---- Chapter 2 JOSIE POV: | trudged back to the Alpha's mansion, the rain washing away the mud but not the shame. The massive house loomed in the darkness, more of a prison than a home. Inside, | bypassed the grand staircase and went straight to our-to his-bedroom. | began to pack. There wasn't much to take. A few worn books, a small box of my mother's jewelry, and the clothes I'd arrived with three years ago. | opened the walk-in closet. It was a sea of white and pastel pink. Rows upon rows of designer gowns and dresses Laurence had bought for me, each one a perfect replica of Rosalie's style. In the far corner, crammed into a small space, were my own clothes. A few pairs of black jeans, some dark gray sweaters. The real me. My burner phone buzzed again. It was another message from Chris. "Apartment secured in the neutral city. I've also contacted an Elder there, a recluse. She can help you understand your... abilities. She's expecting you." | looked at the message, a strange mix of guilt and determination churning in my stomach. Chris Harris, the Alpha ---- of the Silver Creek Pack. He was Rosalie's half-brother, a man who saw her for the viper she was. He had offered me protection, a way out. | knew he felt something for me, a pull he couldn't explain. And | was going to use it. Using his feelings for me wasn't just my key to survival; it was a blade | could twist in the backs of both Laurence and Rosalie. The thought sent a cold, satisfying shiver through me. | was in the middle of folding a black sweater when the bedroom door opened. Laurence stood there, smelling of Rosalie's cloying rose perfume and expensive wine. He looked pleased with himself. "There you are," he said, his eyes sweeping over my still-damp form with casual disinterest. "Feeling better?" | quickly hid my suitcase and turned to him, schooling my features into a mask of calm submission. It was a mask | had perfected over three years. "Yes, Alpha," | said, my voice soft. "You were right. | was being foolish. I've thought about it, and | understand my place now. | will be whatever you need to be. Your partner in name only. | won't ask for the marking again." His eyebrows raised in surprise, then his expression settled into one of smug satisfaction. This was what he'd always wanted: a perfectly obedient doll. "Good," he said, nodding. "I'm glad you've come to your senses." ---- But as he looked at me, a flicker of something else crossed his face. A brief, almost imperceptible frown. It was annoyance. A deep, primal part of him-the part that recognized me as his mate-was irritated by my easy surrender. It wanted the fight. It wanted me. He took a step closer, his Alpha presence filling the room. "To secure my legacy, and the stability of the Black Moon Pack, | will need an heir," he stated, as if discussing a business merger. "We will begin trying after the gala." My blood ran cold. He wanted to use my body to produce his heir, all while his heart and soul belonged to another. Before | could respond, Rosalie's ringtone chirped from his phone. He answered it with a smile, turning his back to me as he opened another Mind-Link with her. "Of course, my love. Just dealing with a small pack matter. I'll be there soon." He walked over to his desk, which was piled high with pack treaties and corporate documents from our pack's front business, Andrews Global. He began signing them, his attention completely split between the paperwork and his mental conversation with Rosalie. This was my chance. My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild drumbeat of fear and exhilaration. | moved silently to the desk, picking up a ---- small stack of papers that needed his signature. "Let me help you with these, Alpha," | said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. He grunted in acknowledgement, his focus elsewhere. With trembling fingers, | slipped the single sheet of paper from my pocket and placed it at the bottom of a thick, eighty-page hostile takeover defense strategy that his legal team had sent over for emergency approval. It was a document | knew he'd never read in full, only sign. My document looked just like any other inter-pack agreement, drafted by a lawyer in the neutral territories Chris had found for me. Its title, written in small, formal script, was: The Ritual of Rejection. | focused on the paper, letting a sliver of my suppressed White Wolf energy flow into it-not enough to be magic, just enough to make the page seem mundane, forgettable, another piece of bureaucratic nonsense. | watched as he signed document after document, his pen flying across the pages. He signed trade agreements, land permits, resource allocations... And then he reached the last page. My document. He didn't even read it. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his lips moving slightly as he continued his silent conversation with Rosalie. ---- He scrawled his powerful, arrogant signature at the bottom of the page. Laurence Andrews. With a simple flick of his wrist, he had done it. He had signed away his mate. He had severed his own soul. And he had absolutely no idea.