Chapter 1
The lawyer slid a contract across the desk toward me. "Mr. Blackwood made his position clear. Sign this organ donor agreement, and he honors the engagement. He'll take you back to the manor today."
I ignored the pen and tore the paperwork to shreds instead.
Because this was my second life.
In my previous life, I foolishly gave up half my liver for William Blackwood's precious true love, my fake sister who'd stolen my life for eighteen years.
In return, William tossed me into the slums to be torn apart by wild dogs.
I died before I could show the world my true identity as its top hacker.
This time around, I locked eyes with the stunned lawyer and grabbed my backup phone off the desk.
My fingers flew over the keypad, keying in a rapid string of code before hitting send.
"Ask William if his market cap can afford the price of my liver," I said.
*****
Shredded paper scattered across the floor.
The lawyer's hand hung midair, the pen clamped between his fingers before he could uncap it.
He clearly had never seen anyone telling the Blackwood family no.
I had already answered William once before, in my previous life.
Except back then, my answer had been yes.
My hands shook as I signed at the time. I was desperate enough to believe cutting out half my liver would earn a shred of William's affection.
Instead, I bled out in the freezing slum rain while feral jaws tore into my flesh.
The moon hung full and bright the night I died.
My inner wolf let out a dying whimper; as darkness swallowed me whole, my heartbeat faded to nothing.
When I opened my eyes again, I was right back in this law office.
The papers on the desk smelled of fresh toner, the date stamped March 17, forty-eight hours before I signed away my liver the first time.
The Moon Goddess gave me a second chance.
I wasn't going to blow it.
My backup phone lit up, casting a pale glow across the lawyer's face. The script executed in thirty seconds flat. Blackwood Holdings' financial firewall fell like an unlocked gate, a system I could tear through blindfolded.
"Ask William if his market cap can afford the price of my liver," I said.
The lawyer finally snapped out of it, swallowing hard. "Miss Greyson, what are you—"
"Tell him," I cut him off, locking the phone. "The donor agreement is trash, and the engagement is dead. I'll state my terms once. He has three days to come negotiate in person."
*****
I stepped out of the building, the bitter March wind whipping down my collar.
The Silverpine sky hung low and dreary, heavy with the stench of pine sap and industrial exhaust. Down in the Low-Pack Quarter, the alleys were barely wide enough for a car to pass.
Figures crouched against brick walls, the red glow of their cigarettes flickering on and off.
Deep in my mind, my inner wolf remained dead silent.
She had been that way throughout my entire previous life, silent, frail, refusing to answer.
To the rest of the pack, Ella Greyson was a defective, wolfless Omega.
I married into the Blackwoods solely because of their contract with the Greyson family and that clause requiring me to supply compatible biological tissue when called upon.
In plain terms: I was a walking organ bank.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
An unknown number flashed on the screen.
I picked up, and there was silence on the other end for a couple of seconds.
Then a man's deep voice rumbled through the speaker, like cedar crackling over flames.
"The lawyer said you tore up the paperwork," the voice said.
It wasn't William.
William spoke with the cold, prickly bite of winter pine.
This voice belonged to another Alpha from the Blackwood family, William's younger brother, Damian Blackwood.
"How did you get my number?" I asked.
The metallic click of a lighter chimed through the receiver. "William sent me to clean up your mess."
He paused. "His exact words were: 'Tell that useless bitch to sign or get the hell out of Silverpine.'"
Wind surged down the street, kicking up grit.
A low, drawn-out howl carried from the distance, signaling the border guard shift change.
"So you called to relay his message?" I asked.
Damian didn't answer right away.
The lighter snapped open and shut again—sparked, extinguished, without him taking a drag.
"I called to give you my take," he murmured.
He dropped his voice lower. "You made the right call shredding it."
The call ended.
The call timer read forty-seven seconds before fading away.
My fingers clenched, knuckles turning white.
In my previous life, Damian hadn't tracked me down until three days after I was dumped in the slums.
By the time he found me, feral hounds had already torn into my legs.
I never figured out what that look on his face meant before I took my final breath.
This time, he showed up early.
The streetlamps sputtered to life, spilling amber circles across the pavement.
Footsteps approached from behind, steady and unhurried as heels clicked against the concrete.
I turned around.
A woman stood beneath the streetlight.
She had long chestnut hair and amber eyes, wrapped in a tailored Blackwood cashmere coat with a silver pack crest pinned over her heart.
It was Selena Greyson.
The woman who stole my life for eighteen years.
She tilted her head, offering a smile as sickly sweet as poisoned honey. "Ella, is it true you tore up William's agreement?"