My husband sold me to another Alpha

Isabelle

The leather chair beneath me creaked faintly as I shifted, but my gaze never left Jason Monstera’s face. Not even as the weight of the moment pressed against my chest like a cinderblock.

He looked perfect. Immaculate, really… his ashblond hair slicked back with precision, the Monstera crest on his silver cuff gleaming under the dim lights of the private office in Monstera Tower. The Alphatobe. The heir. The man I once called husband in a hidden ceremony under the twin moons.

My husband.

And yet I no longer recognized him.

He slid the phone across the glass table. “Watch this,” he said.

I hesitated. The cold glass stung my fingertips. I picked up the phone. Pressed play.

And then I stopped breathing.

My twin sister, Diane, was in the video. Her face battered, her wrists bound. Her screams… goddess above, her screams tore through the screen and into my soul.

A male voice, laughing and cruel, called her by vile names, mocked her tears, used her like she wasn’t even a shewolf, like she wasn’t someone’s daughter, sister, or matetobe. No. She was an object to him. A tool to break.

A shadow of myself. Because we’re twins.

“You bastard,” I whispered, clutching the phone in shaking hands. “How did you get this?”

Jason folded his arms casually, like we were discussing politics. “He sent it to Samantha. She brought it to me. To help clean up the mess.”

My wolf roared within me. Mess? Diane’s trauma was a mess?

“What is this, Jason?” I demanded, voice trembling. “You, of all wolves, know what she went through. That’s Diane. My sister.”

He leaned back. “Yes. So let’s stop the gibberish. You have three minutes, Belle.” His voice was ice. “Give me the legal evidence. All of it. Or…” He gestured to the phone. “This spreads. She’ll be ruined. Or better… maybe I let the press think it’s you in the video. You and Diane are identical, after all.”

The air thinned. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

“You’d do that?” I choked out. “You’d destroy my career in the High Wolf Court? After everything I… after everything we’ve—”

Jason clicked his tongue. “Don’t be dramatic. You knew this path wouldn’t last forever. You’re an omega, Belle. A backgroundless one. The only reason they tolerate you up there is because you’re useful, for now.”

A credit card clinked against the table.

“Ten million,” he offered like it was candy. “Give it to Diane. Let her buy bags, cars, maybe even a moonstone pendant to forget the trauma. It’s more than she deserves, frankly.”

I stared at the card. The silver glint of Monstera Bank. My lips curled.

“And Samantha?” I said, barely holding my snarl. “Where does she fit in this chessboard you’re playing?”

Jason’s gaze softened, but only slightly. “She saved me once,” he said. “She matters.”

“You’re helping her rapist client.”

He didn’t flinch.

“She’s the legal counsel of the monster who did this to my sister.”

He smiled, but it was hollow. “That’s the game, Belle. Sometimes wolves get bitten.”

I recoiled. “You were my mate—”

“We were married, not mated,” he cut in sharply. “There’s a difference. You never smelled like fate.”

My wolf howled in agony.

“You promised,” I whispered. “You once told me you’d defy the Moon Goddess herself before ever turning against me.”

He shrugged. “I guess I changed.”

My hands curled into fists, claws threatening to break skin.

Flashbacks slammed into me like waves.

Jason as my driver during risky evidence hunts. Jason making me tea while I stayed up reviewing files. Jason on his knees, slipping a secret moonstone ring on my finger under the stars, swearing, “I don’t care what my family says. You’re my forever, Belle.”

A lie. All of it.

The first time I ever faced Samantha in the High Wolf Court, I wasn’t surprised to see her standing tall on the defense side. What surprised me was how proud she looked about it.

She was representing a rotting, decrepit Alpha accused of molesting a rogue child no older than seven. The kind of crime that should have silenced an entire courtroom in collective horror. But Samantha? She walked in like it was just another contract dispute, her chin high and her shoulders squared like she was about to save the damn world.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the court,” she began, her voice laced with that same smug selfrighteousness I’d grown used to hearing in pack meetings, “let us remember that even an Alpha is innocent until proven guilty.”

I watched her, still and quiet at the prosecution table. My jaw locked. My wolf stirred uneasily beneath my skin.

Samantha always did love to dress words in righteousness, even when the soul of what she was defending was rotting from the inside out. She lacked real insight—everyone knew that. Her arguments were always emotionally manipulative rather than factual. But she sounded confident. Like her voice alone could bend the truth until it snapped.

“He is a respected elder. He has sons, daughters, grandpups even,” she continued, gesturing with exaggerated grace. “And we are to believe he would risk all that… for what? The word of a wild rogue pup with no pack and no guardians?”

A low growl rumbled in my throat, quiet enough that only my second could hear. She placed a warning hand on my arm.

Outside court, I didn’t approach her. But she found me anyway.

I was standing near the old willow tree by the courthouse steps, phone in hand, pretending to scroll through documents I already knew by heart.

“Isabelle,” Samantha called out, voice syrupysweet. “Must you always look at me like I’m the villain?”

I glanced up, not bothering to hide my disdain. “You defend monsters. What do you expect me to see?”

Her mouth curled into that fauxsad expression she always wore when she was about to twist the narrative. “You think you’re standing on the moral high ground, but you’re not the only one who feels pain, you know. That man—he has a family. He’s old. Fragile. Do you really need to see him rot behind silver bars just to feel like you’ve done something?”

My eyes narrowed. “A little girl was hurt. What about her family? Or do rogues not count in your version of justice?”

She clicked her tongue. “Don’t be so dramatic. She’s a product of two unmated wolves. That child’s existence was a mistake from the start.”

I went still. Too still. My wolf’s rage was a rising tide beneath my skin, pulsing and hot, threatening to break free. I forced my voice to stay level. “The Moon Goddess sees all, Samantha. Even the way you justify cruelty with logic.”

That moment replayed in my mind often. Especially when I thought about the warnings I used to give Jason.

“You don’t know what she’s like behind closed doors,” I told him once. “She’s dangerous. Manipulative.”

Jason had pulled me into his arms then, his warmth a shield against the world. His scent—a mix of pine and amber—used to soothe my wolf instantly.

“This kind of ungrateful thing…” he had growled, voice thick with protectiveness. “Baby, how about I take care of her for you? One order. That’s all I need.”

I’d stopped him. Back then, I truly believed love was enough. That he would always be on my side.

How foolish.

Because months later, Samantha slithered her way into the legal counsel for Monstera Pack’s businesses. I wasn’t chosen, despite my record, despite my loyalty, because I wasn’t “cleanblooded” enough. My background was always the thorn in their perfect image.

And Samantha? She was a safe, palatable choice. The kind they could parade in front of pack councils.

Six months after that, Jason hired her again, this time not just for the pack, but as his personal legal adviser.

I still remember how casual his explanation was.

“We’re short on people,” he shrugged, his eyes already back on his reports. “Besides… don’t you think her personality’s interesting?”

Interesting. That word twisted something deep inside me. A quiet, sharp snap that echoed longer than it should’ve.

Still, I didn’t make a scene. I didn’t question him. I thought, foolishly, that his love for me was untouchable. That no one, not even someone like Samantha, could get between us.

But love, it turns out, is not a fortress. It’s glass. And glass shatters.

Because now, he wasn’t just listening to her. He was acting for her.

“I should’ve known when you hired her,” I muttered, more to myself. “When you gave her my spot on the Monstera pack’s legal counsel. When you said you found her ‘interesting.’”

He didn’t deny it.

“You’re not the man I married.”

He leaned forward. “And you’re not the sweet little omega who knew when to step down.”

Tears burned my eyes. My voice cracked. “If I don’t give you the evidence… will you really do it? Will you really ruin Diane’s name… our name—for her?”

Jason’s lips curled. “You can try and see.”

I broke. There’s no other word for it. Something inside me shattered like fragile glass. The part of me that loved him. That trusted him. That once believed in justice.

My hands signed the agreement. My name scratched onto the paper like a death sentence.

I didn’t look at him again.

I walked out of Monstera Tower with numb feet, barely noticing the golden crest above the doors. It felt like the end of a war, but I had lost more than the battle.

And soon, I find out I lost something greater.

The moment my phone rang, my heart stopped.

“Belle, come to the hospital quickly! Your sister attempted suicide!”

I don’t remember how I got there. Maybe I ran. Maybe I shifted. Maybe the world spun so fast I broke time itself.

But I was there, inside the cold, indifferent emergency wing of Monstera Pack Hospital. My mother was on the floor. Knees bruised. Hair a mess. Forehead bleeding as she kowtowed before the unmoved doctors.

“Please! Please save her! Please!”

Diane lay limp in her arms. Her wrist still bleeding. Eyes closed. Lips pale.

“Her body’s still warm!” a junior healer cried. “We can save her!”

But none moved.

“Why aren’t you helping?!” I screamed, grabbing a doctor by his collar.

He didn’t blink. “Alpha Jason ordered us to stay put.”

“Why?”

He glanced down the hall. “Samantha’s dog is in critical condition.”

I nearly vomited. “You’re letting my sister die for a dog?!”

“If it dies,” he said coldly, “Miss Samantha will be upset. If she’s upset… we’re all in trouble.”

I ran after them. Screamed. Begged. Clawed the walls. No one turned.

When I returned… She was cold.

My mother’s wails echoed louder than thunder. Diane’s blood still dripped from her gown onto the sterile floor.

“No… no, no, no—” I dropped beside her. Took Diane’s hand. “I’m sorry… Diane, I’m sorry—”

I slapped myself. Again. And again.

“I killed her… I let him—I—”

“Stop.” My mother’s voice cut through. Her hands gripped mine.

She was steady now. Eyes sharp. Bloodied but upright.

“We take her,” she said. “We leave this cursed pack.”

I looked up, dazed.

“In five days, Isabelle. We emigrate. We take Diane’s ashes and never look back.”

Isabelle

I was still holding my sister’s bloodstained shawl when my phone buzzed.

The screen lit up with his name, Jason Monstera. The man I had once married under the silver light of the moon. The man whose scent used to calm my wolf. Now, that very scent made my stomach turn.

I hesitated, thumb hovering over the message. My wolf growled low in my chest. She didn’t trust him anymore. Neither did I.

Jason:

[Within an hour, give Samantha her purse. She forgot about it. She’s at the royal auction. I already sent the address.]

No please. No courtesy. Just a command. As if I was a pack omega assigned to run errands. Not his wife. Not a lawyer of the High Wolf Court. Not someone who had just lost her only sister.

I stared at the message, tears blurring the screen. A bitter laugh escaped my throat, ragged and raw.

He didn’t even know what happened to Diane.

I typed back with trembling fingers.

[ have no time.]

A moment later, another message arrived.

A video.

My heart stopped. Not again.

The same vile footage. Diane’s screams. Her terror. Her helplessness. The laughter of the monster who hurt her.

I dropped the phone, bile rising in my throat.

My mother, curled on the floor nearby, reached for it. When her eyes met the screen, she gasped, then wailed.

“My daughter is already dead, and he still won’t stop!” she cried. “Ask him if he won’t be satisfied until he grinds my child’s bones to dust!”

I crawled to her, clutching her shoulders, trying to ground us both. “Mama… I’m sorry. I’ll fix this. I swear on the Moon Goddess, I’ll…”

But even my voice cracked. Because I didn’t know how to fix this.

All I knew was this: I had five days. Five days before we vanished. If Jason suspected anything, our plan would crumble. I couldn’t let that happen. Not for Mama. Not for Diane.

So I swallowed my rage. I picked up the purse.

And I ran.

The address Jason gave was vague at best, cryptic at worst. I rushed through the city, past stoneclad buildings echoing old pack pride, past nobles with goldthreaded cloaks and Lunadaughters flaunting silk gowns dyed in moon blossom petals.

Finally, I reached the auction hall, a towering estate blessed by the royal wolf family, reserved only for highblooded aristocrats and their consorts.

And that’s when I saw him. The one from the video.

Diane’s rapist.

He leaned against a marble pillar, suit crisp, smirk smeared across his face like dirt on velvet.

I froze midstep. My heart turned to ice.

“You must be Isabelle,” he said, voice slick. “Atty. Samantha told me to wait here. Said you’d bring the purse.”

He straightened his sleeves, tailored navy fabric, embroidered with a silver M.

“Custommade by Sir Jason’s favorite tailor,” he added with a wink. “She said it suits me.”

I clutched the purse tightly, my claws threatening to tear through the leather. My wolf was at the edge of snapping, snarling through my bones.

“Your sister was a real treat,” he drawled. “But you? You both reek of the same desperate scent. You’re cut from the same filthy cloth.”

That did it.

My vision blurred with fury. I hurled the purse at his face with all the strength I had.

“You dare say her name?! You dare speak about my sister?! I’ll kill you!” I lunged at him, claws out, fists flying. “She was kind! She was gentle! She wasn’t supposed to die!”

He stumbled back as I pushed him. My blows weren’t coordinated, they were wild, filled with pain more than power. But I didn’t care. I wanted him to bleed. I wanted him to feel something.

A commotion stirred inside the auction hall. The heavy doors creaked open.

A voice, clear and cold, cut through the chaos.

“Isabelle,” Samantha said, appearing with Jason beside her. “Who gave you permission to assault my client?”

All eyes turned to us. The courtyard went quiet.

Jason’s arm wrapped possessively around Samantha’s waist. She leaned into it like it was hers to claim. The same arm that once held me.

“Apologize to him,” she commanded.

I was shaking. “He destroyed my sister. And you want me to—?”

“You shouldn’t make baseless claims,” she interrupted smoothly. “There’s been no ruling. What you’re saying is defamation.”

No ruling?

My sister was dead.

Before I could respond, the auction host’s voice rang through the speakers inside. “Next item! An untitled painting donated anonymously.”

The screen displayed an image. My breath caught.

It was Diane’s last painting.

I recognized it instantly. The shades of blue she always used when her heart was heavy, the solitary figure curled under a bleeding moon. It was hers. The one she had hidden away before she died.

I screamed. “No! That’s my sister’s! Give it back! That’s hers! You can’t auction her soul—you can’t!”

Guards rushed in, surrounding me. I tried to fight them off, tears blinding my vision.

Samantha smirked, folding her arms. “That painting was given to me. I donated it. Stop calling me a liar, Isabelle.”

“She never would’ve given it to you!”

Jason spoke, voice laced with venom. “Isabelle. Stop. Or you’ll be arrested.”

I stopped. Because if I didn’t, my mother would lose another daughter.

But then Samantha stepped forward. “You haven’t apologized to my client yet.”

“What?”

Jason’s voice rang out—calm, but final.

“Kneel. Apologize.”

I stared at him. The world tilted sideways. The auction guests stared from behind gilded pillars and champagne glasses.

“You’re serious?” I breathed.

“I said kneel.”

I took a step back. “Don’t you know he is—”

But before I could speak, Jason’s men moved.

They yanked my hair. Slammed my head to the ground. Blood blurred my sight. My hands scraped against stone.

Jason squatted beside me like he was admiring a display, handed me a handkerchief.

“Clean yourself up,” he said softly. “It’s pitiful. You used to be brilliant. Now look at you. Always dragging Samantha down with your dramatics.”

I knocked the handkerchief away. I stood up, wobbling, broken, but still upright.

He walked away without another glance, draping his arm around Samantha’s shoulder.

She smiled at me. “Jason, you’re driving me to your house tonight, right?”

He kissed her slowly. “Of course, baby.”

A final blow. As they left, I fell to my knees again—this time not from violence, but despair.

I walked home. No car. No escort. Just bloodied feet, a shredded soul, and the cold bite of autumn wind.

The Monstera estate loomed in the distanc, once a home, now a mausoleum of my dreams.

When I reached the door, I paused. Then I heard it.

Moans. High, breathy. Familiar.

I stood frozen. For nearly an hour.

The night was cold. But not colder than my heart.

I entered. Clothes strewn over the carpet I handpicked. Condoms on the bookshelf I’d built for law journals. The scent of sweat and sex clung to the air like rot.

I didn’t cry. I couldn’t. I walked past it all, heading for the stairs.

But she stopped me. Samantha. Wearing my towel. The blue one I bought in the Wolf Market.

She tilted her head. Smiled innocently. “Just so you know, Isabelle… I’m not a third party,” she said, voice honeyed with malice.

Isabelle

The cold scent of steel and betrayal hung in the air before Samantha even opened her mouth.

I should’ve known something was wrong the moment I caught her inside Jason’s private den, his most guarded space, the one even I, as his wife, had never been allowed to enter. Her fingers danced across the lock like she owned the place. Like she had the right.

Click. The safe creaked open.

And I watched in stunned silence as she pulled out a thin folder. She turned, eyes glittering with victory, and without hesitation, slapped the folder hard against my chest.

The weight of it hit harder than her hand ever could.

“A divorce agreement,” she said, lips curled in mock sympathy. “Signed and sealed. You’re not his wife anymore, Isabelle. You’ve been out of the picture for a long, long time.”

My fingers shook as I flipped the pages open. Every word felt like poison etched in ink. My name. My signature. All valid, all legal. I didn’t remember signing this… yet I had. Perhaps buried beneath layers of trust, perhaps in a document disguised as something else.

“He tricked me,” I whispered, voice barely audible over the blood pounding in my ears.

She smiled, baring her teeth like a wolf ready to feast. “We’re both lawyers, Belle. You of all people should know a signature’s a signature. Doesn’t matter if you were too stupid to read the fine print.”

I stood frozen, heart pounding in my chest like a drum of war. I still believed that he loved me in the three year of our marriage. Maybe I was the fool. Maybe I was clinging to nothing but memory.

Samantha leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Stop pretending like you still feel the bond. He didn’t even mate you when he took you as his wife, Isabelle. But look, he he touched me, he claimed me.”

My wolf growled low inside me, a sound only I could hear, wounded, but not dead.

“I’m just tying up loose ends,” she said sweetly, tucking the folder back into her arms like it was a gift. “Consider this my generous goodbye. I’ll even give you until tomorrow to get out.”

I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I looked her dead in the eye and said with a voice cold as winter, “Alright then. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.”

My teeth clenched so tight I felt the pressure cut into my gums, but I didn’t flinch. I turned and walked away, each step slicing me open from the inside.

That night, I didn’t sleep.

I packed. Not with grief or desperation, but with something deeper. Numbness. The hollow space left when everything you built collapses around you and you’re still standing.

I moved through the rooms like a ghost, quietly folding the expensive dresses he gave me, the jewelry he draped over me like chains. All of it went into boxes. Not for storage, not for selling.

Destruction.

When Jason and Samantha left the estate the next morning, probably to celebrate the end of my existence, I made the call to a courier. When he arrived, I handed him the boxes and the destination address.

His brows furrowed. “Ma’am, this… this is a waste incineration plant.”

“I know,” I said. “And I’m tipping you to make sure those things burn.”

He nodded slowly, still stunned. “Yes, Miss—I mean… Attorney.”

I watched those boxes go, and with them, I shed one layer of my past. The gold and silk meant nothing now. Jason meant nothing now.

My phone buzzed.

I almost didn’t answer. But when I saw my mother’s name, I picked up.

Her voice was shaking, halfsobs, halfhysterical panic. “Isabelle… someone’s trying to take your sister’s shrine. They’re tearing it down, baby… her resting place—”

I dropped the phone.

I didn’t even put on shoes. Just shifted—halfshifted, claws protruding from my fingers, my eyes already glowing amber—and ran.

By the time I got there, I saw my mother on the ground, clutching my sister’s urn with desperate hands. Blood stained her palms where someone had yanked her away. I rushed to her, helping her up, heart pounding, fury rising.

“Who did this?!” I snarled, eyes blazing.

She pointed a shaking finger. “She said her precious little dog died and stole the shrine for herself—Isabelle, she pushed me. She tried to throw away your sister’s ashes!”

I turned, and I saw her.

Samantha.

Standing by the halfopen shrine doors, smirking, her eyes swollen with crocodile tears.

She turned to me with feigned surprise. “Oh, Isabelle. Here to perform for sympathy again?”

The gall. The audacity.

“I’m here to bury my dog,” she sniffed, waving to a satinwrapped box. “Surely that’s not too much to ask. Or are you so heartless you’d deny even a dog a proper burial?”

I stepped forward slowly, voice like thunder wrapped in silk. “You knew this shrine was already claimed. It was for my sister!”

She shrugged. “It’s not like your sister’s really in there, is she? After all… I knew you’re just hiding her because of the video.”

The dig hit like a blade in my gut. She was talking about the last footage ever taken of my twin—before her death.

I didn’t take the bait. I turned instead to the cemetery manager, who had arrived upon hearing the shouting.

“Sir,” I said, “This shrine was purchased and reserved for my sister. My family has the receipt. My mother handcarved the nameplate herself. We have every right to defend this place.”

The manager nodded solemnly. “Ma’am, I remember. We don’t reassign shrines, not without formal cancellation and clearance. I’ll help Miss Samantha find another space.”

That should’ve been the end of it.

But Samantha screamed.

“You’re siding with her? She’s lying! You’re all being fooled, she’s manipulating you with this sob story. Her sister is not dead! And now she’s stealing from me—my dog deserves this!”

I ignored her. Walked straight to the shrine. Kneeling gently, I placed my sister’s urn back into place, fingers trembling.

“Heartless?” I whispered, loud enough for Samantha to hear. “That word suits you far better than it does me.”

She dropped to her knees behind me, fake wailing. It was almost laughable, until the scent hit me.

Jason.

He arrived like a thunderstorm, his aura oppressive, cold, dominant. His alpha presence alone sent the nearby wolves backing away in silence.

His eyes met mine with disdain. “Take that thing out of the shrine,” he ordered, voice like ice.

Then he lifted Samantha into his arms like a prized possession, cradling her as she sobbed against him.

I stepped forward, blocking the shrine entrance. My wolf was howling now. Loud. Furious. But I held her back.

“Do you even know whose ashes these are?” I asked.

Jason’s expression didn’t change. “So what if I do? What does it matter? You’re the one who keeps causing trouble. You brought this on yourself.”

He gave a signal. One of the guards grabbed the urn.

“No—!” I shouted, reaching for it—

Too late. The urn shattered on the ground. The ashes spilled into the dirt.

Another guard, unprovoked, stomped on them.

My mother screamed. Fell to her knees. Tried to scoop up the ashes with trembling fingers. Her grief was raw, animalistic.

I was frozen. My hands trembled, blood seeping from where my claws dug into my own palms.

“You don’t understand,” I whispered, barely holding it together. “This is my sister’s… this is—”

Jason cut me off.

“I knew you’d try something pathetic like this,” he sneered. “Keep lying and I’ll turn your lie into truth.”

Then he walked away. Holding her. Everyone followed.

Only the silence remained. And the ashes. And us.

I dropped to the ground beside my mother, dirt mixing with tears. My hands pawed through what was left of my sister… ash, bone fragments, soil.

There was no strength left in me.

No pride. Just the hollow ache of a shattered bond, and the Moon Goddess’s cruel silence.

If she was watching, I begged her now—avenge this.

Because I would never forget.

Isabelle

The air in our small home was stifling, not with heat, but with grief.

Mama sat curled into herself by the window, her eyes unfocused, her trembling fingers tracing the shape of the cracked windowpane as though it could give her answers the Moon Goddess refused to. Her silverstreaked hair framed her pale face like a crown of ashes. Since the graveyard incident, since they desecrated my sister’s memory, she hadn’t been the same. Her wolf was withdrawn, hiding deep inside her, too broken to surface.

I knelt beside her and gently took her frail hand into mine.

“We’re leaving in two days,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Just two more nights, Mama. Then we’re gone. No more of Jason. No more of this cursed pack. I promise you.”

She blinked, slow and unsure, as if trying to recognize me. Then a tear slid down her cheek. She didn’t speak, she rarely did anymore, but her fingers tightened slightly around mine.

I already had our bags packed, hidden beneath the floorboards of my old bedroom. I didn’t dare tell anyone, not even old Midra, who sold us herbs and sometimes helped cover my tracks. The Monstera Pack wasn’t safe anymore. Not when Jason was about to rise to power, not since he took everything from me.

I rested my head against Mama’s leg and closed my eyes. For once, there was a fragile peace between us, like the eye of a hurricane.

Until the door exploded.

A loud bang rattled the hinges, followed by another, then another.

My wolf rose to attention, bristling. I stood up, positioning myself in front of my mother. “Who is it?” I barked, though I already knew.

The door was kicked open, and three of Jason’s wolves stormed in, dressed in matching black shirts with the Monstera Pack emblem over their hearts. Their eyes glowed faintly, indicating their wolves were near the surface. All three were tall, built like stone, and smelled of iron and blood.

One of them, a sneering brute named Calric, stepped forward. “Alpha Jason sends his regards.”

He tossed a sleek, bloodred envelope onto the table, the gold wax seal already cracked.

“You’re invited to Miss Samantha’s birthday banquet. Tonight.”

I didn’t move. “I’m not going.”

Calric smirked. “That’s unfortunate. Because if you don’t attend…” He turned, grabbed my mother by the arm, and yanked her to her feet.

“Let her go!” I screamed, shifting half into my wolf before I forced myself back. Mama whimpered, struggling in his grip.

“Stop! Please—” I swallowed bile. “I’ll go. I’ll go! Just let go of my mother!”

They released her like she was nothing more than garbage. She collapsed into the chair, wheezing softly.

I clenched my fists so hard my claws pierced my palms. My pride meant nothing. My dignity meant less. All that mattered now was keeping her safe.

The banquet hall was gilded in marble and glass, so opulent it made my stomach turn. Chandeliers sparkled above me, and perfume laced with dominance and power hung in the air. Samantha had transformed the venue into a stage for her glory. Laughter, clinking glasses, and the murmurs of Alphas and their Lunas filled the room.

I was the only one not dressed to impress.

While they sparkled, I stood in plain black. No makeup. No jewelry. Just defiance wrapped in shame.

Samantha stood at the center of the stage, dressed in midnight blue velvet. She looked like she’d stepped out of a magazine—curled hair, red lips, perfect posture. Jason stood beside her, arm lazily wrapped around her waist. His eyes scanned the crowd.

Then landed on me.

There was a flicker there, brief and sharp, like an old memory surfacing. That same look he used to give me when we were alone, before everything turned to ash.

Samantha spotted me and grinned like a wolf baring its teeth. “Attorney Isabelle,” she said sweetly into the mic. “You made it after all.”

I didn’t answer. I stood still, silent, like prey waiting for the arrow.

“I’ve prepared a little surprise just for you tonight.” She giggled, then leaned closer to me as I was ushered toward the stage. “I know how much you like… sentiment.”

I didn’t understand it at all. And my whole being got distracted when I felt something personal shifted in the air.

My breath hitched. A presence. A pull.

Warmth surged through my chest. My wolf stirred violently, snarling and howling at once, disoriented. My knees weakened. My breath shortened.

Mate. My mate is somewhere here…

I didn’t know where he was, who he was—but I felt him. Somewhere in this crowd. A magnetic pull, drawing my soul forward even as my body remained frozen.

The fated mate bond.

It was real. It was raw. It was… Until suddenly it was…

Gone.

Because then, the screen lowered, and with it, my world collapsed.

Moans echoed through the hall. Familiar, horrifying, recorded sounds. I recognized them before the image even appeared.

My sister. My twin.

The same footage they’d used to torment her in private. But now, it was playing for the entire pack to see.

“No…” I gasped, stepping forward.

The guards blocked me.

“Turn it off!” I shouted. “TURN IT OFF!”

Laughter. Whispers.

“Wasn’t she the one who was assaulted?”

“Look at her face. She was enjoying it.”

“Maybe it wasn’t assault after all.”

I couldn’t breathe. My wolf was screeching, clawing inside me.

Samantha sauntered up to me, all smiles. “Aren’t you touched, Isabelle?”

“How fucking dare you!” Rage exploded in my veins. I slapped her, hard.

The sound cracked through the room. Samantha stumbled backward, caught by Jason, who cradled her like she was the one who’d been wronged.

“Are you insane?!” Jason bellowed. “What did you just do?!”

I faced him, shaking with fury. “Are you really this cruel? Do you really have to torment my sister until this very moment? How dare you do this to someone you once loved?! Or did you ever love me… huh?”

“You only see Samantha,” I hissed. “You never even saw me as a person now.”

He stiffened. “You know the agreement, Isabelle.”

That stopped me cold. The agreement.

“If you speak out again…” he continued, loud enough for only me to hear, “the next video will be your mother’s.”

My soul shattered. He’d gone from blackmail to psychological warfare.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry.

I simply said, “I’ll remember tonight for the rest of my life.”

And I walked out.

I never made it far.

Hands grabbed me in the alley behind the venue. A hood was yanked over my head. I screamed, kicked, but they were wolves. Bigger. Trained.

“I’m a lawyer!” I shouted. “You’re violating every code—”

Slap.

The first hit spun my head sideways.

Slap.

Slap.

Over and over. A hundred times.

I lost count.

Blood mixed with spit in my mouth. My face swelled. My vision blurred. I heard one of them speak.

“Sir Jason, 100 slaps. All done.”

A pause.

“Good,” came the voice from the phone. “I already sent the money.”

Then silence. And darkness.

I lay there on the damp ground, hooded, humiliated, and hollow. My wolf whimpered inside me.

But I couldn’t even find the strength to cry.

Isabelle

The day of my departure with my mother, I didn’t expect a visitor at all.

I froze the moment I smelled her. She didn’t belong here.

The heavy scent of gardenias and something acidic, a perfume designed to mask her true scent but not enough for a werewolf nose, lingered in the living room of our small den. I stepped inside slowly, barefoot against the cool wooden floor, my claws itching beneath my skin.

And there she was.

zA woman I had never seen before sat with perfect posture on our couch, legs crossed, her heels digging into the rug like she owned the place. Her dark hair was pulled into a sleek bun, and her lips curled into a fake smile the second our eyes met.

“Who the hell are you?” I growled, stepping closer. My wolf bristled beneath the surface, pacing with unease. “You don’t belong here. Get out of my home.”

Her gaze swept over me like I was a stain. “Tsk. That face…” She clicked her tongue, not even acknowledging my demand. “I see the Monstera Pack was generous in the looks department, but a little too generous with the mouth, perhaps.”

The insult stung sharper than it should have. But I didn’t flinch. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“What do you want?” I snarled, lowering my stance. I didn’t care if she was human, witch, or wolf, I’d rip her throat out if she didn’t leave.

She finally turned to face me fully, crossing her arms like she was about to deliver a verdict. “I’m here on behalf of Alpha Nuel. You’ve been purchased.”

I blinked, heart halting midbeat. “Purchased?”

Her smile widened. “Sold, darling. By your own pack. Your Alpha. Even your lovely friend exhusband, Jason. All of them signed the deal.” Her words twisted like barbed wire around my ribs. “You’re to become Alpha Nuel’s companion. His other woman. Consider it… a trade alliance of sorts.”

I staggered back as if struck. My ears rang. “That can’t be legal. That’s not—”

“Oh, but it is.” She produced a scroll, ancient and marked with multiple seals, Monstera Pack, Alpha Council, even the old bastard Nuel’s. “All in accordance with werewolf trade laws. Especially for… tainted bloodlines.”

And just like that, the name sent bile to my throat.

“Alpha Nuel,” I whispered. “The same monster Samantha tried to defend in court? He assaulted a rogue girl, and she was a child!”

“Yes, yes,” she said with a casual wave of her hand. “But you know how these things go. The rogue was unclaimed. You, however… you’re a Monsteraborn. Useful. Fertile. Attractive. And most importantly… available.”

Rage burst in my chest. I lunged. But she didn’t even blink. I was inches from her throat when I hit an invisible wall, no, not magic. Wolves.

Two guards, both huge and reeking of Alpha Nuel’s pack, had stepped between us. I snarled, fangs bared, but they didn’t move.

And then the front door opened again.

I whipped around. My heart dropped into my stomach.

Jason. And beside him, Samantha. And behind them, looming like the nightmare he was, Alpha Nuel himself.

My wolf growled so loudly in my head it made me dizzy.

“Ah,” Samantha said sweetly, stepping forward. Her tone was syrupy and cruel. “There she is. Our little trade token.” She turned to Jason. “Did you explain to her that her sister was the original bargain?”

My blood ran cold.

“What?”

“Your sister,” she repeated. “She was supposed to be the one sold. But she’s missing. Ran off with some rogue male, didn’t she?” She looked at me, eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure. “So now, it falls on you. Her taint makes her worthless. So congratulations, Isabelle. You’re the new sacrificial lamb.”

My throat went dry.

“I told you, she’s dead,” I whispered.

Jason flinched. Samantha didn’t even blink.

“You keep saying that,” she drawled. “But no body, no proof. For all we know, she’s warming another man’s bed, hiding in some forest with a baby on the way.”

That did it. I screamed and lunged again, but this time, Jason caught me.

He gripped my wrists tight, digging his fingers into my flesh. I searched his eyes for mercy, for the Jason I once loved.

All I saw was cowardice. “This is for the best,” he said flatly.

“You’re pushing me into this,” I hissed. “Don’t regret it.”

He shoved me into Alpha Nuel’s waiting arms. I nearly vomited from the scent, old blood, rot, and too many lives ruined.

“NO!” My mother’s voice ripped through the air, wild and full of pain. She darted forward, but the guards caught her.

I looked at her. Really looked. And I gave her a silent signal.

Trust me. Let me go.

Her lips quivered, but she nodded through her tears.

I dropped my resistance and went limp in Nuel’s grip. My wolf whimpered in protest, but I whispered to her, Not now. Soon.

They dragged me out to the armored car waiting outside. I took in every detail, the two guards in front, one behind. The child lock clicked the moment I was thrown inside. No windows that could open. No scent of wolfsbane. Good.

I sat quietly, head down, but my heart was counting.

One. Two. Three.

The trees blurred past. We were on the southern road, the one leading to Nuel’s estate. I knew these woods. I grew up with them. And I also knew where the turns became sharp.

Five. Six. Seven.

The moon peeked out through the clouds. I let my wolf rise slowly, inch by inch. Just enough to change my eyes, feel my claws beneath my skin.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

The guards were relaxed. Stupid.

Eleven.

We hit the bend.

Twelve.

I shifted midair.

My body exploded into fur and muscle, and with a snarl, I shattered the car door. The impact threw me into the trees like a ragdoll. Pain tore through my shoulder, ribs cracked, but I didn’t stop.

I ran.

The world was a blur of green and blood and wind. My paws hit dirt and stone, thorns slicing my legs, but I didn’t dare look back. Howls erupted behind me, the guards had shifted, too.

Let them come. These woods were mine.

They were just visitors.

I zigzagged through the narrow trails, dove under the thorned hedges only I could fit through, and leapt over the fallen log where I once carved my sister’s name. My chest burned, but adrenaline numbed the pain.

Faster.

I made it to the hollow tree, the old one with the den Dad used to use when we played hide and seek. I shifted back, blood oozing down my arm, and reached behind the roots.

My bag. Exactly where I left it three nights ago, when I first suspected betrayal.

Inside: a burner phone. Battery low but working.

A message was sent.

Meet me. Airport. Terminal 2. We leave tonight.