Five days in chains gave me plenty of time to think. To remember every mistake, every warning sign I missed. The way Jackson started attending more Pack meetings without me. How Alice always seemed to be serving my meals personally. The way her fingers would linger too long when passing the plate, a possessive gleam in her eyes that I foolishly dismissed as mere admiration. The whispered conversations that stopped when I entered the rooms. The way my most loyal supporters gradually began finding excuses to miss council sessions, their absence a void I should’ve recognized as fear. Little things that my attention wandered past until they built to an unforgivable crescendo.

I’ve had five days to catalog my failures, each one carved into my memory like the cold iron is carved into my wrists. But I refuse to let the guilt consume me. Instead, I use it to stay sharp, to stay angry. Anger is better than despair. Despair is the true killer. So instead, I move through the old meditation routines my father taught me.

Today, the silence is deeper than usual, most likely because Jackson ordered everyone to leave. The only time I leave my cell is for those infrequent trips to bathe, which explains the fresh clothes, the braid I definitely didn’t put into my hair, but mimicked sarcastically my practical hairstyle, and the sweet, simple perfume they’ve used. The scent burns my nostrils, a calculated insult—Alice’s favorite perfume, marking me as property to be dressed up and paraded before whatever audience Jackson has planned.

The dungeon door creaks open, and I tense, expecting Jackson or one of his guards. Instead, my sister’s scent reaches me—vanilla and sunshine, now tinged with fear. My heart clenches. She’s the last person I want here.

As the steady tap of her heels grows closer, I realize I’m still kneeling. Standing seems like too much effort. Better to waste what little strength I have left. When she finally appears in front of my cell, I don’t have the energy to rise or meet her eye. I swallow hard, trying to drive the cold fear from my voice.

“You shouldn’t be here, Chloe.” My voice is hoarse from disuse, but I force myself to sound stronger than I feel. For her.

She rushes to the bars, her pale fingers wrapping around the iron. Even in the dim torchlight, I can see she’s lost weight. Dark circles shadow her eyes, making her look older than seventeen. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m alive.” That’s really the most I can ask for.

“They’re saying horrible things about you,” she whispers. “That you tried to sell pack territories to our enemies. That you’ve been embezzling pack funds. Nobody believes it, but they’re too scared to speak up.”

I don’t bother responding. Jackson would need to justify my imprisonment somehow.  Fighting these charges will do more harm than good, especially since Jackson has the Pack Law specialist in his pocket. Besides, with no access to evidence, it’s pointless. My pack’s welfare is all that matters now.

“Are you safe?” I ask instead, focusing on her.

Her bitter laugh sounds wrong coming from her usually gentle face. “Jackson’s been very... solicitous. Insists I stay in the main house where he can ‘protect’ me. His wedding to Alice is tonight.” She spits the last words. She didn’t like her much before, but seeing how easily we were both deceived couldn’t have helped.

“Tonight?” The word tastes like ash. It’s happening so fast.

“He’s not wasting any time consolidating power.” Chloe glances over her shoulder before leaning closer. “But that’s not why I’m here. I had another vision.”

My breath catches. Chloe’s prophet abilities are our family’s most closely guarded secret. Even Jackson doesn’t know. “Tell me.”

“It was... different this time.” She shakes her head. “I saw you with three wolves, powerful ones. They’re like shadows at first, but then they become kings. Their pack lies five days east, beyond the Silver Mountains.” Her voice drops even lower. “I think they can help you reclaim your wolf, Lara. But we have to leave now, during the wedding ceremony when everyone’s distracted.”

Despite her excited tone, I just shake my head.

“We need to leave,” Chloe presses, desperation sharpening her voice. “You’re all we have left. If we stay...”

“There’s no we, Chloe.” I shake my head. “You’re not coming. It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m not leaving you!” Her fierce whisper echoes my own stubborn tone. “Besides, you’ll need me. I saw—”

Keys jingle in the lock, making us both jump. Brooke, one of my former guards, steps into the cell. I brace for a fight, but she quickly raises her hands.

“I remember what you did for my sister,” she says quietly. “How you protected her when others wanted her exiled for having a half-human baby. I can give you ten minutes before I sound the alarm.”

Hope, dangerous and bright, flares in my chest. “Why?”

Brooke’s eyes are like steel as she meets mine. “Because you were a true Alpha. Jackson may have the pack’s submission, but he’ll never have their loyalty like you did.” She jingles the keys again. “You need to get out of here. You need to live, find a way to recover, and come back to stop him once and for all. Will you do that? For all of us?”

For a moment, I allow myself to hope. Then Chloe’s vision flashes through my mind again—three dark shadows. Kings. The Silver Mountains lie beyond the borders where Jackson’s influence has spread.

Brooke passes me a small pack filled with supplies and a set of clothes. “The ceremony starts in five minutes. Most guards will be required to attend. Run east, like your sister said. The river patrol will be lightest.”

I change quickly, my muscles protesting after days of inaction. The clothes smell like home, and for a moment, my throat tightens. Then I push the emotion away. There’s no time for weakness.

We move through the shadows of the dungeon, Brooke leading us through lesser-known passages used mostly by the servants and guards. The sound of ceremonial drums covers our footsteps. When we reach the forest edge, I turn to Brooke.

“Thank you. When I return—”

“Don’t make promises,” she interrupts. “Just... be the Alpha I remember.”

The forest welcomes us like an old friend, but without my wolf, I’m half-blind in the growing darkness. The emptiness where my wolf should be aches like a phantom limb, leaving me stumbling over roots my enhanced senses would’ve easily before. Chloe leads, her smaller frame slipping easily between trees. We make it halfway to the river before the howls begin.

“Oh, gods. They must have found your cell,” Chloe hisses. Her hazel eyes, so like mine, widen as she glances back the way we came. A patrol’s worth of howls swells to a cacophony. “They know you’re missing.”

“Keep moving,” I order, my heart thudding in time with the panicked rhythm of the howls.

I push her ahead of me as answering howls echo through the trees. They’re spreading out, trying to circle us. Even without my wolf, years of training let me read their movements. Our only chance is speed.

“Faster, Chloe!” I snap, grabbing her wrist and pulling her along.

The river comes into view, its waters black in the moonlight. We’re almost there when I hear the whistle of arrows. Without thinking, I shove Chloe forward, feeling twin bursts of fire in my shoulder and side as the arrows find their mark.

Chloe whips around at the sound of my gasp, her scream echoing across the water as I slump against a tree. “Lara!”

“Keep going!” I force myself to stand up again and push her toward the river. “Remember what you saw. Find the kings!”

More arrows fly as we reach the cliff edge. The water churns below, promising either escape or death. Right now, both seem better than returning to that cell. As the arrows get closer, Chloe shakes her head.

“We’ll find another way.” She steps closer, but I back up, shifting my balance to the edge.

“No. You have to keep moving.”

“I can’t,” she whimpers, even as she edges back.

“Jump!” I command, using the last of my strength to ensure Chloe makes it over the edge. The splash of her hitting the water is almost drowned out by the approaching wolves.

An arrow grazes my cheek as I follow her into the void. The fall seems endless, the ice-cold water driving the breath from my lungs. The current pulls me under, the poison from the arrows making my limbs heavy.

Is this the end? A life of betrayals and a lifetime of servitude ends in an icy grave. The irony doesn’t escape me—I who once commanded the strongest pack in three territories, now powerless against simple river currents. Fighting against the rush of the water, I force myself to try to swim up to the surface one last time.

The last thing I feel is strong arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me toward the surface. Then darkness claims me, but not before the image of three pairs of sapphire eyes watching from the shadows appears in my mind.