His Rejected Omega The Lost Silvercrest Heiress

There was an unspoken law among the high-ranking wolves of the Capital Territory.

When an Alpha's new chosen mate wished to claim her place, the woman she was replacing had to remove the Luna's Moonstone Circlet in front of the assembled pack and fasten it around the new woman's throat with her own hands.

The day Fenris Blackthorn brought Ravenna Foxglove into the den, every pureblood she-wolf in the Capital was waiting for me to tear the Blackthorn Pack Estate apart.

I had stood at Fenris's side for seven years. For that circlet, I had knelt in the Blackthorn ancestral hall for three days and three nights, enduring the judgment of every elder whose eyes burned like coals in the torchlight. I had taken a silver blade meant for his heart, letting it bury itself in my own flesh until the poison seared through my blood like liquid fire.

Everyone was certain I would never surrender my place without a fight.

But when Ravenna walked toward me draped in a Starweave Ceremonial Cloak that was not hers to wear, her eyes wide and soft with manufactured innocence, her hand extended, palm up, in the gesture of a she-wolf requesting tribute from a lesser rank

I did not make a scene. I calmly unclasped the moonstone circlet from my throat and fastened it around hers.

Fenris stood a few paces away, one hand curled around a crystal goblet of bloodwine, his dark eyes gleaming with arrogance and satisfaction. His Alpha aura pulsed through the room, thick and suffocating, pressing against the shoulders of every wolf present. He wanted them all to witness this. He wanted me to feel it.

"Seraphina Silvercrest Blackthorn. You've finally learned your place."

I lowered my gaze to my bare throat, to the skin still warm where the moonstone had rested, and said nothing.

What Fenris did not know was this:

One moon cycle ago, every memory I had lost came flooding back like a river breaking through a dam.

I was the true-born Omega daughter of the Silvercrest Pack, the most ancient and powerful pureblood lineage in the Moonhaven Territory, missing for seven years.

In three days, my eldest brother's formation of elite pack wolves would cross into the Capital Territory to bring me home.

The Blackthorn Pack Estate blazed with light that evening, enchanted lanterns casting pale silver across the great hall. The vaulted stone chamber was packed with wolves of rank and standing, their scents mingling into a heady fog of cedar, amber, musk, and old blood. Silk and leather and ceremonial furs caught the lantern-glow as the Capital's pureblood society gathered to witness my humiliation.

Ravenna Foxglove raised her hand, turning slowly so the Luna's Moonstone Circlet caught the light at her throat. She tilted her chin and let the gathered she-wolves admire it, her manufactured scent of honeyed violets cloying in the air, too sweet, too deliberate.

Sharp intakes of breath rippled through the crowd. Then came the sidelong glances, some pitying, some mocking, all of them drifting toward the corner where I stood alone. I could feel their gazes on my skin like the prick of claws.

Fenris Blackthorn sat at the head of the long table, his powerful frame draped in black, his dark hair falling across a brow that never softened. His gaze drifted toward me every now and then, watching, measuring, waiting for something. A crack in my composure. A whimper. Some proof that he had broken me thoroughly enough.

My wolf lay curled deep inside my chest, silent and still. A moon cycle ago, when my memories had returned, she had stirred for the first time in years. Now she waited, patient as stone, her silver eyes open in the dark.

Once Ravenna had soaked up enough admiration, she plucked a crystal flute of moonwine from a passing attendant's tray and sauntered toward me. Her hips swayed with practiced ease. Her lips curved.

Her gaze dropped to my neck.

There, resting against my collarbone, hung the Bloodrose Pendant, an extraordinarily rare relic of enchanted crimson crystal set in white gold, pulsing faintly with its own inner light. Three years ago, on my Moon Blessing Day, Fenris had bid eighty thousand gold moons for it at the Moonhaven Relic Auction. It was the only gift he had ever given me that felt like it came from something other than obligation.

Ravenna let out a soft laugh and leaned close to my ear. Her breath was warm, her distress pheromones carefully muted now, replaced by the smug, territorial scent of a she-wolf who believed she had already won.

"Seraphina, since you've already handed over the circlet, don't you think it's a little inappropriate for you to still be wearing the Alpha's mate's heirlooms?"

She reached for the pendant.

I stepped back.

Ravenna used the momentum of my retreat to tilt the crystal flute in her hand.

Pale gold moonwine splashed across the front of my silk gown, soaking through the fabric until it clung cold against my skin. The sharp, sweet scent of it bloomed in the air.

A sharp crack followed as the flute slipped from her fingers and shattered across the stone floor. Shards scattered like teeth.

Ravenna immediately clutched the back of her hand, her lower lip trembling, her eyes flooding red. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks in an instant, and the scent that poured off her shifted, a sudden wave of distress pheromones so potent that several wolves nearby flinched. It was textbook manipulation, the kind of manufactured fragility designed to trigger every protective instinct in an Alpha's blood.

"Seraphina, I just thought the pendant was beautiful and wanted a closer look. If you didn't want to show me, you could have just said so. Why did you have to push me?"

The music stopped.

Every pair of eyes in the great hall turned toward us. I could hear heartbeats quickening, could smell the sharp spike of anticipation threading through the crowd like smoke.

For the past seven years, any she-wolf who had tried to get close to Fenris or provoke me had been driven from the territory without mercy. I had once shoved a Beta actress's face into a ceremonial offering in front of the entire Capital's pureblood society after she had tried to crawl into his den uninvited. My reputation was a blade I had sharpened with my own hands, and every wolf in this room remembered its edge.

Fenris crossed the hall in long, deliberate strides, his boots striking the stone floor with the weight of a predator who did not need to hurry. He pulled Ravenna behind him, one arm curving around her shoulders, shielding her body with his own. His Alpha aura flared, and the pressure in the room shifted, thickened, pressed down against my sternum like a hand pushing me toward the ground.

He looked down at the faint red mark on the back of Ravenna's hand, and his brow furrowed tight. A low sound built in his chest, not quite a growl, but close enough that the wolves nearest to us dropped their gazes.

"Seraphina, what the hell is wrong with you? Ravenna only just returned to the territory. Why are you going after her?"

His voice dripped with undisguised favoritism and reproach. Every word was a display, calculated to show the room whose side he stood on. He did not even look at the moonwine soaking my gown. He did not glance at the shattered crystal at my feet.

I stared at that face. The sharp jaw, the dark eyes, the mouth I had once pressed my lips to when he lay bleeding and half-conscious after a border skirmish, whispering promises I meant with every fiber of my being. The face I had loved down to the marrow of my bones, down to the deepest place where my wolf curled around his memory like it was the only warmth left in the world.

A dull ache spread through my chest. My wolf stirred, just barely, a slow exhale of grief that felt ancient and heavy. Not for what I was losing. For what I had already lost a long time ago.

I drew a slow breath and forced the sting behind my eyes back down. My throat burned, but I kept my expression still. I would not give him this. Not tonight. Not ever again.

I did not explain. I did not lose my temper.

I lifted my hands, reached behind my neck, and unclasped the Bloodrose Pendant. The chain slid away from my skin, and the faint warmth it had carried against my collarbone vanished, leaving nothing but cool air against bare flesh.

Under the stunned gazes of every wolf in the room, I held it out to Ravenna.

"You like it? Then it's yours. I lost my footing just now. I'm sorry."

Fenris went rigid.

A flash of disbelief crossed his eyes, and his brow furrowed deeper than before. The faint pressure of his Alpha aura faltered, just for a heartbeat, like a flame guttering in an unexpected wind.

Ravenna froze too. She even forgot to keep producing those thin, trembling distress pheromones.

I pulled a cloth from the side table and wiped the wine from my hands. Then I crouched down.

I picked up the shards of glass from the floor one by one, bare-handed, and dropped them into the waste bin nearby. A sliver bit into my palm. I didn't flinch. My wolf, that quiet presence curled deep inside me, didn't even stir. She had grown used to small pains long ago.

When I was done, I stood and looked at Fenris.

"My clothes are stained. I'm going upstairs to change."

I turned and walked toward the upper floor of the den, my spine perfectly straight.

His gaze stayed fixed on my back the entire way. I could feel it like a physical thing, the weight of an Alpha's attention pressing between my shoulder blades. I did not lower my head. I did not hunch my shoulders. I gave him nothing.

Back in the Alpha Suite, I shut the door.

I leaned against it and closed my eyes.

Seven years of devotion. Seven years of tending his wounds after territorial skirmishes, of managing his household, of warming his den and bearing every indignity with the quiet endurance expected of an unmated Omega. Today, that chapter was finally over.

The communicator on the nightstand pulsed with a soft silver glow.

An encrypted message from Alaric Silvercrest.

"Seraphina, the passage through the border territories has been secured. The Silvercrest Pack's sentinels will arrive in the Capital Territory in three days. Whatever the Blackthorn Pack owes you, I will make them pay back tenfold. A hundredfold."

I stared at the message. My eyes burned with heat, and deep in my chest, my wolf lifted her head for the first time in what felt like years. Not a whimper. Not a growl. Just a slow, trembling awareness, like a creature scenting home on a distant wind.

The bedroom door swung open without warning.

Fenris strode in on those long legs, his sharp gaze locking onto the communicator in my hand. His presence flooded the room, that thick Alpha aura rolling ahead of him like a storm front, heavy with authority and the demand to submit.

He crossed the room in three steps and snatched the device away.

The screen went dark at that exact moment.

He didn't try to unlock it. He tossed it onto the thick fur rug like it was nothing.

Then he reached out and gripped my chin, forcing my face up toward his. His fingers were rough, calloused from years of fighting in shifted form. The grip was not gentle. It was possession. It was control.

"Downstairs just now. Why didn't you put up a fight?" His tone was probing, almost suspicious. His nostrils flared slightly, as though trying to read something in my scent that my face refused to give him.

I met his eyes. My voice was flat, without a single ripple of emotion.

"You've always said my temperament is too sharp. That I should learn to be more yielding. I gave her the Luna's Moonstone Circlet and the Bloodrose Pendant. Isn't that exactly what you wanted?"

Something complicated flickered through his gaze. His wolf was close to the surface; I could see it in the way the grey of his irises darkened, the way his jaw worked as though clenching back words that belonged to the animal rather than the man.

He released my chin, wrapped both arms around my waist, and pulled me against his chest.

His scent washed over me. Charred oak and iron and the cold bite of winter pine. That was Fenris. But threaded through it now, clinging to the collar of his shirt and the hollow of his throat, was something else. Jasmine and synthetic sweetness. Ravenna's scent. The two tangled together, and my stomach turned. My wolf recoiled, pressing herself flat against the floor of my mind, ears pinned back in revulsion.

Fenris lowered his head, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

"Seraphina, I know today was hard on you. Ravenna's older sister was crippled shielding me from a silver blade during a border raid years ago. I owe a blood debt to her family. Taking care of Ravenna is the least I can do."

"As long as you conduct yourself properly and stay in your place, there will always be a place for you in the Blackthorn Pack. You'll still be the she-wolf who's been by my side the longest."

He was making me a promise. Delivered from on high, like scraps of meat tossed to a stray wolf begging at the edge of a feast. His Alpha aura pressed down, warm and suffocating, as though the weight of it alone should make me grateful.

He actually expected me to be grateful.

A frantic knock came from outside the door.

Ravenna's delicate voice drifted through the wood, laced with a fresh wave of distress pheromones so potent they seeped under the doorframe like smoke.

"Fenris, my chest hurts all of a sudden. Can you come be with me?"

His arms dropped from my waist instantly.

Not a second of hesitation. He turned to leave. His wolf didn't even look back. Neither did he.

At the doorway, he paused and glanced over his shoulder.

"There's an Alliance Gala at the Blood Moon Reunion Ceremony tomorrow night. I'm bringing Ravenna. She's only recently returned to the territory and doesn't have proper formal attire." His eyes swept over me, utterly matter-of-fact, as though he were discussing the redistribution of hunting grounds rather than the dismantling of everything I held sacred. "That Starweave Ceremonial Cloak in your wardrobe. Have the den attendant bring it to Ravenna tomorrow so it can be altered to fit her."

I stared at him in disbelief.

That Starweave Cloak. Five years ago, when he had first declared me his companion before the pack, he had commissioned a master weaver from the old territories to create it for me. Every thread had been measured against my body, every stitch infused with moonlight during a waning crescent. Nine hundred and ninety-nine silver threads woven along the hem, each one hand-blessed under open sky.

I had treated that cloak like a sacred thing. I wouldn't even let the den attendants touch it.

Once, a new attendant had snuck it from the wardrobe to try it on. The moment I found out, I had her dismissed from the den and sent beyond the Blackthorn territory entirely.

Fenris had praised me for it at the time. He had said what was mine was mine, and no wolf in his pack had the right to lay a claw on it.

Now he had asked me, straight to my face, to give that cloak to Ravenna.

My fingers curled inward, nails sharpening against my palms with a pressure that bordered on breaking skin. Somewhere deep in my chest, my wolf let out a low, wounded keen, then went silent, retreating into a hollow place I couldn't reach.

I looked at Fenris's expression, so utterly matter-of-fact, as though he were asking me to pass the salt, and slowly nodded.

"Fine. I'll have someone deliver it tomorrow."

Fenris held my gaze for a long moment. His dark eyes searched mine, perhaps looking for the crack, the flinch, the plea he expected. He found nothing. Then he pushed the door open and walked out.

From the hallway came the soft murmur of his voice, gentle and soothing, a low rumble meant to calm a distressed she-wolf. Comforting Ravenna. Then the click of the neighboring room's door shutting behind them.

I turned and walked to the desk. Pulled open the drawer. Took out a small leather-bound calendar marked with lunar phases.

I picked up a red marker and drew a heavy X over today's date.

Two more days until Alaric came for me.

I peeled off the wine-stained gown and stepped into the bathing chamber.

Warm water streamed over my body, washing away the lingering scent of juniper and iron that clung to everything in this den, his scent, threaded into every surface, every fabric, every corner of the life I had built around him.

I stared at the pale face in the mirror. My eyes were flat. No gold flickered in them. My wolf had gone so quiet she might have been sleeping, or dying.

Fenris Blackthorn, seven years ago you pulled me from that rogue wolf attack and gave me a second life.

For seven years, I took silver blades for you. I handled the things you couldn't let see the light of day, the blood feuds, the secret negotiations, the bodies that needed to disappear before dawn. I managed the Blackthorn Pack household so you never had to worry about anything beyond your next conquest.

We stopped owing each other a long time ago.

The next morning.

I followed Fenris's instructions and had the attendant deliver the Starweave Ceremonial Cloak to Ravenna's room.

Ravenna made a point of having her door left wide open.

As I passed through the hallway, the scent hit me first: synthetic sweetness layered over something sharp and chemical, nothing like the warm amber and wild orchid that the cloak had once carried when it had been mine. I saw her standing in front of the mirror, twirling in the cloak that clearly didn't fit her. The enchanted fabric bunched at the shoulders and pulled across the back where it was never meant to stretch, the moonthread weave losing its shimmer against skin that didn't match its maker's intent.

She picked up a pair of shears and, without a second's hesitation, cut away the most intricate panel of crystal-beaded starweave from the hem. The severed threads flickered once, a faint pulse of dying light, and went dark.

"This design is so dated. It'll look better shorter." Ravenna pouted at the attendant standing beside her.

The attendant stole a cautious glance toward me in the doorway, her nostrils flaring as she caught the scent of my barely contained stillness. She said nothing.

I didn't stop. I walked straight to the kitchen.

Fenris had drunk heavily the night before. He had a serious stomach condition, his wolf-spirit rejection sickness flaring whenever he pushed his body too hard, and after every night of heavy drinking, he needed a bowl of specially prepared herbal healing broth infused with moonpetal and boneset root.

For seven years, I had been the one to brew it for him by hand. Standing over the fire, grinding the herbs, timing the simmer by instinct until the mixture turned the exact shade of pale gold that meant it was ready.

I stood at the stove, watching the liquid roll and simmer inside the clay pot. Steam curled upward, carrying the sharp-sweet scent of moonpetal. My wolf stirred faintly at the familiar ritual, then settled again. Even she knew.

This was the last time I would ever make this for him.

I ladled the broth into a thermal flask, set it on a tray, and carried it toward Fenris's study.

The study door was slightly ajar. Inside, I could hear Fenris talking with his Beta and childhood packmate, Caspian Ironmane.

I was about to raise my hand and knock when Caspian's voice carried through the gap, clear as day.

"Fenris, don't you think you went too far this time? You took back the Luna's Moonstone Circlet, gave away the Bloodrose Pendant, and now you've handed the Starweave Cloak to Ravenna." A pause, heavy with the weight of a Beta who knew he was treading close to the line. "Seraphina followed you for seven years. She took a silver blade to the chest for you. She would have laid down her life without hesitation. Are you really trying to push her out of the den?"

My hand froze in the air. I stood perfectly still. My wolf lifted her head, ears pricked forward, every sense sharpened to a razor's edge.

Fenris's voice came next, cold and detached. The voice of an Alpha who had never once questioned whether the world would bend to his will.

"Where would she go? She's an orphan who can't even remember her own past. Her wolf is barely functional. Besides the Blackthorn Pack, she has no one. No bloodline. No territory. Nothing."

A beat of silence. Then he continued, and each word landed like a stone dropped into still water.

"I've spoiled her too much these seven years. Her temper's gotten out of control. Ravenna just returned to the den. Seraphina needs to learn her place in the hierarchy."

"I'm going to strip that pride right off her bones. Make her understand who the true Alpha of this pack is. Once she accepts her rank and falls in line, I'll keep a room for her here. She'll be fed and sheltered. She should be grateful."

Caspian sighed. I could picture him running a hand through his hair, jaw tight, the way he always looked when Fenris said something that made his own wolf bristle with unease.

"You keep humiliating her like this, aren't you afraid she'll actually give up on you?"

Fenris let out a laugh, quiet and dripping with contempt. His Alpha aura pulsed faintly through the crack in the door, a wave of dominance so casual it was almost lazy, the confidence of a predator who had never been challenged.

"Give up? The greatest skill Sera Blackthorn has ever possessed is clinging to me like a vine. She can't survive without me."

The tray tilted slightly in my hands.

A few drops of scalding broth splashed over the rim and landed on the back of my hand. The skin swelled red instantly, the burn bright and angry against pale flesh.

I didn't feel a thing.

My wolf didn't flinch. She lay curled in the deepest part of me, utterly still, her amber eyes open and watching. Not wounded. Not raging. Just quiet, with the terrible calm of a creature that had finally stopped hoping.

I looked at that carved wooden door, still slightly ajar, the faint scent of juniper and iron drifting through the gap. The scent that had once meant safety. That had once meant home.

I set the tray down on the console table outside, turned, and walked away without a sound.

I picked up the insulated thermos and carried it to the far end of the corridor.

A rare moonpetal orchid sat on an iron stand there, its silver-white blossoms catching the dim light. The plant was one of the few living things in this den that still felt like mine.

I tilted my wrist and poured every last drop of the healing tonic I had spent three hours brewing into the soil. Three hours of simmering wolfsbane-root and lunar chamomile, carefully balanced to soothe the ulcerous damage in Fenris's stomach lining. All of it soaking into dark earth, feeding a flower that would never know what it had been given.

That was when Ravenna appeared, wearing the Starweave Ceremonial Cloak that had been slashed to ribbons.

She watched me empty the thermos, a smug little smile curling at the corner of her lips. The distress pheromones she usually wore like perfume were absent now. In their place was the sharp, vinegar-bright scent of triumph.

"Seraphina, Fenris just told me the Alpha Suite gets better moonlight exposure. He said it would help with my recovery."

"He wants me to move in tonight. So you might want to start packing your things to make room."

The Alpha Suite in the Blackthorn Pack Estate. I had lived there for five full years.

Every corner of it held traces of the life Fenris and I had shared. The furs I had chosen for the bed. The curtains I had sewn shut against the morning sun because he slept poorly after full moons. The faint impression of my scent, woven so deeply into the walls that no amount of airing would pull it free.

I looked at Ravenna's gloating face and nodded.

"Sure. I'll go pack now."

I walked into the Alpha Suite. I did not take any of the pack heirlooms. I did not take a single enchanted relic Fenris had gifted me over the years.

All I grabbed was a black leather travel satchel. I packed a few basic changes of clothes and my identification documents, the ones that still bore the name Sera Blackthorn. They would be useless soon enough.

My communicator buzzed against my hip.

A message from my eldest brother.

"Seraphina, the process of erasing all pack registry traces tied to the Sera Blackthorn identity has begun. By dawn, that name will not exist in any bloodline ledger across the territories."

I pulled the satchel's buckle tight, gripped the strap, and walked out of the Alpha Suite.

I moved into the most remote guest chamber in the estate.

It was normally used for storing old patrol gear and broken training equipment. The air carried a faint smell of mildew and rust, underlaid with the stale tang of disuse. No wolf had slept here in years. My inner wolf curled tight inside my chest, pressing herself small, refusing to settle. She knew what a wolf without a den looked like. She knew what it meant to be pushed to the margins of a territory.

I set the satchel on the narrow cot in the corner and did not touch anything else in the room.

Twelve hours. That was all that stood between me and leaving.

By evening, heavy snow had begun to fall across the Capital Territory, thick and relentless, blanketing the estate grounds in white silence.

Fenris wrapped up a Pack Council Gathering at the Central Den and returned to the estate carrying the cold in with him. I could feel it before I heard him, the way the entire house seemed to tighten when his Alpha aura swept through the front hall. The air thickened. The temperature seemed to drop another degree.

He strode into the main hall, swept his gaze across the room, and his brow furrowed immediately.

A house attendant delivered the report in a trembling voice, her shoulders hunched, her eyes fixed on the floor.

"Alpha Blackthorn, the Omega moved to the storage chamber in the north wing today."

Fenris's expression darkened instantly. His aura flared, pressing outward like a physical weight. The attendant flinched and took a step back without seeming to realize she had done it.

He cut through the hallway in long strides and kicked the storage room door open.

The heavy wooden door slammed against the stone wall with a deafening crack that echoed through the corridor. The hinges groaned.

I had been sitting on the edge of the cot watching the snow fall through the narrow window. I turned to look at him.

Fenris crossed the room in two steps, his gaze raking over the shabby space, the cracked walls, the damp stain spreading across the ceiling, before landing on the deflated satchel resting at the head of the cot.

"What kind of stunt are you pulling now?" His voice was sharp, accusatory. A low growl threaded beneath the words, not quite surfacing but pressing against the edges of his tone. "Ravenna only said she wanted the Alpha Suite. Who told you to move into a place like this? Are you trying to guilt me into something?"

I stood and met his eyes levelly.

"All the other guest rooms are filled with Miss Foxglove's belongings. This was the only one empty. It doesn't matter to me where I sleep."

My flat, unbothered tone infuriated him. I could see it in the way his jaw tightened, the way his nostrils flared as if searching my scent for the distress he expected to find there. He would find none. My wolf was still. My heartbeat was steady.

He seized my wrist, his grip brutal, fingers closing like a vise around the bone.

My sleeve was wrenched upward, exposing a vicious scar that ran more than five inches along my forearm. The skin was raised and silvery, still faintly luminous in certain light, the telltale mark of a wound made by enchanted silver.

Three years ago, I had thrown myself between him and an assassin sent by an enemy pack. A silver blade had gone straight through my forearm. I had nearly bled out on the healer's table, my wolf howling in agony as the silver poison burned through my veins, and the pack healers had worked through the night to pull me back.

Fenris stared at the scar. There was not a shred of sympathy in his eyes. Only irritation. His wolf did not even stir behind them. Or if it did, he had buried it so deep that nothing showed.

"Do you walk around with this scar on display every day just to remind me I owe you?"

"Ravenna is easily frightened. She saw the scar on your arm today and was so shaken she couldn't even finish her meal."

"Starting tomorrow, you wear long sleeves inside this estate. If you can't manage that, then move out to the gatehouse by the front entrance for a few days. Stay out of Ravenna's sight."

Every word was designed to cut. He was trying to wound me, trying to provoke me into the kind of desperate, heartbroken defense I would have mounted before. He wanted the old Sera. The Sera who would have dropped her gaze, bared her throat, whispered apologies with tears streaking her face, and begged him to let her stay close.

He was waiting for me to break. Waiting for me to crumble, to lower my head in submission and plead for forgiveness.

I looked at his face, twisted with fury, and felt nothing but calm. My wolf lay quiet inside me, watching him through my eyes with an ancient, patient stillness that had not been there a day ago. She recognized what he was. She simply no longer cared.

I did not argue. I did not cry.

I pulled free of his grip, turned, and picked up the black satchel.

"Fine. I'll move to the gatehouse right now."

I lifted the bag, stepped past him, and walked straight for the door.

Fenris completely lost it.

He had not gotten the reaction he wanted. My compliance, in his eyes, had become the most brazen provocation imaginable. His Alpha aura exploded outward, slamming through the room like a shockwave. Any lower-ranked wolf within thirty paces would have been driven to their knees. The pressure hit my back like a wall of heat.

I did not stumble. I did not slow.

He stormed after me, ripped the satchel from my hand, and threw open the front doors of the estate.

Wind and snow howled into the foyer, carrying the scent of frozen pine and the vast emptiness of the territory beyond the walls. The cold hit like a living thing, biting through cloth, sinking into bone.

Fenris hurled my satchel into the snowdrift outside and jabbed a finger toward the darkness beyond the threshold.

"Seraphina, since you love putting on this pathetic little act so much, then get the hell out of this den! Don't ever come back!"

"I'd love to see how long a packless, bloodline-less nobody like you survives in this blizzard without my protection!"

I stood in the doorway wearing nothing but a thin wool tunic. No cloak. No furs. No pack mark on my skin to signal to any passing wolf that I belonged somewhere, that harming me would bring consequences.

The wind cut across my face like a blade forged from ice itself.

I looked at the satchel lying in the snow. Its dark leather was already dusted white.

Without a moment's hesitation, I stepped over the threshold.

One step after another, I walked into the storm. The snow crunched beneath my boots. The cold wrapped around me, seeping through the thin fabric, finding every gap, every seam. My wolf stirred then, not in protest but in something quieter. She pressed warmth through my veins, a low pulse of heat that kept my muscles from seizing, kept my lungs from burning. She had always protected me, even when I had not known she was there.

I never looked back.

Fenris stood inside, watching me go. Then he slammed the doors shut.

The heavy thud echoed through the snowy night, reverberating across the estate grounds like the closing of a tomb.

I trudged into the snow, bent down, and picked up the satchel. I brushed the powder off its surface with steady hands.

My communicator screen lit up against my hip.

It was a voice call from my brother. Alaric Silvercrest.

I pressed it to my ear.

"Seraphina." His voice was low, warm, and edged with the unmistakable authority of a Supreme Alpha. Even through the communicator, I could feel the faintest echo of his aura, not pressing down but reaching out, wrapping around me like a shield. "The Silvercrest convoy has entered the Capital Territory. Half an hour, and I'll be there to take you home."