Chapter 3

Evelyn Thorne POV:

The next morning, I was forced to my knees on the cold stone floor of the Packhouse's great hall. A dull, aching pain throbbed in every joint, a phantom echo of the night's failed transformation.

The entire pack was assembled, their eyes on me. I was a spectacle, a monster. I could feel their fear, their contempt, their pity-and the pity was the worst of all.

In a far corner, I saw Ren. The pack caretaker held him firmly, his small face streaked with tears as he tried to fight his way to my side. Our eyes met, and a fresh wave of despair washed over me.

Alpha Philip sat on his high-backed stone throne, a grim monarch about to pass judgment. When he spoke, his voice wasn't just heard; it was felt. The power of his Alpha's Command resonated directly in our minds, a deep, unyielding force.

"Last night, the Moon Goddess made her will known."

My stomach plummeted. This was it.

The Alpha rose and paced slowly toward me, his presence dominating the cavernous hall. He stopped directly in front of me, forcing me to crane my neck to look up at him. "Evelyn Thorne," he began, his voice laced with a cruel irony, "daughter of heroes, has failed to receive the Goddess's blessing. There is no wolf within you."

He emphasized 'daughter of heroes,' twisting the title into an accusation, a stark illustration of how far I had fallen. He was making an example of me, reinforcing his creed: power is the only currency in this pack. Legacy is worthless without it.

I wanted to scream that he was wrong, that I could feel *something* deep inside me, a coiled, dormant presence. But I had no proof, no words to fight the finality of his declaration.

Whispers erupted around the hall. The word 'unlucky' and 'bad omen' slithered through the air.

Beta Richard Stonecroft, Lily's father, stepped forward and read from a leather-bound book of pack law. His voice was devoid of emotion. "One who cannot shift is deemed incomplete. Their rank within the pack is subject to reassessment."

Behind him, Lily stood tall, a smug, triumphant smile playing on her lips. She watched me, her former friend, with the cold satisfaction of a predator. Beside the Alpha, Desmond stood rigid, his face a blank mask. He refused to look at me. His silence was his consent, his final, damning betrayal.

My heart, already fractured, turned to ice.

Alpha Philip raised a hand, and the hall fell silent. He looked down at me, his eyes cold and hard as granite. His verdict, delivered through the inescapable force of his Command, slammed into my mind.

"I, Alpha Philip Blackwood, declare Evelyn Thorne to be... Wolfless!"

The word was a physical weight, crushing the air from my lungs.

"From this day forward," he continued, his voice ringing with absolute authority, "she is stripped of all honors and provisions due to a warrior's orphan. She is to be re-ranked as an Omega. She will serve this pack and, in doing so, atone for her weakness."

Omega. The lowest of the low. A servant. A scapegoat. A nobody.

A few gasps rippled through the crowd, but they were quickly drowned out by murmurs of approval. It was a practical solution. They could contain the 'bad omen' while still exploiting my labor.

I lifted my head, my gaze locking with the Alpha's. The tears I expected to fall never came. My eyes were dry, my soul a desolate wasteland.

My voice was a raw, quiet rasp, but it cut through the silence. "What about my brother? What about Ren?"

It was the only thing that mattered.

The Alpha seemed momentarily surprised by my defiance, by the fact that I wasn't weeping at his feet. "He will remain in the care of the pack until his own shifting ceremony," he said, his tone clipped. "His future will be determined by his own strength."

The unspoken threat hung in the air between us. Ren's fate was tied to my obedience.

I understood. To ensure my brother had a chance, a real chance to grow up safe, I had to swallow this poison. I had to endure this humiliation.

I bowed my head, the gesture of submission tearing at what was left of my pride. "I... accept," I choked out.

A flicker of satisfaction crossed the Alpha's face. He nodded once, then turned his gaze toward the head of the house staff. "Martha. Take her below. Teach her the rules."

A large, sour-faced woman I knew as Martha Gable, the head maid, lumbered forward. She grabbed my arm in a painfully tight grip, her fingers digging into my bicep, and hauled me to my feet.

As she dragged me from the hall, I stole one last glance at Desmond. He finally met my eyes. For a fraction of a second, I saw a flash of anguish, of regret, before it was ruthlessly extinguished by the cold mask of the future Alpha.

The heavy oak doors of the great hall slammed shut behind me, the sound echoing like the closing of a tomb. It locked me out of my old life and sealed me into my new one. My hell had just begun.