Chapter 1

After witnessing my parents' deaths, I lost the ability to shift. Even the smell of another werewolf made me throw up violently.

The only person I could bear to be near was my adoptive brother, Alpha Alexander.

So he kept me by his side for ten years, forbidding anyone from gossiping about me or insulting me. Everyone said he loved me.

Until he brought in that "therapist," Chloe.

She said I was too weak, that I needed exposure therapy.

The first time, she dumped me into a chaotic Rogue camp.

I almost got killed by those lunatics.

The second time, she forced me to watch slaves fight to the death.

The smell of blood sent me into shock right there on the spot.

The third time, she dangled my parents' urns outside a 28th-floor window and made me climb a rope ladder to retrieve them.

I froze for a single second, the memory of my parents' deaths flashing through my mind—the urns plummeted from the sky and shattered into pieces right in front of me.

I broke down sobbing. Alexander gave me a hard slap across the face.

"That was flour! Are you done with your tantrum yet?"

I knelt on the ground, staring at that smug woman, and finally understood.

He wasn't doing this for me.

He just wanted to be rid of me—the burden who'd brought him shame.

That night, I sent a message to the Alpha of Frostmark Pack, far away in the north:

"Uncle William, that offer you made before, about coming to live with your Pack? I accept."