Chapter 3

Ava POV

The sharp sting of antiseptic clashed with the dusty scent of old paper, filling the small room of my childhood home with the odor of decay.

My father lay in the center of it all, looking less like the Alpha he once was and more like a skeleton draped in parchment. His chest barely rose, a fragile flutter against the stillness.

"Papa," I wept, wrapping my fingers around his cold, unmoving hand.

His eyelids fluttered. When they opened, the irises were milky, blind to the world around him but seeing something far beyond.

*Ava...*

His voice in my head was a whisper of wind, a fading echo.

*The scent... it was magic... dark magic...*

*I know, Papa,* I projected back, choking on the mental words. *I know now.*

*Run... before the pup comes...* His mental voice strained, fraying at the edges. *Once the heir is born... you are... useless...*

The link snapped.

It wasn't a sound; it was a physical severance, like a cord being cut deep within my chest. A long, high-pitched whine echoed in the room-not from a throat, but from the spiritual ether. It was his wolf, saying goodbye.

Then, silence.

He was gone.

The scream built in my throat, a raw, jagged thing, but I didn't have time to release it. The door burst open, shattering the moment.

"Ava!"

It was Chloe, my best friend since we were pups. She was a Beta, usually sturdy and composed, but now she looked frantic. Her face was streaked with tears, but beneath the sorrow, her eyes burned with a terrified fury.

"He's gone," I whispered, the numbness spreading from my chest to my limbs.

Chloe crossed the room in two strides and crushed me against her. "I'm so sorry. I am so, so sorry."

Then, she pulled back, gripping my shoulders hard enough to bruise. "But Ava, you need to see this. You need to see it *now*."

I shook my head, trying to pull away. "Not now, Chloe... please..."

"Yes, now!" Her voice cracked, desperate. "Because he isn't at a meeting! He's lying to you, and if you don't see this, you're going to die!"

She shoved her phone into my hand. The screen was bright, intrusive in the dim room.

It was a video, shaky at first, taken through the window of a high-end restaurant downtown. But the subjects were clear.

Ethan was there. Olivia was there.

They weren't looking at spreadsheets. They weren't discussing pack borders.

Ethan was kissing her hand. He was looking at her with a softness that twisted my stomach into knots-a look of adoration I had craved for years but never received. It was the look of a man in love.

Then, the audio from Chloe's enhanced microphone kicked in, cutting through the ambient noise.

*"Just a few more months, my love,"* Ethan's voice was crisp, terrifyingly casual. *"Once the Omega drops the brat, we can send her to the Rogue territories. She won't survive a week. Then we raise the heir as ours."*

*"Are you sure the DNA will hold?"* Olivia asked, her fingers stroking his cheek possessively.

*"Positive,"* Ethan replied, leaning into her touch. *"The witch's spell ensured the child has my Alpha blood. Ava is just the incubator."*

*Incubator.*

The word didn't just echo in my skull; it ricocheted, shattering everything it touched.

Grief should have paralyzed me. I should have collapsed.

But I didn't.

Instead, a fire ignited at the base of my spine. It wasn't the warm spark of hope; it was hot, white, and furious. It seared through my veins, burning away the sadness, burning away the fear.

My vision blurred. For a second, the grey room vanished. The world sharpened into high-definition silver.

*Growl.*

The sound ripped from my throat, vibrating through my chest. It wasn't human.

"Ava?" Chloe stepped back, her eyes widening in shock. "Your eyes... they're glowing silver."

I stood up. The grief was gone, locked away in a box I would never open again. In its place stood the White Wolf. She had been sleeping, suppressed by their drugs and their lies, but the sheer magnitude of the betrayal had torn her cage apart.

"Take me back," I said.

My voice sounded strange-double-layered, harmonious and terrifying.

"To the Pack house?"

"Yes. I have something to do."

We drove back in silence. The air in the car was heavy, charged with the ozone scent of my gathering power. I didn't bother with stealth when we arrived. I walked straight to Ethan's study.

I ripped open the hidden compartment in his mahogany desk-I had seen him use it once, years ago.

There it was. The journal.

I flipped through it, my movements mechanical. It detailed everything. The "Scent Modulator." The bribes to the Pack doctor. The systematic dismantling of my life.

And then, a page marked with a red tab.

"Wolfsbane Mixture – Termination Protocol."

It was a recipe. A precise mix of Wolfsbane and Mugwort. Toxic to wolves, but in small, controlled doses... it expelled a fetus without killing the mother.

He had kept it as a contingency. In case I got pregnant with a girl. He only wanted a boy. He only wanted the heir.

I stared at the page, the ink blurring slightly.

I touched my stomach. This baby... it wasn't made of love. It was a science experiment. It was a chain forged by dark magic that would bind me to a monster, and eventually, lead to my execution.

If I had this baby, they would kill me.

If I had this baby, they would raise it to be a monster just like Ethan.

My White Wolf roared in my head, a sound of ancient judgment. *Break the chain.*

I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. My hand was steady. Cold as ice.

I wrote the divorce agreement, the pen digging deep into the paper. But ink wasn't enough. Paper couldn't sever a bond this twisted.

I needed the herbs.

I pulled out my phone and called Chloe.

"I need you to get me something," I said. "Don't ask questions."

"Anything, Ava."

"Wolfsbane," I commanded, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. "Dried. And Mugwort."

There was a terrifying silence on the other end. I could hear Chloe's breath hitch.

"Ava... that will kill the baby."

"There is no baby, Chloe," I said, my voice dead, devoid of any motherly warmth. "There is only a trap."

"I'll bring it," she whispered, her voice trembling.

I hung up. I looked out the window at the full moon, hanging heavy and bright in the sky.

Tonight, the Omega dies.