Forsaken by the Pack, Fated to the Ancient Lord

Callie Waller POV:

Three years in a coma. I became my family's castoff. Tonight, my father is going to kill me with his own hands-pull my oxygen tube and give my corpse to a dying murderer for a billion crystals.

He doesn't know I'm awake.

"Three years of pouring fortune into this useless shell, and for what?" My father's voice cut through the sterile gloom of the VIP room, sharp with irritation.

I kept my eyelids heavy, breathing in the slow, flat rhythm the monitors expected. Deep in this vegetative shell, my soul slammed back into my body-ten brutal lifetimes of memory flooding in at once. I was reborn. And deep in my marrow, the ancient White Wolf that had slept for three years was opening its eyes.

Heavy dress shoes paced across the marble floor and stopped beside my bed.

Cortney Waller-my father, head of the Waller Pack-let out a ragged sigh.

"Every day in this private suite drains thousands of crystals," he muttered, yanking the velvet curtains shut until shadows swallowed the room. "Our pack is on the edge of bankruptcy, and you just lie here, rotting."

To the Western Continent's elite, I was an embarrassment. A wolfless failure, discarded by my pack and forgotten by the world.

"I should've known better than to expect anything from Evelyn's daughter," Cortney sneered, voice dropping bitter and low. "Your mother left a mountain of debt, and you couldn't even manage your first shift at eighteen. A complete genetic defect."

He pulled a folded parchment from his coat, fingers trembling over the silver wax seal.

"Jacoby didn't hesitate, did he?" Cortney let out a dry, ugly chuckle. "Nine silver extraction needles straight into your heart-just to save his precious Irina. He knew silver burns a werewolf's soul to ash. He still took every drop."

Jacoby's name hit me like a cold spike. Three years ago, my so-called fiancé, the arrogant Alpha heir of Chase Pack, strapped me to an operating table and burned my spirit away with silver-all to keep his counterfeit sweetheart alive. Under the blanket, my nails dug into my palms.

"Still, I should thank him for leaving you one breath," Cortney mused, tone sliding from bitterness into greedy excitement. "The brokers from Shadow Isle reached out yesterday. Astronomical payout. The moment your heart stops tonight, this body becomes worth more than you ever were alive."

Shadow Isle. Forbidden sanctuary of the highest Lycan bloodlines. Even the Continental Defense Forces didn't dare cross it.

"The Dark Mate Ritual," Cortney whispered, leaning over me. "An ancient death pact the modern packs despise. Who cares? Bind a dying female's fading core to a terminal rogue, and I get an offshore fortune. Easiest billion crystals I'll ever make."

He tapped his gold signet ring against the metal bed rail. The click echoed in the quiet.

"A billion crystals and a black transit card from the Shadow Isle outer council. With that, the Waller Pack finally breaks into the continental elite."

I kept my soul locked down, cycling my ancient healing art through every damaged meridian while memorizing every word. Packs were just corporate cartels with fangs-gene rank decided who lived, and Cortney Waller was ready to butcher his own blood for a seat at the table.

"Sacrificing one wolfless daughter to secure wealth for the family," he whispered. "Best deal I've ever negotiated."

His shadow fell over my face. His manicured fingers hovered over the main oxygen line.

Outside, a nurse's rubber-soled shoes squeaked once, then faded. The floor was deserted.

"Jacoby already seized half your maternal grandfather's lands," Cortney said, breath hot against my cheek. "Tomorrow morning, Chase Group broadcasts their charity engagement gala. If I don't secure this Shadow Isle deal tonight, the elders will liquidate the Waller Pack."

To him, I was an empty shell-worth more dead than alive.

The last trace of filial duty inside me turned to ash.

Cortney's breathing grew heavy. His fingers tightened on the valve, then loosened. He turned and took half a step back from the bed, as if he couldn't do it, as if he was searching for one last reason.

"Goodbye, Callie. When you reach the underworld, don't blame me for being practical."

He twisted the valve shut.

On the monitor, the blood-oxygen curve plunged into the red.

I relaxed my muscles, let my lips take on a faint, suffocating blue, and mimicked the final spasms of a dying wolfless girl.

Cortney stared at the dropping numbers, a sick grin spreading across his face.

"That's it... just flatline. The black-market morgue van is already idling in the basement."

He pulled out an expensive Cuban cigar, but his hands shook so badly the gold lighter clicked three times without a flame.

Deep in the shadows of my sealed meridians, the pure White Wolf core finished its fusion.

Ten lifetimes of combat essence roared awake inside my consciousness, a tidal wave straining against a dam.

Cortney finally struck a flame, blew gray smoke into the dim air, and stepped closer to rip out the arterial catheter.

Beneath my pale eyelids, my eyes flashed with the terrifying, iridescent glow of the arctic aurora.

Callie Waller POV:

Cortney stood over me. The monitor flatlined. 0 BPM.

He let out a long, shuddering breath. Then he laughed-low and ugly-and hit the mute button on the telemetry console so the alarm wouldn't reach the nurse's station.

"Clean and irreversible," he muttered.

I lay motionless under the white sheets, listening to the metallic click. Inside, the White Wolf core was still burning through its final fusion. I just needed a few more seconds.

Cortney turned to the control panel, adjusting his cuffs like a man who'd just closed a deal.

"The brokers from Shadow Isle demanded a female body with the ancient White Wolf bloodline," he said, blowing smoke at the ceiling. "Even a broken wolfless cripple-the faint genetic trace in your marrow is enough to suppress their master's fatal backlash."

I kept my breathing flat. Filed every word away.

"Word is, the Rogue they're buying you for is a convicted murderer named Cade Blake. Multiple organ failure, fractured wolf spirit, rotting in some damp basement in Blackrock Wasteland."

Cade Blake. No pack. Condemned for bloodshed. Left to die on the frontier.

"A dying murderer paired with a dead wolfless failure," Cortney sneered. "The Dark Mate Ritual was made for you two. Once both corpses are buried under the black stones, no one asks questions."

He reached down and tore the ECG leads from my collarbone, tossing the wires to the floor.

"Once that billion-crystal payment clears our offshore account, I'll clear every debt the Pack Council holds over my head. I'll buy Estefany that diamond-encrusted gown for her Golden Pack debut."

Estefany Vance. My stepmother's illegitimate daughter. She'd stolen my room, my mother's heirlooms. Now my father was using my corpse to fund her social debut.

"Your stubborn mother, Evelyn, refused to hand over her ancient herbal formulas and the Sinclair grove deeds." Cortney blew out another cloud of smoke. "Look where that got her. Dead in an icy ditch, while I run this family."

My mother's death. The mention sent a ripple of killing intent through my chest. The room temperature dropped several degrees.

Cortney shivered, pulling his lapels tighter. He glanced at the ceiling vents and muttered about faulty climate control.

"Whatever. Uncle Ken said the black market transport arrives at sub-basement two in twenty minutes. Time to wrap this up."

He dropped the cigar butt, ground it under his shoe. Then he stepped back to the bed and gripped the main oxygen conduit.

"Don't take it personally, Callie. In our world, genetics determine everything. You were born without a wolf-born to be a stepping stone."

His fingers tightened on the pipe. The pipe wall creaked slightly. Then he yanked backward with all his strength.

Snap!

The reinforced plastic coupling shattered. Residual air hissed into the cold room.

Cortney let out a long, shaking breath of relief. A grotesque smile spread across his face.

"Done. It's finally done. The wealth of the Waller Pack belongs to me."

He took two steps back and pulled a black satellite phone from his pocket, thumb hovering over the speed-dial for the underground mortuary team.

Before his finger could touch the glass, the air grew as heavy as molten lead.

The muted monitor stayed silent, but every fluorescent bulb in the ceiling began to flicker violently, buzzing with high-voltage static.

An ancient, primordial pressure-a sovereign dominance that surpassed any Alpha across the seven continents-surged from the bed and locked the room in an invisible vice.

Cortney's thumb froze mid-air. The blood in his veins turned to slush. Every hair on his arms stood on end as his Beta wolf's primal instinct screamed in terror.

"What is... what is this pressure?" he choked out, vocal cords trembling.

He turned his neck stiffly, eyes darting toward the hospital bed.

There, sitting propped against the pillows, the corpse he had just suffocated slowly opened a pair of piercing, amber-gold eyes.

Callie Waller POV:

I ripped the broken tubing off my collar and flung it aside. It hit the steel bed rail with a crack that sounded like a gunshot in the silent room.

Cortney's satellite phone slipped from his fingers. The screen shattered against the floor, but he didn't look down. His bloodshot eyes bulged-like he was staring at the Moon Goddess herself coming to judge him.

"You... you were flatlined!" he stammered, back slamming into the wall. "I felt your pulse stop!"

I threw off the sheet and swung my legs over the edge, bare feet hitting the cold marble.

"What's wrong, Mr. Waller?" I tilted my head, a cold smile on my lips. "Disappointed your billion-crystal bride just walked out of her coffin?"

Cortney shook. He tried to summon his Beta wolf aura, but the moment his eyes met mine, his mental walls shattered like glass under a hammer.

"You're wolfless... a genetic failure!" he shrieked, clawing for whatever authority he had left. "You can't have this kind of presence!"

"Wolfless?" I took one calm step forward.

The ancient White Wolf aura surged out and crashed down on him like a mountain of iron.

Crack!

Cortney didn't even see me move. The bloodline suppression buckled his knees and slammed both kneecaps into the marble.

Bone cracked. A high, pathetic howl tore from his throat.

"On your knees when you speak to me," I said quietly, looking down at him.

"Callie! I am your father!" Cortney gasped, cold sweat pouring down his face as he tried to push himself up. "Striking your sire is a capital offense! The Council will execute you!"

"My father?"

I brought my right foot down on his left hand and crushed his fingers against the floor.

Crunch.

The heavy gold signet ring warped and flattened, cutting deep into his flesh. Blood pooled across the marble.

"Does a father watch while his daughter's fiancé drives silver needles into her chest?" I ground my heel down, slow and deliberate. "Does a father pull his daughter's life support so he can sell her warm corpse into a Dark Mate Ritual for a billion crystals?"

Cortney sobbed, forehead pressed to the bloody tiles. "Stop! Please! It hurts! It was Jacoby! Jacoby forced my hand! He threatened to ruin us!"

"Forced you?" I scoffed. "You looked pretty proud of yourself when you were spending that billion on your stepdaughter."

Before he could answer, high heels clicked fast down the hallway, followed by the stench of artificial rose perfume.

"Cortney! Have you finished the job yet?" a shrill voice called. "The transport driver is losing patience at the gate, and Uncle Ken wants confirmation!"

Cortney's eyes lit up with desperate hope. He opened his mouth to scream, "Arlene! Call the-"

I pressed down harder. His shout turned into a choked whimper.

I flicked my left hand. The deadbolt on the heavy door clicked open.

The footsteps stopped outside. A second later, a manicured hand with blood-red nails shoved the double doors wide open.

Arlene Vance strode in, wrapped in an expensive white mink coat, designer bag under her arm.

"Why is it pitch black in here? Did you-"

Her words died in her throat.

The overhead lights surged back to full power, flooding the suite with harsh white light.

Arlene's bag slipped from her grip and hit the floor. Her eyes locked onto me standing over her battered husband. The smug arrogance on her face vanished into pure horror.