Chapter 2 First POV

The thing about dying is that you get really good at pretending you're not.

I pressed my palm against the rough bark of the pine tree, steadying myself as another wave of dizziness rolled through me. The forest around our camp blurred at the edges, my vision swimming like I'd had too much whiskey even though I hadn't touched a drop in weeks. My body couldn't process alcohol anymore. Couldn't process much of anything except the curse slowly eating me from the inside out.

Five years. Five years since Raven Blackwood stood in front of three hundred wolves and ripped our mate bond apart like it meant nothing. Five years of waking up with silver veins creeping further across my skin, of coughing blood into my hands and hiding the evidence before anyone could see. Five years of telling myself I was fine, that I'd survived worse, that I didn't need a mate or a pack or anyone.

I was a terrible liar, even to myself.

"Lyx, you good?" Sage's voice cut through the afternoon quiet, and I straightened quickly, dropping my hand from the tree. My best friend emerged from between the tents we'd set up in this clearing, her auburn hair pulled back in a messy bun, laptop tucked under one arm. She had that look on her face, the one that said she knew exactly what I was doing and wasn't buying my bullshit for a second.

"Perfect," I said, injecting brightness into my voice that I absolutely didn't feel. "Just checking the perimeter. Making sure we're secure."

Sage stopped a few feet away, brown eyes narrowing as she studied me. Twenty-two years old and she could read me better than anyone alive. It was annoying as hell. "You're sweating and it's fifty degrees out. Your hands are shaking. And you've got that look you get right before you pass out and try to convince me it was just low blood sugar."

"I don't have a look."

"You absolutely have a look." She set her laptop on a nearby stump and crossed her arms. "How bad is it today? Scale of one to ten."

I wanted to tell her three, maybe four. Wanted to downplay it like I always did, keep her from worrying, keep the carefully constructed normalcy of our little rogue pack intact. But the truth was sitting at about an eight, maybe higher, and the concerned furrow between her brows told me she already knew.

"I'm managing," I said instead, which was both true and completely inadequate. I'd been managing for five years. Managing the pain, managing the symptoms, managing the slow countdown to an expiration date I refused to acknowledge out loud. Three months, the last healer had told me when I'd finally broken down and seen one. Three months unless the bond is completed. I'd walked out before she could finish explaining what that meant, because I already knew. It meant crawling back to Raven Blackwood and begging him to fix what he'd broken. It meant admitting he'd won.

I'd rather die. I was choosing to die, actually, and some days that felt like the biggest rebellion of all.

Sage took a step closer, voice dropping. "Lyx, we need to talk about options. Real options. Not this pretending everything's fine while you slowly fade away thing you've got going on."

"There are no other options." My voice came out sharper than I intended, echoing through the trees. Two of our pack members, Marcus and Jen, looked up from where they were sorting supplies near the main tent. I forced a smile and waved, the picture of their fearless leader who definitely had everything under control. They went back to work, and I lowered my voice. "You know what it would take to break this curse. You know what I'd have to do."

"Accept the bond with Raven," Sage said quietly. "Let him complete the claiming. Stop being so fucking stubborn and let someone help you."

The sound of his name sent a physical jolt through me, sharp and electric, like touching a live wire. The mate bond wasn't completely severed, just damaged, just broken enough to kill me slowly while keeping me tethered to a male who'd made it clear I wasn't worth keeping. Every full moon I felt him, a pull in my chest that pointed north toward Shadowfang territory. Every full moon I ignored it and hated myself a little more for how hard ignoring it had become.

"He rejected me in front of everyone," I said, and even five years later the memory had teeth. "Called me weak. Unworthy. He doesn't get to swoop in and play hero now just because his guilty conscience can't handle being a murderer."

Sage opened her mouth to respond, but the words died as a howl split the air. Not one of ours. The sound came from the eastern ridge, long and threatening, and every wolf in camp went still. I felt it more than heard it, the aggressive intent behind the call, the promise of violence in every note.

"That's Bloodmoon Pack," Marcus called out, already shifting into a defensive stance. His eyes had gone golden, wolf rising to the surface. "That's Crimson's hunters."

Ice flooded my veins, sharp and clarifying. Thaddeus Crimson. The name alone was enough to make my wolf snarl with recognition and fear. He'd been sending scouts into neutral territory for weeks, sniffing around our borders, but he'd never been bold enough to announce himself like this. Hunters meant an actual hunting party. It meant he was done watching.

"Everyone inside the wards," I commanded, my voice steady despite the spike of adrenaline. "Now. Sage, get the kids to the safe house. Marcus, Jen, you're with me."

The camp exploded into controlled chaos as my pack moved with practiced efficiency. We'd drilled for this, planned for the day someone would come for us. For me. Because that's what this was about. Thaddeus didn't give a shit about a small rogue pack squatting in neutral territory. He wanted something specific, and I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly what.

Sage grabbed my arm before I could move toward the tree line. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Stupid is my brand," I said, trying for levity and missing by a mile. Another howl echoed through the forest, closer this time, and shadows moved between the trees. Too many shadows. Too many wolves. "Get everyone safe. That's an order."

She hesitated, then squeezed my arm once before disappearing toward the cluster of tents where our youngest members were already gathering. I turned toward the ridge, toward the hunters closing in, and felt my wolf surge forward with a viciousness that should have scared me. Maybe it would have, before the curse. Before I'd already accepted that I was dying. Now it just felt like freedom. If Thaddeus Crimson wanted me, he was going to have to earn every fucking inch.

The first wolf broke through the tree line, massive and rust-colored, lips pulled back in a snarl that showed too many teeth. Behind him, at least a dozen more emerged from the forest, fanning out in a semicircle that cut off our escape routes. They moved with military precision, trained hunters who knew exactly what they were doing.

And standing at the center of the pack, still in human form with that same predatory smile I remembered from five years ago, was Thaddeus Crimson himself.

"Hello, little silver wolf," he said, voice carrying across the clearing. "We need to talk about your bloodline, and why you're going to come with me quietly."