In the main hall, an entire assembly awaited them. The pack's ranking members. Heavy, silent stares. Luna Marilyne stood close to Alpha Balak. And at the center, an occupied throne. An unfamiliar man. The light kept his face in shadow, featureless. But his presence alone was enough to thicken the very air. Abel and the others formed a rigid line, like a silent army. Jaselya stood frozen. The man rose. The sound of his footsteps rang out like a death sentence. She lowered her gaze, unable to face that overwhelming presence. Then everything tilted. A hand seized her veil and ripped it aside. Fingers caught her face with brutal precision, forcing her head back. She was forced to meet his gaze. And she saw him. A man of almost unreal handsomeness. But lurking beneath that charm was something dangerous. Something that offered no escape. Chapter 5 JASELYA'S POV The man stood before me with a confidence that crushed everything around him. His dark hair, cut short, sharpened the angles of his face, marked by a thin scar near his eye. Yet that detail practically vanished against the intensity of his eyes. Eyes of a deep, almost mineral black, framed by disturbingly thick lashes. A beauty many would have envied. His face looked like something carved by an artist's hand-sharp jaw, elegant lines, a nose that seemed too perfect to be real, and brows set in flawless symmetry. His lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of almost unreal white teeth. All of this rested on an impressive, massive frame, forged by years of combat and training. He shared nothing in common with the men of my pack. He wasn't simply strong. He gave the impression of having been created for war. And yet, despite this almost disturbing beauty, a silent alarm imposed itself within me. Something in his presence warned me to stay away. As if every fiber of my body understood before I did that he was danger. A living threat. My stomach clenched without warning, mixing fear and confusion. His hand closed over my chin with a controlled firmness, forcing my face up. My gaze wavered despite myself. I immediately remembered how I had always been seen. My wounded side, my scar, my features deemed unworthy. All my life I had been looked upon as a mistake. My father had insulted me, my half-sister had scorned me, and the rest of the pack had rejected me. So he too... was going to judge me. He must already be doing it. "So it's you," he said at last, his voice low and cutting. "What's your name?" There was no warmth in his tone. Only a coldness that bordered on hostility. I could feel a brutal tension radiating from him, like an invisible blade. "Jaselya," I replied with difficulty. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my father. A silent pressure immediately crushed me. He was silently warning me not to disappoint the man. Even if everything in me had no idea how to achieve it. The man stepped back slightly, without breaking eye contact. Then he gave a sharp gesture of the hand. One of his men stepped forward, carrying a box. He handed it to him, and it was then held out to me. "Open it," he ordered simply. My heart clenched. A test. It had to be a test. The silence in the hall became almost unreal. No one was really breathing anymore. My fingers trembled as I grasped the box. The ribbon gave way under my hesitant motions. When the lid opened, the world seemed to tilt. Inside was a head. Alpha Dean's. The leader of the Black Wing Pack. The man Jessie was supposed to bond with. No reaction escaped me, no scream. I simply dropped the box. It hit the floor. The head rolled out, coming to a stop near my dress, leaving dark spatters on the fabric. A scream tore through the hall. It was Jessie. Her cry echoed against the walls like a crack in the silence. I slowly looked up. The man was still watching me. And this time... he was smiling. &3&

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As the Alpha's unwanted daughter, she was despised by her own family, abused by her stepmother, and treated like a plaything by her stepsister. She grew up believing she was worthless and learned to make herself invisible. But everything changed when the son of her family's greatest enemy destroyed their pack.
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Chapter 1
JASELYA'S POV

"Brainless id**t" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air. 

Before I could even react, her hand sl**med across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder. 

A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow. 

No explanation was needed. This m**k would stay visible for a long time. 

"Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?"

With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking. 

I lifted my gaze slightly. 

She answered with a gob of spit. 

The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away. 

"Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wr**ch."

Tears escaped me despite myself. 

"Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice. 

She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly."

Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream. 

"The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!"

I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty."

I had no other choice. 

Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, st**king her hair as if nothing had just happened. 

"Anything you wish, just say the word, and this d*g will do it," she declared softly. 

Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..."

Those words pierced my ch**t like a blade. 

Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit."

Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?"

I felt my bl**d run cold. 

A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it."

I stayed frozen, barely breathing. 

They talked about me as if I didn't exist. 

As if I were nothing but an object. 

Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself."

"She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away. 

Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants. 

I was left alone with the silence. 

My entire life had unfolded this way. 

In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected. 

But none of it had ever applied to me. 

My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery. 

The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden af**ir with her. 

His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out. 

Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her. 

When she fell pr**nant, she was locked away even more tightly. 

I was born premature, in pain and bl**d. 

My mother didn't survive. 

Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder. 

I was blamed for her death. 

Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive. 

But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life. 

Against all odds, I didn't die. 

But my survival changed nothing. 

A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised. 

All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation. 

And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me. 

Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment."

I understood immediately. 

My body seized up. 

The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors. 

That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake. 

Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care. 

Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching. 

The silence was oppressive. 

I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this. 

Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied. 

She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected. 

Our bl**d ties had never mattered. 

She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust. 

Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty. 

The enforcer approached. 

I instinctively shrank back. "Please..."

But he didn't listen. 

He tore the fabric from my back. 

The cold air bit into my skin. 

An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began. 

"St**p her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice. 

I stood paralyzed. 

The fabric was completely ripped away. 

I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with. 

I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my ch**t. 

The first blow landed. 

Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning. 

The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the bl**d, the dizziness. 

I made out Urélia in the distance. 

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene. 

It was forbidden. 

Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs. 

Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight. 

"Breathe... I'm here..."

Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos. 

A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body. 

Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do."

Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition."

"That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait."

Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds."

Then she ordered that I be lifted. 

Jessie protested, but no one really listened. 

I was carried away from the scene. 

The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me. 

Then everything went dark. 

Chapter 2
A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness. 

A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move. 

"Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me. 

My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist. 

Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds. 

A cry escaped me despite myself. 

At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you."

My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves. 

For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain. 

No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival. 

Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty."

I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..."

I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me. 

An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food. 

Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands. 

From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now. 

Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?"

I didn't answer. 

Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time. 

She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace. 

Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin. 

If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning. 

And there was something else. The worst part. 

I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf. 

It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone. 

I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me. 

Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation. 

I startled. "Why are you doing that?"

Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back. 

An intense burn tore a scream from my throat. 

I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her. 

"Forgive me..." she murmured in distress. 

Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force. 

She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep."

I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore. 

Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle. 

Bells. 

Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned."

My stomach clenched. 

My father. 

The one who had ignored me my entire life. 

He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him. 

And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his bl**d. 

Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow. 

Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer. 

As for me, I remained hidden. 

I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place. 

Then I stopped dreaming. 

Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest."

I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..."

She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up."

Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under. 

... 

In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone. 

His face was closed off, hard as stone. 

The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation. 

For the first time in decades, he had lost. 

And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack. 

Worse still, to Xaeron. 

That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead. 

Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage. 

Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee. 

It was a shame he had never known before. 

Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves. 

But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more. 

The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?"

He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?"

She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?"

His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer."

She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer."

He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted. 

"We lost," he finally said. 

The shock froze her in place. 

"Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes."

Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?"

He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever."

The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation. 

Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power. 

Then betrayal had destroyed everything. 

Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bl**dline. 

But Xaeron had returned. 

And now, he demanded reparation. 

"The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him."

A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall. 

Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..."

"I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to."

She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..."

"They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly. 

The silence became oppressive. 

"The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my bl**d."

Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us."

"It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built."

She trembled. "She was punished today..."

Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly."

Chapter 3
JASELYA'S POV

I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes. 

So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality. 

She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags. 

Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched. 

Why me? 

A hidden execution? A verdict already decided? 

The great doors swung open. 

The room swallowed me whole. 

They were all there. 

Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years. 

And in the center, there he was. 

Alpha Balak. 

My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it. 

For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine. 

I felt my throat tighten. 

His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?"

I blinked, disoriented. 

Was that really all this was? 

"I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head. 

He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side. 

Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly. 

I obeyed. 

His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch. 

"Hold still," he murmured without harshness. 

My heart was beating too fast. 

The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice. 

A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false. 

A chill ran through me. 

I knew that voice. I knew that look even more. 

Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me. 

His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body. 

I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee. 

Since then, I had avoided him like a bl**e already drawn from its sheath. 

"No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out."

A heavy silence settled in. 

Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see. 

The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?"

Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered."

The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation. 

"Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia."

Rapid footsteps moved away. 

I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him. 

He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him. 

I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence. 

Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?"

No one looked at me. 

"Answer," Balak ordered. 

"Nineteen," I said in a low voice. 

He relayed the information. 

An even colder silence settled in. 

"Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded. 

Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds. 

I stifled a flinch. 

"There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own bl**d."

The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing. 

"You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission. 

Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?"

Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply. 

"How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!"

I felt my eyes burn. 

Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had. 

But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted."

She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on."

She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress. 

Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?"

The name hit like a stone. 

Xaeron. 

I couldn't understand. 

Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?"

Her voice was breaking between rage and panic. 

"There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him."

Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed. 

I no longer understood anything. 

Everything was falling apart without logic. 

"Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of bl**d is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf."

Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift."

I panicked. 

Exile? 

Me? 

Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat. 

Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he. 

Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary."

I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured. 

Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha. 

"You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?"

No one spoke to him that way. 

No one. 

Balak's face hardened. 

"We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize."

The world seemed to warp around me. 

A prize? 

Me? 

I stepped back slightly without realizing it. 

Was Xaeron coming for me? 

And what war had we lost without me even knowing? 

I no longer had any grip on what was happening. 

Nothing felt real. 

"Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer."

Chapter 4
Xaeron stormed across the castle boundaries with his warriors and the seven ranking members of the Council of Wolves at his back. 

The place made his stomach turn instantly. 

No sooner had he set foot on the Moonlight pack's land than he spat on the ground, as if to rid his mouth of the stench of this place. 

The land itself reeked of slaughter. 

He went back to being that child again, visiting his parents before everything fell apart. 

Then came the betrayal. His father's bl**d soaking into the dirt. His mother's head displayed like a trophy. His sister's entrails torn out. And his entire pack exterminated, cleanly and methodically. 

He should have made them suffer longer. Much longer. Until Balak begged. 

Then he would have ripped Balak's head off himself, shattered it before his own people, and ground the fragments into his throne. 

But Balak had fled. He had sought refuge with the Council and secured protection through an ancient pact. 

Now Xaeron was stuck dealing with those rules he despised. 

He could claim the entire pack. But the Wolf Law imposed one exception: Balak and his mate would be spared until the next black moon. 

An absurdity. 

Xaeron let out a dry laugh. He didn't care about the children. It was Balak he wanted. Only Balak. 

The corridors emptied before him. The guards fell back, unable to meet his eyes. 

He entered the throne room and seated himself without permission. 

His gaze swept over the hall, cold and assessing. 

Everything would be reduced to ashes. This castle, these walls, this memory. Nothing was to remain. Just as Balak had done with his home. 

"Where are they?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I won't wait. The rules mean nothing to me anymore."

"They're on their way," answered one of the council members cautiously. 

Xaeron leaned back against the throne. 

Five minutes. He was giving them five minutes. 

... 

Jaselya discovered a reflection of herself she didn't recognize. 

A light-colored gown, almost regal, draped over her body. 

The fabric was fine, carefully worked, and set with luminous details. 

She had been remade. Her hair swept up, her face painted with precision. 

She looked like a stranger-almost like a princess. But this illusion brought her no comfort. 

She turned toward Urélia. "What is going to happen?"

Fear tightened her voice. 

Urélia exchanged a glance with Luna Marilyne, who was still fretting over the adornments for the upcoming event. 

"It's an old arrangement," Urélia murmured. "The Council of Wolves has validated a pact between Alpha Balak and Xaeron. I don't know every clause, but the rule is clear: Xaeron can claim nearly everything... except the Alpha and Luna, who are protected until the next black moon."

Jaselya felt her breath catch. "A pact? Why would anyone permit this?"

Urélia lowered her voice slightly. "This kind of deal isn't easily won. It's negotiated. Bought. Your father must have paid a tremendous price. But it guarantees protection... in certain situations."

Jaselya took a step back. "Why am I being presented as his daughter?"

Urélia sighed. "He refuses to lose what he considers important. That's why he's putting you on display for Xaeron."

Jaselya's heart began to race. The more she heard, the less she understood. 

"Am I just some object to be handed over?" she breathed. 

Urélia avoided a direct answer. "It will all depend on him. And on what the Alpha decides."

The door slammed open. 

Alpha Balak entered, his expression strained. His eyes landed on her, immediately filled with irritation. "Cover that face. Now."

A servant dropped the veil over her features. 

A wave of deep humiliation washed through Jaselya. 

Her own father couldn't even stand the sight of her. 

"He's already here," Balak growled. "That ba**ard is insufferable."

Then he fixed her with a harsh stare. "Don't humiliate us."

She flinched. 

Jessie, who was standing nearby, muttered with contempt, "Look at that... With that ugly face of hers, all is lost."

Her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face against her mother. 

Jaselya's mind had gone blank. 

Unknown names. Unfathomable decisions. 

Xaeron. 

A bond. 

A price. 

A future being decided without her. 

They moved through the stairway, flanked by the guards. 

Every step felt like a fall. 

In the main hall, an entire assembly awaited them. 

The pack's ranking members. Heavy, silent stares. 

Luna Marilyne stood close to Alpha Balak. And at the center, an occupied throne. An unfamiliar man. 

The light kept his face in shadow, featureless. But his presence alone was enough to thicken the very air. 

Abel and the others formed a rigid line, like a silent army. 

Jaselya stood frozen. 

The man rose. The sound of his footsteps rang out like a death sentence. 

She lowered her gaze, unable to face that overwhelming presence. 

Then everything tilted. 

A hand seized her veil and ripped it aside. Fingers caught her face with brutal precision, forcing her head back. She was forced to meet his gaze. 

And she saw him. A man of almost unreal handsomeness. 

But lurking beneath that charm was something dangerous. 

Something that offered no escape. 

Chapter 5
JASELYA'S POV

The man stood before me with a confidence that crushed everything around him. 

His dark hair, cut short, sharpened the angles of his face, marked by a thin scar near his eye. Yet that detail practically vanished against the intensity of his eyes. Eyes of a deep, almost mineral black, framed by disturbingly thick lashes. A beauty many would have envied. 

His face looked like something carved by an artist's hand-sharp jaw, elegant lines, a nose that seemed too perfect to be real, and brows set in flawless symmetry. 

His lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of almost unreal white teeth. 

All of this rested on an impressive, massive frame, forged by years of combat and training. He shared nothing in common with the men of my pack. 

He wasn't simply strong. 

He gave the impression of having been created for war. 

And yet, despite this almost disturbing beauty, a silent alarm imposed itself within me. 

Something in his presence warned me to stay away. As if every fiber of my body understood before I did that he was danger. 

A living threat. 

My stomach clenched without warning, mixing fear and confusion. 

His hand closed over my chin with a controlled firmness, forcing my face up. 

My gaze wavered despite myself. 

I immediately remembered how I had always been seen. 

My wounded side, my scar, my features deemed unworthy. 

All my life I had been looked upon as a mistake. My father had insulted me, my half-sister had scorned me, and the rest of the pack had rejected me. 

So he too... was going to judge me. He must already be doing it. 

"So it's you," he said at last, his voice low and cutting. "What's your name?"

There was no warmth in his tone. Only a coldness that bordered on hostility. 

I could feel a brutal tension radiating from him, like an invisible blade. 

"Jaselya," I replied with difficulty. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my father. 

A silent pressure immediately crushed me. He was silently warning me not to disappoint the man. Even if everything in me had no idea how to achieve it. 

The man stepped back slightly, without breaking eye contact. 

Then he gave a sharp gesture of the hand. 

One of his men stepped forward, carrying a box. 

He handed it to him, and it was then held out to me. 

"Open it," he ordered simply. 

My heart clenched. 

A test. 

It had to be a test. 

The silence in the hall became almost unreal. 

No one was really breathing anymore. 

My fingers trembled as I grasped the box. The ribbon gave way under my hesitant motions. 

When the lid opened, the world seemed to tilt. 

Inside was a head. 

Alpha Dean's. The leader of the Black Wing Pack. The man Jessie was supposed to bond with. 

No reaction escaped me, no scream. I simply dropped the box. 

It hit the floor. 

The head rolled out, coming to a stop near my dress, leaving dark spatters on the fabric. 

A scream tore through the hall. 

It was Jessie. 

Her cry echoed against the walls like a crack in the silence. 

I slowly looked up. 

The man was still watching me. 

And this time... he was smiling. 

&3&

As the Alpha's unwanted daughter, she was despised by her own family, abused by her stepmother, and treated like a plaything by her stepsister. She grew up believing she was worthless and learned to make herself invisible. But everything changed when the son of her family's greatest enemy destroyed their pack. ===== Chapter 1 JASELYA'S POV "Brainless id**t" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air. Before I could even react, her hand sl**med across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder. A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow. No explanation was needed. This m**k would stay visible for a long time. "Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?" With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking. I lifted my gaze slightly. She answered with a gob of spit. The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away. "Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wr**ch." Tears escaped me despite myself. "Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice. She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly." Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream. "The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!" I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty." I had no other choice. Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, st**king her hair as if nothing had just happened. "Anything you wish, just say the word, and this d*g will do it," she declared softly. Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..." Those words pierced my ch**t like a blade. Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit." Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?" I felt my bl**d run cold. A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it." I stayed frozen, barely breathing. They talked about me as if I didn't exist. As if I were nothing but an object. Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself." "She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away. Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants. I was left alone with the silence. My entire life had unfolded this way. In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected. But none of it had ever applied to me. My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery. The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden af**ir with her. His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out. Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her. When she fell pr**nant, she was locked away even more tightly. I was born premature, in pain and bl**d. My mother didn't survive. Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder. I was blamed for her death. Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive. But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life. Against all odds, I didn't die. But my survival changed nothing. A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised. All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation. And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me. Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment." I understood immediately. My body seized up. The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors. That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake. Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care. Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching. The silence was oppressive. I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this. Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied. She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected. Our bl**d ties had never mattered. She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust. Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty. The enforcer approached. I instinctively shrank back. "Please..." But he didn't listen. He tore the fabric from my back. The cold air bit into my skin. An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began. "St**p her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice. I stood paralyzed. The fabric was completely ripped away. I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with. I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my ch**t. The first blow landed. Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning. The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the bl**d, the dizziness. I made out Urélia in the distance. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene. It was forbidden. Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs. Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight. "Breathe... I'm here..." Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos. A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body. Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do." Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition." "That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait." Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds." Then she ordered that I be lifted. Jessie protested, but no one really listened. I was carried away from the scene. The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me. Then everything went dark. Chapter 2 A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness. A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move. "Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me. My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist. Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds. A cry escaped me despite myself. At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you." My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves. For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain. No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival. Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty." I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..." I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me. An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food. Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands. From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now. Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?" I didn't answer. Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time. She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace. Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin. If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning. And there was something else. The worst part. I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf. It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone. I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me. Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation. I startled. "Why are you doing that?" Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back. An intense burn tore a scream from my throat. I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her. "Forgive me..." she murmured in distress. Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force. She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep." I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore. Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle. Bells. Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned." My stomach clenched. My father. The one who had ignored me my entire life. He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him. And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his bl**d. Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow. Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer. As for me, I remained hidden. I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place. Then I stopped dreaming. Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest." I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..." She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up." Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under. ... In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone. His face was closed off, hard as stone. The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation. For the first time in decades, he had lost. And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack. Worse still, to Xaeron. That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead. Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage. Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee. It was a shame he had never known before. Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves. But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more. The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?" He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?" She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?" His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer." She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer." He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted. "We lost," he finally said. The shock froze her in place. "Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes." Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?" He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever." The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation. Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power. Then betrayal had destroyed everything. Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bl**dline. But Xaeron had returned. And now, he demanded reparation. "The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him." A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall. Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..." "I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to." She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..." "They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly. The silence became oppressive. "The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my bl**d." Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us." "It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built." She trembled. "She was punished today..." Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly." Chapter 3 JASELYA'S POV I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes. So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality. She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags. Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched. Why me? A hidden execution? A verdict already decided? The great doors swung open. The room swallowed me whole. They were all there. Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years. And in the center, there he was. Alpha Balak. My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it. For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine. I felt my throat tighten. His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?" I blinked, disoriented. Was that really all this was? "I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head. He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side. Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly. I obeyed. His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch. "Hold still," he murmured without harshness. My heart was beating too fast. The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice. A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false. A chill ran through me. I knew that voice. I knew that look even more. Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me. His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body. I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee. Since then, I had avoided him like a bl**e already drawn from its sheath. "No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out." A heavy silence settled in. Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see. The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?" Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered." The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation. "Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia." Rapid footsteps moved away. I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him. He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him. I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence. Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?" No one looked at me. "Answer," Balak ordered. "Nineteen," I said in a low voice. He relayed the information. An even colder silence settled in. "Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded. Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds. I stifled a flinch. "There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own bl**d." The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing. "You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission. Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?" Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply. "How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!" I felt my eyes burn. Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had. But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted." She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on." She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress. Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?" The name hit like a stone. Xaeron. I couldn't understand. Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?" Her voice was breaking between rage and panic. "There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him." Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed. I no longer understood anything. Everything was falling apart without logic. "Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of bl**d is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf." Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift." I panicked. Exile? Me? Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat. Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he. Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary." I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured. Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha. "You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?" No one spoke to him that way. No one. Balak's face hardened. "We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize." The world seemed to warp around me. A prize? Me? I stepped back slightly without realizing it. Was Xaeron coming for me? And what war had we lost without me even knowing? I no longer had any grip on what was happening. Nothing felt real. "Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer." Chapter 4 Xaeron stormed across the castle boundaries with his warriors and the seven ranking members of the Council of Wolves at his back. The place made his stomach turn instantly. No sooner had he set foot on the Moonlight pack's land than he spat on the ground, as if to rid his mouth of the stench of this place. The land itself reeked of slaughter. He went back to being that child again, visiting his parents before everything fell apart. Then came the betrayal. His father's bl**d soaking into the dirt. His mother's head displayed like a trophy. His sister's entrails torn out. And his entire pack exterminated, cleanly and methodically. He should have made them suffer longer. Much longer. Until Balak begged. Then he would have ripped Balak's head off himself, shattered it before his own people, and ground the fragments into his throne. But Balak had fled. He had sought refuge with the Council and secured protection through an ancient pact. Now Xaeron was stuck dealing with those rules he despised. He could claim the entire pack. But the Wolf Law imposed one exception: Balak and his mate would be spared until the next black moon. An absurdity. Xaeron let out a dry laugh. He didn't care about the children. It was Balak he wanted. Only Balak. The corridors emptied before him. The guards fell back, unable to meet his eyes. He entered the throne room and seated himself without permission. His gaze swept over the hall, cold and assessing. Everything would be reduced to ashes. This castle, these walls, this memory. Nothing was to remain. Just as Balak had done with his home. "Where are they?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I won't wait. The rules mean nothing to me anymore." "They're on their way," answered one of the council members cautiously. Xaeron leaned back against the throne. Five minutes. He was giving them five minutes. ... Jaselya discovered a reflection of herself she didn't recognize. A light-colored gown, almost regal, draped over her body. The fabric was fine, carefully worked, and set with luminous details. She had been remade. Her hair swept up, her face painted with precision. She looked like a stranger-almost like a princess. But this illusion brought her no comfort. She turned toward Urélia. "What is going to happen?" Fear tightened her voice. Urélia exchanged a glance with Luna Marilyne, who was still fretting over the adornments for the upcoming event. "It's an old arrangement," Urélia murmured. "The Council of Wolves has validated a pact between Alpha Balak and Xaeron. I don't know every clause, but the rule is clear: Xaeron can claim nearly everything... except the Alpha and Luna, who are protected until the next black moon." Jaselya felt her breath catch. "A pact? Why would anyone permit this?" Urélia lowered her voice slightly. "This kind of deal isn't easily won. It's negotiated. Bought. Your father must have paid a tremendous price. But it guarantees protection... in certain situations." Jaselya took a step back. "Why am I being presented as his daughter?" Urélia sighed. "He refuses to lose what he considers important. That's why he's putting you on display for Xaeron." Jaselya's heart began to race. The more she heard, the less she understood. "Am I just some object to be handed over?" she breathed. Urélia avoided a direct answer. "It will all depend on him. And on what the Alpha decides." The door slammed open. Alpha Balak entered, his expression strained. His eyes landed on her, immediately filled with irritation. "Cover that face. Now." A servant dropped the veil over her features. A wave of deep humiliation washed through Jaselya. Her own father couldn't even stand the sight of her. "He's already here," Balak growled. "That ba**ard is insufferable." Then he fixed her with a harsh stare. "Don't humiliate us." She flinched. Jessie, who was standing nearby, muttered with contempt, "Look at that... With that ugly face of hers, all is lost." Her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face against her mother. Jaselya's mind had gone blank. Unknown names. Unfathomable decisions. Xaeron. A bond. A price. A future being decided without her. They moved through the stairway, flanked by the guards. Every step felt like a fall. In the main hall, an entire assembly awaited them. The pack's ranking members. Heavy, silent stares. Luna Marilyne stood close to Alpha Balak. And at the center, an occupied throne. An unfamiliar man. The light kept his face in shadow, featureless. But his presence alone was enough to thicken the very air. Abel and the others formed a rigid line, like a silent army. Jaselya stood frozen. The man rose. The sound of his footsteps rang out like a death sentence. She lowered her gaze, unable to face that overwhelming presence. Then everything tilted. A hand seized her veil and ripped it aside. Fingers caught her face with brutal precision, forcing her head back. She was forced to meet his gaze. And she saw him. A man of almost unreal handsomeness. But lurking beneath that charm was something dangerous. Something that offered no escape. Chapter 5 JASELYA'S POV The man stood before me with a confidence that crushed everything around him. His dark hair, cut short, sharpened the angles of his face, marked by a thin scar near his eye. Yet that detail practically vanished against the intensity of his eyes. Eyes of a deep, almost mineral black, framed by disturbingly thick lashes. A beauty many would have envied. His face looked like something carved by an artist's hand-sharp jaw, elegant lines, a nose that seemed too perfect to be real, and brows set in flawless symmetry. His lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of almost unreal white teeth. All of this rested on an impressive, massive frame, forged by years of combat and training. He shared nothing in common with the men of my pack. He wasn't simply strong. He gave the impression of having been created for war. And yet, despite this almost disturbing beauty, a silent alarm imposed itself within me. Something in his presence warned me to stay away. As if every fiber of my body understood before I did that he was danger. A living threat. My stomach clenched without warning, mixing fear and confusion. His hand closed over my chin with a controlled firmness, forcing my face up. My gaze wavered despite myself. I immediately remembered how I had always been seen. My wounded side, my scar, my features deemed unworthy. All my life I had been looked upon as a mistake. My father had insulted me, my half-sister had scorned me, and the rest of the pack had rejected me. So he too... was going to judge me. He must already be doing it. "So it's you," he said at last, his voice low and cutting. "What's your name?" There was no warmth in his tone. Only a coldness that bordered on hostility. I could feel a brutal tension radiating from him, like an invisible blade. "Jaselya," I replied with difficulty. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my father. A silent pressure immediately crushed me. He was silently warning me not to disappoint the man. Even if everything in me had no idea how to achieve it. The man stepped back slightly, without breaking eye contact. Then he gave a sharp gesture of the hand. One of his men stepped forward, carrying a box. He handed it to him, and it was then held out to me. "Open it," he ordered simply. My heart clenched. A test. It had to be a test. The silence in the hall became almost unreal. No one was really breathing anymore. My fingers trembled as I grasped the box. The ribbon gave way under my hesitant motions. When the lid opened, the world seemed to tilt. Inside was a head. Alpha Dean's. The leader of the Black Wing Pack. The man Jessie was supposed to bond with. No reaction escaped me, no scream. I simply dropped the box. It hit the floor. The head rolled out, coming to a stop near my dress, leaving dark spatters on the fabric. A scream tore through the hall. It was Jessie. Her cry echoed against the walls like a crack in the silence. I slowly looked up. The man was still watching me. And this time... he was smiling. &3&

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As the Alpha's unwanted daughter, she was despised by her own family, abused by her stepmother, and treated like a plaything by her stepsister. She grew up believing she was worthless and learned to make herself invisible. But everything changed when the son of her family's greatest enemy destroyed their pack.
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Chapter 1
JASELYA'S POV

"Brainless id**t" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air. 

Before I could even react, her hand sl**med across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder. 

A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow. 

No explanation was needed. This m**k would stay visible for a long time. 

"Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?"

With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking. 

I lifted my gaze slightly. 

She answered with a gob of spit. 

The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away. 

"Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wr**ch."

Tears escaped me despite myself. 

"Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice. 

She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly."

Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream. 

"The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!"

I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty."

I had no other choice. 

Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, st**king her hair as if nothing had just happened. 

"Anything you wish, just say the word, and this d*g will do it," she declared softly. 

Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..."

Those words pierced my ch**t like a blade. 

Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit."

Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?"

I felt my bl**d run cold. 

A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it."

I stayed frozen, barely breathing. 

They talked about me as if I didn't exist. 

As if I were nothing but an object. 

Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself."

"She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away. 

Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants. 

I was left alone with the silence. 

My entire life had unfolded this way. 

In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected. 

But none of it had ever applied to me. 

My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery. 

The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden af**ir with her. 

His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out. 

Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her. 

When she fell pr**nant, she was locked away even more tightly. 

I was born premature, in pain and bl**d. 

My mother didn't survive. 

Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder. 

I was blamed for her death. 

Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive. 

But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life. 

Against all odds, I didn't die. 

But my survival changed nothing. 

A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised. 

All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation. 

And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me. 

Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment."

I understood immediately. 

My body seized up. 

The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors. 

That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake. 

Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care. 

Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching. 

The silence was oppressive. 

I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this. 

Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied. 

She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected. 

Our bl**d ties had never mattered. 

She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust. 

Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty. 

The enforcer approached. 

I instinctively shrank back. "Please..."

But he didn't listen. 

He tore the fabric from my back. 

The cold air bit into my skin. 

An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began. 

"St**p her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice. 

I stood paralyzed. 

The fabric was completely ripped away. 

I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with. 

I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my ch**t. 

The first blow landed. 

Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning. 

The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the bl**d, the dizziness. 

I made out Urélia in the distance. 

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene. 

It was forbidden. 

Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs. 

Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight. 

"Breathe... I'm here..."

Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos. 

A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body. 

Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do."

Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition."

"That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait."

Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds."

Then she ordered that I be lifted. 

Jessie protested, but no one really listened. 

I was carried away from the scene. 

The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me. 

Then everything went dark. 

Chapter 2
A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness. 

A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move. 

"Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me. 

My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist. 

Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds. 

A cry escaped me despite myself. 

At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you."

My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves. 

For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain. 

No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival. 

Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty."

I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..."

I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me. 

An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food. 

Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands. 

From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now. 

Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?"

I didn't answer. 

Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time. 

She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace. 

Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin. 

If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning. 

And there was something else. The worst part. 

I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf. 

It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone. 

I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me. 

Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation. 

I startled. "Why are you doing that?"

Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back. 

An intense burn tore a scream from my throat. 

I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her. 

"Forgive me..." she murmured in distress. 

Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force. 

She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep."

I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore. 

Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle. 

Bells. 

Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned."

My stomach clenched. 

My father. 

The one who had ignored me my entire life. 

He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him. 

And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his bl**d. 

Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow. 

Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer. 

As for me, I remained hidden. 

I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place. 

Then I stopped dreaming. 

Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest."

I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..."

She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up."

Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under. 

... 

In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone. 

His face was closed off, hard as stone. 

The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation. 

For the first time in decades, he had lost. 

And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack. 

Worse still, to Xaeron. 

That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead. 

Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage. 

Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee. 

It was a shame he had never known before. 

Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves. 

But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more. 

The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?"

He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?"

She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?"

His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer."

She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer."

He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted. 

"We lost," he finally said. 

The shock froze her in place. 

"Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes."

Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?"

He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever."

The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation. 

Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power. 

Then betrayal had destroyed everything. 

Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bl**dline. 

But Xaeron had returned. 

And now, he demanded reparation. 

"The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him."

A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall. 

Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..."

"I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to."

She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..."

"They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly. 

The silence became oppressive. 

"The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my bl**d."

Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us."

"It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built."

She trembled. "She was punished today..."

Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly."

Chapter 3
JASELYA'S POV

I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes. 

So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality. 

She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags. 

Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched. 

Why me? 

A hidden execution? A verdict already decided? 

The great doors swung open. 

The room swallowed me whole. 

They were all there. 

Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years. 

And in the center, there he was. 

Alpha Balak. 

My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it. 

For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine. 

I felt my throat tighten. 

His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?"

I blinked, disoriented. 

Was that really all this was? 

"I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head. 

He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side. 

Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly. 

I obeyed. 

His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch. 

"Hold still," he murmured without harshness. 

My heart was beating too fast. 

The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice. 

A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false. 

A chill ran through me. 

I knew that voice. I knew that look even more. 

Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me. 

His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body. 

I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee. 

Since then, I had avoided him like a bl**e already drawn from its sheath. 

"No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out."

A heavy silence settled in. 

Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see. 

The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?"

Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered."

The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation. 

"Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia."

Rapid footsteps moved away. 

I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him. 

He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him. 

I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence. 

Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?"

No one looked at me. 

"Answer," Balak ordered. 

"Nineteen," I said in a low voice. 

He relayed the information. 

An even colder silence settled in. 

"Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded. 

Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds. 

I stifled a flinch. 

"There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own bl**d."

The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing. 

"You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission. 

Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?"

Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply. 

"How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!"

I felt my eyes burn. 

Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had. 

But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted."

She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on."

She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress. 

Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?"

The name hit like a stone. 

Xaeron. 

I couldn't understand. 

Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?"

Her voice was breaking between rage and panic. 

"There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him."

Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed. 

I no longer understood anything. 

Everything was falling apart without logic. 

"Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of bl**d is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf."

Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift."

I panicked. 

Exile? 

Me? 

Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat. 

Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he. 

Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary."

I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured. 

Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha. 

"You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?"

No one spoke to him that way. 

No one. 

Balak's face hardened. 

"We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize."

The world seemed to warp around me. 

A prize? 

Me? 

I stepped back slightly without realizing it. 

Was Xaeron coming for me? 

And what war had we lost without me even knowing? 

I no longer had any grip on what was happening. 

Nothing felt real. 

"Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer."

Chapter 4
Xaeron stormed across the castle boundaries with his warriors and the seven ranking members of the Council of Wolves at his back. 

The place made his stomach turn instantly. 

No sooner had he set foot on the Moonlight pack's land than he spat on the ground, as if to rid his mouth of the stench of this place. 

The land itself reeked of slaughter. 

He went back to being that child again, visiting his parents before everything fell apart. 

Then came the betrayal. His father's bl**d soaking into the dirt. His mother's head displayed like a trophy. His sister's entrails torn out. And his entire pack exterminated, cleanly and methodically. 

He should have made them suffer longer. Much longer. Until Balak begged. 

Then he would have ripped Balak's head off himself, shattered it before his own people, and ground the fragments into his throne. 

But Balak had fled. He had sought refuge with the Council and secured protection through an ancient pact. 

Now Xaeron was stuck dealing with those rules he despised. 

He could claim the entire pack. But the Wolf Law imposed one exception: Balak and his mate would be spared until the next black moon. 

An absurdity. 

Xaeron let out a dry laugh. He didn't care about the children. It was Balak he wanted. Only Balak. 

The corridors emptied before him. The guards fell back, unable to meet his eyes. 

He entered the throne room and seated himself without permission. 

His gaze swept over the hall, cold and assessing. 

Everything would be reduced to ashes. This castle, these walls, this memory. Nothing was to remain. Just as Balak had done with his home. 

"Where are they?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I won't wait. The rules mean nothing to me anymore."

"They're on their way," answered one of the council members cautiously. 

Xaeron leaned back against the throne. 

Five minutes. He was giving them five minutes. 

... 

Jaselya discovered a reflection of herself she didn't recognize. 

A light-colored gown, almost regal, draped over her body. 

The fabric was fine, carefully worked, and set with luminous details. 

She had been remade. Her hair swept up, her face painted with precision. 

She looked like a stranger-almost like a princess. But this illusion brought her no comfort. 

She turned toward Urélia. "What is going to happen?"

Fear tightened her voice. 

Urélia exchanged a glance with Luna Marilyne, who was still fretting over the adornments for the upcoming event. 

"It's an old arrangement," Urélia murmured. "The Council of Wolves has validated a pact between Alpha Balak and Xaeron. I don't know every clause, but the rule is clear: Xaeron can claim nearly everything... except the Alpha and Luna, who are protected until the next black moon."

Jaselya felt her breath catch. "A pact? Why would anyone permit this?"

Urélia lowered her voice slightly. "This kind of deal isn't easily won. It's negotiated. Bought. Your father must have paid a tremendous price. But it guarantees protection... in certain situations."

Jaselya took a step back. "Why am I being presented as his daughter?"

Urélia sighed. "He refuses to lose what he considers important. That's why he's putting you on display for Xaeron."

Jaselya's heart began to race. The more she heard, the less she understood. 

"Am I just some object to be handed over?" she breathed. 

Urélia avoided a direct answer. "It will all depend on him. And on what the Alpha decides."

The door slammed open. 

Alpha Balak entered, his expression strained. His eyes landed on her, immediately filled with irritation. "Cover that face. Now."

A servant dropped the veil over her features. 

A wave of deep humiliation washed through Jaselya. 

Her own father couldn't even stand the sight of her. 

"He's already here," Balak growled. "That ba**ard is insufferable."

Then he fixed her with a harsh stare. "Don't humiliate us."

She flinched. 

Jessie, who was standing nearby, muttered with contempt, "Look at that... With that ugly face of hers, all is lost."

Her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face against her mother. 

Jaselya's mind had gone blank. 

Unknown names. Unfathomable decisions. 

Xaeron. 

A bond. 

A price. 

A future being decided without her. 

They moved through the stairway, flanked by the guards. 

Every step felt like a fall. 

In the main hall, an entire assembly awaited them. 

The pack's ranking members. Heavy, silent stares. 

Luna Marilyne stood close to Alpha Balak. And at the center, an occupied throne. An unfamiliar man. 

The light kept his face in shadow, featureless. But his presence alone was enough to thicken the very air. 

Abel and the others formed a rigid line, like a silent army. 

Jaselya stood frozen. 

The man rose. The sound of his footsteps rang out like a death sentence. 

She lowered her gaze, unable to face that overwhelming presence. 

Then everything tilted. 

A hand seized her veil and ripped it aside. Fingers caught her face with brutal precision, forcing her head back. She was forced to meet his gaze. 

And she saw him. A man of almost unreal handsomeness. 

But lurking beneath that charm was something dangerous. 

Something that offered no escape. 

Chapter 5
JASELYA'S POV

The man stood before me with a confidence that crushed everything around him. 

His dark hair, cut short, sharpened the angles of his face, marked by a thin scar near his eye. Yet that detail practically vanished against the intensity of his eyes. Eyes of a deep, almost mineral black, framed by disturbingly thick lashes. A beauty many would have envied. 

His face looked like something carved by an artist's hand-sharp jaw, elegant lines, a nose that seemed too perfect to be real, and brows set in flawless symmetry. 

His lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of almost unreal white teeth. 

All of this rested on an impressive, massive frame, forged by years of combat and training. He shared nothing in common with the men of my pack. 

He wasn't simply strong. 

He gave the impression of having been created for war. 

And yet, despite this almost disturbing beauty, a silent alarm imposed itself within me. 

Something in his presence warned me to stay away. As if every fiber of my body understood before I did that he was danger. 

A living threat. 

My stomach clenched without warning, mixing fear and confusion. 

His hand closed over my chin with a controlled firmness, forcing my face up. 

My gaze wavered despite myself. 

I immediately remembered how I had always been seen. 

My wounded side, my scar, my features deemed unworthy. 

All my life I had been looked upon as a mistake. My father had insulted me, my half-sister had scorned me, and the rest of the pack had rejected me. 

So he too... was going to judge me. He must already be doing it. 

"So it's you," he said at last, his voice low and cutting. "What's your name?"

There was no warmth in his tone. Only a coldness that bordered on hostility. 

I could feel a brutal tension radiating from him, like an invisible blade. 

"Jaselya," I replied with difficulty. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my father. 

A silent pressure immediately crushed me. He was silently warning me not to disappoint the man. Even if everything in me had no idea how to achieve it. 

The man stepped back slightly, without breaking eye contact. 

Then he gave a sharp gesture of the hand. 

One of his men stepped forward, carrying a box. 

He handed it to him, and it was then held out to me. 

"Open it," he ordered simply. 

My heart clenched. 

A test. 

It had to be a test. 

The silence in the hall became almost unreal. 

No one was really breathing anymore. 

My fingers trembled as I grasped the box. The ribbon gave way under my hesitant motions. 

When the lid opened, the world seemed to tilt. 

Inside was a head. 

Alpha Dean's. The leader of the Black Wing Pack. The man Jessie was supposed to bond with. 

No reaction escaped me, no scream. I simply dropped the box. 

It hit the floor. 

The head rolled out, coming to a stop near my dress, leaving dark spatters on the fabric. 

A scream tore through the hall. 

It was Jessie. 

Her cry echoed against the walls like a crack in the silence. 

I slowly looked up. 

The man was still watching me. 

And this time... he was smiling. 

&3&

As the Alpha's unwanted daughter, she was despised by her own family, abused by her stepmother, and treated like a plaything by her stepsister. She grew up believing she was worthless and learned to make herself invisible. But everything changed when the son of her family's greatest enemy destroyed their pack. ===== Chapter 1 JASELYA'S POV "Brainless id**t" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air. Before I could even react, her hand sl**med across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder. A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow. No explanation was needed. This m**k would stay visible for a long time. "Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?" With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking. I lifted my gaze slightly. She answered with a gob of spit. The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away. "Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wr**ch." Tears escaped me despite myself. "Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice. She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly." Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream. "The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!" I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty." I had no other choice. Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, st**king her hair as if nothing had just happened. "Anything you wish, just say the word, and this d*g will do it," she declared softly. Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..." Those words pierced my ch**t like a blade. Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit." Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?" I felt my bl**d run cold. A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it." I stayed frozen, barely breathing. They talked about me as if I didn't exist. As if I were nothing but an object. Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself." "She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away. Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants. I was left alone with the silence. My entire life had unfolded this way. In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected. But none of it had ever applied to me. My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery. The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden af**ir with her. His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out. Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her. When she fell pr**nant, she was locked away even more tightly. I was born premature, in pain and bl**d. My mother didn't survive. Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder. I was blamed for her death. Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive. But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life. Against all odds, I didn't die. But my survival changed nothing. A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised. All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation. And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me. Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment." I understood immediately. My body seized up. The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors. That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake. Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care. Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching. The silence was oppressive. I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this. Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied. She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected. Our bl**d ties had never mattered. She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust. Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty. The enforcer approached. I instinctively shrank back. "Please..." But he didn't listen. He tore the fabric from my back. The cold air bit into my skin. An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began. "St**p her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice. I stood paralyzed. The fabric was completely ripped away. I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with. I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my ch**t. The first blow landed. Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning. The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the bl**d, the dizziness. I made out Urélia in the distance. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene. It was forbidden. Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs. Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight. "Breathe... I'm here..." Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos. A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body. Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do." Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition." "That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait." Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds." Then she ordered that I be lifted. Jessie protested, but no one really listened. I was carried away from the scene. The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me. Then everything went dark. Chapter 2 A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness. A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move. "Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me. My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist. Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds. A cry escaped me despite myself. At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you." My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves. For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain. No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival. Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty." I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..." I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me. An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food. Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands. From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now. Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?" I didn't answer. Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time. She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace. Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin. If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning. And there was something else. The worst part. I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf. It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone. I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me. Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation. I startled. "Why are you doing that?" Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back. An intense burn tore a scream from my throat. I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her. "Forgive me..." she murmured in distress. Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force. She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep." I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore. Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle. Bells. Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned." My stomach clenched. My father. The one who had ignored me my entire life. He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him. And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his bl**d. Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow. Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer. As for me, I remained hidden. I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place. Then I stopped dreaming. Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest." I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..." She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up." Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under. ... In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone. His face was closed off, hard as stone. The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation. For the first time in decades, he had lost. And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack. Worse still, to Xaeron. That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead. Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage. Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee. It was a shame he had never known before. Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves. But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more. The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?" He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?" She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?" His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer." She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer." He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted. "We lost," he finally said. The shock froze her in place. "Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes." Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?" He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever." The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation. Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power. Then betrayal had destroyed everything. Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bl**dline. But Xaeron had returned. And now, he demanded reparation. "The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him." A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall. Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..." "I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to." She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..." "They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly. The silence became oppressive. "The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my bl**d." Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us." "It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built." She trembled. "She was punished today..." Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly." Chapter 3 JASELYA'S POV I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes. So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality. She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags. Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched. Why me? A hidden execution? A verdict already decided? The great doors swung open. The room swallowed me whole. They were all there. Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years. And in the center, there he was. Alpha Balak. My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it. For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine. I felt my throat tighten. His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?" I blinked, disoriented. Was that really all this was? "I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head. He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side. Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly. I obeyed. His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch. "Hold still," he murmured without harshness. My heart was beating too fast. The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice. A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false. A chill ran through me. I knew that voice. I knew that look even more. Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me. His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body. I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee. Since then, I had avoided him like a bl**e already drawn from its sheath. "No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out." A heavy silence settled in. Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see. The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?" Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered." The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation. "Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia." Rapid footsteps moved away. I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him. He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him. I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence. Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?" No one looked at me. "Answer," Balak ordered. "Nineteen," I said in a low voice. He relayed the information. An even colder silence settled in. "Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded. Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds. I stifled a flinch. "There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own bl**d." The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing. "You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission. Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?" Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply. "How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!" I felt my eyes burn. Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had. But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted." She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on." She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress. Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?" The name hit like a stone. Xaeron. I couldn't understand. Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?" Her voice was breaking between rage and panic. "There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him." Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed. I no longer understood anything. Everything was falling apart without logic. "Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of bl**d is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf." Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift." I panicked. Exile? Me? Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat. Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he. Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary." I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured. Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha. "You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?" No one spoke to him that way. No one. Balak's face hardened. "We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize." The world seemed to warp around me. A prize? Me? I stepped back slightly without realizing it. Was Xaeron coming for me? And what war had we lost without me even knowing? I no longer had any grip on what was happening. Nothing felt real. "Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer." Chapter 4 Xaeron stormed across the castle boundaries with his warriors and the seven ranking members of the Council of Wolves at his back. The place made his stomach turn instantly. No sooner had he set foot on the Moonlight pack's land than he spat on the ground, as if to rid his mouth of the stench of this place. The land itself reeked of slaughter. He went back to being that child again, visiting his parents before everything fell apart. Then came the betrayal. His father's bl**d soaking into the dirt. His mother's head displayed like a trophy. His sister's entrails torn out. And his entire pack exterminated, cleanly and methodically. He should have made them suffer longer. Much longer. Until Balak begged. Then he would have ripped Balak's head off himself, shattered it before his own people, and ground the fragments into his throne. But Balak had fled. He had sought refuge with the Council and secured protection through an ancient pact. Now Xaeron was stuck dealing with those rules he despised. He could claim the entire pack. But the Wolf Law imposed one exception: Balak and his mate would be spared until the next black moon. An absurdity. Xaeron let out a dry laugh. He didn't care about the children. It was Balak he wanted. Only Balak. The corridors emptied before him. The guards fell back, unable to meet his eyes. He entered the throne room and seated himself without permission. His gaze swept over the hall, cold and assessing. Everything would be reduced to ashes. This castle, these walls, this memory. Nothing was to remain. Just as Balak had done with his home. "Where are they?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I won't wait. The rules mean nothing to me anymore." "They're on their way," answered one of the council members cautiously. Xaeron leaned back against the throne. Five minutes. He was giving them five minutes. ... Jaselya discovered a reflection of herself she didn't recognize. A light-colored gown, almost regal, draped over her body. The fabric was fine, carefully worked, and set with luminous details. She had been remade. Her hair swept up, her face painted with precision. She looked like a stranger-almost like a princess. But this illusion brought her no comfort. She turned toward Urélia. "What is going to happen?" Fear tightened her voice. Urélia exchanged a glance with Luna Marilyne, who was still fretting over the adornments for the upcoming event. "It's an old arrangement," Urélia murmured. "The Council of Wolves has validated a pact between Alpha Balak and Xaeron. I don't know every clause, but the rule is clear: Xaeron can claim nearly everything... except the Alpha and Luna, who are protected until the next black moon." Jaselya felt her breath catch. "A pact? Why would anyone permit this?" Urélia lowered her voice slightly. "This kind of deal isn't easily won. It's negotiated. Bought. Your father must have paid a tremendous price. But it guarantees protection... in certain situations." Jaselya took a step back. "Why am I being presented as his daughter?" Urélia sighed. "He refuses to lose what he considers important. That's why he's putting you on display for Xaeron." Jaselya's heart began to race. The more she heard, the less she understood. "Am I just some object to be handed over?" she breathed. Urélia avoided a direct answer. "It will all depend on him. And on what the Alpha decides." The door slammed open. Alpha Balak entered, his expression strained. His eyes landed on her, immediately filled with irritation. "Cover that face. Now." A servant dropped the veil over her features. A wave of deep humiliation washed through Jaselya. Her own father couldn't even stand the sight of her. "He's already here," Balak growled. "That ba**ard is insufferable." Then he fixed her with a harsh stare. "Don't humiliate us." She flinched. Jessie, who was standing nearby, muttered with contempt, "Look at that... With that ugly face of hers, all is lost." Her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face against her mother. Jaselya's mind had gone blank. Unknown names. Unfathomable decisions. Xaeron. A bond. A price. A future being decided without her. They moved through the stairway, flanked by the guards. Every step felt like a fall. In the main hall, an entire assembly awaited them. The pack's ranking members. Heavy, silent stares. Luna Marilyne stood close to Alpha Balak. And at the center, an occupied throne. An unfamiliar man. The light kept his face in shadow, featureless. But his presence alone was enough to thicken the very air. Abel and the others formed a rigid line, like a silent army. Jaselya stood frozen. The man rose. The sound of his footsteps rang out like a death sentence. She lowered her gaze, unable to face that overwhelming presence. Then everything tilted. A hand seized her veil and ripped it aside. Fingers caught her face with brutal precision, forcing her head back. She was forced to meet his gaze. And she saw him. A man of almost unreal handsomeness. But lurking beneath that charm was something dangerous. Something that offered no escape. Chapter 5 JASELYA'S POV The man stood before me with a confidence that crushed everything around him. His dark hair, cut short, sharpened the angles of his face, marked by a thin scar near his eye. Yet that detail practically vanished against the intensity of his eyes. Eyes of a deep, almost mineral black, framed by disturbingly thick lashes. A beauty many would have envied. His face looked like something carved by an artist's hand-sharp jaw, elegant lines, a nose that seemed too perfect to be real, and brows set in flawless symmetry. His lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of almost unreal white teeth. All of this rested on an impressive, massive frame, forged by years of combat and training. He shared nothing in common with the men of my pack. He wasn't simply strong. He gave the impression of having been created for war. And yet, despite this almost disturbing beauty, a silent alarm imposed itself within me. Something in his presence warned me to stay away. As if every fiber of my body understood before I did that he was danger. A living threat. My stomach clenched without warning, mixing fear and confusion. His hand closed over my chin with a controlled firmness, forcing my face up. My gaze wavered despite myself. I immediately remembered how I had always been seen. My wounded side, my scar, my features deemed unworthy. All my life I had been looked upon as a mistake. My father had insulted me, my half-sister had scorned me, and the rest of the pack had rejected me. So he too... was going to judge me. He must already be doing it. "So it's you," he said at last, his voice low and cutting. "What's your name?" There was no warmth in his tone. Only a coldness that bordered on hostility. I could feel a brutal tension radiating from him, like an invisible blade. "Jaselya," I replied with difficulty. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my father. A silent pressure immediately crushed me. He was silently warning me not to disappoint the man. Even if everything in me had no idea how to achieve it. The man stepped back slightly, without breaking eye contact. Then he gave a sharp gesture of the hand. One of his men stepped forward, carrying a box. He handed it to him, and it was then held out to me. "Open it," he ordered simply. My heart clenched. A test. It had to be a test. The silence in the hall became almost unreal. No one was really breathing anymore. My fingers trembled as I grasped the box. The ribbon gave way under my hesitant motions. When the lid opened, the world seemed to tilt. Inside was a head. Alpha Dean's. The leader of the Black Wing Pack. The man Jessie was supposed to bond with. No reaction escaped me, no scream. I simply dropped the box. It hit the floor. The head rolled out, coming to a stop near my dress, leaving dark spatters on the fabric. A scream tore through the hall. It was Jessie. Her cry echoed against the walls like a crack in the silence. I slowly looked up. The man was still watching me. And this time... he was smiling. &3&

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As the Alpha's unwanted daughter, she was despised by her own family, abused by her stepmother, and treated like a plaything by her stepsister. She grew up believing she was worthless and learned to make herself invisible. But everything changed when the son of her family's greatest enemy destroyed their pack.
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Chapter 1
JASELYA'S POV

"Brainless id**t" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air. 

Before I could even react, her hand sl**med across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder. 

A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow. 

No explanation was needed. This m**k would stay visible for a long time. 

"Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?"

With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking. 

I lifted my gaze slightly. 

She answered with a gob of spit. 

The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away. 

"Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wr**ch."

Tears escaped me despite myself. 

"Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice. 

She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly."

Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream. 

"The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!"

I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty."

I had no other choice. 

Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, st**king her hair as if nothing had just happened. 

"Anything you wish, just say the word, and this d*g will do it," she declared softly. 

Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..."

Those words pierced my ch**t like a blade. 

Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit."

Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?"

I felt my bl**d run cold. 

A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it."

I stayed frozen, barely breathing. 

They talked about me as if I didn't exist. 

As if I were nothing but an object. 

Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself."

"She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away. 

Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants. 

I was left alone with the silence. 

My entire life had unfolded this way. 

In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected. 

But none of it had ever applied to me. 

My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery. 

The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden af**ir with her. 

His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out. 

Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her. 

When she fell pr**nant, she was locked away even more tightly. 

I was born premature, in pain and bl**d. 

My mother didn't survive. 

Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder. 

I was blamed for her death. 

Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive. 

But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life. 

Against all odds, I didn't die. 

But my survival changed nothing. 

A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised. 

All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation. 

And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me. 

Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment."

I understood immediately. 

My body seized up. 

The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors. 

That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake. 

Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care. 

Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching. 

The silence was oppressive. 

I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this. 

Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied. 

She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected. 

Our bl**d ties had never mattered. 

She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust. 

Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty. 

The enforcer approached. 

I instinctively shrank back. "Please..."

But he didn't listen. 

He tore the fabric from my back. 

The cold air bit into my skin. 

An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began. 

"St**p her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice. 

I stood paralyzed. 

The fabric was completely ripped away. 

I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with. 

I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my ch**t. 

The first blow landed. 

Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning. 

The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the bl**d, the dizziness. 

I made out Urélia in the distance. 

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene. 

It was forbidden. 

Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs. 

Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight. 

"Breathe... I'm here..."

Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos. 

A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body. 

Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do."

Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition."

"That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait."

Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds."

Then she ordered that I be lifted. 

Jessie protested, but no one really listened. 

I was carried away from the scene. 

The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me. 

Then everything went dark. 

Chapter 2
A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness. 

A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move. 

"Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me. 

My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist. 

Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds. 

A cry escaped me despite myself. 

At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you."

My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves. 

For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain. 

No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival. 

Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty."

I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..."

I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me. 

An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food. 

Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands. 

From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now. 

Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?"

I didn't answer. 

Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time. 

She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace. 

Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin. 

If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning. 

And there was something else. The worst part. 

I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf. 

It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone. 

I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me. 

Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation. 

I startled. "Why are you doing that?"

Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back. 

An intense burn tore a scream from my throat. 

I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her. 

"Forgive me..." she murmured in distress. 

Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force. 

She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep."

I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore. 

Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle. 

Bells. 

Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned."

My stomach clenched. 

My father. 

The one who had ignored me my entire life. 

He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him. 

And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his bl**d. 

Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow. 

Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer. 

As for me, I remained hidden. 

I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place. 

Then I stopped dreaming. 

Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest."

I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..."

She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up."

Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under. 

... 

In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone. 

His face was closed off, hard as stone. 

The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation. 

For the first time in decades, he had lost. 

And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack. 

Worse still, to Xaeron. 

That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead. 

Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage. 

Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee. 

It was a shame he had never known before. 

Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves. 

But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more. 

The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?"

He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?"

She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?"

His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer."

She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer."

He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted. 

"We lost," he finally said. 

The shock froze her in place. 

"Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes."

Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?"

He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever."

The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation. 

Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power. 

Then betrayal had destroyed everything. 

Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bl**dline. 

But Xaeron had returned. 

And now, he demanded reparation. 

"The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him."

A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall. 

Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..."

"I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to."

She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..."

"They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly. 

The silence became oppressive. 

"The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my bl**d."

Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us."

"It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built."

She trembled. "She was punished today..."

Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly."

Chapter 3
JASELYA'S POV

I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes. 

So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality. 

She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags. 

Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched. 

Why me? 

A hidden execution? A verdict already decided? 

The great doors swung open. 

The room swallowed me whole. 

They were all there. 

Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years. 

And in the center, there he was. 

Alpha Balak. 

My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it. 

For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine. 

I felt my throat tighten. 

His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?"

I blinked, disoriented. 

Was that really all this was? 

"I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head. 

He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side. 

Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly. 

I obeyed. 

His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch. 

"Hold still," he murmured without harshness. 

My heart was beating too fast. 

The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice. 

A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false. 

A chill ran through me. 

I knew that voice. I knew that look even more. 

Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me. 

His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body. 

I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee. 

Since then, I had avoided him like a bl**e already drawn from its sheath. 

"No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out."

A heavy silence settled in. 

Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see. 

The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?"

Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered."

The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation. 

"Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia."

Rapid footsteps moved away. 

I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him. 

He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him. 

I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence. 

Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?"

No one looked at me. 

"Answer," Balak ordered. 

"Nineteen," I said in a low voice. 

He relayed the information. 

An even colder silence settled in. 

"Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded. 

Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds. 

I stifled a flinch. 

"There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own bl**d."

The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing. 

"You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission. 

Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?"

Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply. 

"How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!"

I felt my eyes burn. 

Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had. 

But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted."

She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on."

She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress. 

Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?"

The name hit like a stone. 

Xaeron. 

I couldn't understand. 

Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?"

Her voice was breaking between rage and panic. 

"There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him."

Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed. 

I no longer understood anything. 

Everything was falling apart without logic. 

"Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of bl**d is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf."

Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift."

I panicked. 

Exile? 

Me? 

Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat. 

Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he. 

Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary."

I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured. 

Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha. 

"You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?"

No one spoke to him that way. 

No one. 

Balak's face hardened. 

"We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize."

The world seemed to warp around me. 

A prize? 

Me? 

I stepped back slightly without realizing it. 

Was Xaeron coming for me? 

And what war had we lost without me even knowing? 

I no longer had any grip on what was happening. 

Nothing felt real. 

"Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer."

Chapter 4
Xaeron stormed across the castle boundaries with his warriors and the seven ranking members of the Council of Wolves at his back. 

The place made his stomach turn instantly. 

No sooner had he set foot on the Moonlight pack's land than he spat on the ground, as if to rid his mouth of the stench of this place. 

The land itself reeked of slaughter. 

He went back to being that child again, visiting his parents before everything fell apart. 

Then came the betrayal. His father's bl**d soaking into the dirt. His mother's head displayed like a trophy. His sister's entrails torn out. And his entire pack exterminated, cleanly and methodically. 

He should have made them suffer longer. Much longer. Until Balak begged. 

Then he would have ripped Balak's head off himself, shattered it before his own people, and ground the fragments into his throne. 

But Balak had fled. He had sought refuge with the Council and secured protection through an ancient pact. 

Now Xaeron was stuck dealing with those rules he despised. 

He could claim the entire pack. But the Wolf Law imposed one exception: Balak and his mate would be spared until the next black moon. 

An absurdity. 

Xaeron let out a dry laugh. He didn't care about the children. It was Balak he wanted. Only Balak. 

The corridors emptied before him. The guards fell back, unable to meet his eyes. 

He entered the throne room and seated himself without permission. 

His gaze swept over the hall, cold and assessing. 

Everything would be reduced to ashes. This castle, these walls, this memory. Nothing was to remain. Just as Balak had done with his home. 

"Where are they?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I won't wait. The rules mean nothing to me anymore."

"They're on their way," answered one of the council members cautiously. 

Xaeron leaned back against the throne. 

Five minutes. He was giving them five minutes. 

... 

Jaselya discovered a reflection of herself she didn't recognize. 

A light-colored gown, almost regal, draped over her body. 

The fabric was fine, carefully worked, and set with luminous details. 

She had been remade. Her hair swept up, her face painted with precision. 

She looked like a stranger-almost like a princess. But this illusion brought her no comfort. 

She turned toward Urélia. "What is going to happen?"

Fear tightened her voice. 

Urélia exchanged a glance with Luna Marilyne, who was still fretting over the adornments for the upcoming event. 

"It's an old arrangement," Urélia murmured. "The Council of Wolves has validated a pact between Alpha Balak and Xaeron. I don't know every clause, but the rule is clear: Xaeron can claim nearly everything... except the Alpha and Luna, who are protected until the next black moon."

Jaselya felt her breath catch. "A pact? Why would anyone permit this?"

Urélia lowered her voice slightly. "This kind of deal isn't easily won. It's negotiated. Bought. Your father must have paid a tremendous price. But it guarantees protection... in certain situations."

Jaselya took a step back. "Why am I being presented as his daughter?"

Urélia sighed. "He refuses to lose what he considers important. That's why he's putting you on display for Xaeron."

Jaselya's heart began to race. The more she heard, the less she understood. 

"Am I just some object to be handed over?" she breathed. 

Urélia avoided a direct answer. "It will all depend on him. And on what the Alpha decides."

The door slammed open. 

Alpha Balak entered, his expression strained. His eyes landed on her, immediately filled with irritation. "Cover that face. Now."

A servant dropped the veil over her features. 

A wave of deep humiliation washed through Jaselya. 

Her own father couldn't even stand the sight of her. 

"He's already here," Balak growled. "That ba**ard is insufferable."

Then he fixed her with a harsh stare. "Don't humiliate us."

She flinched. 

Jessie, who was standing nearby, muttered with contempt, "Look at that... With that ugly face of hers, all is lost."

Her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face against her mother. 

Jaselya's mind had gone blank. 

Unknown names. Unfathomable decisions. 

Xaeron. 

A bond. 

A price. 

A future being decided without her. 

They moved through the stairway, flanked by the guards. 

Every step felt like a fall. 

In the main hall, an entire assembly awaited them. 

The pack's ranking members. Heavy, silent stares. 

Luna Marilyne stood close to Alpha Balak. And at the center, an occupied throne. An unfamiliar man. 

The light kept his face in shadow, featureless. But his presence alone was enough to thicken the very air. 

Abel and the others formed a rigid line, like a silent army. 

Jaselya stood frozen. 

The man rose. The sound of his footsteps rang out like a death sentence. 

She lowered her gaze, unable to face that overwhelming presence. 

Then everything tilted. 

A hand seized her veil and ripped it aside. Fingers caught her face with brutal precision, forcing her head back. She was forced to meet his gaze. 

And she saw him. A man of almost unreal handsomeness. 

But lurking beneath that charm was something dangerous. 

Something that offered no escape. 

Chapter 5
JASELYA'S POV

The man stood before me with a confidence that crushed everything around him. 

His dark hair, cut short, sharpened the angles of his face, marked by a thin scar near his eye. Yet that detail practically vanished against the intensity of his eyes. Eyes of a deep, almost mineral black, framed by disturbingly thick lashes. A beauty many would have envied. 

His face looked like something carved by an artist's hand-sharp jaw, elegant lines, a nose that seemed too perfect to be real, and brows set in flawless symmetry. 

His lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of almost unreal white teeth. 

All of this rested on an impressive, massive frame, forged by years of combat and training. He shared nothing in common with the men of my pack. 

He wasn't simply strong. 

He gave the impression of having been created for war. 

And yet, despite this almost disturbing beauty, a silent alarm imposed itself within me. 

Something in his presence warned me to stay away. As if every fiber of my body understood before I did that he was danger. 

A living threat. 

My stomach clenched without warning, mixing fear and confusion. 

His hand closed over my chin with a controlled firmness, forcing my face up. 

My gaze wavered despite myself. 

I immediately remembered how I had always been seen. 

My wounded side, my scar, my features deemed unworthy. 

All my life I had been looked upon as a mistake. My father had insulted me, my half-sister had scorned me, and the rest of the pack had rejected me. 

So he too... was going to judge me. He must already be doing it. 

"So it's you," he said at last, his voice low and cutting. "What's your name?"

There was no warmth in his tone. Only a coldness that bordered on hostility. 

I could feel a brutal tension radiating from him, like an invisible blade. 

"Jaselya," I replied with difficulty. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my father. 

A silent pressure immediately crushed me. He was silently warning me not to disappoint the man. Even if everything in me had no idea how to achieve it. 

The man stepped back slightly, without breaking eye contact. 

Then he gave a sharp gesture of the hand. 

One of his men stepped forward, carrying a box. 

He handed it to him, and it was then held out to me. 

"Open it," he ordered simply. 

My heart clenched. 

A test. 

It had to be a test. 

The silence in the hall became almost unreal. 

No one was really breathing anymore. 

My fingers trembled as I grasped the box. The ribbon gave way under my hesitant motions. 

When the lid opened, the world seemed to tilt. 

Inside was a head. 

Alpha Dean's. The leader of the Black Wing Pack. The man Jessie was supposed to bond with. 

No reaction escaped me, no scream. I simply dropped the box. 

It hit the floor. 

The head rolled out, coming to a stop near my dress, leaving dark spatters on the fabric. 

A scream tore through the hall. 

It was Jessie. 

Her cry echoed against the walls like a crack in the silence. 

I slowly looked up. 

The man was still watching me. 

And this time... he was smiling. 

&3&

As the Alpha's unwanted daughter, she was despised by her own family, abused by her stepmother, and treated like a plaything by her stepsister. She grew up believing she was worthless and learned to make herself invisible. But everything changed when the son of her family's greatest enemy destroyed their pack. ===== Chapter 1 JASELYA'S POV "Brainless id**t" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air. Before I could even react, her hand sl**med across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder. A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow. No explanation was needed. This m**k would stay visible for a long time. "Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?" With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking. I lifted my gaze slightly. She answered with a gob of spit. The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away. "Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wr**ch." Tears escaped me despite myself. "Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice. She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly." Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream. "The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!" I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty." I had no other choice. Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, st**king her hair as if nothing had just happened. "Anything you wish, just say the word, and this d*g will do it," she declared softly. Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..." Those words pierced my ch**t like a blade. Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit." Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?" I felt my bl**d run cold. A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it." I stayed frozen, barely breathing. They talked about me as if I didn't exist. As if I were nothing but an object. Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself." "She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away. Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants. I was left alone with the silence. My entire life had unfolded this way. In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected. But none of it had ever applied to me. My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery. The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden af**ir with her. His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out. Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her. When she fell pr**nant, she was locked away even more tightly. I was born premature, in pain and bl**d. My mother didn't survive. Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder. I was blamed for her death. Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive. But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life. Against all odds, I didn't die. But my survival changed nothing. A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised. All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation. And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me. Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment." I understood immediately. My body seized up. The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors. That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake. Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care. Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching. The silence was oppressive. I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this. Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied. She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected. Our bl**d ties had never mattered. She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust. Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty. The enforcer approached. I instinctively shrank back. "Please..." But he didn't listen. He tore the fabric from my back. The cold air bit into my skin. An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began. "St**p her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice. I stood paralyzed. The fabric was completely ripped away. I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with. I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my ch**t. The first blow landed. Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning. The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the bl**d, the dizziness. I made out Urélia in the distance. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene. It was forbidden. Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs. Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight. "Breathe... I'm here..." Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos. A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body. Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do." Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition." "That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait." Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds." Then she ordered that I be lifted. Jessie protested, but no one really listened. I was carried away from the scene. The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me. Then everything went dark. Chapter 2 A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness. A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move. "Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me. My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist. Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds. A cry escaped me despite myself. At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you." My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves. For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain. No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival. Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty." I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..." I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me. An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food. Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands. From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now. Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?" I didn't answer. Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time. She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace. Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin. If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning. And there was something else. The worst part. I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf. It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone. I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me. Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation. I startled. "Why are you doing that?" Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back. An intense burn tore a scream from my throat. I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her. "Forgive me..." she murmured in distress. Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force. She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep." I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore. Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle. Bells. Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned." My stomach clenched. My father. The one who had ignored me my entire life. He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him. And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his bl**d. Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow. Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer. As for me, I remained hidden. I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place. Then I stopped dreaming. Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest." I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..." She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up." Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under. ... In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone. His face was closed off, hard as stone. The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation. For the first time in decades, he had lost. And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack. Worse still, to Xaeron. That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead. Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage. Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee. It was a shame he had never known before. Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves. But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more. The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?" He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?" She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?" His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer." She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer." He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted. "We lost," he finally said. The shock froze her in place. "Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes." Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?" He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever." The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation. Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power. Then betrayal had destroyed everything. Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bl**dline. But Xaeron had returned. And now, he demanded reparation. "The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him." A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall. Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..." "I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to." She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..." "They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly. The silence became oppressive. "The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my bl**d." Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us." "It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built." She trembled. "She was punished today..." Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly." Chapter 3 JASELYA'S POV I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes. So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality. She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags. Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched. Why me? A hidden execution? A verdict already decided? The great doors swung open. The room swallowed me whole. They were all there. Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years. And in the center, there he was. Alpha Balak. My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it. For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine. I felt my throat tighten. His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?" I blinked, disoriented. Was that really all this was? "I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head. He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side. Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly. I obeyed. His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch. "Hold still," he murmured without harshness. My heart was beating too fast. The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice. A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false. A chill ran through me. I knew that voice. I knew that look even more. Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me. His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body. I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee. Since then, I had avoided him like a bl**e already drawn from its sheath. "No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out." A heavy silence settled in. Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see. The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?" Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered." The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation. "Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia." Rapid footsteps moved away. I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him. He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him. I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence. Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?" No one looked at me. "Answer," Balak ordered. "Nineteen," I said in a low voice. He relayed the information. An even colder silence settled in. "Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded. Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds. I stifled a flinch. "There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own bl**d." The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing. "You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission. Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?" Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply. "How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!" I felt my eyes burn. Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had. But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted." She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on." She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress. Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?" The name hit like a stone. Xaeron. I couldn't understand. Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?" Her voice was breaking between rage and panic. "There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him." Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed. I no longer understood anything. Everything was falling apart without logic. "Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of bl**d is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf." Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift." I panicked. Exile? Me? Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat. Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he. Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary." I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured. Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha. "You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?" No one spoke to him that way. No one. Balak's face hardened. "We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize." The world seemed to warp around me. A prize? Me? I stepped back slightly without realizing it. Was Xaeron coming for me? And what war had we lost without me even knowing? I no longer had any grip on what was happening. Nothing felt real. "Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer." Chapter 4 Xaeron stormed across the castle boundaries with his warriors and the seven ranking members of the Council of Wolves at his back. The place made his stomach turn instantly. No sooner had he set foot on the Moonlight pack's land than he spat on the ground, as if to rid his mouth of the stench of this place. The land itself reeked of slaughter. He went back to being that child again, visiting his parents before everything fell apart. Then came the betrayal. His father's bl**d soaking into the dirt. His mother's head displayed like a trophy. His sister's entrails torn out. And his entire pack exterminated, cleanly and methodically. He should have made them suffer longer. Much longer. Until Balak begged. Then he would have ripped Balak's head off himself, shattered it before his own people, and ground the fragments into his throne. But Balak had fled. He had sought refuge with the Council and secured protection through an ancient pact. Now Xaeron was stuck dealing with those rules he despised. He could claim the entire pack. But the Wolf Law imposed one exception: Balak and his mate would be spared until the next black moon. An absurdity. Xaeron let out a dry laugh. He didn't care about the children. It was Balak he wanted. Only Balak. The corridors emptied before him. The guards fell back, unable to meet his eyes. He entered the throne room and seated himself without permission. His gaze swept over the hall, cold and assessing. Everything would be reduced to ashes. This castle, these walls, this memory. Nothing was to remain. Just as Balak had done with his home. "Where are they?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I won't wait. The rules mean nothing to me anymore." "They're on their way," answered one of the council members cautiously. Xaeron leaned back against the throne. Five minutes. He was giving them five minutes. ... Jaselya discovered a reflection of herself she didn't recognize. A light-colored gown, almost regal, draped over her body. The fabric was fine, carefully worked, and set with luminous details. She had been remade. Her hair swept up, her face painted with precision. She looked like a stranger-almost like a princess. But this illusion brought her no comfort. She turned toward Urélia. "What is going to happen?" Fear tightened her voice. Urélia exchanged a glance with Luna Marilyne, who was still fretting over the adornments for the upcoming event. "It's an old arrangement," Urélia murmured. "The Council of Wolves has validated a pact between Alpha Balak and Xaeron. I don't know every clause, but the rule is clear: Xaeron can claim nearly everything... except the Alpha and Luna, who are protected until the next black moon." Jaselya felt her breath catch. "A pact? Why would anyone permit this?" Urélia lowered her voice slightly. "This kind of deal isn't easily won. It's negotiated. Bought. Your father must have paid a tremendous price. But it guarantees protection... in certain situations." Jaselya took a step back. "Why am I being presented as his daughter?" Urélia sighed. "He refuses to lose what he considers important. That's why he's putting you on display for Xaeron." Jaselya's heart began to race. The more she heard, the less she understood. "Am I just some object to be handed over?" she breathed. Urélia avoided a direct answer. "It will all depend on him. And on what the Alpha decides." The door slammed open. Alpha Balak entered, his expression strained. His eyes landed on her, immediately filled with irritation. "Cover that face. Now." A servant dropped the veil over her features. A wave of deep humiliation washed through Jaselya. Her own father couldn't even stand the sight of her. "He's already here," Balak growled. "That ba**ard is insufferable." Then he fixed her with a harsh stare. "Don't humiliate us." She flinched. Jessie, who was standing nearby, muttered with contempt, "Look at that... With that ugly face of hers, all is lost." Her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face against her mother. Jaselya's mind had gone blank. Unknown names. Unfathomable decisions. Xaeron. A bond. A price. A future being decided without her. They moved through the stairway, flanked by the guards. Every step felt like a fall. In the main hall, an entire assembly awaited them. The pack's ranking members. Heavy, silent stares. Luna Marilyne stood close to Alpha Balak. And at the center, an occupied throne. An unfamiliar man. The light kept his face in shadow, featureless. But his presence alone was enough to thicken the very air. Abel and the others formed a rigid line, like a silent army. Jaselya stood frozen. The man rose. The sound of his footsteps rang out like a death sentence. She lowered her gaze, unable to face that overwhelming presence. Then everything tilted. A hand seized her veil and ripped it aside. Fingers caught her face with brutal precision, forcing her head back. She was forced to meet his gaze. And she saw him. A man of almost unreal handsomeness. But lurking beneath that charm was something dangerous. Something that offered no escape. Chapter 5 JASELYA'S POV The man stood before me with a confidence that crushed everything around him. His dark hair, cut short, sharpened the angles of his face, marked by a thin scar near his eye. Yet that detail practically vanished against the intensity of his eyes. Eyes of a deep, almost mineral black, framed by disturbingly thick lashes. A beauty many would have envied. His face looked like something carved by an artist's hand-sharp jaw, elegant lines, a nose that seemed too perfect to be real, and brows set in flawless symmetry. His lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of almost unreal white teeth. All of this rested on an impressive, massive frame, forged by years of combat and training. He shared nothing in common with the men of my pack. He wasn't simply strong. He gave the impression of having been created for war. And yet, despite this almost disturbing beauty, a silent alarm imposed itself within me. Something in his presence warned me to stay away. As if every fiber of my body understood before I did that he was danger. A living threat. My stomach clenched without warning, mixing fear and confusion. His hand closed over my chin with a controlled firmness, forcing my face up. My gaze wavered despite myself. I immediately remembered how I had always been seen. My wounded side, my scar, my features deemed unworthy. All my life I had been looked upon as a mistake. My father had insulted me, my half-sister had scorned me, and the rest of the pack had rejected me. So he too... was going to judge me. He must already be doing it. "So it's you," he said at last, his voice low and cutting. "What's your name?" There was no warmth in his tone. Only a coldness that bordered on hostility. I could feel a brutal tension radiating from him, like an invisible blade. "Jaselya," I replied with difficulty. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my father. A silent pressure immediately crushed me. He was silently warning me not to disappoint the man. Even if everything in me had no idea how to achieve it. The man stepped back slightly, without breaking eye contact. Then he gave a sharp gesture of the hand. One of his men stepped forward, carrying a box. He handed it to him, and it was then held out to me. "Open it," he ordered simply. My heart clenched. A test. It had to be a test. The silence in the hall became almost unreal. No one was really breathing anymore. My fingers trembled as I grasped the box. The ribbon gave way under my hesitant motions. When the lid opened, the world seemed to tilt. Inside was a head. Alpha Dean's. The leader of the Black Wing Pack. The man Jessie was supposed to bond with. No reaction escaped me, no scream. I simply dropped the box. It hit the floor. The head rolled out, coming to a stop near my dress, leaving dark spatters on the fabric. A scream tore through the hall. It was Jessie. Her cry echoed against the walls like a crack in the silence. I slowly looked up. The man was still watching me. And this time... he was smiling. &3&

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As the Alpha's unwanted daughter, she was despised by her own family, abused by her stepmother, and treated like a plaything by her stepsister. She grew up believing she was worthless and learned to make herself invisible. But everything changed when the son of her family's greatest enemy destroyed their pack.
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Chapter 1
JASELYA'S POV

"Brainless id**t" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air. 

Before I could even react, her hand sl**med across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder. 

A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow. 

No explanation was needed. This m**k would stay visible for a long time. 

"Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?"

With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking. 

I lifted my gaze slightly. 

She answered with a gob of spit. 

The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away. 

"Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wr**ch."

Tears escaped me despite myself. 

"Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice. 

She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly."

Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream. 

"The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!"

I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty."

I had no other choice. 

Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, st**king her hair as if nothing had just happened. 

"Anything you wish, just say the word, and this d*g will do it," she declared softly. 

Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..."

Those words pierced my ch**t like a blade. 

Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit."

Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?"

I felt my bl**d run cold. 

A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it."

I stayed frozen, barely breathing. 

They talked about me as if I didn't exist. 

As if I were nothing but an object. 

Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself."

"She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away. 

Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants. 

I was left alone with the silence. 

My entire life had unfolded this way. 

In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected. 

But none of it had ever applied to me. 

My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery. 

The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden af**ir with her. 

His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out. 

Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her. 

When she fell pr**nant, she was locked away even more tightly. 

I was born premature, in pain and bl**d. 

My mother didn't survive. 

Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder. 

I was blamed for her death. 

Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive. 

But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life. 

Against all odds, I didn't die. 

But my survival changed nothing. 

A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised. 

All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation. 

And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me. 

Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment."

I understood immediately. 

My body seized up. 

The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors. 

That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake. 

Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care. 

Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching. 

The silence was oppressive. 

I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this. 

Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied. 

She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected. 

Our bl**d ties had never mattered. 

She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust. 

Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty. 

The enforcer approached. 

I instinctively shrank back. "Please..."

But he didn't listen. 

He tore the fabric from my back. 

The cold air bit into my skin. 

An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began. 

"St**p her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice. 

I stood paralyzed. 

The fabric was completely ripped away. 

I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with. 

I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my ch**t. 

The first blow landed. 

Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning. 

The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the bl**d, the dizziness. 

I made out Urélia in the distance. 

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene. 

It was forbidden. 

Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs. 

Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight. 

"Breathe... I'm here..."

Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos. 

A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body. 

Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do."

Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition."

"That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait."

Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds."

Then she ordered that I be lifted. 

Jessie protested, but no one really listened. 

I was carried away from the scene. 

The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me. 

Then everything went dark. 

Chapter 2
A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness. 

A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move. 

"Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me. 

My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist. 

Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds. 

A cry escaped me despite myself. 

At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you."

My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves. 

For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain. 

No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival. 

Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty."

I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..."

I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me. 

An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food. 

Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands. 

From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now. 

Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?"

I didn't answer. 

Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time. 

She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace. 

Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin. 

If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning. 

And there was something else. The worst part. 

I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf. 

It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone. 

I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me. 

Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation. 

I startled. "Why are you doing that?"

Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back. 

An intense burn tore a scream from my throat. 

I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her. 

"Forgive me..." she murmured in distress. 

Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force. 

She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep."

I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore. 

Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle. 

Bells. 

Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned."

My stomach clenched. 

My father. 

The one who had ignored me my entire life. 

He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him. 

And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his bl**d. 

Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow. 

Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer. 

As for me, I remained hidden. 

I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place. 

Then I stopped dreaming. 

Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest."

I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..."

She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up."

Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under. 

... 

In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone. 

His face was closed off, hard as stone. 

The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation. 

For the first time in decades, he had lost. 

And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack. 

Worse still, to Xaeron. 

That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead. 

Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage. 

Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee. 

It was a shame he had never known before. 

Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves. 

But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more. 

The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?"

He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?"

She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?"

His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer."

She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer."

He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted. 

"We lost," he finally said. 

The shock froze her in place. 

"Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes."

Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?"

He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever."

The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation. 

Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power. 

Then betrayal had destroyed everything. 

Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bl**dline. 

But Xaeron had returned. 

And now, he demanded reparation. 

"The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him."

A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall. 

Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..."

"I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to."

She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..."

"They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly. 

The silence became oppressive. 

"The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my bl**d."

Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us."

"It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built."

She trembled. "She was punished today..."

Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly."

Chapter 3
JASELYA'S POV

I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes. 

So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality. 

She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags. 

Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched. 

Why me? 

A hidden execution? A verdict already decided? 

The great doors swung open. 

The room swallowed me whole. 

They were all there. 

Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years. 

And in the center, there he was. 

Alpha Balak. 

My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it. 

For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine. 

I felt my throat tighten. 

His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?"

I blinked, disoriented. 

Was that really all this was? 

"I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head. 

He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side. 

Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly. 

I obeyed. 

His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch. 

"Hold still," he murmured without harshness. 

My heart was beating too fast. 

The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice. 

A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false. 

A chill ran through me. 

I knew that voice. I knew that look even more. 

Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me. 

His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body. 

I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee. 

Since then, I had avoided him like a bl**e already drawn from its sheath. 

"No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out."

A heavy silence settled in. 

Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see. 

The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?"

Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered."

The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation. 

"Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia."

Rapid footsteps moved away. 

I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him. 

He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him. 

I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence. 

Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?"

No one looked at me. 

"Answer," Balak ordered. 

"Nineteen," I said in a low voice. 

He relayed the information. 

An even colder silence settled in. 

"Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded. 

Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds. 

I stifled a flinch. 

"There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own bl**d."

The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing. 

"You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission. 

Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?"

Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply. 

"How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!"

I felt my eyes burn. 

Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had. 

But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted."

She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on."

She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress. 

Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?"

The name hit like a stone. 

Xaeron. 

I couldn't understand. 

Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?"

Her voice was breaking between rage and panic. 

"There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him."

Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed. 

I no longer understood anything. 

Everything was falling apart without logic. 

"Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of bl**d is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf."

Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift."

I panicked. 

Exile? 

Me? 

Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat. 

Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he. 

Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary."

I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured. 

Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha. 

"You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?"

No one spoke to him that way. 

No one. 

Balak's face hardened. 

"We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize."

The world seemed to warp around me. 

A prize? 

Me? 

I stepped back slightly without realizing it. 

Was Xaeron coming for me? 

And what war had we lost without me even knowing? 

I no longer had any grip on what was happening. 

Nothing felt real. 

"Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer."

Chapter 4
Xaeron stormed across the castle boundaries with his warriors and the seven ranking members of the Council of Wolves at his back. 

The place made his stomach turn instantly. 

No sooner had he set foot on the Moonlight pack's land than he spat on the ground, as if to rid his mouth of the stench of this place. 

The land itself reeked of slaughter. 

He went back to being that child again, visiting his parents before everything fell apart. 

Then came the betrayal. His father's bl**d soaking into the dirt. His mother's head displayed like a trophy. His sister's entrails torn out. And his entire pack exterminated, cleanly and methodically. 

He should have made them suffer longer. Much longer. Until Balak begged. 

Then he would have ripped Balak's head off himself, shattered it before his own people, and ground the fragments into his throne. 

But Balak had fled. He had sought refuge with the Council and secured protection through an ancient pact. 

Now Xaeron was stuck dealing with those rules he despised. 

He could claim the entire pack. But the Wolf Law imposed one exception: Balak and his mate would be spared until the next black moon. 

An absurdity. 

Xaeron let out a dry laugh. He didn't care about the children. It was Balak he wanted. Only Balak. 

The corridors emptied before him. The guards fell back, unable to meet his eyes. 

He entered the throne room and seated himself without permission. 

His gaze swept over the hall, cold and assessing. 

Everything would be reduced to ashes. This castle, these walls, this memory. Nothing was to remain. Just as Balak had done with his home. 

"Where are they?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I won't wait. The rules mean nothing to me anymore."

"They're on their way," answered one of the council members cautiously. 

Xaeron leaned back against the throne. 

Five minutes. He was giving them five minutes. 

... 

Jaselya discovered a reflection of herself she didn't recognize. 

A light-colored gown, almost regal, draped over her body. 

The fabric was fine, carefully worked, and set with luminous details. 

She had been remade. Her hair swept up, her face painted with precision. 

She looked like a stranger-almost like a princess. But this illusion brought her no comfort. 

She turned toward Urélia. "What is going to happen?"

Fear tightened her voice. 

Urélia exchanged a glance with Luna Marilyne, who was still fretting over the adornments for the upcoming event. 

"It's an old arrangement," Urélia murmured. "The Council of Wolves has validated a pact between Alpha Balak and Xaeron. I don't know every clause, but the rule is clear: Xaeron can claim nearly everything... except the Alpha and Luna, who are protected until the next black moon."

Jaselya felt her breath catch. "A pact? Why would anyone permit this?"

Urélia lowered her voice slightly. "This kind of deal isn't easily won. It's negotiated. Bought. Your father must have paid a tremendous price. But it guarantees protection... in certain situations."

Jaselya took a step back. "Why am I being presented as his daughter?"

Urélia sighed. "He refuses to lose what he considers important. That's why he's putting you on display for Xaeron."

Jaselya's heart began to race. The more she heard, the less she understood. 

"Am I just some object to be handed over?" she breathed. 

Urélia avoided a direct answer. "It will all depend on him. And on what the Alpha decides."

The door slammed open. 

Alpha Balak entered, his expression strained. His eyes landed on her, immediately filled with irritation. "Cover that face. Now."

A servant dropped the veil over her features. 

A wave of deep humiliation washed through Jaselya. 

Her own father couldn't even stand the sight of her. 

"He's already here," Balak growled. "That ba**ard is insufferable."

Then he fixed her with a harsh stare. "Don't humiliate us."

She flinched. 

Jessie, who was standing nearby, muttered with contempt, "Look at that... With that ugly face of hers, all is lost."

Her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face against her mother. 

Jaselya's mind had gone blank. 

Unknown names. Unfathomable decisions. 

Xaeron. 

A bond. 

A price. 

A future being decided without her. 

They moved through the stairway, flanked by the guards. 

Every step felt like a fall. 

In the main hall, an entire assembly awaited them. 

The pack's ranking members. Heavy, silent stares. 

Luna Marilyne stood close to Alpha Balak. And at the center, an occupied throne. An unfamiliar man. 

The light kept his face in shadow, featureless. But his presence alone was enough to thicken the very air. 

Abel and the others formed a rigid line, like a silent army. 

Jaselya stood frozen. 

The man rose. The sound of his footsteps rang out like a death sentence. 

She lowered her gaze, unable to face that overwhelming presence. 

Then everything tilted. 

A hand seized her veil and ripped it aside. Fingers caught her face with brutal precision, forcing her head back. She was forced to meet his gaze. 

And she saw him. A man of almost unreal handsomeness. 

But lurking beneath that charm was something dangerous. 

Something that offered no escape. 

Chapter 5
JASELYA'S POV

The man stood before me with a confidence that crushed everything around him. 

His dark hair, cut short, sharpened the angles of his face, marked by a thin scar near his eye. Yet that detail practically vanished against the intensity of his eyes. Eyes of a deep, almost mineral black, framed by disturbingly thick lashes. A beauty many would have envied. 

His face looked like something carved by an artist's hand-sharp jaw, elegant lines, a nose that seemed too perfect to be real, and brows set in flawless symmetry. 

His lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of almost unreal white teeth. 

All of this rested on an impressive, massive frame, forged by years of combat and training. He shared nothing in common with the men of my pack. 

He wasn't simply strong. 

He gave the impression of having been created for war. 

And yet, despite this almost disturbing beauty, a silent alarm imposed itself within me. 

Something in his presence warned me to stay away. As if every fiber of my body understood before I did that he was danger. 

A living threat. 

My stomach clenched without warning, mixing fear and confusion. 

His hand closed over my chin with a controlled firmness, forcing my face up. 

My gaze wavered despite myself. 

I immediately remembered how I had always been seen. 

My wounded side, my scar, my features deemed unworthy. 

All my life I had been looked upon as a mistake. My father had insulted me, my half-sister had scorned me, and the rest of the pack had rejected me. 

So he too... was going to judge me. He must already be doing it. 

"So it's you," he said at last, his voice low and cutting. "What's your name?"

There was no warmth in his tone. Only a coldness that bordered on hostility. 

I could feel a brutal tension radiating from him, like an invisible blade. 

"Jaselya," I replied with difficulty. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my father. 

A silent pressure immediately crushed me. He was silently warning me not to disappoint the man. Even if everything in me had no idea how to achieve it. 

The man stepped back slightly, without breaking eye contact. 

Then he gave a sharp gesture of the hand. 

One of his men stepped forward, carrying a box. 

He handed it to him, and it was then held out to me. 

"Open it," he ordered simply. 

My heart clenched. 

A test. 

It had to be a test. 

The silence in the hall became almost unreal. 

No one was really breathing anymore. 

My fingers trembled as I grasped the box. The ribbon gave way under my hesitant motions. 

When the lid opened, the world seemed to tilt. 

Inside was a head. 

Alpha Dean's. The leader of the Black Wing Pack. The man Jessie was supposed to bond with. 

No reaction escaped me, no scream. I simply dropped the box. 

It hit the floor. 

The head rolled out, coming to a stop near my dress, leaving dark spatters on the fabric. 

A scream tore through the hall. 

It was Jessie. 

Her cry echoed against the walls like a crack in the silence. 

I slowly looked up. 

The man was still watching me. 

And this time... he was smiling. 

&3&

As the Alpha's unwanted daughter, she was despised by her own family, abused by her stepmother, and treated like a plaything by her stepsister. She grew up believing she was worthless and learned to make herself invisible. But everything changed when the son of her family's greatest enemy destroyed their pack. ===== Chapter 1 JASELYA'S POV "Brainless id**t" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air. Before I could even react, her hand sl**med across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder. A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow. No explanation was needed. This m**k would stay visible for a long time. "Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?" With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking. I lifted my gaze slightly. She answered with a gob of spit. The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away. "Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wr**ch." Tears escaped me despite myself. "Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice. She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly." Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream. "The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!" I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty." I had no other choice. Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, st**king her hair as if nothing had just happened. "Anything you wish, just say the word, and this d*g will do it," she declared softly. Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..." Those words pierced my ch**t like a blade. Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit." Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?" I felt my bl**d run cold. A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it." I stayed frozen, barely breathing. They talked about me as if I didn't exist. As if I were nothing but an object. Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself." "She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away. Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants. I was left alone with the silence. My entire life had unfolded this way. In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected. But none of it had ever applied to me. My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery. The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden af**ir with her. His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out. Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her. When she fell pr**nant, she was locked away even more tightly. I was born premature, in pain and bl**d. My mother didn't survive. Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder. I was blamed for her death. Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive. But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life. Against all odds, I didn't die. But my survival changed nothing. A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised. All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation. And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me. Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment." I understood immediately. My body seized up. The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors. That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake. Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care. Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching. The silence was oppressive. I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this. Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied. She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected. Our bl**d ties had never mattered. She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust. Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty. The enforcer approached. I instinctively shrank back. "Please..." But he didn't listen. He tore the fabric from my back. The cold air bit into my skin. An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began. "St**p her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice. I stood paralyzed. The fabric was completely ripped away. I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with. I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my ch**t. The first blow landed. Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning. The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the bl**d, the dizziness. I made out Urélia in the distance. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene. It was forbidden. Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs. Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight. "Breathe... I'm here..." Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos. A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body. Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do." Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition." "That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait." Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds." Then she ordered that I be lifted. Jessie protested, but no one really listened. I was carried away from the scene. The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me. Then everything went dark. Chapter 2 A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness. A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move. "Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me. My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist. Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds. A cry escaped me despite myself. At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you." My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves. For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain. No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival. Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty." I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..." I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me. An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food. Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands. From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now. Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?" I didn't answer. Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time. She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace. Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin. If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning. And there was something else. The worst part. I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf. It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone. I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me. Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation. I startled. "Why are you doing that?" Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back. An intense burn tore a scream from my throat. I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her. "Forgive me..." she murmured in distress. Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force. She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep." I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore. Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle. Bells. Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned." My stomach clenched. My father. The one who had ignored me my entire life. He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him. And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his bl**d. Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow. Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer. As for me, I remained hidden. I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place. Then I stopped dreaming. Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest." I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..." She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up." Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under. ... In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone. His face was closed off, hard as stone. The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation. For the first time in decades, he had lost. And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack. Worse still, to Xaeron. That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead. Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage. Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee. It was a shame he had never known before. Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves. But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more. The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?" He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?" She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?" His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer." She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer." He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted. "We lost," he finally said. The shock froze her in place. "Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes." Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?" He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever." The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation. Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power. Then betrayal had destroyed everything. Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bl**dline. But Xaeron had returned. And now, he demanded reparation. "The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him." A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall. Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..." "I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to." She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..." "They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly. The silence became oppressive. "The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my bl**d." Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us." "It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built." She trembled. "She was punished today..." Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly." Chapter 3 JASELYA'S POV I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes. So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality. She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags. Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched. Why me? A hidden execution? A verdict already decided? The great doors swung open. The room swallowed me whole. They were all there. Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years. And in the center, there he was. Alpha Balak. My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it. For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine. I felt my throat tighten. His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?" I blinked, disoriented. Was that really all this was? "I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head. He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side. Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly. I obeyed. His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch. "Hold still," he murmured without harshness. My heart was beating too fast. The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice. A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false. A chill ran through me. I knew that voice. I knew that look even more. Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me. His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body. I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee. Since then, I had avoided him like a bl**e already drawn from its sheath. "No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out." A heavy silence settled in. Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see. The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?" Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered." The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation. "Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia." Rapid footsteps moved away. I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him. He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him. I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence. Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?" No one looked at me. "Answer," Balak ordered. "Nineteen," I said in a low voice. He relayed the information. An even colder silence settled in. "Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded. Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds. I stifled a flinch. "There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own bl**d." The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing. "You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission. Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?" Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply. "How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!" I felt my eyes burn. Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had. But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted." She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on." She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress. Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?" The name hit like a stone. Xaeron. I couldn't understand. Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?" Her voice was breaking between rage and panic. "There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him." Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed. I no longer understood anything. Everything was falling apart without logic. "Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of bl**d is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf." Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift." I panicked. Exile? Me? Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat. Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he. Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary." I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured. Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha. "You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?" No one spoke to him that way. No one. Balak's face hardened. "We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize." The world seemed to warp around me. A prize? Me? I stepped back slightly without realizing it. Was Xaeron coming for me? And what war had we lost without me even knowing? I no longer had any grip on what was happening. Nothing felt real. "Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer." Chapter 4 Xaeron stormed across the castle boundaries with his warriors and the seven ranking members of the Council of Wolves at his back. The place made his stomach turn instantly. No sooner had he set foot on the Moonlight pack's land than he spat on the ground, as if to rid his mouth of the stench of this place. The land itself reeked of slaughter. He went back to being that child again, visiting his parents before everything fell apart. Then came the betrayal. His father's bl**d soaking into the dirt. His mother's head displayed like a trophy. His sister's entrails torn out. And his entire pack exterminated, cleanly and methodically. He should have made them suffer longer. Much longer. Until Balak begged. Then he would have ripped Balak's head off himself, shattered it before his own people, and ground the fragments into his throne. But Balak had fled. He had sought refuge with the Council and secured protection through an ancient pact. Now Xaeron was stuck dealing with those rules he despised. He could claim the entire pack. But the Wolf Law imposed one exception: Balak and his mate would be spared until the next black moon. An absurdity. Xaeron let out a dry laugh. He didn't care about the children. It was Balak he wanted. Only Balak. The corridors emptied before him. The guards fell back, unable to meet his eyes. He entered the throne room and seated himself without permission. His gaze swept over the hall, cold and assessing. Everything would be reduced to ashes. This castle, these walls, this memory. Nothing was to remain. Just as Balak had done with his home. "Where are they?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I won't wait. The rules mean nothing to me anymore." "They're on their way," answered one of the council members cautiously. Xaeron leaned back against the throne. Five minutes. He was giving them five minutes. ... Jaselya discovered a reflection of herself she didn't recognize. A light-colored gown, almost regal, draped over her body. The fabric was fine, carefully worked, and set with luminous details. She had been remade. Her hair swept up, her face painted with precision. She looked like a stranger-almost like a princess. But this illusion brought her no comfort. She turned toward Urélia. "What is going to happen?" Fear tightened her voice. Urélia exchanged a glance with Luna Marilyne, who was still fretting over the adornments for the upcoming event. "It's an old arrangement," Urélia murmured. "The Council of Wolves has validated a pact between Alpha Balak and Xaeron. I don't know every clause, but the rule is clear: Xaeron can claim nearly everything... except the Alpha and Luna, who are protected until the next black moon." Jaselya felt her breath catch. "A pact? Why would anyone permit this?" Urélia lowered her voice slightly. "This kind of deal isn't easily won. It's negotiated. Bought. Your father must have paid a tremendous price. But it guarantees protection... in certain situations." Jaselya took a step back. "Why am I being presented as his daughter?" Urélia sighed. "He refuses to lose what he considers important. That's why he's putting you on display for Xaeron." Jaselya's heart began to race. The more she heard, the less she understood. "Am I just some object to be handed over?" she breathed. Urélia avoided a direct answer. "It will all depend on him. And on what the Alpha decides." The door slammed open. Alpha Balak entered, his expression strained. His eyes landed on her, immediately filled with irritation. "Cover that face. Now." A servant dropped the veil over her features. A wave of deep humiliation washed through Jaselya. Her own father couldn't even stand the sight of her. "He's already here," Balak growled. "That ba**ard is insufferable." Then he fixed her with a harsh stare. "Don't humiliate us." She flinched. Jessie, who was standing nearby, muttered with contempt, "Look at that... With that ugly face of hers, all is lost." Her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face against her mother. Jaselya's mind had gone blank. Unknown names. Unfathomable decisions. Xaeron. A bond. A price. A future being decided without her. They moved through the stairway, flanked by the guards. Every step felt like a fall. In the main hall, an entire assembly awaited them. The pack's ranking members. Heavy, silent stares. Luna Marilyne stood close to Alpha Balak. And at the center, an occupied throne. An unfamiliar man. The light kept his face in shadow, featureless. But his presence alone was enough to thicken the very air. Abel and the others formed a rigid line, like a silent army. Jaselya stood frozen. The man rose. The sound of his footsteps rang out like a death sentence. She lowered her gaze, unable to face that overwhelming presence. Then everything tilted. A hand seized her veil and ripped it aside. Fingers caught her face with brutal precision, forcing her head back. She was forced to meet his gaze. And she saw him. A man of almost unreal handsomeness. But lurking beneath that charm was something dangerous. Something that offered no escape. Chapter 5 JASELYA'S POV The man stood before me with a confidence that crushed everything around him. His dark hair, cut short, sharpened the angles of his face, marked by a thin scar near his eye. Yet that detail practically vanished against the intensity of his eyes. Eyes of a deep, almost mineral black, framed by disturbingly thick lashes. A beauty many would have envied. His face looked like something carved by an artist's hand-sharp jaw, elegant lines, a nose that seemed too perfect to be real, and brows set in flawless symmetry. His lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of almost unreal white teeth. All of this rested on an impressive, massive frame, forged by years of combat and training. He shared nothing in common with the men of my pack. He wasn't simply strong. He gave the impression of having been created for war. And yet, despite this almost disturbing beauty, a silent alarm imposed itself within me. Something in his presence warned me to stay away. As if every fiber of my body understood before I did that he was danger. A living threat. My stomach clenched without warning, mixing fear and confusion. His hand closed over my chin with a controlled firmness, forcing my face up. My gaze wavered despite myself. I immediately remembered how I had always been seen. My wounded side, my scar, my features deemed unworthy. All my life I had been looked upon as a mistake. My father had insulted me, my half-sister had scorned me, and the rest of the pack had rejected me. So he too... was going to judge me. He must already be doing it. "So it's you," he said at last, his voice low and cutting. "What's your name?" There was no warmth in his tone. Only a coldness that bordered on hostility. I could feel a brutal tension radiating from him, like an invisible blade. "Jaselya," I replied with difficulty. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my father. A silent pressure immediately crushed me. He was silently warning me not to disappoint the man. Even if everything in me had no idea how to achieve it. The man stepped back slightly, without breaking eye contact. Then he gave a sharp gesture of the hand. One of his men stepped forward, carrying a box. He handed it to him, and it was then held out to me. "Open it," he ordered simply. My heart clenched. A test. It had to be a test. The silence in the hall became almost unreal. No one was really breathing anymore. My fingers trembled as I grasped the box. The ribbon gave way under my hesitant motions. When the lid opened, the world seemed to tilt. Inside was a head. Alpha Dean's. The leader of the Black Wing Pack. The man Jessie was supposed to bond with. No reaction escaped me, no scream. I simply dropped the box. It hit the floor. The head rolled out, coming to a stop near my dress, leaving dark spatters on the fabric. A scream tore through the hall. It was Jessie. Her cry echoed against the walls like a crack in the silence. I slowly looked up. The man was still watching me. And this time... he was smiling. &3&

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As the Alpha's unwanted daughter, she was despised by her own family, abused by her stepmother, and treated like a plaything by her stepsister. She grew up believing she was worthless and learned to make herself invisible. But everything changed when the son of her family's greatest enemy destroyed their pack.
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Chapter 1
JASELYA'S POV

"Brainless id**t" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air. 

Before I could even react, her hand sl**med across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder. 

A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow. 

No explanation was needed. This m**k would stay visible for a long time. 

"Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?"

With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking. 

I lifted my gaze slightly. 

She answered with a gob of spit. 

The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away. 

"Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wr**ch."

Tears escaped me despite myself. 

"Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice. 

She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly."

Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream. 

"The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!"

I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty."

I had no other choice. 

Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, st**king her hair as if nothing had just happened. 

"Anything you wish, just say the word, and this d*g will do it," she declared softly. 

Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..."

Those words pierced my ch**t like a blade. 

Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit."

Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?"

I felt my bl**d run cold. 

A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it."

I stayed frozen, barely breathing. 

They talked about me as if I didn't exist. 

As if I were nothing but an object. 

Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself."

"She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away. 

Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants. 

I was left alone with the silence. 

My entire life had unfolded this way. 

In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected. 

But none of it had ever applied to me. 

My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery. 

The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden af**ir with her. 

His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out. 

Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her. 

When she fell pr**nant, she was locked away even more tightly. 

I was born premature, in pain and bl**d. 

My mother didn't survive. 

Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder. 

I was blamed for her death. 

Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive. 

But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life. 

Against all odds, I didn't die. 

But my survival changed nothing. 

A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised. 

All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation. 

And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me. 

Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment."

I understood immediately. 

My body seized up. 

The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors. 

That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake. 

Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care. 

Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching. 

The silence was oppressive. 

I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this. 

Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied. 

She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected. 

Our bl**d ties had never mattered. 

She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust. 

Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty. 

The enforcer approached. 

I instinctively shrank back. "Please..."

But he didn't listen. 

He tore the fabric from my back. 

The cold air bit into my skin. 

An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began. 

"St**p her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice. 

I stood paralyzed. 

The fabric was completely ripped away. 

I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with. 

I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my ch**t. 

The first blow landed. 

Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning. 

The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the bl**d, the dizziness. 

I made out Urélia in the distance. 

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene. 

It was forbidden. 

Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs. 

Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight. 

"Breathe... I'm here..."

Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos. 

A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body. 

Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do."

Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition."

"That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait."

Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds."

Then she ordered that I be lifted. 

Jessie protested, but no one really listened. 

I was carried away from the scene. 

The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me. 

Then everything went dark. 

Chapter 2
A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness. 

A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move. 

"Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me. 

My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist. 

Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds. 

A cry escaped me despite myself. 

At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you."

My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves. 

For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain. 

No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival. 

Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty."

I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..."

I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me. 

An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food. 

Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands. 

From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now. 

Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?"

I didn't answer. 

Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time. 

She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace. 

Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin. 

If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning. 

And there was something else. The worst part. 

I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf. 

It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone. 

I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me. 

Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation. 

I startled. "Why are you doing that?"

Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back. 

An intense burn tore a scream from my throat. 

I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her. 

"Forgive me..." she murmured in distress. 

Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force. 

She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep."

I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore. 

Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle. 

Bells. 

Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned."

My stomach clenched. 

My father. 

The one who had ignored me my entire life. 

He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him. 

And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his bl**d. 

Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow. 

Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer. 

As for me, I remained hidden. 

I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place. 

Then I stopped dreaming. 

Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest."

I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..."

She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up."

Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under. 

... 

In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone. 

His face was closed off, hard as stone. 

The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation. 

For the first time in decades, he had lost. 

And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack. 

Worse still, to Xaeron. 

That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead. 

Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage. 

Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee. 

It was a shame he had never known before. 

Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves. 

But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more. 

The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?"

He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?"

She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?"

His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer."

She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer."

He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted. 

"We lost," he finally said. 

The shock froze her in place. 

"Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes."

Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?"

He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever."

The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation. 

Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power. 

Then betrayal had destroyed everything. 

Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bl**dline. 

But Xaeron had returned. 

And now, he demanded reparation. 

"The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him."

A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall. 

Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..."

"I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to."

She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..."

"They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly. 

The silence became oppressive. 

"The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my bl**d."

Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us."

"It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built."

She trembled. "She was punished today..."

Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly."

Chapter 3
JASELYA'S POV

I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes. 

So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality. 

She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags. 

Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched. 

Why me? 

A hidden execution? A verdict already decided? 

The great doors swung open. 

The room swallowed me whole. 

They were all there. 

Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years. 

And in the center, there he was. 

Alpha Balak. 

My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it. 

For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine. 

I felt my throat tighten. 

His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?"

I blinked, disoriented. 

Was that really all this was? 

"I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head. 

He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side. 

Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly. 

I obeyed. 

His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch. 

"Hold still," he murmured without harshness. 

My heart was beating too fast. 

The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice. 

A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false. 

A chill ran through me. 

I knew that voice. I knew that look even more. 

Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me. 

His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body. 

I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee. 

Since then, I had avoided him like a bl**e already drawn from its sheath. 

"No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out."

A heavy silence settled in. 

Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see. 

The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?"

Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered."

The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation. 

"Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia."

Rapid footsteps moved away. 

I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him. 

He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him. 

I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence. 

Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?"

No one looked at me. 

"Answer," Balak ordered. 

"Nineteen," I said in a low voice. 

He relayed the information. 

An even colder silence settled in. 

"Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded. 

Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds. 

I stifled a flinch. 

"There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own bl**d."

The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing. 

"You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission. 

Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?"

Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply. 

"How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!"

I felt my eyes burn. 

Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had. 

But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted."

She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on."

She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress. 

Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?"

The name hit like a stone. 

Xaeron. 

I couldn't understand. 

Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?"

Her voice was breaking between rage and panic. 

"There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him."

Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed. 

I no longer understood anything. 

Everything was falling apart without logic. 

"Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of bl**d is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf."

Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift."

I panicked. 

Exile? 

Me? 

Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat. 

Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he. 

Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary."

I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured. 

Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha. 

"You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?"

No one spoke to him that way. 

No one. 

Balak's face hardened. 

"We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize."

The world seemed to warp around me. 

A prize? 

Me? 

I stepped back slightly without realizing it. 

Was Xaeron coming for me? 

And what war had we lost without me even knowing? 

I no longer had any grip on what was happening. 

Nothing felt real. 

"Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer."

Chapter 4
Xaeron stormed across the castle boundaries with his warriors and the seven ranking members of the Council of Wolves at his back. 

The place made his stomach turn instantly. 

No sooner had he set foot on the Moonlight pack's land than he spat on the ground, as if to rid his mouth of the stench of this place. 

The land itself reeked of slaughter. 

He went back to being that child again, visiting his parents before everything fell apart. 

Then came the betrayal. His father's bl**d soaking into the dirt. His mother's head displayed like a trophy. His sister's entrails torn out. And his entire pack exterminated, cleanly and methodically. 

He should have made them suffer longer. Much longer. Until Balak begged. 

Then he would have ripped Balak's head off himself, shattered it before his own people, and ground the fragments into his throne. 

But Balak had fled. He had sought refuge with the Council and secured protection through an ancient pact. 

Now Xaeron was stuck dealing with those rules he despised. 

He could claim the entire pack. But the Wolf Law imposed one exception: Balak and his mate would be spared until the next black moon. 

An absurdity. 

Xaeron let out a dry laugh. He didn't care about the children. It was Balak he wanted. Only Balak. 

The corridors emptied before him. The guards fell back, unable to meet his eyes. 

He entered the throne room and seated himself without permission. 

His gaze swept over the hall, cold and assessing. 

Everything would be reduced to ashes. This castle, these walls, this memory. Nothing was to remain. Just as Balak had done with his home. 

"Where are they?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I won't wait. The rules mean nothing to me anymore."

"They're on their way," answered one of the council members cautiously. 

Xaeron leaned back against the throne. 

Five minutes. He was giving them five minutes. 

... 

Jaselya discovered a reflection of herself she didn't recognize. 

A light-colored gown, almost regal, draped over her body. 

The fabric was fine, carefully worked, and set with luminous details. 

She had been remade. Her hair swept up, her face painted with precision. 

She looked like a stranger-almost like a princess. But this illusion brought her no comfort. 

She turned toward Urélia. "What is going to happen?"

Fear tightened her voice. 

Urélia exchanged a glance with Luna Marilyne, who was still fretting over the adornments for the upcoming event. 

"It's an old arrangement," Urélia murmured. "The Council of Wolves has validated a pact between Alpha Balak and Xaeron. I don't know every clause, but the rule is clear: Xaeron can claim nearly everything... except the Alpha and Luna, who are protected until the next black moon."

Jaselya felt her breath catch. "A pact? Why would anyone permit this?"

Urélia lowered her voice slightly. "This kind of deal isn't easily won. It's negotiated. Bought. Your father must have paid a tremendous price. But it guarantees protection... in certain situations."

Jaselya took a step back. "Why am I being presented as his daughter?"

Urélia sighed. "He refuses to lose what he considers important. That's why he's putting you on display for Xaeron."

Jaselya's heart began to race. The more she heard, the less she understood. 

"Am I just some object to be handed over?" she breathed. 

Urélia avoided a direct answer. "It will all depend on him. And on what the Alpha decides."

The door slammed open. 

Alpha Balak entered, his expression strained. His eyes landed on her, immediately filled with irritation. "Cover that face. Now."

A servant dropped the veil over her features. 

A wave of deep humiliation washed through Jaselya. 

Her own father couldn't even stand the sight of her. 

"He's already here," Balak growled. "That ba**ard is insufferable."

Then he fixed her with a harsh stare. "Don't humiliate us."

She flinched. 

Jessie, who was standing nearby, muttered with contempt, "Look at that... With that ugly face of hers, all is lost."

Her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face against her mother. 

Jaselya's mind had gone blank. 

Unknown names. Unfathomable decisions. 

Xaeron. 

A bond. 

A price. 

A future being decided without her. 

They moved through the stairway, flanked by the guards. 

Every step felt like a fall. 

In the main hall, an entire assembly awaited them. 

The pack's ranking members. Heavy, silent stares. 

Luna Marilyne stood close to Alpha Balak. And at the center, an occupied throne. An unfamiliar man. 

The light kept his face in shadow, featureless. But his presence alone was enough to thicken the very air. 

Abel and the others formed a rigid line, like a silent army. 

Jaselya stood frozen. 

The man rose. The sound of his footsteps rang out like a death sentence. 

She lowered her gaze, unable to face that overwhelming presence. 

Then everything tilted. 

A hand seized her veil and ripped it aside. Fingers caught her face with brutal precision, forcing her head back. She was forced to meet his gaze. 

And she saw him. A man of almost unreal handsomeness. 

But lurking beneath that charm was something dangerous. 

Something that offered no escape. 

Chapter 5
JASELYA'S POV

The man stood before me with a confidence that crushed everything around him. 

His dark hair, cut short, sharpened the angles of his face, marked by a thin scar near his eye. Yet that detail practically vanished against the intensity of his eyes. Eyes of a deep, almost mineral black, framed by disturbingly thick lashes. A beauty many would have envied. 

His face looked like something carved by an artist's hand-sharp jaw, elegant lines, a nose that seemed too perfect to be real, and brows set in flawless symmetry. 

His lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of almost unreal white teeth. 

All of this rested on an impressive, massive frame, forged by years of combat and training. He shared nothing in common with the men of my pack. 

He wasn't simply strong. 

He gave the impression of having been created for war. 

And yet, despite this almost disturbing beauty, a silent alarm imposed itself within me. 

Something in his presence warned me to stay away. As if every fiber of my body understood before I did that he was danger. 

A living threat. 

My stomach clenched without warning, mixing fear and confusion. 

His hand closed over my chin with a controlled firmness, forcing my face up. 

My gaze wavered despite myself. 

I immediately remembered how I had always been seen. 

My wounded side, my scar, my features deemed unworthy. 

All my life I had been looked upon as a mistake. My father had insulted me, my half-sister had scorned me, and the rest of the pack had rejected me. 

So he too... was going to judge me. He must already be doing it. 

"So it's you," he said at last, his voice low and cutting. "What's your name?"

There was no warmth in his tone. Only a coldness that bordered on hostility. 

I could feel a brutal tension radiating from him, like an invisible blade. 

"Jaselya," I replied with difficulty. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my father. 

A silent pressure immediately crushed me. He was silently warning me not to disappoint the man. Even if everything in me had no idea how to achieve it. 

The man stepped back slightly, without breaking eye contact. 

Then he gave a sharp gesture of the hand. 

One of his men stepped forward, carrying a box. 

He handed it to him, and it was then held out to me. 

"Open it," he ordered simply. 

My heart clenched. 

A test. 

It had to be a test. 

The silence in the hall became almost unreal. 

No one was really breathing anymore. 

My fingers trembled as I grasped the box. The ribbon gave way under my hesitant motions. 

When the lid opened, the world seemed to tilt. 

Inside was a head. 

Alpha Dean's. The leader of the Black Wing Pack. The man Jessie was supposed to bond with. 

No reaction escaped me, no scream. I simply dropped the box. 

It hit the floor. 

The head rolled out, coming to a stop near my dress, leaving dark spatters on the fabric. 

A scream tore through the hall. 

It was Jessie. 

Her cry echoed against the walls like a crack in the silence. 

I slowly looked up. 

The man was still watching me. 

And this time... he was smiling. 

&3&

As the Alpha's unwanted daughter, she was despised by her own family, abused by her stepmother, and treated like a plaything by her stepsister. She grew up believing she was worthless and learned to make herself invisible. But everything changed when the son of her family's greatest enemy destroyed their pack. ===== Chapter 1 JASELYA'S POV "Brainless id**t" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air. Before I could even react, her hand sl**med across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder. A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow. No explanation was needed. This m**k would stay visible for a long time. "Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?" With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking. I lifted my gaze slightly. She answered with a gob of spit. The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away. "Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wr**ch." Tears escaped me despite myself. "Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice. She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly." Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream. "The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!" I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty." I had no other choice. Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, st**king her hair as if nothing had just happened. "Anything you wish, just say the word, and this d*g will do it," she declared softly. Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..." Those words pierced my ch**t like a blade. Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit." Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?" I felt my bl**d run cold. A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it." I stayed frozen, barely breathing. They talked about me as if I didn't exist. As if I were nothing but an object. Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself." "She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away. Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants. I was left alone with the silence. My entire life had unfolded this way. In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected. But none of it had ever applied to me. My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery. The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden af**ir with her. His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out. Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her. When she fell pr**nant, she was locked away even more tightly. I was born premature, in pain and bl**d. My mother didn't survive. Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder. I was blamed for her death. Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive. But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life. Against all odds, I didn't die. But my survival changed nothing. A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised. All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation. And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me. Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment." I understood immediately. My body seized up. The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors. That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake. Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care. Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching. The silence was oppressive. I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this. Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied. She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected. Our bl**d ties had never mattered. She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust. Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty. The enforcer approached. I instinctively shrank back. "Please..." But he didn't listen. He tore the fabric from my back. The cold air bit into my skin. An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began. "St**p her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice. I stood paralyzed. The fabric was completely ripped away. I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with. I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my ch**t. The first blow landed. Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning. The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the bl**d, the dizziness. I made out Urélia in the distance. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene. It was forbidden. Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs. Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight. "Breathe... I'm here..." Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos. A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body. Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do." Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition." "That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait." Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds." Then she ordered that I be lifted. Jessie protested, but no one really listened. I was carried away from the scene. The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me. Then everything went dark. Chapter 2 A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness. A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move. "Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me. My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist. Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds. A cry escaped me despite myself. At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you." My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves. For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain. No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival. Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty." I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..." I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me. An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food. Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands. From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now. Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?" I didn't answer. Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time. She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace. Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin. If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning. And there was something else. The worst part. I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf. It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone. I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me. Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation. I startled. "Why are you doing that?" Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back. An intense burn tore a scream from my throat. I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her. "Forgive me..." she murmured in distress. Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force. She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep." I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore. Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle. Bells. Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned." My stomach clenched. My father. The one who had ignored me my entire life. He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him. And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his bl**d. Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow. Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer. As for me, I remained hidden. I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place. Then I stopped dreaming. Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest." I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..." She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up." Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under. ... In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone. His face was closed off, hard as stone. The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation. For the first time in decades, he had lost. And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack. Worse still, to Xaeron. That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead. Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage. Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee. It was a shame he had never known before. Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves. But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more. The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?" He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?" She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?" His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer." She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer." He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted. "We lost," he finally said. The shock froze her in place. "Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes." Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?" He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever." The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation. Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power. Then betrayal had destroyed everything. Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bl**dline. But Xaeron had returned. And now, he demanded reparation. "The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him." A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall. Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..." "I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to." She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..." "They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly. The silence became oppressive. "The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my bl**d." Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us." "It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built." She trembled. "She was punished today..." Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly." Chapter 3 JASELYA'S POV I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes. So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality. She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags. Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched. Why me? A hidden execution? A verdict already decided? The great doors swung open. The room swallowed me whole. They were all there. Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years. And in the center, there he was. Alpha Balak. My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it. For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine. I felt my throat tighten. His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?" I blinked, disoriented. Was that really all this was? "I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head. He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side. Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly. I obeyed. His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch. "Hold still," he murmured without harshness. My heart was beating too fast. The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice. A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false. A chill ran through me. I knew that voice. I knew that look even more. Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me. His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body. I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee. Since then, I had avoided him like a bl**e already drawn from its sheath. "No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out." A heavy silence settled in. Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see. The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?" Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered." The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation. "Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia." Rapid footsteps moved away. I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him. He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him. I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence. Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?" No one looked at me. "Answer," Balak ordered. "Nineteen," I said in a low voice. He relayed the information. An even colder silence settled in. "Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded. Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds. I stifled a flinch. "There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own bl**d." The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing. "You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission. Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?" Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply. "How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!" I felt my eyes burn. Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had. But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted." She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on." She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress. Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?" The name hit like a stone. Xaeron. I couldn't understand. Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?" Her voice was breaking between rage and panic. "There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him." Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed. I no longer understood anything. Everything was falling apart without logic. "Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of bl**d is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf." Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift." I panicked. Exile? Me? Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat. Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he. Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary." I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured. Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha. "You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?" No one spoke to him that way. No one. Balak's face hardened. "We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize." The world seemed to warp around me. A prize? Me? I stepped back slightly without realizing it. Was Xaeron coming for me? And what war had we lost without me even knowing? I no longer had any grip on what was happening. Nothing felt real. "Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer." Chapter 4 Xaeron stormed across the castle boundaries with his warriors and the seven ranking members of the Council of Wolves at his back. The place made his stomach turn instantly. No sooner had he set foot on the Moonlight pack's land than he spat on the ground, as if to rid his mouth of the stench of this place. The land itself reeked of slaughter. He went back to being that child again, visiting his parents before everything fell apart. Then came the betrayal. His father's bl**d soaking into the dirt. His mother's head displayed like a trophy. His sister's entrails torn out. And his entire pack exterminated, cleanly and methodically. He should have made them suffer longer. Much longer. Until Balak begged. Then he would have ripped Balak's head off himself, shattered it before his own people, and ground the fragments into his throne. But Balak had fled. He had sought refuge with the Council and secured protection through an ancient pact. Now Xaeron was stuck dealing with those rules he despised. He could claim the entire pack. But the Wolf Law imposed one exception: Balak and his mate would be spared until the next black moon. An absurdity. Xaeron let out a dry laugh. He didn't care about the children. It was Balak he wanted. Only Balak. The corridors emptied before him. The guards fell back, unable to meet his eyes. He entered the throne room and seated himself without permission. His gaze swept over the hall, cold and assessing. Everything would be reduced to ashes. This castle, these walls, this memory. Nothing was to remain. Just as Balak had done with his home. "Where are they?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I won't wait. The rules mean nothing to me anymore." "They're on their way," answered one of the council members cautiously. Xaeron leaned back against the throne. Five minutes. He was giving them five minutes. ... Jaselya discovered a reflection of herself she didn't recognize. A light-colored gown, almost regal, draped over her body. The fabric was fine, carefully worked, and set with luminous details. She had been remade. Her hair swept up, her face painted with precision. She looked like a stranger-almost like a princess. But this illusion brought her no comfort. She turned toward Urélia. "What is going to happen?" Fear tightened her voice. Urélia exchanged a glance with Luna Marilyne, who was still fretting over the adornments for the upcoming event. "It's an old arrangement," Urélia murmured. "The Council of Wolves has validated a pact between Alpha Balak and Xaeron. I don't know every clause, but the rule is clear: Xaeron can claim nearly everything... except the Alpha and Luna, who are protected until the next black moon." Jaselya felt her breath catch. "A pact? Why would anyone permit this?" Urélia lowered her voice slightly. "This kind of deal isn't easily won. It's negotiated. Bought. Your father must have paid a tremendous price. But it guarantees protection... in certain situations." Jaselya took a step back. "Why am I being presented as his daughter?" Urélia sighed. "He refuses to lose what he considers important. That's why he's putting you on display for Xaeron." Jaselya's heart began to race. The more she heard, the less she understood. "Am I just some object to be handed over?" she breathed. Urélia avoided a direct answer. "It will all depend on him. And on what the Alpha decides." The door slammed open. Alpha Balak entered, his expression strained. His eyes landed on her, immediately filled with irritation. "Cover that face. Now." A servant dropped the veil over her features. A wave of deep humiliation washed through Jaselya. Her own father couldn't even stand the sight of her. "He's already here," Balak growled. "That ba**ard is insufferable." Then he fixed her with a harsh stare. "Don't humiliate us." She flinched. Jessie, who was standing nearby, muttered with contempt, "Look at that... With that ugly face of hers, all is lost." Her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face against her mother. Jaselya's mind had gone blank. Unknown names. Unfathomable decisions. Xaeron. A bond. A price. A future being decided without her. They moved through the stairway, flanked by the guards. Every step felt like a fall. In the main hall, an entire assembly awaited them. The pack's ranking members. Heavy, silent stares. Luna Marilyne stood close to Alpha Balak. And at the center, an occupied throne. An unfamiliar man. The light kept his face in shadow, featureless. But his presence alone was enough to thicken the very air. Abel and the others formed a rigid line, like a silent army. Jaselya stood frozen. The man rose. The sound of his footsteps rang out like a death sentence. She lowered her gaze, unable to face that overwhelming presence. Then everything tilted. A hand seized her veil and ripped it aside. Fingers caught her face with brutal precision, forcing her head back. She was forced to meet his gaze. And she saw him. A man of almost unreal handsomeness. But lurking beneath that charm was something dangerous. Something that offered no escape. Chapter 5 JASELYA'S POV The man stood before me with a confidence that crushed everything around him. His dark hair, cut short, sharpened the angles of his face, marked by a thin scar near his eye. Yet that detail practically vanished against the intensity of his eyes. Eyes of a deep, almost mineral black, framed by disturbingly thick lashes. A beauty many would have envied. His face looked like something carved by an artist's hand-sharp jaw, elegant lines, a nose that seemed too perfect to be real, and brows set in flawless symmetry. His lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of almost unreal white teeth. All of this rested on an impressive, massive frame, forged by years of combat and training. He shared nothing in common with the men of my pack. He wasn't simply strong. He gave the impression of having been created for war. And yet, despite this almost disturbing beauty, a silent alarm imposed itself within me. Something in his presence warned me to stay away. As if every fiber of my body understood before I did that he was danger. A living threat. My stomach clenched without warning, mixing fear and confusion. His hand closed over my chin with a controlled firmness, forcing my face up. My gaze wavered despite myself. I immediately remembered how I had always been seen. My wounded side, my scar, my features deemed unworthy. All my life I had been looked upon as a mistake. My father had insulted me, my half-sister had scorned me, and the rest of the pack had rejected me. So he too... was going to judge me. He must already be doing it. "So it's you," he said at last, his voice low and cutting. "What's your name?" There was no warmth in his tone. Only a coldness that bordered on hostility. I could feel a brutal tension radiating from him, like an invisible blade. "Jaselya," I replied with difficulty. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my father. A silent pressure immediately crushed me. He was silently warning me not to disappoint the man. Even if everything in me had no idea how to achieve it. The man stepped back slightly, without breaking eye contact. Then he gave a sharp gesture of the hand. One of his men stepped forward, carrying a box. He handed it to him, and it was then held out to me. "Open it," he ordered simply. My heart clenched. A test. It had to be a test. The silence in the hall became almost unreal. No one was really breathing anymore. My fingers trembled as I grasped the box. The ribbon gave way under my hesitant motions. When the lid opened, the world seemed to tilt. Inside was a head. Alpha Dean's. The leader of the Black Wing Pack. The man Jessie was supposed to bond with. No reaction escaped me, no scream. I simply dropped the box. It hit the floor. The head rolled out, coming to a stop near my dress, leaving dark spatters on the fabric. A scream tore through the hall. It was Jessie. Her cry echoed against the walls like a crack in the silence. I slowly looked up. The man was still watching me. And this time... he was smiling. &3&

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As the Alpha's unwanted daughter, she was despised by her own family, abused by her stepmother, and treated like a plaything by her stepsister. She grew up believing she was worthless and learned to make herself invisible. But everything changed when the son of her family's greatest enemy destroyed their pack.
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Chapter 1
JASELYA'S POV

"Brainless id**t" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air. 

Before I could even react, her hand sl**med across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder. 

A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow. 

No explanation was needed. This m**k would stay visible for a long time. 

"Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?"

With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking. 

I lifted my gaze slightly. 

She answered with a gob of spit. 

The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away. 

"Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wr**ch."

Tears escaped me despite myself. 

"Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice. 

She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly."

Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream. 

"The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!"

I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty."

I had no other choice. 

Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, st**king her hair as if nothing had just happened. 

"Anything you wish, just say the word, and this d*g will do it," she declared softly. 

Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..."

Those words pierced my ch**t like a blade. 

Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit."

Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?"

I felt my bl**d run cold. 

A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it."

I stayed frozen, barely breathing. 

They talked about me as if I didn't exist. 

As if I were nothing but an object. 

Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself."

"She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away. 

Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants. 

I was left alone with the silence. 

My entire life had unfolded this way. 

In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected. 

But none of it had ever applied to me. 

My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery. 

The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden af**ir with her. 

His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out. 

Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her. 

When she fell pr**nant, she was locked away even more tightly. 

I was born premature, in pain and bl**d. 

My mother didn't survive. 

Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder. 

I was blamed for her death. 

Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive. 

But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life. 

Against all odds, I didn't die. 

But my survival changed nothing. 

A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised. 

All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation. 

And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me. 

Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment."

I understood immediately. 

My body seized up. 

The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors. 

That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake. 

Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care. 

Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching. 

The silence was oppressive. 

I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this. 

Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied. 

She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected. 

Our bl**d ties had never mattered. 

She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust. 

Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty. 

The enforcer approached. 

I instinctively shrank back. "Please..."

But he didn't listen. 

He tore the fabric from my back. 

The cold air bit into my skin. 

An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began. 

"St**p her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice. 

I stood paralyzed. 

The fabric was completely ripped away. 

I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with. 

I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my ch**t. 

The first blow landed. 

Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning. 

The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the bl**d, the dizziness. 

I made out Urélia in the distance. 

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene. 

It was forbidden. 

Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs. 

Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight. 

"Breathe... I'm here..."

Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos. 

A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body. 

Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do."

Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition."

"That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait."

Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds."

Then she ordered that I be lifted. 

Jessie protested, but no one really listened. 

I was carried away from the scene. 

The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me. 

Then everything went dark. 

Chapter 2
A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness. 

A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move. 

"Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me. 

My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist. 

Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds. 

A cry escaped me despite myself. 

At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you."

My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves. 

For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain. 

No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival. 

Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty."

I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..."

I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me. 

An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food. 

Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands. 

From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now. 

Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?"

I didn't answer. 

Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time. 

She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace. 

Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin. 

If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning. 

And there was something else. The worst part. 

I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf. 

It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone. 

I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me. 

Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation. 

I startled. "Why are you doing that?"

Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back. 

An intense burn tore a scream from my throat. 

I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her. 

"Forgive me..." she murmured in distress. 

Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force. 

She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep."

I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore. 

Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle. 

Bells. 

Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned."

My stomach clenched. 

My father. 

The one who had ignored me my entire life. 

He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him. 

And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his bl**d. 

Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow. 

Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer. 

As for me, I remained hidden. 

I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place. 

Then I stopped dreaming. 

Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest."

I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..."

She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up."

Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under. 

... 

In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone. 

His face was closed off, hard as stone. 

The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation. 

For the first time in decades, he had lost. 

And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack. 

Worse still, to Xaeron. 

That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead. 

Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage. 

Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee. 

It was a shame he had never known before. 

Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves. 

But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more. 

The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?"

He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?"

She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?"

His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer."

She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer."

He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted. 

"We lost," he finally said. 

The shock froze her in place. 

"Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes."

Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?"

He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever."

The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation. 

Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power. 

Then betrayal had destroyed everything. 

Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bl**dline. 

But Xaeron had returned. 

And now, he demanded reparation. 

"The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him."

A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall. 

Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..."

"I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to."

She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..."

"They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly. 

The silence became oppressive. 

"The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my bl**d."

Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us."

"It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built."

She trembled. "She was punished today..."

Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly."

Chapter 3
JASELYA'S POV

I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes. 

So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality. 

She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags. 

Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched. 

Why me? 

A hidden execution? A verdict already decided? 

The great doors swung open. 

The room swallowed me whole. 

They were all there. 

Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years. 

And in the center, there he was. 

Alpha Balak. 

My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it. 

For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine. 

I felt my throat tighten. 

His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?"

I blinked, disoriented. 

Was that really all this was? 

"I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head. 

He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side. 

Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly. 

I obeyed. 

His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch. 

"Hold still," he murmured without harshness. 

My heart was beating too fast. 

The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice. 

A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false. 

A chill ran through me. 

I knew that voice. I knew that look even more. 

Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me. 

His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body. 

I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee. 

Since then, I had avoided him like a bl**e already drawn from its sheath. 

"No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out."

A heavy silence settled in. 

Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see. 

The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?"

Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered."

The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation. 

"Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia."

Rapid footsteps moved away. 

I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him. 

He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him. 

I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence. 

Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?"

No one looked at me. 

"Answer," Balak ordered. 

"Nineteen," I said in a low voice. 

He relayed the information. 

An even colder silence settled in. 

"Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded. 

Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds. 

I stifled a flinch. 

"There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own bl**d."

The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing. 

"You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission. 

Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?"

Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply. 

"How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!"

I felt my eyes burn. 

Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had. 

But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted."

She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on."

She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress. 

Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?"

The name hit like a stone. 

Xaeron. 

I couldn't understand. 

Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?"

Her voice was breaking between rage and panic. 

"There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him."

Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed. 

I no longer understood anything. 

Everything was falling apart without logic. 

"Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of bl**d is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf."

Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift."

I panicked. 

Exile? 

Me? 

Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat. 

Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he. 

Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary."

I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured. 

Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha. 

"You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?"

No one spoke to him that way. 

No one. 

Balak's face hardened. 

"We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize."

The world seemed to warp around me. 

A prize? 

Me? 

I stepped back slightly without realizing it. 

Was Xaeron coming for me? 

And what war had we lost without me even knowing? 

I no longer had any grip on what was happening. 

Nothing felt real. 

"Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer."

Chapter 4
Xaeron stormed across the castle boundaries with his warriors and the seven ranking members of the Council of Wolves at his back. 

The place made his stomach turn instantly. 

No sooner had he set foot on the Moonlight pack's land than he spat on the ground, as if to rid his mouth of the stench of this place. 

The land itself reeked of slaughter. 

He went back to being that child again, visiting his parents before everything fell apart. 

Then came the betrayal. His father's bl**d soaking into the dirt. His mother's head displayed like a trophy. His sister's entrails torn out. And his entire pack exterminated, cleanly and methodically. 

He should have made them suffer longer. Much longer. Until Balak begged. 

Then he would have ripped Balak's head off himself, shattered it before his own people, and ground the fragments into his throne. 

But Balak had fled. He had sought refuge with the Council and secured protection through an ancient pact. 

Now Xaeron was stuck dealing with those rules he despised. 

He could claim the entire pack. But the Wolf Law imposed one exception: Balak and his mate would be spared until the next black moon. 

An absurdity. 

Xaeron let out a dry laugh. He didn't care about the children. It was Balak he wanted. Only Balak. 

The corridors emptied before him. The guards fell back, unable to meet his eyes. 

He entered the throne room and seated himself without permission. 

His gaze swept over the hall, cold and assessing. 

Everything would be reduced to ashes. This castle, these walls, this memory. Nothing was to remain. Just as Balak had done with his home. 

"Where are they?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I won't wait. The rules mean nothing to me anymore."

"They're on their way," answered one of the council members cautiously. 

Xaeron leaned back against the throne. 

Five minutes. He was giving them five minutes. 

... 

Jaselya discovered a reflection of herself she didn't recognize. 

A light-colored gown, almost regal, draped over her body. 

The fabric was fine, carefully worked, and set with luminous details. 

She had been remade. Her hair swept up, her face painted with precision. 

She looked like a stranger-almost like a princess. But this illusion brought her no comfort. 

She turned toward Urélia. "What is going to happen?"

Fear tightened her voice. 

Urélia exchanged a glance with Luna Marilyne, who was still fretting over the adornments for the upcoming event. 

"It's an old arrangement," Urélia murmured. "The Council of Wolves has validated a pact between Alpha Balak and Xaeron. I don't know every clause, but the rule is clear: Xaeron can claim nearly everything... except the Alpha and Luna, who are protected until the next black moon."

Jaselya felt her breath catch. "A pact? Why would anyone permit this?"

Urélia lowered her voice slightly. "This kind of deal isn't easily won. It's negotiated. Bought. Your father must have paid a tremendous price. But it guarantees protection... in certain situations."

Jaselya took a step back. "Why am I being presented as his daughter?"

Urélia sighed. "He refuses to lose what he considers important. That's why he's putting you on display for Xaeron."

Jaselya's heart began to race. The more she heard, the less she understood. 

"Am I just some object to be handed over?" she breathed. 

Urélia avoided a direct answer. "It will all depend on him. And on what the Alpha decides."

The door slammed open. 

Alpha Balak entered, his expression strained. His eyes landed on her, immediately filled with irritation. "Cover that face. Now."

A servant dropped the veil over her features. 

A wave of deep humiliation washed through Jaselya. 

Her own father couldn't even stand the sight of her. 

"He's already here," Balak growled. "That ba**ard is insufferable."

Then he fixed her with a harsh stare. "Don't humiliate us."

She flinched. 

Jessie, who was standing nearby, muttered with contempt, "Look at that... With that ugly face of hers, all is lost."

Her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face against her mother. 

Jaselya's mind had gone blank. 

Unknown names. Unfathomable decisions. 

Xaeron. 

A bond. 

A price. 

A future being decided without her. 

They moved through the stairway, flanked by the guards. 

Every step felt like a fall. 

In the main hall, an entire assembly awaited them. 

The pack's ranking members. Heavy, silent stares. 

Luna Marilyne stood close to Alpha Balak. And at the center, an occupied throne. An unfamiliar man. 

The light kept his face in shadow, featureless. But his presence alone was enough to thicken the very air. 

Abel and the others formed a rigid line, like a silent army. 

Jaselya stood frozen. 

The man rose. The sound of his footsteps rang out like a death sentence. 

She lowered her gaze, unable to face that overwhelming presence. 

Then everything tilted. 

A hand seized her veil and ripped it aside. Fingers caught her face with brutal precision, forcing her head back. She was forced to meet his gaze. 

And she saw him. A man of almost unreal handsomeness. 

But lurking beneath that charm was something dangerous. 

Something that offered no escape. 

Chapter 5
JASELYA'S POV

The man stood before me with a confidence that crushed everything around him. 

His dark hair, cut short, sharpened the angles of his face, marked by a thin scar near his eye. Yet that detail practically vanished against the intensity of his eyes. Eyes of a deep, almost mineral black, framed by disturbingly thick lashes. A beauty many would have envied. 

His face looked like something carved by an artist's hand-sharp jaw, elegant lines, a nose that seemed too perfect to be real, and brows set in flawless symmetry. 

His lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of almost unreal white teeth. 

All of this rested on an impressive, massive frame, forged by years of combat and training. He shared nothing in common with the men of my pack. 

He wasn't simply strong. 

He gave the impression of having been created for war. 

And yet, despite this almost disturbing beauty, a silent alarm imposed itself within me. 

Something in his presence warned me to stay away. As if every fiber of my body understood before I did that he was danger. 

A living threat. 

My stomach clenched without warning, mixing fear and confusion. 

His hand closed over my chin with a controlled firmness, forcing my face up. 

My gaze wavered despite myself. 

I immediately remembered how I had always been seen. 

My wounded side, my scar, my features deemed unworthy. 

All my life I had been looked upon as a mistake. My father had insulted me, my half-sister had scorned me, and the rest of the pack had rejected me. 

So he too... was going to judge me. He must already be doing it. 

"So it's you," he said at last, his voice low and cutting. "What's your name?"

There was no warmth in his tone. Only a coldness that bordered on hostility. 

I could feel a brutal tension radiating from him, like an invisible blade. 

"Jaselya," I replied with difficulty. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my father. 

A silent pressure immediately crushed me. He was silently warning me not to disappoint the man. Even if everything in me had no idea how to achieve it. 

The man stepped back slightly, without breaking eye contact. 

Then he gave a sharp gesture of the hand. 

One of his men stepped forward, carrying a box. 

He handed it to him, and it was then held out to me. 

"Open it," he ordered simply. 

My heart clenched. 

A test. 

It had to be a test. 

The silence in the hall became almost unreal. 

No one was really breathing anymore. 

My fingers trembled as I grasped the box. The ribbon gave way under my hesitant motions. 

When the lid opened, the world seemed to tilt. 

Inside was a head. 

Alpha Dean's. The leader of the Black Wing Pack. The man Jessie was supposed to bond with. 

No reaction escaped me, no scream. I simply dropped the box. 

It hit the floor. 

The head rolled out, coming to a stop near my dress, leaving dark spatters on the fabric. 

A scream tore through the hall. 

It was Jessie. 

Her cry echoed against the walls like a crack in the silence. 

I slowly looked up. 

The man was still watching me. 

And this time... he was smiling. 

&3&

As the Alpha's unwanted daughter, she was despised by her own family, abused by her stepmother, and treated like a plaything by her stepsister. She grew up believing she was worthless and learned to make herself invisible. But everything changed when the son of her family's greatest enemy destroyed their pack. ===== Chapter 1 JASELYA'S POV "Brainless id**t" Luna Marilyne's voice cracked like a whip through the air. Before I could even react, her hand sl**med across my face with such force that my legs gave way. The ground slammed into my knees, then my shoulder. A searing heat spread across my cheek. Trembling, I brought my fingers to the struck skin; it was still quivering from the blow. No explanation was needed. This m**k would stay visible for a long time. "Useless creature!" She threw the words down at me, towering over me. "What exactly are you capable of?" With painful effort, I gathered my strength to stand up. My palms pressed into the dust before I settled into a crouching bow of total humiliation before her. My entire body was shaking. I lifted my gaze slightly. She answered with a gob of spit. The spit hit me square in the face. I froze, unable even to wipe it away. "Consider this a favor," she breathed with contempt. "What you get from me is already more than you deserve. Thank me, wr**ch." Tears escaped me despite myself. "Thank you... Your Majesty," I whispered in a broken voice. She clicked her tongue, irritated. "You can't even pronounce a sentence properly." Her foot then slammed into my stomach. The air rushed from my lungs, and I half-collapsed, choking back a scream. "The next time you get an order, you obey without thinking! Even if my daughter demands you crawl, you do it!" I nodded, panting. "Yes... Your Majesty." I had no other choice. Luna Marilyne finally turned her attention away and moved closer to her daughter, Jessie, st**king her hair as if nothing had just happened. "Anything you wish, just say the word, and this d*g will do it," she declared softly. Jessie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I would hope so. But why even keep this one around? She's repulsive. And that scar..." Those words pierced my ch**t like a blade. Luna Marilyne answered with an ice-cold smile. "She knows her place. That's all that matters. She stays beneath our feet. You can command her as you see fit." Jessie tilted her head slightly. "Even... make her disappear?" I felt my bl**d run cold. A brief laugh escaped Luna Marilyne. "Not yet. Your father is attached to her for some obscure reason. But it won't last. I'll handle it." I stayed frozen, barely breathing. They talked about me as if I didn't exist. As if I were nothing but an object. Jessie sighed, already bored. "Let her at least do my hair properly. Or else, I'll deal with her myself." "She will do what needs to be done," her mother replied before turning away. Their footsteps faded away, followed by their servants. I was left alone with the silence. My entire life had unfolded this way. In the Moonlight Pack, being born here was considered a privilege. This is a land feared and respected. But none of it had ever applied to me. My birth was nineteen years ago, in the depths of the stronghold, to a woman reduced to slavery. The rumors said that Alpha Balak had a forbidden af**ir with her. His official mate, Marilyne, had endured his infidelities for a long time. But this time, he had crossed a line by refusing to cast my mother out. Marilyne's rage had relentlessly descended upon her. Every time the Alpha was away provided an opportunity to break her. When she fell pr**nant, she was locked away even more tightly. I was born premature, in pain and bl**d. My mother didn't survive. Upon his return, the Alpha saw in me only an unbearable reminder. I was blamed for her death. Fragile, sickly, I was expected to be a mistake that wouldn't survive. But an old healer, Urélia, had taken me in secretly. She nourished me as best she could, until I somehow clung to life. Against all odds, I didn't die. But my survival changed nothing. A scar had marked my face since childhood. I was branded a living curse. Alpha's illegitimate daughter. Useless and despised. All I had ever known were the lowest tasks, beatings, and daily humiliation. And above all, the obligation to serve those who hated me. Jessie gestured to a servant. "After my service, have her taken to her third punishment." I understood immediately. My body seized up. The third punishment was never given to pack members. Only to enemies or traitors. That meant public execution... and thirty lashes. For a simple hairstyling mistake. Someone threw me to the ground without an ounce of care. Around me, the warriors in training had stopped. Everyone was watching. The silence was oppressive. I realized I would be the first of my kind to endure this. Jessie, standing off to the side, looked satisfied. She was looking at me the way one looks at a mistake being corrected. Our bl**d ties had never mattered. She had grown up in luxury. I, in the dust. Two parallel existences that only intersected in cruelty. The enforcer approached. I instinctively shrank back. "Please..." But he didn't listen. He tore the fabric from my back. The cold air bit into my skin. An involuntary movement sent the rest of my clothes sliding down, exposing more of my body. The laughter began. "St**p her completely," Jessie ordered in a cutting voice. I stood paralyzed. The fabric was completely ripped away. I had nothing on underneath. Nothing to cover myself with. I curled in on myself, arms crossed over my ch**t. The first blow landed. Pain exploded like a bolt of lightning. The whip kept coming, again and again, lacerating my skin. The world shrank to just the burning, the bl**d, the dizziness. I made out Urélia in the distance. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But she couldn't intervene. It was forbidden. Each blow pushed me closer to collapse. Then the silence returned. I could no longer feel my legs. Urélia rushed over the moment the punishment ended and held me tight. "Breathe... I'm here..." Her voice was the only steady thing in the chaos. A strange warmth enveloped me then, as if something were shielding my body. Jessie cut back in coldly, "Get her up. She has work to do." Urélia straightened, furious. "She can't move in this condition." "That's not my problem. My preparations for Luna's gala won't wait." Urélia replied in a firm tone, "I'm taking her with me. I'll tend to her wounds." Then she ordered that I be lifted. Jessie protested, but no one really listened. I was carried away from the scene. The last thing I felt was the movement of the ground vanishing beneath me. Then everything went dark. Chapter 2 A diffuse warmth spread down my spine as I drifted back to consciousness. A gentle, almost maternal voice held me still before I could even attempt a move. "Stay still, my child..." Urélia breathed close to me. My eyelids opened with difficulty. I was lying on my stomach, my face turned against a hard surface, and my back was entirely exposed to the waist. Urélia was leaning over me. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water, wrung it out with care, then laid it delicately on my open wounds. A cry escaped me despite myself. At once, she slid a hand into my hair, as if to anchor me. "It's nothing... It will pass, I promise you." My throat tightened. The memories of the punishment came back to me in violent waves. For as long as I could remember, my life had been nothing but an unbroken succession of pain. No tenderness. No refuge. No future that was not a dead end. Only survival. Urélia let out a sigh heavy with irritation. "That spoiled little brat... sometimes, I want to make her choke on her own cruelty." I turned my head slightly, alarmed. "Don't say that... if someone heard you..." I couldn't afford to lose her. No one should have to suffer because of me. I knew far too well the cost of anyone trying to help me. An old memory pierced me: I was six years old when an Omega, moved by pity, offered me a scrap of food. Luna Marilyne had twisted that simple gesture into a crime. The man had lost his hands. From that day on, no one dared to come near me again. Even the one who had helped me hated me now. Urélia's voice hardened again. "So what? How much longer are they going to keep destroying you like this?" I didn't answer. Because that question had already been haunting me for a very long time. She opened a small vial and applied an ointment to my wounds. The sensation made me grimace. Every touch rekindled the fire beneath my skin. If I had reacted in time, if I had learned to dodge the blows, maybe my body would be less battered. But my life had never left any room for that kind of learning. And there was something else. The worst part. I was nineteen years old, yet I had no wolf. It meant total exclusion, the absence of any bond, utter uselessness in the eyes of everyone. I sometimes wondered if fate wasn't deliberately hounding me. Urélia suddenly froze. She took a thin blade and sliced her own palm without hesitation. I startled. "Why are you doing that?" Without answering, she pressed her hand against my back. An intense burn tore a scream from my throat. I thrashed under the pain, but she held me firmly against her. "Forgive me..." she murmured in distress. Little by little, the sensation became less violent, as if the wound was closing under an invisible force. She let out a breath, exhausted. "Without this, you would not have healed. Your scars are too deep." I didn't even have the strength to speak anymore. Suddenly, a metallic boom resonated throughout the castle. Bells. Urélia raised her head abruptly. "The Alpha has returned." My stomach clenched. My father. The one who had ignored me my entire life. He had never acknowledged me. Officially, I did not exist to him. And yet, Urélia had confirmed the truth to me: I was indeed his bl**d. Growing up, I had learned to fear his shadow. Each time he appeared on the balcony, surrounded by Luna Marilyne, Abel, and Jessie, the crowd would cheer. As for me, I remained hidden. I would watch him from afar, unable to understand why I was denied that place. Then I stopped dreaming. Urélia placed a hand on my shoulder. "You must rest." I tried to rise. "I have to get back to work for Jessie..." She shook her head. "Forget that spoiled child. Your body will not hold up." Fatigue crashed over me without resistance. I sank back under. ... In the throne room, Alpha Balak was striding forward, alone. His face was closed off, hard as stone. The defeat he had just suffered weighed on him like an unbearable humiliation. For the first time in decades, he had lost. And not to just anyone, but to the Moon Crescent Pack. Worse still, to Xaeron. That name once belonged to a child he thought was dead. Now, that child had become a formidable leader, driven by an ancient rage. Balak was reliving the massacre again: his army swept away in mere moments. The sole survivor, he had been forced to flee. It was a shame he had never known before. Compelled, he had requested the intervention of the Council of Wolves. But it wasn't enough. Xaeron demanded more. The door opened. Marilyne rushed in. "What is going on? Why is there no one outside anymore?" He cut her off dryly. "Where is Jaselya?" She stood frozen, surprised. Her face hardened. "You're speaking of your illegitimate child?" His gaze turned glacial. "Do not provoke me, Marilyne. Answer." She hesitated. "She is under the care of the healer." He pressed a hand over his face, exhausted. "We lost," he finally said. The shock froze her in place. "Xaeron has gained the upper hand. Everything is finished if nothing changes." Marilyne stepped back. "Xaeron? You don't mean... Orion's son? The one you eliminated?" He averted his gaze. "He survived. And he has come back stronger than ever." The name Orion hung between them like a condemnation. Once allies, Orion and Balak had shared power. Then betrayal had destroyed everything. Balak had annihilated Orion's pack. He thought he had erased every trace of that bl**dline. But Xaeron had returned. And now, he demanded reparation. "The Council has agreed to intervene," Balak continued. "But the price is unbearable. All of our children will have to be handed over to him." A crash rang out: he had just smashed a mirror against the wall. Marilyne staggered. "You cannot be serious..." "I have no choice," he cut in. "He will take the entire pack if he has to." She paled. "We can hide them... send them far away..." "They know how to recognize Abel," he replied flatly. The silence became oppressive. "The Council is already arriving with him," he went on. "Jessie still has a chance. Jaselya... she might pass as her. She carries my bl**d." Marilyne shook her head vehemently. "She is nothing like us." "It doesn't matter," he growled. "They must not know. Xaeron has come to destroy everything I have built." She trembled. "She was punished today..." Balak's face contorted. "Then it is already too late to lie properly." Chapter 3 JASELYA'S POV I had never crossed the threshold of the throne room as anything other than an unseen servant, busy scrubbing the marble under absent gazes. So when Urélia woke me to announce that the Alpha was demanding my presence, I felt as if I were being torn from an impossible reality. She made me swallow a few remedies to soothe the burns on my back and handed me something clean, different from my usual rags. Every step in the corridor, flanked by two silent guards, made my breathing heavier. The closer I got to the hall of power, the tighter my stomach clenched. Why me? A hidden execution? A verdict already decided? The great doors swung open. The room swallowed me whole. They were all there. Luna Marilyne, Jessie, and Abel stood near the throne, alongside an elder of the Council, Leman, a Lycan marked by the years. And in the center, there he was. Alpha Balak. My gaze latched on, against my will, to the man who had given me life but refused to acknowledge it. For the first time, his eyes didn't avoid mine. I felt my throat tighten. His voice fell, dry and blunt. "Your wounds... are they visible?" I blinked, disoriented. Was that really all this was? "I... I could not tell, my lord," I breathed, lowering my head. He gave a brief signal to the old man at his side. Leman approached slowly. "Turn around," he ordered calmly. I obeyed. His fingers loosened the ties on my back. A reflex of panic made me flinch. "Hold still," he murmured without harshness. My heart was beating too fast. The dress slipped slightly, revealing my scars without leaving me totally exposed, but the sensation was enough to turn me to ice. A voice rose up immediately. "Let me do it," Abel offered, his insistence laced with a sweetness that rang false. A chill ran through me. I knew that voice. I knew that look even more. Abel, the acknowledged son of the Alpha and my half-brother, had never hidden the sick obsession he harbored for me. His eyes followed me through the hallways, lingering far too long on my body. I still remembered the day he had walked into a room where I was working, tearing at my clothes before I managed to flee. Since then, I had avoided him like a bl**e already drawn from its sheath. "No," Alpha Balak cut in without hesitation. "Leman will handle it. Get out." A heavy silence settled in. Then, slowly, my back was laid bare for all to see. The Alpha's voice hardened with disbelief. "Why aren't her wounds closing up?" Leman observed carefully. "She is trapped in an incomplete state. No shifting has been triggered." The words seemed to provoke an immediate irritation. "Unacceptable..." Balak growled. "Bring me Urélia." Rapid footsteps moved away. I remained frozen, invaded by a pain older than my wounds: the pain of being ignored, again and always. Not even here, not even standing right before him. He had never asked my age, my condition, or how I had survived. Nineteen years of existence meant nothing to him. I felt their eyes on me, heavy as a collective sentence. Leman spoke again, softly. "How old is she?" No one looked at me. "Answer," Balak ordered. "Nineteen," I said in a low voice. He relayed the information. An even colder silence settled in. "Can she heal properly?" the Alpha demanded. Leman examined my back with caution, his fingers testing the wounds. I stifled a flinch. "There are signs of improvement... and traces of assisted healing. Urélia has used her own bl**d." The doors opened again. Urélia entered without ceremony, as if titles meant nothing. "You called for me?" Her voice carried no trace of submission. Balak's gaze narrowed. "This girl... is she always like that?" Urélia answered immediately, "Her wolf has not yet emerged. That's it." A brutal tension erupted in her reply. "How is that possible?" He lost his temper. "Did I sire something incapable of shifting? Look at her hideous face!" I felt my eyes burn. Shame crushed me more surely than any blow ever had. But Urélia stepped forward, firm. "She survived a birth that should have been impossible. Few would have lasted." She gestured to me without reducing me to nothing. "And if you are finished, let her put her clothes back on." She gently pulled me against her, adjusting my dress. Balak's voice resounded, more tense. "If she remains like this, how am I supposed to deal with Xaeron and his army?" The name hit like a stone. Xaeron. I couldn't understand. Jessie burst out suddenly, "This is ridiculous! I'm supposed to bond with Dean! And now they want me to take another man?" Her voice was breaking between rage and panic. "There will be no marriage alliance," the Alpha declared coldly. "Dean went missing in the battle. Xaeron took him." Jessie was silent for a beat... then screamed. I no longer understood anything. Everything was falling apart without logic. "Time is short," Balak continued. "Urélia, your use of bl**d is an infraction. The laws forbid healing an incomplete wolf." Urélia did not look away. "The laws especially condemn to exile those who don't shift." I panicked. Exile? Me? Gazes locked in a silence loaded with threat. Yet, she didn't back down. Neither did he. Finally, he exhaled. "Prepare her. They're arriving tonight. Marilyne will do what is necessary." I stood motionless. "Prepare... for what?" I murmured. Urélia, without letting go, fixed her eyes directly on the Alpha. "You explain it to me yourself. What does all this really mean?" No one spoke to him that way. No one. Balak's face hardened. "We were defeated," he answered at last. "Xaeron is coming with the Council and his army. And he is demanding Jaselya as a prize." The world seemed to warp around me. A prize? Me? I stepped back slightly without realizing it. Was Xaeron coming for me? And what war had we lost without me even knowing? I no longer had any grip on what was happening. Nothing felt real. "Dress her," the Alpha concluded in a cold voice. "Her future mate won't wait any longer." Chapter 4 Xaeron stormed across the castle boundaries with his warriors and the seven ranking members of the Council of Wolves at his back. The place made his stomach turn instantly. No sooner had he set foot on the Moonlight pack's land than he spat on the ground, as if to rid his mouth of the stench of this place. The land itself reeked of slaughter. He went back to being that child again, visiting his parents before everything fell apart. Then came the betrayal. His father's bl**d soaking into the dirt. His mother's head displayed like a trophy. His sister's entrails torn out. And his entire pack exterminated, cleanly and methodically. He should have made them suffer longer. Much longer. Until Balak begged. Then he would have ripped Balak's head off himself, shattered it before his own people, and ground the fragments into his throne. But Balak had fled. He had sought refuge with the Council and secured protection through an ancient pact. Now Xaeron was stuck dealing with those rules he despised. He could claim the entire pack. But the Wolf Law imposed one exception: Balak and his mate would be spared until the next black moon. An absurdity. Xaeron let out a dry laugh. He didn't care about the children. It was Balak he wanted. Only Balak. The corridors emptied before him. The guards fell back, unable to meet his eyes. He entered the throne room and seated himself without permission. His gaze swept over the hall, cold and assessing. Everything would be reduced to ashes. This castle, these walls, this memory. Nothing was to remain. Just as Balak had done with his home. "Where are they?" His voice cracked like a whip. "I won't wait. The rules mean nothing to me anymore." "They're on their way," answered one of the council members cautiously. Xaeron leaned back against the throne. Five minutes. He was giving them five minutes. ... Jaselya discovered a reflection of herself she didn't recognize. A light-colored gown, almost regal, draped over her body. The fabric was fine, carefully worked, and set with luminous details. She had been remade. Her hair swept up, her face painted with precision. She looked like a stranger-almost like a princess. But this illusion brought her no comfort. She turned toward Urélia. "What is going to happen?" Fear tightened her voice. Urélia exchanged a glance with Luna Marilyne, who was still fretting over the adornments for the upcoming event. "It's an old arrangement," Urélia murmured. "The Council of Wolves has validated a pact between Alpha Balak and Xaeron. I don't know every clause, but the rule is clear: Xaeron can claim nearly everything... except the Alpha and Luna, who are protected until the next black moon." Jaselya felt her breath catch. "A pact? Why would anyone permit this?" Urélia lowered her voice slightly. "This kind of deal isn't easily won. It's negotiated. Bought. Your father must have paid a tremendous price. But it guarantees protection... in certain situations." Jaselya took a step back. "Why am I being presented as his daughter?" Urélia sighed. "He refuses to lose what he considers important. That's why he's putting you on display for Xaeron." Jaselya's heart began to race. The more she heard, the less she understood. "Am I just some object to be handed over?" she breathed. Urélia avoided a direct answer. "It will all depend on him. And on what the Alpha decides." The door slammed open. Alpha Balak entered, his expression strained. His eyes landed on her, immediately filled with irritation. "Cover that face. Now." A servant dropped the veil over her features. A wave of deep humiliation washed through Jaselya. Her own father couldn't even stand the sight of her. "He's already here," Balak growled. "That ba**ard is insufferable." Then he fixed her with a harsh stare. "Don't humiliate us." She flinched. Jessie, who was standing nearby, muttered with contempt, "Look at that... With that ugly face of hers, all is lost." Her words dissolved into sobs as she buried her face against her mother. Jaselya's mind had gone blank. Unknown names. Unfathomable decisions. Xaeron. A bond. A price. A future being decided without her. They moved through the stairway, flanked by the guards. Every step felt like a fall. In the main hall, an entire assembly awaited them. The pack's ranking members. Heavy, silent stares. Luna Marilyne stood close to Alpha Balak. And at the center, an occupied throne. An unfamiliar man. The light kept his face in shadow, featureless. But his presence alone was enough to thicken the very air. Abel and the others formed a rigid line, like a silent army. Jaselya stood frozen. The man rose. The sound of his footsteps rang out like a death sentence. She lowered her gaze, unable to face that overwhelming presence. Then everything tilted. A hand seized her veil and ripped it aside. Fingers caught her face with brutal precision, forcing her head back. She was forced to meet his gaze. And she saw him. A man of almost unreal handsomeness. But lurking beneath that charm was something dangerous. Something that offered no escape. Chapter 5 JASELYA'S POV The man stood before me with a confidence that crushed everything around him. His dark hair, cut short, sharpened the angles of his face, marked by a thin scar near his eye. Yet that detail practically vanished against the intensity of his eyes. Eyes of a deep, almost mineral black, framed by disturbingly thick lashes. A beauty many would have envied. His face looked like something carved by an artist's hand-sharp jaw, elegant lines, a nose that seemed too perfect to be real, and brows set in flawless symmetry. His lips, slightly parted, revealed a row of almost unreal white teeth. All of this rested on an impressive, massive frame, forged by years of combat and training. He shared nothing in common with the men of my pack. He wasn't simply strong. He gave the impression of having been created for war. And yet, despite this almost disturbing beauty, a silent alarm imposed itself within me. Something in his presence warned me to stay away. As if every fiber of my body understood before I did that he was danger. A living threat. My stomach clenched without warning, mixing fear and confusion. His hand closed over my chin with a controlled firmness, forcing my face up. My gaze wavered despite myself. I immediately remembered how I had always been seen. My wounded side, my scar, my features deemed unworthy. All my life I had been looked upon as a mistake. My father had insulted me, my half-sister had scorned me, and the rest of the pack had rejected me. So he too... was going to judge me. He must already be doing it. "So it's you," he said at last, his voice low and cutting. "What's your name?" There was no warmth in his tone. Only a coldness that bordered on hostility. I could feel a brutal tension radiating from him, like an invisible blade. "Jaselya," I replied with difficulty. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my father. A silent pressure immediately crushed me. He was silently warning me not to disappoint the man. Even if everything in me had no idea how to achieve it. The man stepped back slightly, without breaking eye contact. Then he gave a sharp gesture of the hand. One of his men stepped forward, carrying a box. He handed it to him, and it was then held out to me. "Open it," he ordered simply. My heart clenched. A test. It had to be a test. The silence in the hall became almost unreal. No one was really breathing anymore. My fingers trembled as I grasped the box. The ribbon gave way under my hesitant motions. When the lid opened, the world seemed to tilt. Inside was a head. Alpha Dean's. The leader of the Black Wing Pack. The man Jessie was supposed to bond with. No reaction escaped me, no scream. I simply dropped the box. It hit the floor. The head rolled out, coming to a stop near my dress, leaving dark spatters on the fabric. A scream tore through the hall. It was Jessie. Her cry echoed against the walls like a crack in the silence. I slowly looked up. The man was still watching me. And this time... he was smiling. &3&

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She spent three years putting her marriage first. Then his first love came back, and he handed her divorce papers. Everyone in the city laughed at the discarded housewife. But she didn't fall apart. Instead, she stepped back into the life she had left behind—and revealed just how far above them she had always been.
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"Do you truly want to end our marriage?" Georgia Campbell stared at the divorce agreement lying before her. 
Every trace of happiness disappeared as the truth sank in and turned her bl**d cold. 
"I do. Isabel's back," Cayden Marshall, her husband, said without warmth. 
Today was their third wedding anniversary. Georgia had visited the market, chosen fresh ingredients, and spent hours preparing a special dinner. 
In return, Cayden had placed a divorce agreement in front of her. 
What a surprise, she thought bitterly. 
"If any part of the settlement troubles you, let me know," Cayden added. He regarded the quiet, obedient woman before him with the same distant calm he used during business negotiations. 
Georgia dropped her gaze and read through the document as quickly as she could. Cayden had offered her generous compensation, including a valuable shop facing a busy street, a villa downtown, and fifty million dollars in cash.

The entire settlement was worth no less than a billion dollars. She could spend the rest of her life in comfort without ever worrying about money. 

One billion dollars would repay her for enduring a marriage of three years without love or s*x. Anyone looking at the arrangement would say she had received more than enough. 

Georgia knew the sensible choice was to accept the offer without objecting. But she had not married Cayden for his money in the first place. 

Silence dragged on until Cayden placed a ci**rette between his lips and lit it. 

He inhaled slowly before looking at her through narrowed eyes. "Tell me if you want anything changed in the agreement."

Georgia raised her head and held his distant gaze. "Cayden, did you ever care about me at all during our three years together?"

"Not once."

The answer came at once, firm and merciless, and crushed the final hope she had kept alive. Pain spread heavily through her ch**t. 

"Now I understand," she murmured as her lashes lowered to conceal the hurt in her eyes. 

The weakness passed quickly, and her familiar gentle smile returned. "I cooked your favorite dishes. Could you stay and share one final dinner with me?"

Cayden only frowned and offered no reply. 

Georgia swallowed her tears before carrying the dishes from the kitchen and arranging each plate in front of him. 

At that moment, Cayden's phone began ringing. 

"Cayden, I'm in so much pain. Will you please come to the hospital and stay with me?" a woman asked softly through the phone. 

Georgia stood near enough to hear every word. Her hands closed into tight fists. 

"All right. Try to be good until I arrive," Cayden replied. "I'll be there shortly. Tell me what you'd like to eat, and I'll bring it with me."

Georgia had never heard him speak to her with that kind of tenderness. The light faded from her face as she realized that love could make someone treat two people in completely different ways. 

When Cayden moved to leave, she hurried forward and caught the hem of his shirt. Her plea carried the same quiet obedience she had always shown him. 

"Cayden, will you stay until we finish dinner? Please, just this once."

"Georgia, don't turn this into a scene." Cayden removed her hand without care and walked away without looking at her again. 

Georgia pressed a hand against the pain in her ch**t. Her control finally broke, and warm tears streamed down her cheeks. 

Three years ago, Cayden had approached her and proposed marriage. She had loved him quietly for years, so accepting his proposal had required no thought at all. 

After marriage, they had treated each other with courtesy and kept their distance. She had given up her own life to become a housewife and devoted herself to caring for his every need. 

Cayden had never shared her bed as a true husband, yet even that empty marriage had once been enough to make her happy. 

Cayden's grandfather had died two weeks earlier. Georgia had stood beside Cayden and handled the funeral arrangements. 

Once the funeral ended, Cayden began returning home less often. Tonight, he even asked for a divorce because Isabel Brooks, the woman he had always loved, had come back to the country. 

Georgia remained alone in the living room and let grief swallow the passing hours. By the time she forced herself to stand, stiffness had spread through her entire body. 

She gathered the untouched food and dumped it into the tr**h. The abandoned meal felt too much like her broken marriage. 

The shower didn't help her relax. When she lay in bed, Cayden's familiar scent surrounded her, making it impossible to sl**p. 

A sudden chime from her phone broke the silence. 

For one hopeful second, Georgia believed Cayden had sent her a message. Instead, she opened a series of photographs delivered by an unfamiliar number. 

Every picture showed Cayden resting comfortably against Isabel's shoulder with his eyes closed. 

A message appeared beneath the photographs. "Cayden is in love with me. Holding on to him will change nothing, so stop embarrassing yourself, Georgia."

Georgia tightened her grip on the phone and saw how close they were. The ache inside her ch**t soon grew too painful to bear. 

She stayed on the bed until morning arrived. Ian Dale, Cayden's assistant, later entered the room carrying the divorce agreement. 

Sympathy crossed his face when he noticed how pale and exhausted Georgia looked. Still, he forced himself to deliver the message. 

"Ma'am, Mr. Marshall asked you to sign this. He'll accept any terms you wish to add."

Georgia said nothing for a long while. Then she picked up the pen and placed her signature on the document. She did not want any compensation from Cayden and chose to leave with nothing. 

His wealth was never the reason she had married him, after all. 

Ian stared at her in surprise. "Ma'am, are you certain you don't want any of the settlement?"

She answered with a quiet hum. 

Georgia left soon afterward. A few changes of clothes were all she packed before leaving the home she had shared with Cayden for three years. 

All the happiness she had carried into the marriage was gone. Nothing remained for her to take when she walked away. 

Beyond the front door, a hollow feeling settled inside her. She no longer knew where she belonged. Even so, she understood that her life had to go on. 

Cayden had never loved her, and she refused to keep chasing someone who didn't want her. 

Georgia pulled out her phone and called her closest friend, Jake Mitchell. "Jake, my marriage is over. I'm divorcing Cayden."

Jake arrived without keeping her waiting. His car stopped beside her and sent a cloud of dust across the road. 

"Love only makes fo**s out of people. Leaving that marriage might be the smartest decision you've ever made," he remarked. 

"Enough with the nonsense. Start driving." Georgia took out her phone, entered the surveillance network, and deleted every record that could reveal her whereabouts. 

She gave the house one final look, then faced forward and left without a moment of doubt. 

Chapter 2 Now This Is Interesting
In the CEO's office on the top floor of Marshall Group, Cayden looked at Ian and asked, "Did Georgia put her signature on the divorce agreement?"

"Yes, but she refused the entire settlement," Ian replied as he passed Cayden the signed agreement. 

Brief surprise showed on Cayden's handsome face when he learned that Georgia had walked away without asking for anything. 

He hadn't realized she possessed that much pride. In fact, he had expected her to make the divorce difficult.

Instead, she had accepted it without making a fuss, which left him with an uneasy feeling he couldn't explain. 

For three years, she had done nothing except manage their home. She had no career or friends to rely on. 

He couldn't help wondering how she planned to support herself after leaving the marriage empty-handed. 

The concern made him frown. Once he recognized that he was worrying about her future, he immediately drove the thought from his mind. 

Their divorce would soon be final, and he reminded himself that her life would no longer concern him. 

He dropped the agreement into a desk drawer without care. Then he raised his head and asked, "Have you located Kendra Leigh?"

"We still haven't found her," Ian responded. "She knows how to disappear completely, and none of the places she's visited have given us a trail to follow."

"Offer a reward through the Dark Web," Cayden instructed. "Anyone who gives us reliable information about her location will receive 100 million dollars."

Three years ago, Isabel had been poisoned by an extremely rare toxin. Cayden had visited every respected doctor in the country, but no one could treat her. 

She'd been staying overseas for treatment these years, but her condition had only deteriorated. 

He later heard that there was a legendary doctor named Kendra Leigh. Stories about her remarkable medical skills claimed that she could rescue patients whom everyone else had given up on. 

Finding Kendra seemed like Isabel's last chance for a cure. 

"I'll handle the bounty immediately," Ian responded. 

Meanwhile, Jake drove Georgia to a private villa. 

"This will be your home from now on," he muttered. "Have you decided what you'll do next?"

"Not yet," Georgia answered. 

Jake set his phone down in front of her. "Someone has posted a reward of 100 million dollars for your location. Does that offer interest you?"

Georgia barely glanced at the screen. "Not at all."

"Fine. Take some time to rest," Jake replied lightly. 

"There's still the Douglas family assignment you accepted earlier. They've contacted us several times. When do you think you'll be ready to visit them?"

"I'll go on Saturday," she answered briefly. 

"Understood. I'll send them your decision."

Georgia arranged the few belongings she had brought before shopping for everything she needed.

She also replaced her phone number and cut the final thread connecting her to her former life. 

Saturday arrived sooner than expected. 

Jake drove Georgia to the Douglas residence, where she treated Laura Douglas, an elderly member of the family. 

As they departed, their car passed a black Bentley. Georgia looked through the window at the passing vehicle and briefly saw a man with sharply defined features sitting inside. 

Cayden? She couldn't imagine what had brought him here. 

Thirty minutes ago, Cayden had received word that Kendra planned to treat Laura at the Douglas residence. He had rushed over with Ian. 

Kendra left no trail and avoided appearing before strangers. Since there was no other way to approach her, Cayden decided to wait at the residence himself. 

By the time he arrived, the Douglas family informed him that the doctor had already gone. The failed meeting darkened his face. 

He remembered the car that had just pulled away from the property. He spun around, climbed behind the wheel, and pressed hard on the accelerator to chase it. 

Through the rearview mirror, Jake spotted the black Bentley staying close behind them. "Someone is following us. Is that the husband you're divorcing?"

Georgia checked behind them and recognized Cayden's car. Her heartless husband was the one pursuing them. 

Her face remained calm as she gave Jake a short command. "Lose him."

Jake slammed his foot onto the accelerator, and the car surged forward with enough force to press them into their seats as it tore down the road. 

Cayden had no intention of losing them. His Bentley stayed close behind their car while he pursued them with relentless focus. 

Both vehicles sped along the road as each driver fought for the lead. 

Several attempts to pull ahead ended in failure, and frustration began wearing down Jake's patience. 

"D**n it, I never thought he'd be this good behind the wheel. He clearly won't give up until he forces us to stop!"

Georgia's eyes opened at once. "Move over. I'm taking the wheel."

After exchanging seats with Jake, she fixed her attention on the road ahead. 

She pushed the accelerator to its limit and aimed the car toward Devil's Bend 303, the most famous curve in the city. 

Behind them, Cayden's black Bentley continued gaining ground and steadily reduced the space between the two cars. 

Georgia brought the car to a sudden stop when they arrived at the base of the mountain. 

She waited until Cayden almost reached them before hitting the accelerator again. 

Every turn came with a quick sequence of movements.

She braked, worked the clutch, changed gears, guided the car through the curve, and accelerated out of it without breaking her rhythm. 

Only a few curves later, Cayden's Bentley had fallen far into the distance. 

Georgia rolled down the window and extended one hand outside. Then she raised her middle finger toward the car chasing them. 

The rude gesture made her confidence impossible to ignore. 

Cayden's expression sharpened at the sight. The hand outside the window looked slender and smooth enough to belong to a woman. 

And something about it seemed strangely familiar to him. 

When Cayden finally crossed the finish line, the other vehicle had already vanished. 

Ian held the grab handle with both hands while his heart hammered against his ch**t. Never before had he watched Cayden lose a race to a woman. 

He expected the defeat to send Cayden into a terrible temper, but an unsettling smile appeared on his face instead. 

"Now this is interesting," Cayden said. 

Ian couldn't agree with him. The race had left him feeling as though he had narrowly escaped death. 

"I don't care what it takes-find that woman and bring me every piece of information you can uncover about her," Cayden demanded. 

His reason for pursuing Kendra remained unchanged. She was the only doctor who might be able to save Isabel. 

Chapter 3 She Had Cut Him Off
Once they arrived at the villa, Jake showed Georgia the payment notice on his phone. The Douglas family had already transferred three million dollars for the treatment. 

"I'll send the full amount to your account," he said. 

Three million dollars wasn't a fortune, but it at least made their trip worthwhile. 

He continued, "Are you still turning down that 100 million dollars? People with too much money don't come along every day, especially ones willing to spend it so carelessly. You paid 40 million dollars for this villa alone."

Over the years, Georgia had devoted herself to becoming Cayden's perfect wife and hadn't accepted any work. 

Purchasing the villa had drained almost all of her savings. It was time to begin earning money again and enjoy a more comfortable life. 

"I'll accept the assignment if it won't put me in danger," Georgia said.

"Before agreeing to anything for me, investigate every detail and make sure there are no hidden problems."

Jake knew what had made her so careful. Three years earlier, Georgia had saved someone's life during a job, but the rescue had damaged the interests of some dangerous people, who had hired assassins to eliminate her. 

Without her quick instincts and Jake's help, she might not have survived that attack. 

"Understood. I'll meet with them first and find out what they really want," Jake replied. 

After leaving Isabel at the hospital, Cayden drove to Celeste Estate, the home he had once shared with Georgia. 

The darkness surrounding the villa reminded him that she no longer lived there. 

Cayden remained inside his car and lit a ci**rette. He smoked it to the end in silence before stepping out and entering the house. 

As he looked around the living room, he somehow thought of how Georgia used to keep the lights on and wait for him to come home. 

He had taken those quiet, warm moments for granted, but now they were gone. Their absence irritated him more than he wanted to admit. 

He approached the liquor cabinet, poured himself a drink, and swallowed it all at once. 

He took out his phone and searched for Georgia's number before calling her. However, the number was no longer in service. 

Cayden checked the number and confirmed that he hadn't made a mistake. Once he understood what Georgia had done, a short laugh escaped him without any real amusement. 

He was surprised to realize that she had cut him off even more firmly than he had expected. 

Throughout their three years together, she had remained quiet, gentle, and easy to control. 

Even when he asked for a divorce, the pain on her face had made it obvious that she wasn't ready to let him go. 

Only a few days had passed, yet she had already canceled the number he knew. 

Cayden called Ian and gave him a firm order. "Find Georgia."

... 

The next day, Ian approached Cayden. "Mr. Marshall, I couldn't locate Ms. Campbell."

Back then, Georgia had entered Cayden's life without warning. He discovered that she was an orphan, and since he needed a wife who could satisfy his family, he chose her.

She had no powerful background or personal influence, which meant she couldn't threaten his position. Those qualities had made her the safest choice. 

Cayden never imagined that the woman who accepted nothing from him would disappear so thoroughly after leaving. No one could tell him where she had gone. 

"Continue searching!"

He refused to believe that Georgia could vanish without leaving a single clue. 

Just then, Cayden received a call from the hospital. 

"Mr. Marshall, the toxin has caused Ms. Brooks to suffer another episode. She's only partly conscious and keeps asking for you. She refuses to settle down until she sees you, so we had no choice but to call."

"Tell her I'm coming now." Cayden ended the call, rose from his seat, and hurried out. 

Three years ago, Cayden's enemy had tricked and dr**ged him. 

While the d**g threatened his life, he had become in**mate with a woman he believed was Isabel. 

Since that night had been her first time, guilt and sympathy led him to accept responsibility for her. 

Even so, something had always felt wrong whenever Cayden spent time with Isabel. Instead, he had found himself more relaxed and at ease whenever he was with Georgia. 

Thoughts of Georgia's sudden disappearance tightened Cayden's expression. 

Shortly after Cayden entered the hospital, Georgia arrived wearing a baseball cap and a mask. 

She rode the elevator upstairs and made a call after stepping into the hallway. "I've arrived. Where should I meet you?"

The directions led Georgia to the neurosurgery director's office. 

"Benjamin!" she called out. 

Benjamin Gordon, her former classmate, recognized the voice immediately. He turned around and pulled her into a tight hug. 

"You finally came back. Where have you been the last three years? You disappeared without giving me a single word."

"I got married," Georgia replied plainly. 

Shock crossed Benjamin's face. "You got married? Who is your husband?"

He could hardly believe that someone had convinced a woman like Georgia to become his wife. 

Georgia ignored the question and gave him a different answer. "I'm divorcing him."

Benjamin went quiet as uncertainty crossed his face. The congratulations he had nearly offered never left his mouth. 

Georgia showed no concern as she sat down. "What made you reach out to me?"

"Our mentor has a longtime friend who requires surgery. The family came to me because they wanted my help, but the patient is elderly and the condition is difficult. I don't trust myself to handle the operation alone, so I hoped you would assist me."

Benjamin had contacted her without expecting much. Georgia had vanished for three years without a single message, so reaching her the previous night had come as a complete surprise. 

One of Georgia's eyebrows rose. "I haven't entered an operating room in years. What if my skills have become rusty and I end up damaging your reputation?"

Benjamin refused to entertain the idea. "If a surgeon as skilled as you could fail, then I have no right to attempt the operation by myself."

"Alright. Show me the patient's scans first."

After reviewing the scans, Georgia rose from her chair. "Choose a time for the surgery and send me the details."

Another thought came to her and she added, "Find out which hospital room Isabel Brooks is in."

Benjamin asked without thinking, "Who is Isabel? Is she someone you know?"

"She's the love of my husband," Georgia said casually. "Our marriage is ending because of her."

Benjamin stared at her in shock and couldn't think of anything to say. 

Georgia soon located Isabel's room and looked through the glass panel in the door. Isabel rested on the bed in striped hospital clothes. 

Her soft, innocent features were the kind that easily stirred a man's protective instincts. Still, Georgia found nothing especially beautiful about her. In fact, Isabel was not nearly as beautiful as she was.

Cayden must've been both blind and st**id to choose a woman like that. His taste was truly terrible. 

Beyond the glass, Cayden peeled an orange with his own hands and fed Isabel one piece at a time. He spoke to her gently, and a soft smile occasionally appeared on his face. 

Cayden had always treated Georgia properly throughout their marriage, but an unseen wall had kept them apart. Not once had he shown her the tenderness he now gave Isabel so freely. 

Georgia refused to watch any longer and ruin her own mood, so she turned away. 

Some instinct made Cayden raise his head at that exact moment. He then left his chair and hurried into the hallway, where he caught sight of a familiar figure disappearing around the corner. 

The person looked very much like Georgia. 

Cayden went after her but crossed paths with Ian, who had arrived to take him to the office. 

"Mr. Marshall, is something wrong?" Ian asked. 

Cayden stopped and asked him in a low voice, "Did you pass anyone on your way here?"

Chapter 4 It Was Your Husband
Ian shook his head. "No, I didn't."

"Did you find her?" Cayden asked. 

Ian knew exactly who Cayden meant. 

"No," he replied. "I went to the house where Ms. Campbell used to live, but the current owner told me she sold the place three years ago."

Guvale was not a particularly large city, but tracking down someone who was determined to hide was no different from searching for a needle in a haystack. 

"Useless!" Cayden barked. "Take me back to the office."

As soon as he got into the car, he called Isabel and told her he had to leave because an urgent matter had come up at the company. 

Isabel answered softly in an understanding tone. 

After the call ended, she stared at the phone in her hand, her brows knitting together. She couldn't stop wondering who Cayden had seen that made him chase after them so desperately. 

A knock came at the door. A woman stepped inside and asked, "Has Mr. Marshall left?"

"Yes," Isabel replied. "Why are you here? Didn't I tell you not to come?"

The woman was Paula Brooks, Isabel's mother. "Isabel, I was just worried about you."

"I'm doing fine. Now that Cayden is divorcing that woman, there's a good chance I'll marry him soon. If he ever finds out my mother is a..." She stopped herself before the word "mi**ress" could leave her lips. 

Pain flashed across Paula's face, but she forced a smile anyway. "I know I'm an embarrassment to you."

Her mere presence made Isabel irritated. "Enough. Just leave. If I need you, I'll come to you."

When Isabel first met Cayden overseas, he had mistaken her for someone else. The moment she saw his striking appearance and the expensive clothes he wore, she knew he had to come from wealth or influence. 

So she pretended to be the woman he had spent the night with. 

Since then, she had lived in luxury and basked in Cayden's gentle care. Just when she believed she was about to become his wife, he suddenly returned home and married another woman. 

However, she never caused a scene. She stayed by his side and was always thoughtful and understanding. 

She had wanted to sl**p with him and become his woman. But three years ago, she was suddenly poisoned.

Every episode left her in unbearable pain, and whenever she tried to be in**mate with him, the poison would flare up and make the agony even worse. 

Seeing the gloomy look on Isabel's face, Paula took out a bank card and placed it in her hand. "If you ever need anything, just call me."

... 

The surgery was scheduled for three days later. 

After receiving the three million dollars, Georgia flew overseas for a short vacation. 

She enjoyed every moment of the trip. 

As she came back and walked out of the airport, she sent a message to Jake. "I'm outside. Where's your car?"

She wore a black camisole with denim shorts that showed off her slim, graceful figure. 

A pair of brand-new designer sunglasses rested on her face, and her long hair had been styled into soft, loose curls. She looked effortlessly stylish and al**ring, attracting plenty of attention wherever she walked. 

Completely unaware of the admiring glances around her, Georgia kept her head lowered as she replied to messages on her phone. 

Jake pulled up in front of her and whistled. "Hey there, beautiful. Need a ride?"

"Cut the slick talk!" Georgia pulled open the car door and leaned inside. 

"Mr. Marshall, doesn't that woman look a lot like Ms. Campbell?" Standing a short distance behind Cayden, Ian casually glanced toward Georgia. The more he looked at her, the more familiar she seemed. 

Cayden followed his gaze, and his eyes darkened. "Georgia," he called out. 

After living with her for three years, he could recognize Georgia even from her back. There was no way he could mistake her. 

Just as Georgia was about to get into the car, her body stiffened. She turned her head and locked eyes with Cayden. 

With one finger, she pushed her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose and narrowed her eyes slightly. Without the slightest hesitation, she climbed into the car. 

A second later, the car blended into the flow of traffic and disappeared from sight. 

Almost instinctively, Cayden stepped forward to go after her. "Mr. Marshall, the clients are about to come out!" Ian quickly reminded him. 

Cayden came to a stop. He stood rooted to the spot, his handsome face shadowed by a dark, cold expression. 

Georgia had seen him and heard him call her name, but she had chosen to ignore him completely. 

It seemed that after the divorce, she had become far bolder than before. 

A while later, Jake handed Georgia a bottle of water. "How is it that everywhere you go, you end up running into him? It's like he just won't leave you alone."

"How should I know?" Georgia took a sip of water. "I've already spent the entire three million dollars. Did you find out who posted that request on the Dark Web?"

"I looked into it. Want to guess who it was?"

"Are we really playing guessing games now?"

Jake's expression turned complicated. "It was your husband."

Noticing her silence, Jake glanced sideways at her. "So, what's your decision? Are you taking the job or not? If you can cure the woman in the hospital, you'll earn 300 million dollars."

Georgia could only think that Cayden was both incredibly wealthy and unbelievably foolish. 

Accepting the job would put 400 million dollars into her pocket—100 million for Kendra's whereabouts and 300 million for treatment. 

Georgia rolled the car window down and removed her sunglasses, absentmindedly twirling them between her fingers. The breeze brushed across her face and lifted her long hair. 

With sm**y eye makeup accentuating her features, she looked stunning in a bold and captivating way. 

Jake had known her for years, yet every time he looked at her, he was still struck by how breathtakingly beautiful she was. 

He couldn't help scoffing inwardly. It was indeed a waste that Cayden had never realized what he had. 

"I'll check things out at the hospital tonight before making a decision," Georgia said. 

After all, if Cayden was practically handing her money, she saw no reason not to accept it. 

Nonetheless, before agreeing, she wanted to find out exactly what kind of poison Isabel had been afflicted with. 

She needed to know what could possibly make Cayden willing to spend 400 million dollars to get her to save Isabel.

Chapter 5 You Don't Hold Back At All
Once night fell, Georgia arrived at the hospital with a baseball cap pulled low and a mask covering her face. She made her way to Benjamin's office. 

"I've prepared the clothes you wanted." Benjamin didn't question her intentions and simply gave her a set of nurse's outfit. 

Georgia changed into the outfit and headed for the door, but Benjamin stopped her. 

"Whatever happens, don't let your love turn into hatred and drive you to do something fo**ish."

In response, Georgia rolled her eyes. She knew herself well enough to understand that she would never hold on to the past. 

After leaving the office, she walked straight toward Isabel's room. Along the way, she grabbed a kidney dish from a cart in the corridor. 

With her face lowered, she opened the door and quietly entered the room. 

Her movements were quick and skillful as she injected the prepared substance into Isabel's vein. 

Isabel flinched before looking up at the unfamiliar eyes above her. "Who are you?"

Ever since returning to the country, Isabel had stayed in the hospital. She recognized nearly every nurse who worked there, and she was certain the woman before her wasn't one of them. 

However, no answer came. Dizziness overwhelmed her before everything went black. 

Georgia placed two fingers against Isabel's wrist and checked her pulse. Concern soon settled across her face. 

No one knew this toxin better than her. Years earlier, she had helped an old acquaintance named Damien Warren develop the exact same poison.

Its victims would suffer terribly. They would lose the ability to be in**mate, and the toxin would eventually leave them in**rtile. 

According to Georgia's diagnosis, the poison had already remained inside Isabel's body for three years. Even after receiving a cure, Isabel would have very little chance of co**eiving. 

Her only hope of becoming a mother would depend on taking medicine for years to restore her health. 

Georgia hadn't spoken to Damien in three years. She couldn't understand why he would poison Isabel when there had never been any conflict between them. 

Before she could think further, Cayden's voice came from the hallway. 

"How has she been today?"

At once, Georgia turned toward the window. She climbed through it and disappeared with the quick, graceful movements of a cat. 

Seconds later, the door opened. 

Cayden entered and noticed the open window. His eyebrows drew together. "Ian, shut the window," he instructed without turning around. 

"Cayden..." Isabel slowly regained consciousness. Memories of the strange woman dressed as a nurse and the mysterious injection rushed back to her. 

All the color quickly faded from her face. 

"Did I disturb your sl**p? I had some business nearby, so I decided to visit you." Cayden walked closer to the bed. 

Isabel grabbed his sleeve in panic. "Cayden, someone tried to k**l me! Some woman came in dressed as a nurse and injected me with something. What if she's the same person who poisoned me three years ago? I don't want to die..."

She lifted her arm and showed him the fresh needle mark. 

Cayden's expression instantly hardened. "Ian, bring a doctor here."

The doctor examined Isabel and smelled the syringe Georgia had left behind. "Ms. Brooks only received a mild sedative. Such a small dose won't harm her. Whoever administered it used very little."

Relief escaped Isabel in a heavy breath. 

For three years, the toxin inside her had caused more pain than she could endure. Another poison entering her body might finally k**l her. 

Death wasn't an option when she still had so much life ahead of her. 

"Cayden, I'm scared I'll die one day and never get to stay by your side again," she murmured in a trembling voice.

Her eyes held deep affection and showed how unwilling she was to leave him. 

Cayden tried to calm her. "I won't allow you to die. Once I locate Kendra Leigh, she'll cure you. I know she will."

"Do you really believe that?" Isabel asked. "Is she even a real person?"

Cayden had offered her the same reassurance many times throughout the years, but every attempt to locate Kendra had failed. Isabel had started questioning whether the mysterious doctor existed at all. 

"Kendra cured Laura Douglas of an illness that had troubled her for decades. We went to the Douglas residence, but she slipped away before we could reach her. If she's still anywhere in Guvale, I'll track her down." Cayden gently touched Isabel's shoulder. "You don't need to be afraid."

Isabel wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into his ch**t. "I believe you, Cayden," she whispered. 

Georgia never truly went away. Had Cayden taken a moment to check the window, he would've spotted her holding tightly to the drainpipe. 

Every word from inside the room had reached her ears. Her lips curled faintly into a mocking smile. 

Under her breath, she called Cayden a j**k. She hadn't realized he was so skilled at saying comforting words. 

She carefully climbed down the pipe and landed firmly on both feet. 

Once they were inside the car, Jake asked, "Well? Are you able to cure her?"

"The treatment is possible, but I don't particularly want to accept the case."

The poison had remained in Isabel's body for three years, so curing her completely would require six rounds of treatment. 

That would give Cayden six different opportunities to uncover her identity. 

Jake remarked, "You'd have to be a f**l to walk away from that much money. Rich id**ts like Cayden are hard to find, and he already took three years of your life. You might as well squeeze a fortune out of him. Wait a minute. Didn't you demand a huge settlement when you signed the divorce agreement?"

Cayden possessed tens of billions of dollars. Half of his wealth would've allowed Georgia to live comfortably for the rest of her life. 

Jake figure he could enjoy an easy life by relying on her wealth. 

"I hate to ruin your hopes, but I walked away without taking a cent," she responded. 

She refused to let money stain the feelings she once had for Cayden. Taking his compensation would've gone against the reason she had married him in the first place. 

Surprise filled Jake's face. "I never thought you'd do something like that."

"Send him an answer for me," Georgia said. "Tell his people that I'll accept the case, but my fee is five billion dollars!"

"Five billion dollars?" Jake struggled to swallow as newfound respect filled his face...

......

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She spent three years putting her marriage first. Then his first love came back, and he handed her divorce papers. Everyone in the city laughed at the discarded housewife. But she didn't fall apart. Instead, she stepped back into the life she had left behind—and revealed just how far above them she had always been. ===== "Do you truly want to end our marriage?" Georgia Campbell stared at the divorce agreement lying before her. Every trace of happiness disappeared as the truth sank in and turned her bl**d cold. "I do. Isabel's back," Cayden Marshall, her husband, said without warmth. Today was their third wedding anniversary. Georgia had visited the market, chosen fresh ingredients, and spent hours preparing a special dinner. In return, Cayden had placed a divorce agreement in front of her. What a surprise, she thought bitterly. "If any part of the settlement troubles you, let me know," Cayden added. He regarded the quiet, obedient woman before him with the same distant calm he used during business negotiations. Georgia dropped her gaze and read through the document as quickly as she could. Cayden had offered her generous compensation, including a valuable shop facing a busy street, a villa downtown, and fifty million dollars in cash. The entire settlement was worth no less than a billion dollars. She could spend the rest of her life in comfort without ever worrying about money. One billion dollars would repay her for enduring a marriage of three years without love or s*x. Anyone looking at the arrangement would say she had received more than enough. Georgia knew the sensible choice was to accept the offer without objecting. But she had not married Cayden for his money in the first place. Silence dragged on until Cayden placed a ci**rette between his lips and lit it. He inhaled slowly before looking at her through narrowed eyes. "Tell me if you want anything changed in the agreement." Georgia raised her head and held his distant gaze. "Cayden, did you ever care about me at all during our three years together?" "Not once." The answer came at once, firm and merciless, and crushed the final hope she had kept alive. Pain spread heavily through her ch**t. "Now I understand," she murmured as her lashes lowered to conceal the hurt in her eyes. The weakness passed quickly, and her familiar gentle smile returned. "I cooked your favorite dishes. Could you stay and share one final dinner with me?" Cayden only frowned and offered no reply. Georgia swallowed her tears before carrying the dishes from the kitchen and arranging each plate in front of him. At that moment, Cayden's phone began ringing. "Cayden, I'm in so much pain. Will you please come to the hospital and stay with me?" a woman asked softly through the phone. Georgia stood near enough to hear every word. Her hands closed into tight fists. "All right. Try to be good until I arrive," Cayden replied. "I'll be there shortly. Tell me what you'd like to eat, and I'll bring it with me." Georgia had never heard him speak to her with that kind of tenderness. The light faded from her face as she realized that love could make someone treat two people in completely different ways. When Cayden moved to leave, she hurried forward and caught the hem of his shirt. Her plea carried the same quiet obedience she had always shown him. "Cayden, will you stay until we finish dinner? Please, just this once." "Georgia, don't turn this into a scene." Cayden removed her hand without care and walked away without looking at her again. Georgia pressed a hand against the pain in her ch**t. Her control finally broke, and warm tears streamed down her cheeks. Three years ago, Cayden had approached her and proposed marriage. She had loved him quietly for years, so accepting his proposal had required no thought at all. After marriage, they had treated each other with courtesy and kept their distance. She had given up her own life to become a housewife and devoted herself to caring for his every need. Cayden had never shared her bed as a true husband, yet even that empty marriage had once been enough to make her happy. Cayden's grandfather had died two weeks earlier. Georgia had stood beside Cayden and handled the funeral arrangements. Once the funeral ended, Cayden began returning home less often. Tonight, he even asked for a divorce because Isabel Brooks, the woman he had always loved, had come back to the country. Georgia remained alone in the living room and let grief swallow the passing hours. By the time she forced herself to stand, stiffness had spread through her entire body. She gathered the untouched food and dumped it into the tr**h. The abandoned meal felt too much like her broken marriage. The shower didn't help her relax. When she lay in bed, Cayden's familiar scent surrounded her, making it impossible to sl**p. A sudden chime from her phone broke the silence. For one hopeful second, Georgia believed Cayden had sent her a message. Instead, she opened a series of photographs delivered by an unfamiliar number. Every picture showed Cayden resting comfortably against Isabel's shoulder with his eyes closed. A message appeared beneath the photographs. "Cayden is in love with me. Holding on to him will change nothing, so stop embarrassing yourself, Georgia." Georgia tightened her grip on the phone and saw how close they were. The ache inside her ch**t soon grew too painful to bear. She stayed on the bed until morning arrived. Ian Dale, Cayden's assistant, later entered the room carrying the divorce agreement. Sympathy crossed his face when he noticed how pale and exhausted Georgia looked. Still, he forced himself to deliver the message. "Ma'am, Mr. Marshall asked you to sign this. He'll accept any terms you wish to add." Georgia said nothing for a long while. Then she picked up the pen and placed her signature on the document. She did not want any compensation from Cayden and chose to leave with nothing. His wealth was never the reason she had married him, after all. Ian stared at her in surprise. "Ma'am, are you certain you don't want any of the settlement?" She answered with a quiet hum. Georgia left soon afterward. A few changes of clothes were all she packed before leaving the home she had shared with Cayden for three years. All the happiness she had carried into the marriage was gone. Nothing remained for her to take when she walked away. Beyond the front door, a hollow feeling settled inside her. She no longer knew where she belonged. Even so, she understood that her life had to go on. Cayden had never loved her, and she refused to keep chasing someone who didn't want her. Georgia pulled out her phone and called her closest friend, Jake Mitchell. "Jake, my marriage is over. I'm divorcing Cayden." Jake arrived without keeping her waiting. His car stopped beside her and sent a cloud of dust across the road. "Love only makes fo**s out of people. Leaving that marriage might be the smartest decision you've ever made," he remarked. "Enough with the nonsense. Start driving." Georgia took out her phone, entered the surveillance network, and deleted every record that could reveal her whereabouts. She gave the house one final look, then faced forward and left without a moment of doubt. Chapter 2 Now This Is Interesting In the CEO's office on the top floor of Marshall Group, Cayden looked at Ian and asked, "Did Georgia put her signature on the divorce agreement?" "Yes, but she refused the entire settlement," Ian replied as he passed Cayden the signed agreement. Brief surprise showed on Cayden's handsome face when he learned that Georgia had walked away without asking for anything. He hadn't realized she possessed that much pride. In fact, he had expected her to make the divorce difficult. Instead, she had accepted it without making a fuss, which left him with an uneasy feeling he couldn't explain. For three years, she had done nothing except manage their home. She had no career or friends to rely on. He couldn't help wondering how she planned to support herself after leaving the marriage empty-handed. The concern made him frown. Once he recognized that he was worrying about her future, he immediately drove the thought from his mind. Their divorce would soon be final, and he reminded himself that her life would no longer concern him. He dropped the agreement into a desk drawer without care. Then he raised his head and asked, "Have you located Kendra Leigh?" "We still haven't found her," Ian responded. "She knows how to disappear completely, and none of the places she's visited have given us a trail to follow." "Offer a reward through the Dark Web," Cayden instructed. "Anyone who gives us reliable information about her location will receive 100 million dollars." Three years ago, Isabel had been poisoned by an extremely rare toxin. Cayden had visited every respected doctor in the country, but no one could treat her. She'd been staying overseas for treatment these years, but her condition had only deteriorated. He later heard that there was a legendary doctor named Kendra Leigh. Stories about her remarkable medical skills claimed that she could rescue patients whom everyone else had given up on. Finding Kendra seemed like Isabel's last chance for a cure. "I'll handle the bounty immediately," Ian responded. Meanwhile, Jake drove Georgia to a private villa. "This will be your home from now on," he muttered. "Have you decided what you'll do next?" "Not yet," Georgia answered. Jake set his phone down in front of her. "Someone has posted a reward of 100 million dollars for your location. Does that offer interest you?" Georgia barely glanced at the screen. "Not at all." "Fine. Take some time to rest," Jake replied lightly. "There's still the Douglas family assignment you accepted earlier. They've contacted us several times. When do you think you'll be ready to visit them?" "I'll go on Saturday," she answered briefly. "Understood. I'll send them your decision." Georgia arranged the few belongings she had brought before shopping for everything she needed. She also replaced her phone number and cut the final thread connecting her to her former life. Saturday arrived sooner than expected. Jake drove Georgia to the Douglas residence, where she treated Laura Douglas, an elderly member of the family. As they departed, their car passed a black Bentley. Georgia looked through the window at the passing vehicle and briefly saw a man with sharply defined features sitting inside. Cayden? She couldn't imagine what had brought him here. Thirty minutes ago, Cayden had received word that Kendra planned to treat Laura at the Douglas residence. He had rushed over with Ian. Kendra left no trail and avoided appearing before strangers. Since there was no other way to approach her, Cayden decided to wait at the residence himself. By the time he arrived, the Douglas family informed him that the doctor had already gone. The failed meeting darkened his face. He remembered the car that had just pulled away from the property. He spun around, climbed behind the wheel, and pressed hard on the accelerator to chase it. Through the rearview mirror, Jake spotted the black Bentley staying close behind them. "Someone is following us. Is that the husband you're divorcing?" Georgia checked behind them and recognized Cayden's car. Her heartless husband was the one pursuing them. Her face remained calm as she gave Jake a short command. "Lose him." Jake slammed his foot onto the accelerator, and the car surged forward with enough force to press them into their seats as it tore down the road. Cayden had no intention of losing them. His Bentley stayed close behind their car while he pursued them with relentless focus. Both vehicles sped along the road as each driver fought for the lead. Several attempts to pull ahead ended in failure, and frustration began wearing down Jake's patience. "D**n it, I never thought he'd be this good behind the wheel. He clearly won't give up until he forces us to stop!" Georgia's eyes opened at once. "Move over. I'm taking the wheel." After exchanging seats with Jake, she fixed her attention on the road ahead. She pushed the accelerator to its limit and aimed the car toward Devil's Bend 303, the most famous curve in the city. Behind them, Cayden's black Bentley continued gaining ground and steadily reduced the space between the two cars. Georgia brought the car to a sudden stop when they arrived at the base of the mountain. She waited until Cayden almost reached them before hitting the accelerator again. Every turn came with a quick sequence of movements. She braked, worked the clutch, changed gears, guided the car through the curve, and accelerated out of it without breaking her rhythm. Only a few curves later, Cayden's Bentley had fallen far into the distance. Georgia rolled down the window and extended one hand outside. Then she raised her middle finger toward the car chasing them. The rude gesture made her confidence impossible to ignore. Cayden's expression sharpened at the sight. The hand outside the window looked slender and smooth enough to belong to a woman. And something about it seemed strangely familiar to him. When Cayden finally crossed the finish line, the other vehicle had already vanished. Ian held the grab handle with both hands while his heart hammered against his ch**t. Never before had he watched Cayden lose a race to a woman. He expected the defeat to send Cayden into a terrible temper, but an unsettling smile appeared on his face instead. "Now this is interesting," Cayden said. Ian couldn't agree with him. The race had left him feeling as though he had narrowly escaped death. "I don't care what it takes-find that woman and bring me every piece of information you can uncover about her," Cayden demanded. His reason for pursuing Kendra remained unchanged. She was the only doctor who might be able to save Isabel. Chapter 3 She Had Cut Him Off Once they arrived at the villa, Jake showed Georgia the payment notice on his phone. The Douglas family had already transferred three million dollars for the treatment. "I'll send the full amount to your account," he said. Three million dollars wasn't a fortune, but it at least made their trip worthwhile. He continued, "Are you still turning down that 100 million dollars? People with too much money don't come along every day, especially ones willing to spend it so carelessly. You paid 40 million dollars for this villa alone." Over the years, Georgia had devoted herself to becoming Cayden's perfect wife and hadn't accepted any work. Purchasing the villa had drained almost all of her savings. It was time to begin earning money again and enjoy a more comfortable life. "I'll accept the assignment if it won't put me in danger," Georgia said. "Before agreeing to anything for me, investigate every detail and make sure there are no hidden problems." Jake knew what had made her so careful. Three years earlier, Georgia had saved someone's life during a job, but the rescue had damaged the interests of some dangerous people, who had hired assassins to eliminate her. Without her quick instincts and Jake's help, she might not have survived that attack. "Understood. I'll meet with them first and find out what they really want," Jake replied. After leaving Isabel at the hospital, Cayden drove to Celeste Estate, the home he had once shared with Georgia. The darkness surrounding the villa reminded him that she no longer lived there. Cayden remained inside his car and lit a ci**rette. He smoked it to the end in silence before stepping out and entering the house. As he looked around the living room, he somehow thought of how Georgia used to keep the lights on and wait for him to come home. He had taken those quiet, warm moments for granted, but now they were gone. Their absence irritated him more than he wanted to admit. He approached the liquor cabinet, poured himself a drink, and swallowed it all at once. He took out his phone and searched for Georgia's number before calling her. However, the number was no longer in service. Cayden checked the number and confirmed that he hadn't made a mistake. Once he understood what Georgia had done, a short laugh escaped him without any real amusement. He was surprised to realize that she had cut him off even more firmly than he had expected. Throughout their three years together, she had remained quiet, gentle, and easy to control. Even when he asked for a divorce, the pain on her face had made it obvious that she wasn't ready to let him go. Only a few days had passed, yet she had already canceled the number he knew. Cayden called Ian and gave him a firm order. "Find Georgia." ... The next day, Ian approached Cayden. "Mr. Marshall, I couldn't locate Ms. Campbell." Back then, Georgia had entered Cayden's life without warning. He discovered that she was an orphan, and since he needed a wife who could satisfy his family, he chose her. She had no powerful background or personal influence, which meant she couldn't threaten his position. Those qualities had made her the safest choice. Cayden never imagined that the woman who accepted nothing from him would disappear so thoroughly after leaving. No one could tell him where she had gone. "Continue searching!" He refused to believe that Georgia could vanish without leaving a single clue. Just then, Cayden received a call from the hospital. "Mr. Marshall, the toxin has caused Ms. Brooks to suffer another episode. She's only partly conscious and keeps asking for you. She refuses to settle down until she sees you, so we had no choice but to call." "Tell her I'm coming now." Cayden ended the call, rose from his seat, and hurried out. Three years ago, Cayden's enemy had tricked and dr**ged him. While the d**g threatened his life, he had become in**mate with a woman he believed was Isabel. Since that night had been her first time, guilt and sympathy led him to accept responsibility for her. Even so, something had always felt wrong whenever Cayden spent time with Isabel. Instead, he had found himself more relaxed and at ease whenever he was with Georgia. Thoughts of Georgia's sudden disappearance tightened Cayden's expression. Shortly after Cayden entered the hospital, Georgia arrived wearing a baseball cap and a mask. She rode the elevator upstairs and made a call after stepping into the hallway. "I've arrived. Where should I meet you?" The directions led Georgia to the neurosurgery director's office. "Benjamin!" she called out. Benjamin Gordon, her former classmate, recognized the voice immediately. He turned around and pulled her into a tight hug. "You finally came back. Where have you been the last three years? You disappeared without giving me a single word." "I got married," Georgia replied plainly. Shock crossed Benjamin's face. "You got married? Who is your husband?" He could hardly believe that someone had convinced a woman like Georgia to become his wife. Georgia ignored the question and gave him a different answer. "I'm divorcing him." Benjamin went quiet as uncertainty crossed his face. The congratulations he had nearly offered never left his mouth. Georgia showed no concern as she sat down. "What made you reach out to me?" "Our mentor has a longtime friend who requires surgery. The family came to me because they wanted my help, but the patient is elderly and the condition is difficult. I don't trust myself to handle the operation alone, so I hoped you would assist me." Benjamin had contacted her without expecting much. Georgia had vanished for three years without a single message, so reaching her the previous night had come as a complete surprise. One of Georgia's eyebrows rose. "I haven't entered an operating room in years. What if my skills have become rusty and I end up damaging your reputation?" Benjamin refused to entertain the idea. "If a surgeon as skilled as you could fail, then I have no right to attempt the operation by myself." "Alright. Show me the patient's scans first." After reviewing the scans, Georgia rose from her chair. "Choose a time for the surgery and send me the details." Another thought came to her and she added, "Find out which hospital room Isabel Brooks is in." Benjamin asked without thinking, "Who is Isabel? Is she someone you know?" "She's the love of my husband," Georgia said casually. "Our marriage is ending because of her." Benjamin stared at her in shock and couldn't think of anything to say. Georgia soon located Isabel's room and looked through the glass panel in the door. Isabel rested on the bed in striped hospital clothes. Her soft, innocent features were the kind that easily stirred a man's protective instincts. Still, Georgia found nothing especially beautiful about her. In fact, Isabel was not nearly as beautiful as she was. Cayden must've been both blind and st**id to choose a woman like that. His taste was truly terrible. Beyond the glass, Cayden peeled an orange with his own hands and fed Isabel one piece at a time. He spoke to her gently, and a soft smile occasionally appeared on his face. Cayden had always treated Georgia properly throughout their marriage, but an unseen wall had kept them apart. Not once had he shown her the tenderness he now gave Isabel so freely. Georgia refused to watch any longer and ruin her own mood, so she turned away. Some instinct made Cayden raise his head at that exact moment. He then left his chair and hurried into the hallway, where he caught sight of a familiar figure disappearing around the corner. The person looked very much like Georgia. Cayden went after her but crossed paths with Ian, who had arrived to take him to the office. "Mr. Marshall, is something wrong?" Ian asked. Cayden stopped and asked him in a low voice, "Did you pass anyone on your way here?" Chapter 4 It Was Your Husband Ian shook his head. "No, I didn't." "Did you find her?" Cayden asked. Ian knew exactly who Cayden meant. "No," he replied. "I went to the house where Ms. Campbell used to live, but the current owner told me she sold the place three years ago." Guvale was not a particularly large city, but tracking down someone who was determined to hide was no different from searching for a needle in a haystack. "Useless!" Cayden barked. "Take me back to the office." As soon as he got into the car, he called Isabel and told her he had to leave because an urgent matter had come up at the company. Isabel answered softly in an understanding tone. After the call ended, she stared at the phone in her hand, her brows knitting together. She couldn't stop wondering who Cayden had seen that made him chase after them so desperately. A knock came at the door. A woman stepped inside and asked, "Has Mr. Marshall left?" "Yes," Isabel replied. "Why are you here? Didn't I tell you not to come?" The woman was Paula Brooks, Isabel's mother. "Isabel, I was just worried about you." "I'm doing fine. Now that Cayden is divorcing that woman, there's a good chance I'll marry him soon. If he ever finds out my mother is a..." She stopped herself before the word "mi**ress" could leave her lips. Pain flashed across Paula's face, but she forced a smile anyway. "I know I'm an embarrassment to you." Her mere presence made Isabel irritated. "Enough. Just leave. If I need you, I'll come to you." When Isabel first met Cayden overseas, he had mistaken her for someone else. The moment she saw his striking appearance and the expensive clothes he wore, she knew he had to come from wealth or influence. So she pretended to be the woman he had spent the night with. Since then, she had lived in luxury and basked in Cayden's gentle care. Just when she believed she was about to become his wife, he suddenly returned home and married another woman. However, she never caused a scene. She stayed by his side and was always thoughtful and understanding. She had wanted to sl**p with him and become his woman. But three years ago, she was suddenly poisoned. Every episode left her in unbearable pain, and whenever she tried to be in**mate with him, the poison would flare up and make the agony even worse. Seeing the gloomy look on Isabel's face, Paula took out a bank card and placed it in her hand. "If you ever need anything, just call me." ... The surgery was scheduled for three days later. After receiving the three million dollars, Georgia flew overseas for a short vacation. She enjoyed every moment of the trip. As she came back and walked out of the airport, she sent a message to Jake. "I'm outside. Where's your car?" She wore a black camisole with denim shorts that showed off her slim, graceful figure. A pair of brand-new designer sunglasses rested on her face, and her long hair had been styled into soft, loose curls. She looked effortlessly stylish and al**ring, attracting plenty of attention wherever she walked. Completely unaware of the admiring glances around her, Georgia kept her head lowered as she replied to messages on her phone. Jake pulled up in front of her and whistled. "Hey there, beautiful. Need a ride?" "Cut the slick talk!" Georgia pulled open the car door and leaned inside. "Mr. Marshall, doesn't that woman look a lot like Ms. Campbell?" Standing a short distance behind Cayden, Ian casually glanced toward Georgia. The more he looked at her, the more familiar she seemed. Cayden followed his gaze, and his eyes darkened. "Georgia," he called out. After living with her for three years, he could recognize Georgia even from her back. There was no way he could mistake her. Just as Georgia was about to get into the car, her body stiffened. She turned her head and locked eyes with Cayden. With one finger, she pushed her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose and narrowed her eyes slightly. Without the slightest hesitation, she climbed into the car. A second later, the car blended into the flow of traffic and disappeared from sight. Almost instinctively, Cayden stepped forward to go after her. "Mr. Marshall, the clients are about to come out!" Ian quickly reminded him. Cayden came to a stop. He stood rooted to the spot, his handsome face shadowed by a dark, cold expression. Georgia had seen him and heard him call her name, but she had chosen to ignore him completely. It seemed that after the divorce, she had become far bolder than before. A while later, Jake handed Georgia a bottle of water. "How is it that everywhere you go, you end up running into him? It's like he just won't leave you alone." "How should I know?" Georgia took a sip of water. "I've already spent the entire three million dollars. Did you find out who posted that request on the Dark Web?" "I looked into it. Want to guess who it was?" "Are we really playing guessing games now?" Jake's expression turned complicated. "It was your husband." Noticing her silence, Jake glanced sideways at her. "So, what's your decision? Are you taking the job or not? If you can cure the woman in the hospital, you'll earn 300 million dollars." Georgia could only think that Cayden was both incredibly wealthy and unbelievably foolish. Accepting the job would put 400 million dollars into her pocket—100 million for Kendra's whereabouts and 300 million for treatment. Georgia rolled the car window down and removed her sunglasses, absentmindedly twirling them between her fingers. The breeze brushed across her face and lifted her long hair. With sm**y eye makeup accentuating her features, she looked stunning in a bold and captivating way. Jake had known her for years, yet every time he looked at her, he was still struck by how breathtakingly beautiful she was. He couldn't help scoffing inwardly. It was indeed a waste that Cayden had never realized what he had. "I'll check things out at the hospital tonight before making a decision," Georgia said. After all, if Cayden was practically handing her money, she saw no reason not to accept it. Nonetheless, before agreeing, she wanted to find out exactly what kind of poison Isabel had been afflicted with. She needed to know what could possibly make Cayden willing to spend 400 million dollars to get her to save Isabel. Chapter 5 You Don't Hold Back At All Once night fell, Georgia arrived at the hospital with a baseball cap pulled low and a mask covering her face. She made her way to Benjamin's office. "I've prepared the clothes you wanted." Benjamin didn't question her intentions and simply gave her a set of nurse's outfit. Georgia changed into the outfit and headed for the door, but Benjamin stopped her. "Whatever happens, don't let your love turn into hatred and drive you to do something fo**ish." In response, Georgia rolled her eyes. She knew herself well enough to understand that she would never hold on to the past. After leaving the office, she walked straight toward Isabel's room. Along the way, she grabbed a kidney dish from a cart in the corridor. With her face lowered, she opened the door and quietly entered the room. Her movements were quick and skillful as she injected the prepared substance into Isabel's vein. Isabel flinched before looking up at the unfamiliar eyes above her. "Who are you?" Ever since returning to the country, Isabel had stayed in the hospital. She recognized nearly every nurse who worked there, and she was certain the woman before her wasn't one of them. However, no answer came. Dizziness overwhelmed her before everything went black. Georgia placed two fingers against Isabel's wrist and checked her pulse. Concern soon settled across her face. No one knew this toxin better than her. Years earlier, she had helped an old acquaintance named Damien Warren develop the exact same poison. Its victims would suffer terribly. They would lose the ability to be in**mate, and the toxin would eventually leave them in**rtile. According to Georgia's diagnosis, the poison had already remained inside Isabel's body for three years. Even after receiving a cure, Isabel would have very little chance of co**eiving. Her only hope of becoming a mother would depend on taking medicine for years to restore her health. Georgia hadn't spoken to Damien in three years. She couldn't understand why he would poison Isabel when there had never been any conflict between them. Before she could think further, Cayden's voice came from the hallway. "How has she been today?" At once, Georgia turned toward the window. She climbed through it and disappeared with the quick, graceful movements of a cat. Seconds later, the door opened. Cayden entered and noticed the open window. His eyebrows drew together. "Ian, shut the window," he instructed without turning around. "Cayden..." Isabel slowly regained consciousness. Memories of the strange woman dressed as a nurse and the mysterious injection rushed back to her. All the color quickly faded from her face. "Did I disturb your sl**p? I had some business nearby, so I decided to visit you." Cayden walked closer to the bed. Isabel grabbed his sleeve in panic. "Cayden, someone tried to k**l me! Some woman came in dressed as a nurse and injected me with something. What if she's the same person who poisoned me three years ago? I don't want to die..." She lifted her arm and showed him the fresh needle mark. Cayden's expression instantly hardened. "Ian, bring a doctor here." The doctor examined Isabel and smelled the syringe Georgia had left behind. "Ms. Brooks only received a mild sedative. Such a small dose won't harm her. Whoever administered it used very little." Relief escaped Isabel in a heavy breath. For three years, the toxin inside her had caused more pain than she could endure. Another poison entering her body might finally k**l her. Death wasn't an option when she still had so much life ahead of her. "Cayden, I'm scared I'll die one day and never get to stay by your side again," she murmured in a trembling voice. Her eyes held deep affection and showed how unwilling she was to leave him. Cayden tried to calm her. "I won't allow you to die. Once I locate Kendra Leigh, she'll cure you. I know she will." "Do you really believe that?" Isabel asked. "Is she even a real person?" Cayden had offered her the same reassurance many times throughout the years, but every attempt to locate Kendra had failed. Isabel had started questioning whether the mysterious doctor existed at all. "Kendra cured Laura Douglas of an illness that had troubled her for decades. We went to the Douglas residence, but she slipped away before we could reach her. If she's still anywhere in Guvale, I'll track her down." Cayden gently touched Isabel's shoulder. "You don't need to be afraid." Isabel wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into his ch**t. "I believe you, Cayden," she whispered. Georgia never truly went away. Had Cayden taken a moment to check the window, he would've spotted her holding tightly to the drainpipe. Every word from inside the room had reached her ears. Her lips curled faintly into a mocking smile. Under her breath, she called Cayden a j**k. She hadn't realized he was so skilled at saying comforting words. She carefully climbed down the pipe and landed firmly on both feet. Once they were inside the car, Jake asked, "Well? Are you able to cure her?" "The treatment is possible, but I don't particularly want to accept the case." The poison had remained in Isabel's body for three years, so curing her completely would require six rounds of treatment. That would give Cayden six different opportunities to uncover her identity. Jake remarked, "You'd have to be a f**l to walk away from that much money. Rich id**ts like Cayden are hard to find, and he already took three years of your life. You might as well squeeze a fortune out of him. Wait a minute. Didn't you demand a huge settlement when you signed the divorce agreement?" Cayden possessed tens of billions of dollars. Half of his wealth would've allowed Georgia to live comfortably for the rest of her life. Jake figure he could enjoy an easy life by relying on her wealth. "I hate to ruin your hopes, but I walked away without taking a cent," she responded. She refused to let money stain the feelings she once had for Cayden. Taking his compensation would've gone against the reason she had married him in the first place. Surprise filled Jake's face. "I never thought you'd do something like that." "Send him an answer for me," Georgia said. "Tell his people that I'll accept the case, but my fee is five billion dollars!" "Five billion dollars?" Jake struggled to swallow as newfound respect filled his face... ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &4&

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