---- Chapter 3 JOSIE POV: The next morning, | walked into the pack's command center -disguised as the CEO's floor of Andrews Global-with a hollow feeling in my chest. The signed rejection form was safely hidden, a ticking time bomb waiting for the right moment to detonate. The sight that greeted me made the hollow feeling burn. Rosalie was there, standing behind Laurence's desk, her hands straightening his tie. She leaned in close, whispering something in his ear that made him chuckle. She looked up as | entered, her eyes, the color of a summer sky, holding a flash of triumphant venom. She was acting as if she were already the Luna. "Josie, darling," she cooed, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Could you be a dear and fetch me my special herbal tea? Laurence always keeps it stocked for me. You know the one." | did know the one. | knew it intimately. "Of course," | said, my voice a perfect, placid monotone. | turned and walked towards the executive lounge, playing the part of the obedient servant. ---- Inside the lounge, | stood before the small, state-of-the-art kitchenette. My mind flashed back to the journal I'd found in Laurence's safe. It wasn't just filled with the details of the bonding ritual. It was a meticulous record of Rosalie's every preference. Her favorite foods, her preferred scent of moonflower in her shampoo, the exact blend of herbs in her tea-chamomile, lavender, and a drop of a rare, imported honey from the mountain blossoms of the Northern Ridge. For three years, Laurence had been training me. He'd made me attend sensory training, honing my sense of smell and taste. He'd pushed me to develop my strength in ways that felt unnatural to my wolf. | thought he was preparing me to be a strong Luna. | was wrong. He was molding me into a perfect copy of Rosalie. My hands were steady as | prepared the tea, my movements precise. | was an actress playing a role | now despised. When | returned to the office, Rosalie was examining her nails, looking bored. As | approached the desk, she stood up abruptly, deliberately bumping into me. "Oh, clumsy me!" she exclaimed. The fine china cup tipped, and the scalding hot tea splashed across the back of my right hand. A searing pain shot up my arm, but it was more than just the heat. A chemical, burning agony followed, and | gasped, stumbling back. My inner wolf let out a piteous cry of pain. ---- Liquid silver. She had secretly added liquid silver to the tea. The skin on my hand sizzled, turning an angry, blistered red. For a werewolf, silver was poison. It burned through our flesh and blocked our healing abilities. It felt like it was trying to burn out something deep inside me, something ancient and pure. "Rosalie, are you alright? Did you get burned?" Laurence was on his feet in an instant, rushing to her side, his hands hovering over her as he checked for any splashback. He didn't even glance at me. | clutched my hand, my face twisted in a silent scream as the silver continued to eat away at my skin. He finally turned his gaze on me, but his eyes held no concern. Only annoyance. "What is wrong with you?" he snarled, and the force of his Alpha's Command hit me like a physical blow, making me stagger. ""Go to the infirmary. Stop making a scene and embarrassing yourself."" Humiliation warred with the excruciating pain. | turned and fled, his words chasing me down the hall. In the pack's private infirmary, | found a jar of moonpetal salve, the only thing that could soothe a silver burn. As | gently applied the cool paste to my blistering skin, my resolve hardened into something cold and unbreakable. The last ---- vestiges of love for Laurence died in that moment, replaced by an icy calm. | took out my phone. | snapped a picture of my burned, disfigured hand. Then, | took a picture of the rejection form, his signature clear and bold at the bottom. | sent both pictures to Chris with a simple message. "The plan is on. Nothing has changed."