Chapter 1

For three years, I acted as a substitute for my twin sister, married to the most powerful Alpha on the East Coast. To the world, I was Isabella, the spoiled princess. To my husband, Donovan, I was a nuisance he couldn't wait to divorce.

I counted down the seconds until the contract expired so I could take my money and disappear.

But three days before my freedom, his mistress was kidnapped. The rogues demanded a trade: the wife for the mistress. Donovan didn't hesitate. He dragged me to the warehouse and threw me to the wolves.

To prove he didn't care about me, the rogue handed him a silver dagger.

Donovan looked me in the eye and drove the blade into my thigh.

As I screamed in agony, the smell of burning flesh filling the air, he stepped over my bleeding body to carry his mistress to safety. He left me there to die on the cold concrete, convinced he was punishing a cruel woman.

He didn't know I was the one who had secretly given my rare blood to save that same mistress just a week prior.

He didn't know I wasn't Isabella. He didn't know he had just tortured Ava-his true Fated Mate hiding in plain sight.

When the real Isabella returned to claim the fortune, Donovan finally realized the woman in his house smelled wrong. He tore the world apart to find me, eventually falling to his knees in the rain to beg for a second chance.

But I just looked at him, my hand resting in the grip of a new, kinder Alpha, and whispered:

"I reject you."

Chapter 1

Ava POV:

Only twenty-four hours left.

The voice of my mother, the Luna of the Miller Pack, echoed in my head through the mind-link. It was cold, sharp, and purely transactional. The contract expires tomorrow at midnight, Ava. The fifty million dollars will be transferred, and you will be free. Do not mess this up in the final stretch.

I sat on the edge of the massive, cold bed in the guest wing of the Blackwood Estate. I didn't reply. I just cut the link, silence filling my mind again.

Three years. I had survived three years in this hell.

To the world, I was Isabella Miller, the proud, somewhat spoiled daughter of the Miller Alpha, married to the most powerful man on the East Coast, Alpha Donovan Blackwood. But that was a lie. Isabella had run away with her human lover three days before the wedding. My father, desperate for the Blackwood fortune to save our crumbling pack, had forced me into the white dress.

I was Ava. The "useless" twin. The Omega who couldn't shift, whose wolf was too weak to surface. I was the Shadow Luna.

I walked to the mirror. The woman staring back looked tired. My skin was pale, my eyes hollow. I touched the silver necklace around my throat. It was lined with a thin layer of wolfsbane, just enough to suppress my natural scent, making me smell like nothing. Like a human. Or a weak Omega.

It was necessary. If Donovan smelled my true scent-the scent of a White Wolf, a bloodline thought to be extinct-he would never let me go. And if he smelled that I was his Fated Mate...

No. He wouldn't care.

I remembered the first time we met at the altar. For a split second, his eyes had widened. His nostrils had flared, and I saw his inner wolf push to the surface, confused. But then, Chloe had stepped closer. Chloe, the "friend" of the family, reeking of that sickly sweet perfume that I now knew was laced with dark magic. Donovan's eyes had glazed over, the spark dead before it could ignite.

"Isabella!"

The door slammed open. My heart jumped, a conditioned response of fear.

Alpha Donovan Blackwood stood in the doorway. He was tall, with shoulders that filled the frame and dark hair that fell over eyes as cold as ice. He radiated power-Alpha energy that made the air heavy and hard to breathe.

"Where is the medicine?" he growled.

"I... I asked the maid to bring it," I stammered, lowering my head. An Omega does not look an Alpha in the eye.

"Chloe is in pain," he snapped, stepping into the room. The temperature seemed to drop. "She needs her suppressants. The storm is too heavy for the cars to drive up the hill to the guest house. You will take it to her."

I looked toward the window. Rain was lashing against the glass, thunder shaking the foundations of the manor. "Donovan, it's a hurricane warning. I can't-"

"You will do as I say."

The Alpha Command slammed into me like a physical blow to the chest. My knees buckled. My wolf, Seraphina, whimpered deep inside me, paralyzed by the absolute authority in his voice. I had no choice. My body moved on its own, grabbing the raincoat and the small box of pills.

"Go," he said, disgust dripping from his voice. "And don't come back until she feels better."

I walked out into the storm. The wind tore at my clothes, and the rain soaked me to the bone within seconds. I wasn't strong like a warrior. I was frail. I stumbled through the mud, clutching the medicine for the woman who was sleeping with my husband.

When I finally returned, shivering and blue-lipped, I heard voices in the study.

"She's pathetic, Donovan," a man's voice said. It was his Beta, Marcus. "Why do you keep her?"

"It's a business deal, Marcus," Donovan's voice was low, devoid of emotion. "The Miller Pack needed money; I needed their land rights. Once the contract is done, she is gone. I only pledge loyalty to Chloe. Isabella... she is nothing. Just a placeholder."

I stood frozen in the hallway, water pooling at my feet. I knew this. I had known this for three years. But hearing it aloud still felt like a knife twisting in my gut.

I tried to sneak past the door, but I slipped on the wet marble floor. Crash. A vase shattered.

The study door flew open. Donovan loomed over me. He looked at my drenched form, my shivering hands, and his lip curled.

"Look at you," he sneered. "You smell like a wet dog. A weak, Omega dog."

"I delivered the medicine," I whispered, trying to stand.

"You're making a mess," he said, stepping forward. He grabbed my arm, his grip bruising. "Stop shaking. You are supposed to be a Luna. Act like one."

"I'm cold, Donovan."

"I don't care." He shoved me backward.

It wasn't a hard shove for a wolf, but for me, in my weakened state, it was enough. I stumbled back and fell against the hallway console table. My arm slammed into a decorative silver platter.

Sizzle.

"Ah!" I screamed as the silver burned my skin. Smoke rose from my forearm, the smell of burning flesh filling the air. For werewolves, silver is poison. It burns like acid and heals slowly.

Donovan didn't flinch. He didn't rush to help. He just watched, his eyes devoid of sympathy.

"Clumsy," he muttered. "Clean yourself up. We have guests tomorrow. If you embarrass me, the contract won't be the only thing that ends."

He turned and walked away, leaving me curled on the floor, clutching my burning arm.

I gritted my teeth, tears stinging my eyes. I didn't cry for his love. I didn't cry for the pain. I cried because I was angry.

I placed my hand over my flat stomach. I will never give you an heir, Donovan Blackwood, I thought, the hatred burning hotter than the silver. I don't want your heart. I just want my money, and I want out.